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diff --git a/914-h/914-h.htm b/914-h/914-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8480395 --- /dev/null +++ b/914-h/914-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15444 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg Book of The Uncommercial Traveller, by Charles Dickens</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + img { border: none; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Uncommercial Traveller, by Charles Dickens</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Uncommercial Traveller</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Charles Dickens</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Harry Furniss</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 20, 1997 [eBook #914]<br /> +[Most recently updated: June 8, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="fp"></a> +<a href="images/fpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Time and his Wife" +title= +"Time and his Wife" + src="images/fps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1><span class="smcap">The Uncommercial</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Traveller</span></h1> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">By CHARLES DICKENS</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><b><i>With Illustrations by Harry +Furniss and A. J. Goodman</i></b></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON: CHAPMAN & HALL, LD.<br +/> +NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> +1905</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. His General Line of Business</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. The Shipwreck</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. Wapping Workhouse</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. Two Views of a Cheap Theatre</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. Poor Mercantile Jack</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. Refreshments for Travellers</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. Travelling Abroad</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. The Great Tasmania’s Cargo</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. City of London Churches</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. Shy Neighbourhoods</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. Tramps</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. Dullborough Town</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. Night Walks</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. Chambers</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. Nurse’s Stories</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. Arcadian London</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII. The Italian Prisoner</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII. The Calais Night Mail</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX. Some Recollections of Mortality</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX. Birthday Celebrations</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI. The Short-Timers</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII. Bound for the Great Salt Lake</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII. The City of the Absent</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV. An Old Stage-coaching House</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV. The Boiled Beef of New England</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI. Chatham Dockyard</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII. In the French-Flemish Country</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII. Medicine Men of Civilisation</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap29">CHAPTER XXIX. Titbull’s Alms-Houses</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap30">CHAPTER XXX. The Ruffian</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap31">CHAPTER XXXI. Aboard Ship</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap32">CHAPTER XXXII. A Small Star in the East</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap33">CHAPTER XXXIII. A Little Dinner in an Hour</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap34">CHAPTER XXXIV. Mr. Barlow</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap35">CHAPTER XXXV. On an Amateur Beat</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap36">CHAPTER XXXVI. A Fly-Leaf in a Life</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap37">CHAPTER XXXVII. A Plea for Total Abstinence</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><a href="#fp"><i>Time and his Wife</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#image24"><i>A Cheap Theatre</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#image72"><i>The City Personage</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#image242"><i>Titbull’s Alms-Houses</i></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>I<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HIS GENERAL LINE OF BUSINESS</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Allow</span> me to introduce +myself—first negatively.</p> +<p>No landlord is my friend and brother, no chambermaid loves me, +no waiter worships me, no boots admires and envies me. No +round of beef or tongue or ham is expressly cooked for me, no +pigeon-pie is especially made for me, no hotel-advertisement is +personally addressed to me, no hotel-room tapestried with +great-coats and railway wrappers is set apart for me, no house of +public entertainment in the United Kingdom greatly cares for my +opinion of its brandy or sherry. When I go upon my +journeys, I am not usually rated at a low figure in the bill; +when I come home from my journeys, I never get any +commission. I know nothing about prices, and should have no +idea, if I were put to it, how to wheedle a man into ordering +something he doesn’t want. As a town traveller, I am +never to be seen driving a vehicle externally like a young and +volatile pianoforte van, and internally like an oven in which a +number of flat boxes are baking in layers. As a country +traveller, I am rarely to be found in a gig, and am never to be +encountered by a pleasure train, waiting on the platform of a +branch station, quite a Druid in the midst of a light Stonehenge +of samples.</p> +<p>And yet—proceeding now, to introduce myself +positively—I am both a town traveller and a country +traveller, and am always on the road. Figuratively +speaking, I travel for the great house of Human Interest +Brothers, and have rather a large connection in the fancy goods +way. Literally speaking, I am always wandering here and +there from my rooms in Covent-garden, London—now about the +city streets: now, about the country by-roads—seeing many +little things, and some great things, which, because they +interest me, I think may interest others.</p> +<p>These are my chief credentials as the Uncommercial +Traveller.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>II<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE SHIPWRECK</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Never</span> had I seen a year going out, +or going on, under quieter circumstances. Eighteen hundred +and fifty-nine had but another day to live, and truly its end was +Peace on that sea-shore that morning.</p> +<p>So settled and orderly was everything seaward, in the bright +light of the sun and under the transparent shadows of the clouds, +that it was hard to imagine the bay otherwise, for years past or +to come, than it was that very day. The Tug-steamer lying a +little off the shore, the Lighter lying still nearer to the +shore, the boat alongside the Lighter, the regularly-turning +windlass aboard the Lighter, the methodical figures at work, all +slowly and regularly heaving up and down with the breathing of +the sea, all seemed as much a part of the nature of the place as +the tide itself. The tide was on the flow, and had been for +some two hours and a half; there was a slight obstruction in the +sea within a few yards of my feet: as if the stump of a tree, +with earth enough about it to keep it from lying horizontally on +the water, had slipped a little from the land—and as I +stood upon the beach and observed it dimpling the light swell +that was coming in, I cast a stone over it.</p> +<p>So orderly, so quiet, so regular—the rising and falling +of the Tug-steamer, the Lighter, and the boat—the turning +of the windlass—the coming in of the tide—that I +myself seemed, to my own thinking, anything but new to the +spot. Yet, I had never seen it in my life, a minute before, +and had traversed two hundred miles to get at it. That very +morning I had come bowling down, and struggling up, hill-country +roads; looking back at snowy summits; meeting courteous peasants +well to do, driving fat pigs and cattle to market: noting the +neat and thrifty dwellings, with their unusual quantity of clean +white linen, drying on the bushes; having windy weather suggested +by every cotter’s little rick, with its thatch straw-ridged +and extra straw-ridged into overlapping compartments like the +back of a rhinoceros. Had I not given a lift of fourteen +miles to the Coast-guardsman (kit and all), who was coming to his +spell of duty there, and had we not just now parted +company? So it was; but the journey seemed to glide down +into the placid sea, with other chafe and trouble, and for the +moment nothing was so calmly and monotonously real under the +sunlight as the gentle rising and falling of the water with its +freight, the regular turning of the windlass aboard the Lighter, +and the slight obstruction so very near my feet.</p> +<p>O reader, haply turning this page by the fireside at Home, and +hearing the night wind rumble in the chimney, that slight +obstruction was the uppermost fragment of the Wreck of the Royal +Charter, Australian trader and passenger ship, Homeward bound, +that struck here on the terrible morning of the twenty-sixth of +this October, broke into three parts, went down with her treasure +of at least five hundred human lives, and has never stirred +since!</p> +<p>From which point, or from which, she drove ashore, stern +foremost; on which side, or on which, she passed the little +Island in the bay, for ages henceforth to be aground certain +yards outside her; these are rendered bootless questions by the +darkness of that night and the darkness of death. Here she +went down.</p> +<p>Even as I stood on the beach with the words ‘Here she +went down!’ in my ears, a diver in his grotesque dress, +dipped heavily over the side of the boat alongside the Lighter, +and dropped to the bottom. On the shore by the +water’s edge, was a rough tent, made of fragments of wreck, +where other divers and workmen sheltered themselves, and where +they had kept Christmas-day with rum and roast beef, to the +destruction of their frail chimney. Cast up among the +stones and boulders of the beach, were great spars of the lost +vessel, and masses of iron twisted by the fury of the sea into +the strangest forms. The timber was already bleached and +iron rusted, and even these objects did no violence to the +prevailing air the whole scene wore, of having been exactly the +same for years and years.</p> +<p>Yet, only two short months had gone, since a man, living on +the nearest hill-top overlooking the sea, being blown out of bed +at about daybreak by the wind that had begun to strip his roof +off, and getting upon a ladder with his nearest neighbour to +construct some temporary device for keeping his house over his +head, saw from the ladder’s elevation as he looked down by +chance towards the shore, some dark troubled object close in with +the land. And he and the other, descending to the beach, +and finding the sea mercilessly beating over a great broken ship, +had clambered up the stony ways, like staircases without stairs, +on which the wild village hangs in little clusters, as fruit +hangs on boughs, and had given the alarm. And so, over the +hill-slopes, and past the waterfall, and down the gullies where +the land drains off into the ocean, the scattered quarrymen and +fishermen inhabiting that part of Wales had come running to the +dismal sight—their clergyman among them. And as they +stood in the leaden morning, stricken with pity, leaning hard +against the wind, their breath and vision often failing as the +sleet and spray rushed at them from the ever forming and +dissolving mountains of sea, and as the wool which was a part of +the vessel’s cargo blew in with the salt foam and remained +upon the land when the foam melted, they saw the ship’s +life-boat put off from one of the heaps of wreck; and first, +there were three men in her, and in a moment she capsized, and +there were but two; and again, she was struck by a vast mass of +water, and there was but one; and again, she was thrown bottom +upward, and that one, with his arm struck through the broken +planks and waving as if for the help that could never reach him, +went down into the deep.</p> +<p>It was the clergyman himself from whom I heard this, while I +stood on the shore, looking in his kind wholesome face as it +turned to the spot where the boat had been. The divers were +down then, and busy. They were ‘lifting’ to-day +the gold found yesterday—some five-and-twenty thousand +pounds. Of three hundred and fifty thousand pounds’ +worth of gold, three hundred thousand pounds’ worth, in +round numbers, was at that time recovered. The great bulk +of the remainder was surely and steadily coming up. Some +loss of sovereigns there would be, of course; indeed, at first +sovereigns had drifted in with the sand, and been scattered far +and wide over the beach, like sea-shells; but most other golden +treasure would be found. As it was brought up, it went +aboard the Tug-steamer, where good account was taken of it. +So tremendous had the force of the sea been when it broke the +ship, that it had beaten one great ingot of gold, deep into a +strong and heavy piece of her solid iron-work: in which, also, +several loose sovereigns that the ingot had swept in before it, +had been found, as firmly embedded as though the iron had been +liquid when they were forced there. It had been remarked of +such bodies come ashore, too, as had been seen by scientific men, +that they had been stunned to death, and not suffocated. +Observation, both of the internal change that had been wrought in +them, and of their external expression, showed death to have been +thus merciful and easy. The report was brought, while I was +holding such discourse on the beach, that no more bodies had come +ashore since last night. It began to be very doubtful +whether many more would be thrown up, until the north-east winds +of the early spring set in. Moreover, a great number of the +passengers, and particularly the second-class women-passengers, +were known to have been in the middle of the ship when she +parted, and thus the collapsing wreck would have fallen upon them +after yawning open, and would keep them down. A diver made +known, even then, that he had come upon the body of a man, and +had sought to release it from a great superincumbent weight; but +that, finding he could not do so without mutilating the remains, +he had left it where it was.</p> +<p>It was the kind and wholesome face I have made mention of as +being then beside me, that I had purposed to myself to see, when +I left home for Wales. I had heard of that clergyman, as +having buried many scores of the shipwrecked people; of his +having opened his house and heart to their agonised friends; of +his having used a most sweet and patient diligence for weeks and +weeks, in the performance of the forlornest offices that Man can +render to his kind; of his having most tenderly and thoroughly +devoted himself to the dead, and to those who were sorrowing for +the dead. I had said to myself, ‘In the Christmas +season of the year, I should like to see that man!’ +And he had swung the gate of his little garden in coming out to +meet me, not half an hour ago.</p> +<p>So cheerful of spirit and guiltless of affectation, as true +practical Christianity ever is! I read more of the New +Testament in the fresh frank face going up the village beside me, +in five minutes, than I have read in anathematising discourses +(albeit put to press with enormous flourishing of trumpets), in +all my life. I heard more of the Sacred Book in the cordial +voice that had nothing to say about its owner, than in all the +would-be celestial pairs of bellows that have ever blown conceit +at me.</p> +<p>We climbed towards the little church, at a cheery pace, among +the loose stones, the deep mud, the wet coarse grass, the +outlying water, and other obstructions from which frost and snow +had lately thawed. It was a mistake (my friend was glad to +tell me, on the way) to suppose that the peasantry had shown any +superstitious avoidance of the drowned; on the whole, they had +done very well, and had assisted readily. Ten shillings had +been paid for the bringing of each body up to the church, but the +way was steep, and a horse and cart (in which it was wrapped in a +sheet) were necessary, and three or four men, and, all things +considered, it was not a great price. The people were none +the richer for the wreck, for it was the season of the +herring-shoal—and who could cast nets for fish, and find +dead men and women in the draught?</p> +<p>He had the church keys in his hand, and opened the churchyard +gate, and opened the church door; and we went in.</p> +<p>It is a little church of great antiquity; there is reason to +believe that some church has occupied the spot, these thousand +years or more. The pulpit was gone, and other things +usually belonging to the church were gone, owing to its living +congregation having deserted it for the neighbouring school-room, +and yielded it up to the dead. The very Commandments had +been shouldered out of their places, in the bringing in of the +dead; the black wooden tables on which they were painted, were +askew, and on the stone pavement below them, and on the stone +pavement all over the church, were the marks and stains where the +drowned had been laid down. The eye, with little or no aid +from the imagination, could yet see how the bodies had been +turned, and where the head had been and where the feet. +Some faded traces of the wreck of the Australian ship may be +discernible on the stone pavement of this little church, hundreds +of years hence, when the digging for gold in Australia shall have +long and long ceased out of the land.</p> +<p>Forty-four shipwrecked men and women lay here at one time, +awaiting burial. Here, with weeping and wailing in every +room of his house, my companion worked alone for hours, solemnly +surrounded by eyes that could not see him, and by lips that could +not speak to him, patiently examining the tattered clothing, +cutting off buttons, hair, marks from linen, anything that might +lead to subsequent identification, studying faces, looking for a +scar, a bent finger, a crooked toe, comparing letters sent to him +with the ruin about him. ‘My dearest brother had +bright grey eyes and a pleasant smile,’ one sister +wrote. O poor sister! well for you to be far from here, and +keep that as your last remembrance of him!</p> +<p>The ladies of the clergyman’s family, his wife and two +sisters-in-law, came in among the bodies often. It grew to +be the business of their lives to do so. Any new arrival of +a bereaved woman would stimulate their pity to compare the +description brought, with the dread realities. Sometimes, +they would go back able to say, ‘I have found him,’ +or, ‘I think she lies there.’ Perhaps, the +mourner, unable to bear the sight of all that lay in the church, +would be led in blindfold. Conducted to the spot with many +compassionate words, and encouraged to look, she would say, with +a piercing cry, ‘This is my boy!’ and drop insensible +on the insensible figure.</p> +<p>He soon observed that in some cases of women, the +identification of persons, though complete, was quite at variance +with the marks upon the linen; this led him to notice that even +the marks upon the linen were sometimes inconsistent with one +another; and thus he came to understand that they had dressed in +great haste and agitation, and that their clothes had become +mixed together. The identification of men by their dress, +was rendered extremely difficult, in consequence of a large +proportion of them being dressed alike—in clothes of one +kind, that is to say, supplied by slopsellers and outfitters, and +not made by single garments but by hundreds. Many of the +men were bringing over parrots, and had receipts upon them for +the price of the birds; others had bills of exchange in their +pockets, or in belts. Some of these documents, carefully +unwrinkled and dried, were little less fresh in appearance that +day, than the present page will be under ordinary circumstances, +after having been opened three or four times.</p> +<p>In that lonely place, it had not been easy to obtain even such +common commodities in towns, as ordinary disinfectants. +Pitch had been burnt in the church, as the readiest thing at +hand, and the frying-pan in which it had bubbled over a brazier +of coals was still there, with its ashes. Hard by the +Communion-Table, were some boots that had been taken off the +drowned and preserved—a gold-digger’s boot, cut down +the leg for its removal—a trodden-down man’s +ankle-boot with a buff cloth top—and others—soaked +and sandy, weedy and salt.</p> +<p>From the church, we passed out into the churchyard. +Here, there lay, at that time, one hundred and forty-five bodies, +that had come ashore from the wreck. He had buried them, +when not identified, in graves containing four each. He had +numbered each body in a register describing it, and had placed a +corresponding number on each coffin, and over each grave. +Identified bodies he had buried singly, in private graves, in +another part of the church-yard. Several bodies had been +exhumed from the graves of four, as relatives had come from a +distance and seen his register; and, when recognised, these have +been reburied in private graves, so that the mourners might erect +separate headstones over the remains. In all such cases he +had performed the funeral service a second time, and the ladies +of his house had attended. There had been no offence in the +poor ashes when they were brought again to the light of day; the +beneficent Earth had already absorbed it. The drowned were +buried in their clothes. To supply the great sudden demand +for coffins, he had got all the neighbouring people handy at +tools, to work the livelong day, and Sunday likewise. The +coffins were neatly formed;—I had seen two, waiting for +occupants, under the lee of the ruined walls of a stone hut on +the beach, within call of the tent where the Christmas Feast was +held. Similarly, one of the graves for four was lying open +and ready, here, in the churchyard. So much of the scanty +space was already devoted to the wrecked people, that the +villagers had begun to express uneasy doubts whether they +themselves could lie in their own ground, with their forefathers +and descendants, by-and-by. The churchyard being but a step +from the clergyman’s dwelling-house, we crossed to the +latter; the white surplice was hanging up near the door ready to +be put on at any time, for a funeral service.</p> +<p>The cheerful earnestness of this good Christian minister was +as consolatory, as the circumstances out of which it shone were +sad. I never have seen anything more delightfully genuine +than the calm dismissal by himself and his household of all they +had undergone, as a simple duty that was quietly done and +ended. In speaking of it, they spoke of it with great +compassion for the bereaved; but laid no stress upon their own +hard share in those weary weeks, except as it had attached many +people to them as friends, and elicited many touching expressions +of gratitude. This clergyman’s brother—himself +the clergyman of two adjoining parishes, who had buried +thirty-four of the bodies in his own churchyard, and who had done +to them all that his brother had done as to the larger +number—must be understood as included in the family. +He was there, with his neatly arranged papers, and made no more +account of his trouble than anybody else did. Down to +yesterday’s post outward, my clergyman alone had written +one thousand and seventy-five letters to relatives and friends of +the lost people. In the absence of self-assertion, it was +only through my now and then delicately putting a question as the +occasion arose, that I became informed of these things. It +was only when I had remarked again and again, in the church, on +the awful nature of the scene of death he had been required so +closely to familiarise himself with for the soothing of the +living, that he had casually said, without the least abatement of +his cheerfulness, ‘indeed, it had rendered him unable for a +time to eat or drink more than a little coffee now and then, and +a piece of bread.’</p> +<p>In this noble modesty, in this beautiful simplicity, in this +serene avoidance of the least attempt to ‘improve’ an +occasion which might be supposed to have sunk of its own weight +into my heart, I seemed to have happily come, in a few steps, +from the churchyard with its open grave, which was the type of +Death, to the Christian dwelling side by side with it, which was +the type of Resurrection. I never shall think of the +former, without the latter. The two will always rest side +by side in my memory. If I had lost any one dear to me in +this unfortunate ship, if I had made a voyage from Australia to +look at the grave in the churchyard, I should go away, thankful +to <span class="smcap">God</span> that that house was so close to +it, and that its shadow by day and its domestic lights by night +fell upon the earth in which its Master had so tenderly laid my +dear one’s head.</p> +<p>The references that naturally arose out of our conversation, +to the descriptions sent down of shipwrecked persons, and to the +gratitude of relations and friends, made me very anxious to see +some of those letters. I was presently seated before a +shipwreck of papers, all bordered with black, and from them I +made the following few extracts.</p> +<p>A mother writes:</p> +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Reverend Sir</span>. +Amongst the many who perished on your shore was numbered my +beloved son. I was only just recovering from a severe +illness, and this fearful affliction has caused a relapse, so +that I am unable at present to go to identify the remains of the +loved and lost. My darling son would have been sixteen on +Christmas-day next. He was a most amiable and obedient +child, early taught the way of salvation. We fondly hoped +that as a British seaman he might be an ornament to his +profession, but, ‘it is well;’ I feel assured my dear +boy is now with the redeemed. Oh, he did not wish to go +this last voyage! On the fifteenth of October, I received a +letter from him from Melbourne, date August twelfth; he wrote in +high spirits, and in conclusion he says: ‘Pray for a fair +breeze, dear mamma, and I’ll not forget to whistle for it! +and, God permitting, I shall see you and all my little pets +again. Good-bye, dear mother—good-bye, dearest +parents. Good-bye, dear brother.’ Oh, it was +indeed an eternal farewell. I do not apologise for thus +writing you, for oh, my heart is so very sorrowful.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A husband writes:</p> +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">My dear kind Sir</span>. +Will you kindly inform me whether there are any initials upon the +ring and guard you have in possession, found, as the Standard +says, last Tuesday? Believe me, my dear sir, when I say +that I cannot express my deep gratitude in words sufficiently for +your kindness to me on that fearful and appalling day. Will +you tell me what I can do for you, and will you write me a +consoling letter to prevent my mind from going astray?</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A widow writes:</p> +<blockquote><p>Left in such a state as I am, my friends and I +thought it best that my dear husband should be buried where he +lies, and, much as I should have liked to have had it otherwise, +I must submit. I feel, from all I have heard of you, that +you will see it done decently and in order. Little does it +signify to us, when the soul has departed, where this poor body +lies, but we who are left behind would do all we can to show how +we loved them. This is denied me, but it is God’s +hand that afflicts us, and I try to submit. Some day I may +be able to visit the spot, and see where he lies, and erect a +simple stone to his memory. Oh! it will be long, long +before I forget that dreadful night! Is there such a thing +in the vicinity, or any shop in Bangor, to which I could send for +a small picture of Moelfra or Llanallgo church, a spot now sacred +to me?</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Another widow writes:</p> +<blockquote><p>I have received your letter this morning, and do +thank you most kindly for the interest you have taken about my +dear husband, as well for the sentiments yours contains, evincing +the spirit of a Christian who can sympathise with those who, like +myself, are broken down with grief.</p> +<p>May God bless and sustain you, and all in connection with you, +in this great trial. Time may roll on and bear all its sons +away, but your name as a disinterested person will stand in +history, and, as successive years pass, many a widow will think +of your noble conduct, and the tears of gratitude flow down many +a cheek, the tribute of a thankful heart, when other things are +forgotten for ever.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A father writes:</p> +<blockquote><p>I am at a loss to find words to sufficiently +express my gratitude to you for your kindness to my son Richard +upon the melancholy occasion of his visit to his dear +brother’s body, and also for your ready attention in +pronouncing our beautiful burial service over my poor unfortunate +son’s remains. God grant that your prayers over him +may reach the Mercy Seat, and that his soul may be received +(through Christ’s intercession) into heaven!</p> +<p>His dear mother begs me to convey to you her heartfelt +thanks.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Those who were received at the clergyman’s house, write +thus, after leaving it:</p> +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear and never-to-be-forgotten +Friends</span>. I arrived here yesterday morning without +accident, and am about to proceed to my home by railway.</p> +<p>I am overpowered when I think of you and your hospitable +home. No words could speak language suited to my +heart. I refrain. God reward you with the same +measure you have meted with!</p> +<p>I enumerate no names, but embrace you all.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">My beloved Friends</span>. This is +the first day that I have been able to leave my bedroom since I +returned, which will explain the reason of my not writing +sooner.</p> +<p>If I could only have had my last melancholy hope realised in +recovering the body of my beloved and lamented son, I should have +returned home somewhat comforted, and I think I could then have +been comparatively resigned.</p> +<p>I fear now there is but little prospect, and I mourn as one +without hope.</p> +<p>The only consolation to my distressed mind is in having been +so feelingly allowed by you to leave the matter in your hands, by +whom I well know that everything will be done that can be, +according to arrangements made before I left the scene of the +awful catastrophe, both as to the identification of my dear son, +and also his interment.</p> +<p>I feel most anxious to hear whether anything fresh has +transpired since I left you; will you add another to the many +deep obligations I am under to you by writing to me? And +should the body of my dear and unfortunate son be identified, let +me hear from you immediately, and I will come again.</p> +<p>Words cannot express the gratitude I feel I owe to you all for +your benevolent aid, your kindness, and your sympathy.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p><span class="smcap">My dearly beloved Friends</span>. I +arrived in safety at my house yesterday, and a night’s rest +has restored and tranquillised me. I must again repeat, +that language has no words by which I can express my sense of +obligation to you. You are enshrined in my heart of +hearts.</p> +<p>I have seen him! and can now realise my misfortune more than I +have hitherto been able to do. Oh, the bitterness of the +cup I drink! But I bow submissive. God <i>must</i> +have done right. I do not want to feel less, but to +acquiesce more simply.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>There were some Jewish passengers on board the Royal Charter, +and the gratitude of the Jewish people is feelingly expressed in +the following letter bearing date from ‘the office of the +Chief Rabbi:’</p> +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Reverend Sir</span>. I +cannot refrain from expressing to you my heartfelt thanks on +behalf of those of my flock whose relatives have unfortunately +been among those who perished at the late wreck of the Royal +Charter. You have, indeed, like Boaz, ‘not left off +your kindness to the living and the dead.’</p> +<p>You have not alone acted kindly towards the living by +receiving them hospitably at your house, and energetically +assisting them in their mournful duty, but also towards the dead, +by exerting yourself to have our co-religionists buried in our +ground, and according to our rites. May our heavenly Father +reward you for your acts of humanity and true philanthropy!</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The ‘Old Hebrew congregation of Liverpool’ thus +express themselves through their secretary:</p> +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Reverend Sir</span>. The +wardens of this congregation have learned with great pleasure +that, in addition to those indefatigable exertions, at the scene +of the late disaster to the Royal Charter, which have received +universal recognition, you have very benevolently employed your +valuable efforts to assist such members of our faith as have +sought the bodies of lost friends to give them burial in our +consecrated grounds, with the observances and rites prescribed by +the ordinances of our religion.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The wardens desire me to take the earliest available +opportunity to offer to you, on behalf of our community, the +expression of their warm acknowledgments and grateful thanks, and +their sincere wishes for your continued welfare and +prosperity.</p> +<p>A Jewish gentleman writes:</p> +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Reverend and dear +Sir</span>. I take the opportunity of thanking you right +earnestly for the promptness you displayed in answering my note +with full particulars concerning my much lamented brother, and I +also herein beg to express my sincere regard for the willingness +you displayed and for the facility you afforded for getting the +remains of my poor brother exhumed. It has been to us a +most sorrowful and painful event, but when we meet with such +friends as yourself, it in a measure, somehow or other, abates +that mental anguish, and makes the suffering so much easier to be +borne. Considering the circumstances connected with my poor +brother’s fate, it does, indeed, appear a hard one. +He had been away in all seven years; he returned four years ago +to see his family. He was then engaged to a very amiable +young lady. He had been very successful abroad, and was now +returning to fulfil his sacred vow; he brought all his property +with him in gold uninsured. We heard from him when the ship +stopped at Queenstown, when he was in the highest of hope, and in +a few short hours afterwards all was washed away.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mournful in the deepest degree, but too sacred for quotation +here, were the numerous references to those miniatures of women +worn round the necks of rough men (and found there after death), +those locks of hair, those scraps of letters, those many many +slight memorials of hidden tenderness. One man cast up by +the sea bore about him, printed on a perforated lace card, the +following singular (and unavailing) charm:</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">A BLESSING.</p> +<p>May the blessing of God await thee. May the sun of glory +shine around thy bed; and may the gates of plenty, honour, and +happiness be ever open to thee. May no sorrow distress thy +days; may no grief disturb thy nights. May the pillow of +peace kiss thy cheek, and the pleasures of imagination attend thy +dreams; and when length of years makes thee tired of earthly +joys, and the curtain of death gently closes around thy last +sleep of human existence, may the Angel of God attend thy bed, +and take care that the expiring lamp of life shall not receive +one rude blast to hasten on its extinction.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A sailor had these devices on his right arm. ‘Our +Saviour on the Cross, the forehead of the Crucifix and the +vesture stained red; on the lower part of the arm, a man and +woman; on one side of the Cross, the appearance of a half moon, +with a face; on the other side, the sun; on the top of the Cross, +the letters I.H.S.; on the left arm, a man and woman dancing, +with an effort to delineate the female’s dress; under +which, initials.’ Another seaman ‘had, on the +lower part of the right arm, the device of a sailor and a female; +the man holding the Union Jack with a streamer, the folds of +which waved over her head, and the end of it was held in her +hand. On the upper part of the arm, a device of Our Lord on +the Cross, with stars surrounding the head of the Cross, and one +large star on the side in Indian Ink. On the left arm, a +flag, a true lover’s knot, a face, and +initials.’ This tattooing was found still plain, +below the discoloured outer surface of a mutilated arm, when such +surface was carefully scraped away with a knife. It is not +improbable that the perpetuation of this marking custom among +seamen, may be referred back to their desire to be identified, if +drowned and flung ashore.</p> +<p>It was some time before I could sever myself from the many +interesting papers on the table, and then I broke bread and drank +wine with the kind family before I left them. As I brought +the Coast-guard down, so I took the Postman back, with his +leathern wallet, walking-stick, bugle, and terrier dog. +Many a heart-broken letter had he brought to the Rectory House +within two months many; a benignantly painstaking answer had he +carried back.</p> +<p>As I rode along, I thought of the many people, inhabitants of +this mother country, who would make pilgrimages to the little +churchyard in the years to come; I thought of the many people in +Australia, who would have an interest in such a shipwreck, and +would find their way here when they visit the Old World; I +thought of the writers of all the wreck of letters I had left +upon the table; and I resolved to place this little record where +it stands. Convocations, Conferences, Diocesan Epistles, +and the like, will do a great deal for Religion, I dare say, and +Heaven send they may! but I doubt if they will ever do their +Master’s service half so well, in all the time they last, +as the Heavens have seen it done in this bleak spot upon the +rugged coast of Wales.</p> +<p>Had I lost the friend of my life, in the wreck of the Royal +Charter; had I lost my betrothed, the more than friend of my +life; had I lost my maiden daughter, had I lost my hopeful boy, +had I lost my little child; I would kiss the hands that worked so +busily and gently in the church, and say, ‘None better +could have touched the form, though it had lain at +home.’ I could be sure of it, I could be thankful for +it: I could be content to leave the grave near the house the good +family pass in and out of every day, undisturbed, in the little +churchyard where so many are so strangely brought together.</p> +<p>Without the name of the clergyman to whom—I hope, not +without carrying comfort to some heart at some time—I have +referred, my reference would be as nothing. He is the +Reverend Stephen Roose Hughes, of Llanallgo, near Moelfra, +Anglesey. His brother is the Reverend Hugh Robert Hughes, +of Penrhos, Alligwy.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>III<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WAPPING WORKHOUSE</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> day’s no-business +beckoning me to the East-end of London, I had turned my face to +that point of the metropolitan compass on leaving Covent-garden, +and had got past the India House, thinking in my idle manner of +Tippoo-Sahib and Charles Lamb, and had got past my little wooden +midshipman, after affectionately patting him on one leg of his +knee-shorts for old acquaintance’ sake, and had got past +Aldgate Pump, and had got past the Saracen’s Head (with an +ignominious rash of posting bills disfiguring his swarthy +countenance), and had strolled up the empty yard of his ancient +neighbour the Black or Blue Boar, or Bull, who departed this life +I don’t know when, and whose coaches are all gone I +don’t know where; and I had come out again into the age of +railways, and I had got past Whitechapel Church, and +was—rather inappropriately for an Uncommercial +Traveller—in the Commercial Road. Pleasantly +wallowing in the abundant mud of that thoroughfare, and greatly +enjoying the huge piles of building belonging to the sugar +refiners, the little masts and vanes in small back gardens in +back streets, the neighbouring canals and docks, the India vans +lumbering along their stone tramway, and the pawnbrokers’ +shops where hard-up Mates had pawned so many sextants and +quadrants, that I should have bought a few cheap if I had the +least notion how to use them, I at last began to file off to the +right, towards Wapping.</p> +<p>Not that I intended to take boat at Wapping Old Stairs, or +that I was going to look at the locality, because I believe (for +I don’t) in the constancy of the young woman who told her +sea-going lover, to such a beautiful old tune, that she had ever +continued the same, since she gave him the ’baccer-box +marked with his name; I am afraid he usually got the worst of +those transactions, and was frightfully taken in. No, I was +going to Wapping, because an Eastern police magistrate had said, +through the morning papers, that there was no classification at +the Wapping workhouse for women, and that it was a disgrace and a +shame, and divers other hard names, and because I wished to see +how the fact really stood. For, that Eastern police +magistrates are not always the wisest men of the East, may be +inferred from their course of procedure respecting the +fancy-dressing and pantomime-posturing at St. George’s in +that quarter: which is usually, to discuss the matter at issue, +in a state of mind betokening the weakest perplexity, with all +parties concerned and unconcerned, and, for a final expedient, to +consult the complainant as to what he thinks ought to be done +with the defendant, and take the defendant’s opinion as to +what he would recommend to be done with himself.</p> +<p>Long before I reached Wapping, I gave myself up as having lost +my way, and, abandoning myself to the narrow streets in a Turkish +frame of mind, relied on predestination to bring me somehow or +other to the place I wanted if I were ever to get there. +When I had ceased for an hour or so to take any trouble about the +matter, I found myself on a swing-bridge looking down at some +dark locks in some dirty water. Over against me, stood a +creature remotely in the likeness of a young man, with a puffed +sallow face, and a figure all dirty and shiny and slimy, who may +have been the youngest son of his filthy old father, Thames, or +the drowned man about whom there was a placard on the granite +post like a large thimble, that stood between us.</p> +<p>I asked this apparition what it called the place? Unto +which, it replied, with a ghastly grin and a sound like gurgling +water in its throat:</p> +<p>‘Mr. Baker’s trap.’</p> +<p>As it is a point of great sensitiveness with me on such +occasions to be equal to the intellectual pressure of the +conversation, I deeply considered the meaning of this speech, +while I eyed the apparition—then engaged in hugging and +sucking a horizontal iron bar at the top of the locks. +Inspiration suggested to me that Mr. Baker was the acting coroner +of that neighbourhood.</p> +<p>‘A common place for suicide,’ said I, looking down +at the locks.</p> +<p>‘Sue?’ returned the ghost, with a stare. +‘Yes! And Poll. Likewise Emily. And +Nancy. And Jane;’ he sucked the iron between each +name; ‘and all the bileing. Ketches off their bonnets +or shorls, takes a run, and headers down here, they doos. +Always a headerin’ down here, they is. Like one +o’clock.’</p> +<p>‘And at about that hour of the morning, I +suppose?’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said the apparition. +‘<i>They</i> an’t partickler. Two ’ull do +for <i>them</i>. Three. All times o’ +night. On’y mind you!’ Here the +apparition rested his profile on the bar, and gurgled in a +sarcastic manner. ‘There must be somebody +comin’. They don’t go a headerin’ down +here, wen there an’t no Bobby nor gen’ral Cove, fur +to hear the splash.’</p> +<p>According to my interpretation of these words, I was myself a +General Cove, or member of the miscellaneous public. In +which modest character I remarked:</p> +<p>‘They are often taken out, are they, and +restored?’</p> +<p>‘I dunno about restored,’ said the apparition, +who, for some occult reason, very much objected to that word; +‘they’re carried into the werkiss and put into a +’ot bath, and brought round. But I dunno about +restored,’ said the apparition; ‘blow +<i>that</i>!’—and vanished.</p> +<p>As it had shown a desire to become offensive, I was not sorry +to find myself alone, especially as the ‘werkiss’ it +had indicated with a twist of its matted head, was close at +hand. So I left Mr. Baker’s terrible trap (baited +with a scum that was like the soapy rinsing of sooty chimneys), +and made bold to ring at the workhouse gate, where I was wholly +unexpected and quite unknown.</p> +<p>A very bright and nimble little matron, with a bunch of keys +in her hand, responded to my request to see the House. I +began to doubt whether the police magistrate was quite right in +his facts, when I noticed her quick, active little figure and her +intelligent eyes.</p> +<p>The Traveller (the matron intimated) should see the worst +first. He was welcome to see everything. Such as it +was, there it all was.</p> +<p>This was the only preparation for our entering ‘the Foul +wards.’ They were in an old building squeezed away in +a corner of a paved yard, quite detached from the more modern and +spacious main body of the workhouse. They were in a +building most monstrously behind the time—a mere series of +garrets or lofts, with every inconvenient and objectionable +circumstance in their construction, and only accessible by steep +and narrow staircases, infamously ill-adapted for the passage +up-stairs of the sick or down-stairs of the dead.</p> +<p>A-bed in these miserable rooms, here on bedsteads, there (for +a change, as I understood it) on the floor, were women in every +stage of distress and disease. None but those who have +attentively observed such scenes, can conceive the extraordinary +variety of expression still latent under the general monotony and +uniformity of colour, attitude, and condition. The form a +little coiled up and turned away, as though it had turned its +back on this world for ever; the uninterested face at once +lead-coloured and yellow, looking passively upward from the +pillow; the haggard mouth a little dropped, the hand outside the +coverlet, so dull and indifferent, so light, and yet so heavy; +these were on every pallet; but when I stopped beside a bed, and +said ever so slight a word to the figure lying there, the ghost +of the old character came into the face, and made the Foul ward +as various as the fair world. No one appeared to care to +live, but no one complained; all who could speak, said that as +much was done for them as could be done there, that the +attendance was kind and patient, that their suffering was very +heavy, but they had nothing to ask for. The wretched rooms +were as clean and sweet as it is possible for such rooms to be; +they would become a pest-house in a single week, if they were +ill-kept.</p> +<p>I accompanied the brisk matron up another barbarous staircase, +into a better kind of loft devoted to the idiotic and +imbecile. There was at least Light in it, whereas the +windows in the former wards had been like sides of +school-boys’ bird-cages. There was a strong grating +over the fire here, and, holding a kind of state on either side +of the hearth, separated by the breadth of this grating, were two +old ladies in a condition of feeble dignity, which was surely the +very last and lowest reduction of self-complacency to be found in +this wonderful humanity of ours. They were evidently +jealous of each other, and passed their whole time (as some +people do, whose fires are not grated) in mentally disparaging +each other, and contemptuously watching their neighbours. +One of these parodies on provincial gentlewomen was extremely +talkative, and expressed a strong desire to attend the service on +Sundays, from which she represented herself to have derived the +greatest interest and consolation when allowed that +privilege. She gossiped so well, and looked altogether so +cheery and harmless, that I began to think this a case for the +Eastern magistrate, until I found that on the last occasion of +her attending chapel she had secreted a small stick, and had +caused some confusion in the responses by suddenly producing it +and belabouring the congregation.</p> +<p>So, these two old ladies, separated by the breadth of the +grating—otherwise they would fly at one another’s +caps—sat all day long, suspecting one another, and +contemplating a world of fits. For everybody else in the +room had fits, except the wards-woman; an elderly, able-bodied +pauperess, with a large upper lip, and an air of repressing and +saving her strength, as she stood with her hands folded before +her, and her eyes slowly rolling, biding her time for catching or +holding somebody. This civil personage (in whom I regretted +to identify a reduced member of my honourable friend Mrs. +Gamp’s family) said, ‘They has ’em continiwal, +sir. They drops without no more notice than if they was +coach-horses dropped from the moon, sir. And when one +drops, another drops, and sometimes there’ll be as many as +four or five on ’em at once, dear me, a rolling and a +tearin’, bless you!—this young woman, now, has +’em dreadful bad.’</p> +<p>She turned up this young woman’s face with her hand as +she said it. This young woman was seated on the floor, +pondering in the foreground of the afflicted. There was +nothing repellent either in her face or head. Many, +apparently worse, varieties of epilepsy and hysteria were about +her, but she was said to be the worst here. When I had +spoken to her a little, she still sat with her face turned up, +pondering, and a gleam of the mid-day sun shone in upon her.</p> +<p>—Whether this young woman, and the rest of these so +sorely troubled, as they sit or lie pondering in their confused +dull way, ever get mental glimpses among the motes in the +sunlight, of healthy people and healthy things? Whether +this young woman, brooding like this in the summer season, ever +thinks that somewhere there are trees and flowers, even mountains +and the great sea? Whether, not to go so far, this young +woman ever has any dim revelation of that young woman—that +young woman who is not here and never will come here; who is +courted, and caressed, and loved, and has a husband, and bears +children, and lives in a home, and who never knows what it is to +have this lashing and tearing coming upon her? And whether +this young woman, God help her, gives herself up then and drops +like a coach-horse from the moon?</p> +<p>I hardly knew whether the voices of infant children, +penetrating into so hopeless a place, made a sound that was +pleasant or painful to me. It was something to be reminded +that the weary world was not all aweary, and was ever renewing +itself; but, this young woman was a child not long ago, and a +child not long hence might be such as she. Howbeit, the +active step and eye of the vigilant matron conducted me past the +two provincial gentlewomen (whose dignity was ruffled by the +children), and into the adjacent nursery.</p> +<p>There were many babies here, and more than one handsome young +mother. There were ugly young mothers also, and sullen +young mothers, and callous young mothers. But, the babies +had not appropriated to themselves any bad expression yet, and +might have been, for anything that appeared to the contrary in +their soft faces, Princes Imperial, and Princesses Royal. I +had the pleasure of giving a poetical commission to the +baker’s man to make a cake with all despatch and toss it +into the oven for one red-headed young pauper and myself, and +felt much the better for it. Without that refreshment, I +doubt if I should have been in a condition for ‘the +Refractories,’ towards whom my quick little +matron—for whose adaptation to her office I had by this +time conceived a genuine respect—drew me next, and +marshalled me the way that I was going.</p> +<p>The Refractories were picking oakum, in a small room giving on +a yard. They sat in line on a form, with their backs to a +window; before them, a table, and their work. The oldest +Refractory was, say twenty; youngest Refractory, say +sixteen. I have never yet ascertained in the course of my +uncommercial travels, why a Refractory habit should affect the +tonsils and uvula; but, I have always observed that Refractories +of both sexes and every grade, between a Ragged School and the +Old Bailey, have one voice, in which the tonsils and uvula gain a +diseased ascendency.</p> +<p>‘Five pound indeed! I hain’t a going fur to +pick five pound,’ said the Chief of the Refractories, +keeping time to herself with her head and chin. ‘More +than enough to pick what we picks now, in sich a place as this, +and on wot we gets here!’</p> +<p>(This was in acknowledgment of a delicate intimation that the +amount of work was likely to be increased. It certainly was +not heavy then, for one Refractory had already done her +day’s task—it was barely two o’clock—and +was sitting behind it, with a head exactly matching it.)</p> +<p>‘A pretty Ouse this is, matron, ain’t it?’ +said Refractory Two, ‘where a pleeseman’s called in, +if a gal says a word!’</p> +<p>‘And wen you’re sent to prison for nothink or +less!’ said the Chief, tugging at her oakum as if it were +the matron’s hair. ‘But any place is better +than this; that’s one thing, and be thankful!’</p> +<p>A laugh of Refractories led by Oakum Head with folded +arms—who originated nothing, but who was in command of the +skirmishers outside the conversation.</p> +<p>‘If any place is better than this,’ said my brisk +guide, in the calmest manner, ‘it is a pity you left a good +place when you had one.’</p> +<p>‘Ho, no, I didn’t, matron,’ returned the +Chief, with another pull at her oakum, and a very expressive look +at the enemy’s forehead. ‘Don’t say that, +matron, cos it’s lies!’</p> +<p>Oakum Head brought up the skirmishers again, skirmished, and +retired.</p> +<p>‘And <i>I</i> warn’t a going,’ exclaimed +Refractory Two, ‘though I was in one place for as long as +four year—<i>I</i> warn’t a going fur to stop in a +place that warn’t fit for me—there! And where +the family warn’t ’spectable +characters—there! And where I fortunately or +hunfort’nately, found that the people warn’t what +they pretended to make theirselves out to be—there! +And where it wasn’t their faults, by chalks, if I +warn’t made bad and ruinated—Hah!’</p> +<p>During this speech, Oakum Head had again made a diversion with +the skirmishers, and had again withdrawn.</p> +<p>The Uncommercial Traveller ventured to remark that he supposed +Chief Refractory and Number One, to be the two young women who +had been taken before the magistrate?</p> +<p>‘Yes!’ said the Chief, ‘we har! and the +wonder is, that a pleeseman an’t ’ad in now, and we +took off agen. You can’t open your lips here, without +a pleeseman.’</p> +<p>Number Two laughed (very uvularly), and the skirmishers +followed suit.</p> +<p>‘I’m sure I’d be thankful,’ protested +the Chief, looking sideways at the Uncommercial, ‘if I +could be got into a place, or got abroad. I’m sick +and tired of this precious Ouse, I am, with reason.’</p> +<p>So would be, and so was, Number Two. So would be, and so +was, Oakum Head. So would be, and so were, Skirmishers.</p> +<p>The Uncommercial took the liberty of hinting that he hardly +thought it probable that any lady or gentleman in want of a +likely young domestic of retiring manners, would be tempted into +the engagement of either of the two leading Refractories, on her +own presentation of herself as per sample.</p> +<p>‘It ain’t no good being nothink else here,’ +said the Chief.</p> +<p>The Uncommercial thought it might be worth trying.</p> +<p>‘Oh no it ain’t,’ said the Chief.</p> +<p>‘Not a bit of good,’ said Number Two.</p> +<p>‘And I’m sure I’d be very thankful to be got +into a place, or got abroad,’ said the Chief.</p> +<p>‘And so should I,’ said Number Two. +‘Truly thankful, I should.’</p> +<p>Oakum Head then rose, and announced as an entirely new idea, +the mention of which profound novelty might be naturally expected +to startle her unprepared hearers, that she would be very +thankful to be got into a place, or got abroad. And, as if +she had then said, ‘Chorus, ladies!’ all the +Skirmishers struck up to the same purpose. We left them, +thereupon, and began a long walk among the women who were simply +old and infirm; but whenever, in the course of this same walk, I +looked out of any high window that commanded the yard, I saw +Oakum Head and all the other Refractories looking out at their +low window for me, and never failing to catch me, the moment I +showed my head.</p> +<p>In ten minutes I had ceased to believe in such fables of a +golden time as youth, the prime of life, or a hale old age. +In ten minutes, all the lights of womankind seemed to have been +blown out, and nothing in that way to be left this vault to brag +of, but the flickering and expiring snuffs.</p> +<p>And what was very curious, was, that these dim old women had +one company notion which was the fashion of the place. +Every old woman who became aware of a visitor and was not in bed +hobbled over a form into her accustomed seat, and became one of a +line of dim old women confronting another line of dim old women +across a narrow table. There was no obligation whatever +upon them to range themselves in this way; it was their manner of +‘receiving.’ As a rule, they made no attempt to +talk to one another, or to look at the visitor, or to look at +anything, but sat silently working their mouths, like a sort of +poor old Cows. In some of these wards, it was good to see a +few green plants; in others, an isolated Refractory acting as +nurse, who did well enough in that capacity, when separated from +her compeers; every one of these wards, day room, night room, or +both combined, was scrupulously clean and fresh. I have +seen as many such places as most travellers in my line, and I +never saw one such, better kept.</p> +<p>Among the bedridden there was great patience, great reliance +on the books under the pillow, great faith in <span +class="smcap">God</span>. All cared for sympathy, but none +much cared to be encouraged with hope of recovery; on the whole, +I should say, it was considered rather a distinction to have a +complication of disorders, and to be in a worse way than the +rest. From some of the windows, the river could be seen +with all its life and movement; the day was bright, but I came +upon no one who was looking out.</p> +<p>In one large ward, sitting by the fire in arm-chairs of +distinction, like the President and Vice of the good company, +were two old women, upwards of ninety years of age. The +younger of the two, just turned ninety, was deaf, but not very, +and could easily be made to hear. In her early time she had +nursed a child, who was now another old woman, more infirm than +herself, inhabiting the very same chamber. She perfectly +understood this when the matron told it, and, with sundry nods +and motions of her forefinger, pointed out the woman in +question. The elder of this pair, ninety-three, seated +before an illustrated newspaper (but not reading it), was a +bright-eyed old soul, really not deaf, wonderfully preserved, and +amazingly conversational. She had not long lost her +husband, and had been in that place little more than a +year. At Boston, in the State of Massachusetts, this poor +creature would have been individually addressed, would have been +tended in her own room, and would have had her life gently +assimilated to a comfortable life out of doors. Would that +be much to do in England for a woman who has kept herself out of +a workhouse more than ninety rough long years? When Britain +first, at Heaven’s command, arose, with a great deal of +allegorical confusion, from out the azure main, did her guardian +angels positively forbid it in the Charter which has been so much +besung?</p> +<p>The object of my journey was accomplished when the nimble +matron had no more to show me. As I shook hands with her at +the gate, I told her that I thought justice had not used her very +well, and that the wise men of the East were not infallible.</p> +<p>Now, I reasoned with myself, as I made my journey home again, +concerning those Foul wards. They ought not to exist; no +person of common decency and humanity can see them and doubt +it. But what is this Union to do? The necessary +alteration would cost several thousands of pounds; it has already +to support three workhouses; its inhabitants work hard for their +bare lives, and are already rated for the relief of the Poor to +the utmost extent of reasonable endurance. One poor parish +in this very Union is rated to the amount of <span +class="smcap">Five and Sixpence</span> in the pound, at the very +same time when the rich parish of Saint George’s, +Hanover-square, is rated at about <span +class="smcap">Sevenpence</span> in the pound, Paddington at about +<span class="smcap">Fourpence</span>, Saint James’s, +Westminster, at about <span class="smcap">Tenpence</span>! +It is only through the equalisation of Poor Rates that what is +left undone in this wise, can be done. Much more is left +undone, or is ill-done, than I have space to suggest in these +notes of a single uncommercial journey; but, the wise men of the +East, before they can reasonably hold forth about it, must look +to the North and South and West; let them also, any morning +before taking the seat of Solomon, look into the shops and +dwellings all around the Temple, and first ask themselves +‘how much more can these poor people—many of whom +keep themselves with difficulty enough out of the +workhouse—bear?’</p> +<p>I had yet other matter for reflection as I journeyed home, +inasmuch as, before I altogether departed from the neighbourhood +of Mr. Baker’s trap, I had knocked at the gate of the +workhouse of St. George’s-in-the-East, and had found it to +be an establishment highly creditable to those parts, and +thoroughly well administered by a most intelligent master. +I remarked in it, an instance of the collateral harm that +obstinate vanity and folly can do. ‘This was the Hall +where those old paupers, male and female, whom I had just seen, +met for the Church service, was +it?’—‘Yes.’—‘Did they sing +the Psalms to any instrument?’—‘They would like +to, very much; they would have an extraordinary interest in doing +so.’—‘And could none be +got?’—‘Well, a piano could even have been got +for nothing, but these unfortunate +dissensions—’ Ah! better, far better, my +Christian friend in the beautiful garment, to have let the +singing boys alone, and left the multitude to sing for +themselves! You should know better than I, but I think I +have read that they did so, once upon a time, and that +‘when they had sung an hymn,’ Some one (not in a +beautiful garment) went up into the Mount of Olives.</p> +<p>It made my heart ache to think of this miserable trifling, in +the streets of a city where every stone seemed to call to me, as +I walked along, ‘Turn this way, man, and see what waits to +be done!’ So I decoyed myself into another train of +thought to ease my heart. But, I don’t know that I +did it, for I was so full of paupers, that it was, after all, +only a change to a single pauper, who took possession of my +remembrance instead of a thousand.</p> +<p>‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ he had said, in a +confidential manner, on another occasion, taking me aside; +‘but I have seen better days.’</p> +<p>‘I am very sorry to hear it.’</p> +<p>‘Sir, I have a complaint to make against the +master.’</p> +<p>‘I have no power here, I assure you. And if I +had—’</p> +<p>‘But, allow me, sir, to mention it, as between yourself +and a man who has seen better days, sir. The master and +myself are both masons, sir, and I make him the sign continually; +but, because I am in this unfortunate position, sir, he +won’t give me the counter-sign!’</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>IV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">TWO VIEWS OF A CHEAP THEATRE</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">As</span> I shut the door of my lodging +behind me, and came out into the streets at six on a drizzling +Saturday evening in the last past month of January, all that +neighbourhood of Covent-garden looked very desolate. It is +so essentially a neighbourhood which has seen better days, that +bad weather affects it sooner than another place which has not +come down in the World. In its present reduced condition it +bears a thaw almost worse than any place I know. It gets so +dreadfully low-spirited when damp breaks forth. Those +wonderful houses about Drury-lane Theatre, which in the palmy +days of theatres were prosperous and long-settled places of +business, and which now change hands every week, but never change +their character of being divided and sub-divided on the ground +floor into mouldy dens of shops where an orange and half-a-dozen +nuts, or a pomatum-pot, one cake of fancy soap, and a cigar box, +are offered for sale and never sold, were most ruefully +contemplated that evening, by the statue of Shakespeare, with the +rain-drops coursing one another down its innocent nose. +Those inscrutable pigeon-hole offices, with nothing in them (not +so much as an inkstand) but a model of a theatre before the +curtain, where, in the Italian Opera season, tickets at reduced +prices are kept on sale by nomadic gentlemen in smeary hats too +tall for them, whom one occasionally seems to have seen on +race-courses, not wholly unconnected with strips of cloth of +various colours and a rolling ball—those Bedouin +establishments, deserted by the tribe, and tenantless, except +when sheltering in one corner an irregular row of ginger-beer +bottles, which would have made one shudder on such a night, but +for its being plain that they had nothing in them, shrunk from +the shrill cries of the news-boys at their Exchange in the kennel +of Catherine-street, like guilty things upon a fearful +summons. At the pipe-shop in Great Russell-street, the +Death’s-head pipes were like theatrical memento mori, +admonishing beholders of the decline of the playhouse as an +Institution. I walked up Bow-street, disposed to be angry +with the shops there, that were letting out theatrical secrets by +exhibiting to work-a-day humanity the stuff of which diadems and +robes of kings are made. I noticed that some shops which +had once been in the dramatic line, and had struggled out of it, +were not getting on prosperously—like some actors I have +known, who took to business and failed to make it answer. +In a word, those streets looked so dull, and, considered as +theatrical streets, so broken and bankrupt, that the <span +class="smcap">Found Dead</span> on the black board at the police +station might have announced the decease of the Drama, and the +pools of water outside the fire-engine maker’s at the +corner of Long-acre might have been occasioned by his having +brought out the whole of his stock to play upon its last +smouldering ashes.</p> +<p>And yet, on such a night in so degenerate a time, the object +of my journey was theatrical. And yet within half an hour I +was in an immense theatre, capable of holding nearly five +thousand people.</p> +<p>What Theatre? Her Majesty’s? Far +better. Royal Italian Opera? Far better. +Infinitely superior to the latter for hearing in; infinitely +superior to both, for seeing in. To every part of this +Theatre, spacious fire-proof ways of ingress and egress. +For every part of it, convenient places of refreshment and +retiring rooms. Everything to eat and drink carefully +supervised as to quality, and sold at an appointed price; +respectable female attendants ready for the commonest women in +the audience; a general air of consideration, decorum, and +supervision, most commendable; an unquestionably humanising +influence in all the social arrangements of the place.</p> +<p>Surely a dear Theatre, then? Because there were in +London (not very long ago) Theatres with entrance-prices up to +half-a-guinea a head, whose arrangements were not half so +civilised. Surely, therefore, a dear Theatre? Not +very dear. A gallery at three-pence, another gallery at +fourpence, a pit at sixpence, boxes and pit-stalls at a shilling, +and a few private boxes at half-a-crown.</p> +<p>My uncommercial curiosity induced me to go into every nook of +this great place, and among every class of the audience assembled +in it—amounting that evening, as I calculated, to about two +thousand and odd hundreds. Magnificently lighted by a +firmament of sparkling chandeliers, the building was ventilated +to perfection. My sense of smell, without being +particularly delicate, has been so offended in some of the +commoner places of public resort, that I have often been obliged +to leave them when I have made an uncommercial journey expressly +to look on. The air of this Theatre was fresh, cool, and +wholesome. To help towards this end, very sensible +precautions had been used, ingeniously combining the experience +of hospitals and railway stations. Asphalt pavements +substituted for wooden floors, honest bare walls of glazed brick +and tile—even at the back of the boxes—for plaster +and paper, no benches stuffed, and no carpeting or baize used; a +cool material with a light glazed surface, being the covering of +the seats.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image24" href="images/p24b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"A Cheap Theatre" +title= +"A Cheap Theatre" + src="images/p24s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>These various contrivances are as well considered in the place +in question as if it were a Fever Hospital; the result is, that +it is sweet and healthful. It has been constructed from the +ground to the roof, with a careful reference to sight and sound +in every corner; the result is, that its form is beautiful, and +that the appearance of the audience, as seen from the +proscenium—with every face in it commanding the stage, and +the whole so admirably raked and turned to that centre, that a +hand can scarcely move in the great assemblage without the +movement being seen from thence—is highly remarkable in its +union of vastness with compactness. The stage itself, and +all its appurtenances of machinery, cellarage, height and +breadth, are on a scale more like the Scala at Milan, or the San +Carlo at Naples, or the Grand Opera at Paris, than any notion a +stranger would be likely to form of the Britannia Theatre at +Hoxton, a mile north of St. Luke’s Hospital in the +Old-street-road, London. The Forty Thieves might be played +here, and every thief ride his real horse, and the disguised +captain bring in his oil jars on a train of real camels, and +nobody be put out of the way. This really extraordinary +place is the achievement of one man’s enterprise, and was +erected on the ruins of an inconvenient old building in less than +five months, at a round cost of five-and-twenty thousand +pounds. To dismiss this part of my subject, and still to +render to the proprietor the credit that is strictly his due, I +must add that his sense of the responsibility upon him to make +the best of his audience, and to do his best for them, is a +highly agreeable sign of these times.</p> +<p>As the spectators at this theatre, for a reason I will +presently show, were the object of my journey, I entered on the +play of the night as one of the two thousand and odd hundreds, by +looking about me at my neighbours. We were a motley +assemblage of people, and we had a good many boys and young men +among us; we had also many girls and young women. To +represent, however, that we did not include a very great number, +and a very fair proportion of family groups, would be to make a +gross mis-statement. Such groups were to be seen in all +parts of the house; in the boxes and stalls particularly, they +were composed of persons of very decent appearance, who had many +children with them. Among our dresses there were most kinds +of shabby and greasy wear, and much fustian and corduroy that was +neither sound nor fragrant. The caps of our young men were +mostly of a limp character, and we who wore them, slouched, +high-shouldered, into our places with our hands in our pockets, +and occasionally twisted our cravats about our necks like eels, +and occasionally tied them down our breasts like links of +sausages, and occasionally had a screw in our hair over each +cheek-bone with a slight Thief-flavour in it. Besides +prowlers and idlers, we were mechanics, dock-labourers, +costermongers, petty tradesmen, small clerks, milliners, +stay-makers, shoe-binders, slop-workers, poor workers in a +hundred highways and byways. Many of us—on the whole, +the majority—were not at all clean, and not at all choice +in our lives or conversation. But we had all come together +in a place where our convenience was well consulted, and where we +were well looked after, to enjoy an evening’s entertainment +in common. We were not going to lose any part of what we +had paid for through anybody’s caprice, and as a community +we had a character to lose. So, we were closely attentive, +and kept excellent order; and let the man or boy who did +otherwise instantly get out from this place, or we would put him +out with the greatest expedition.</p> +<p>We began at half-past six with a pantomime—with a +pantomime so long, that before it was over I felt as if I had +been travelling for six weeks—going to India, say, by the +Overland Mail. The Spirit of Liberty was the principal +personage in the Introduction, and the Four Quarters of the World +came out of the globe, glittering, and discoursed with the +Spirit, who sang charmingly. We were delighted to +understand that there was no liberty anywhere but among +ourselves, and we highly applauded the agreeable fact. In +an allegorical way, which did as well as any other way, we and +the Spirit of Liberty got into a kingdom of Needles and Pins, and +found them at war with a potentate who called in to his aid their +old arch enemy Rust, and who would have got the better of them if +the Spirit of Liberty had not in the nick of time transformed the +leaders into Clown, Pantaloon, Harlequin, Columbine, Harlequina, +and a whole family of Sprites, consisting of a remarkably stout +father and three spineless sons. We all knew what was +coming when the Spirit of Liberty addressed the king with a big +face, and His Majesty backed to the side-scenes and began untying +himself behind, with his big face all on one side. Our +excitement at that crisis was great, and our delight +unbounded. After this era in our existence, we went through +all the incidents of a pantomime; it was not by any means a +savage pantomime, in the way of burning or boiling people, or +throwing them out of window, or cutting them up; was often very +droll; was always liberally got up, and cleverly presented. +I noticed that the people who kept the shops, and who represented +the passengers in the thoroughfares, and so forth, had no +conventionality in them, but were unusually like the real +thing—from which I infer that you may take that audience in +(if you wish to) concerning Knights and Ladies, Fairies, Angels, +or such like, but they are not to be done as to anything in the +streets. I noticed, also, that when two young men, dressed +in exact imitation of the eel-and-sausage-cravated portion of the +audience, were chased by policemen, and, finding themselves in +danger of being caught, dropped so suddenly as to oblige the +policemen to tumble over them, there was great rejoicing among +the caps—as though it were a delicate reference to +something they had heard of before.</p> +<p>The Pantomime was succeeded by a Melo-Drama. Throughout +the evening I was pleased to observe Virtue quite as triumphant +as she usually is out of doors, and indeed I thought rather more +so. We all agreed (for the time) that honesty was the best +policy, and we were as hard as iron upon Vice, and we +wouldn’t hear of Villainy getting on in the world—no, +not on any consideration whatever.</p> +<p>Between the pieces, we almost all of us went out and +refreshed. Many of us went the length of drinking beer at +the bar of the neighbouring public-house, some of us drank +spirits, crowds of us had sandwiches and ginger-beer at the +refreshment-bars established for us in the Theatre. The +sandwich—as substantial as was consistent with portability, +and as cheap as possible—we hailed as one of our greatest +institutions. It forced its way among us at all stages of +the entertainment, and we were always delighted to see it; its +adaptability to the varying moods of our nature was surprising; +we could never weep so comfortably as when our tears fell on our +sandwich; we could never laugh so heartily as when we choked with +sandwich; Virtue never looked so beautiful or Vice so deformed as +when we paused, sandwich in hand, to consider what would come of +that resolution of Wickedness in boots, to sever Innocence in +flowered chintz from Honest Industry in striped stockings. +When the curtain fell for the night, we still fell back upon +sandwich, to help us through the rain and mire, and home to +bed.</p> +<p>This, as I have mentioned, was Saturday night. Being +Saturday night, I had accomplished but the half of my +uncommercial journey; for, its object was to compare the play on +Saturday evening with the preaching in the same Theatre on Sunday +evening.</p> +<p>Therefore, at the same hour of half-past six on the similarly +damp and muddy Sunday evening, I returned to this Theatre. +I drove up to the entrance (fearful of being late, or I should +have come on foot), and found myself in a large crowd of people +who, I am happy to state, were put into excellent spirits by my +arrival. Having nothing to look at but the mud and the +closed doors, they looked at me, and highly enjoyed the comic +spectacle. My modesty inducing me to draw off, some +hundreds of yards, into a dark corner, they at once forgot me, +and applied themselves to their former occupation of looking at +the mud and looking in at the closed doors: which, being of +grated ironwork, allowed the lighted passage within to be +seen. They were chiefly people of respectable appearance, +odd and impulsive as most crowds are, and making a joke of being +there as most crowds do.</p> +<p>In the dark corner I might have sat a long while, but that a +very obliging passer-by informed me that the Theatre was already +full, and that the people whom I saw in the street were all shut +out for want of room. After that, I lost no time in worming +myself into the building, and creeping to a place in a Proscenium +box that had been kept for me.</p> +<p>There must have been full four thousand people present. +Carefully estimating the pit alone, I could bring it out as +holding little less than fourteen hundred. Every part of +the house was well filled, and I had not found it easy to make my +way along the back of the boxes to where I sat. The +chandeliers in the ceiling were lighted; there was no light on +the stage; the orchestra was empty. The green curtain was +down, and, packed pretty closely on chairs on the small space of +stage before it, were some thirty gentlemen, and two or three +ladies. In the centre of these, in a desk or pulpit covered +with red baize, was the presiding minister. The kind of +rostrum he occupied will be very well understood, if I liken it +to a boarded-up fireplace turned towards the audience, with a +gentleman in a black surtout standing in the stove and leaning +forward over the mantelpiece.</p> +<p>A portion of Scripture was being read when I went in. It +was followed by a discourse, to which the congregation listened +with most exemplary attention and uninterrupted silence and +decorum. My own attention comprehended both the auditory +and the speaker, and shall turn to both in this recalling of the +scene, exactly as it did at the time.</p> +<p>‘A very difficult thing,’ I thought, when the +discourse began, ‘to speak appropriately to so large an +audience, and to speak with tact. Without it, better not to +speak at all. Infinitely better, to read the New Testament +well, and to let <i>that</i> speak. In this congregation +there is indubitably one pulse; but I doubt if any power short of +genius can touch it as one, and make it answer as one.’</p> +<p>I could not possibly say to myself as the discourse proceeded, +that the minister was a good speaker. I could not possibly +say to myself that he expressed an understanding of the general +mind and character of his audience. There was a +supposititious working-man introduced into the homily, to make +supposititious objections to our Christian religion and be +reasoned down, who was not only a very disagreeable person, but +remarkably unlike life—very much more unlike it than +anything I had seen in the pantomime. The native +independence of character this artisan was supposed to possess, +was represented by a suggestion of a dialect that I certainly +never heard in my uncommercial travels, and with a coarse swing +of voice and manner anything but agreeable to his feelings, I +should conceive, considered in the light of a portrait, and as +far away from the fact as a Chinese Tartar. There was a +model pauper introduced in like manner, who appeared to me to be +the most intolerably arrogant pauper ever relieved, and to show +himself in absolute want and dire necessity of a course of Stone +Yard. For, how did this pauper testify to his having +received the gospel of humility? A gentleman met him in the +workhouse, and said (which I myself really thought good-natured +of him), ‘Ah, John? I am sorry to see you here. +I am sorry to see you so poor.’ ‘Poor, +sir!’ replied that man, drawing himself up, ‘I am the +son of a Prince! <i>My</i> father is the King of +Kings. <i>My</i> father is the Lord of Lords. +<i>My</i> father is the ruler of all the Princes of the +Earth!’ &c. And this was what all the +preacher’s fellow-sinners might come to, if they would +embrace this blessed book—which I must say it did some +violence to my own feelings of reverence, to see held out at +arm’s length at frequent intervals and soundingly slapped, +like a slow lot at a sale. Now, could I help asking myself +the question, whether the mechanic before me, who must detect the +preacher as being wrong about the visible manner of himself and +the like of himself, and about such a noisy lip-server as that +pauper, might not, most unhappily for the usefulness of the +occasion, doubt that preacher’s being right about things +not visible to human senses?</p> +<p>Again. Is it necessary or advisable to address such an +audience continually as ‘fellow-sinners’? Is it +not enough to be fellow-creatures, born yesterday, suffering and +striving to-day, dying to-morrow? By our common humanity, +my brothers and sisters, by our common capacities for pain and +pleasure, by our common laughter and our common tears, by our +common aspiration to reach something better than ourselves, by +our common tendency to believe in something good, and to invest +whatever we love or whatever we lose with some qualities that are +superior to our own failings and weaknesses as we know them in +our own poor hearts—by these, Hear me!—Surely, it is +enough to be fellow-creatures. Surely, it includes the +other designation, and some touching meanings over and above.</p> +<p>Again. There was a personage introduced into the +discourse (not an absolute novelty, to the best of my remembrance +of my reading), who had been personally known to the preacher, +and had been quite a Crichton in all the ways of philosophy, but +had been an infidel. Many a time had the preacher talked +with him on that subject, and many a time had he failed to +convince that intelligent man. But he fell ill, and died, +and before he died he recorded his conversion—in words +which the preacher had taken down, my fellow-sinners, and would +read to you from this piece of paper. I must confess that +to me, as one of an uninstructed audience, they did not appear +particularly edifying. I thought their tone extremely +selfish, and I thought they had a spiritual vanity in them which +was of the before-mentioned refractory pauper’s family.</p> +<p>All slangs and twangs are objectionable everywhere, but the +slang and twang of the conventicle—as bad in its way as +that of the House of Commons, and nothing worse can be said of +it—should be studiously avoided under such circumstances as +I describe. The avoidance was not complete on this +occasion. Nor was it quite agreeable to see the preacher +addressing his pet ‘points’ to his backers on the +stage, as if appealing to those disciples to show him up, and +testify to the multitude that each of those points was a +clincher.</p> +<p>But, in respect of the large Christianity of his general tone; +of his renunciation of all priestly authority; of his earnest and +reiterated assurance to the people that the commonest among them +could work out their own salvation if they would, by simply, +lovingly, and dutifully following Our Saviour, and that they +needed the mediation of no erring man; in these particulars, this +gentleman deserved all praise. Nothing could be better than +the spirit, or the plain emphatic words of his discourse in these +respects. And it was a most significant and encouraging +circumstance that whenever he struck that chord, or whenever he +described anything which Christ himself had done, the array of +faces before him was very much more earnest, and very much more +expressive of emotion, than at any other time.</p> +<p>And now, I am brought to the fact, that the lowest part of the +audience of the previous night, <i>was not there</i>. There +is no doubt about it. There was no such thing in that +building, that Sunday evening. I have been told since, that +the lowest part of the audience of the Victoria Theatre has been +attracted to its Sunday services. I have been very glad to +hear it, but on this occasion of which I write, the lowest part +of the usual audience of the Britannia Theatre, decidedly and +unquestionably stayed away. When I first took my seat and +looked at the house, my surprise at the change in its occupants +was as great as my disappointment. To the most respectable +class of the previous evening, was added a great number of +respectable strangers attracted by curiosity, and drafts from the +regular congregations of various chapels. It was impossible +to fail in identifying the character of these last, and they were +very numerous. I came out in a strong, slow tide of them +setting from the boxes. Indeed, while the discourse was in +progress, the respectable character of the auditory was so +manifest in their appearance, that when the minister addressed a +supposititious ‘outcast,’ one really felt a little +impatient of it, as a figure of speech not justified by anything +the eye could discover.</p> +<p>The time appointed for the conclusion of the proceedings was +eight o’clock. The address having lasted until full +that time, and it being the custom to conclude with a hymn, the +preacher intimated in a few sensible words that the clock had +struck the hour, and that those who desired to go before the hymn +was sung, could go now, without giving offence. No one +stirred. The hymn was then sung, in good time and tune and +unison, and its effect was very striking. A comprehensive +benevolent prayer dismissed the throng, and in seven or eight +minutes there was nothing left in the Theatre but a light cloud +of dust.</p> +<p>That these Sunday meetings in Theatres are good things, I do +not doubt. Nor do I doubt that they will work lower and +lower down in the social scale, if those who preside over them +will be very careful on two heads: firstly, not to disparage the +places in which they speak, or the intelligence of their hearers; +secondly, not to set themselves in antagonism to the natural +inborn desire of the mass of mankind to recreate themselves and +to be amused.</p> +<p>There is a third head, taking precedence of all others, to +which my remarks on the discourse I heard, have tended. In +the New Testament there is the most beautiful and affecting +history conceivable by man, and there are the terse models for +all prayer and for all preaching. As to the models, imitate +them, Sunday preachers—else why are they there, +consider? As to the history, tell it. Some people +cannot read, some people will not read, many people (this +especially holds among the young and ignorant) find it hard to +pursue the verse-form in which the book is presented to them, and +imagine that those breaks imply gaps and want of +continuity. Help them over that first stumbling-block, by +setting forth the history in narrative, with no fear of +exhausting it. You will never preach so well, you will +never move them so profoundly, you will never send them away with +half so much to think of. Which is the better interest: +Christ’s choice of twelve poor men to help in those +merciful wonders among the poor and rejected; or the pious +bullying of a whole Union-full of paupers? What is your +changed philosopher to wretched me, peeping in at the door out of +the mud of the streets and of my life, when you have the +widow’s son to tell me about, the ruler’s daughter, +the other figure at the door when the brother of the two sisters +was dead, and one of the two ran to the mourner, crying, +‘The Master is come and calleth for thee’?—Let +the preacher who will thoroughly forget himself and remember no +individuality but one, and no eloquence but one, stand up before +four thousand men and women at the Britannia Theatre any Sunday +night, recounting that narrative to them as fellow creatures, and +he shall see a sight!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>V<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">POOR MERCANTILE JACK</span></h2> +<p>Is the sweet little cherub who sits smiling aloft and keeps +watch on the life of poor Jack, commissioned to take charge of +Mercantile Jack, as well as Jack of the national navy? If +not, who is? What is the cherub about, and what are we all +about, when poor Mercantile Jack is having his brains slowly +knocked out by penny-weights, aboard the brig Beelzebub, or the +barque Bowie-knife—when he looks his last at that infernal +craft, with the first officer’s iron boot-heel in his +remaining eye, or with his dying body towed overboard in the +ship’s wake, while the cruel wounds in it do ‘the +multitudinous seas incarnadine’?</p> +<p>Is it unreasonable to entertain a belief that if, aboard the +brig Beelzebub or the barque Bowie-knife, the first officer did +half the damage to cotton that he does to men, there would +presently arise from both sides of the Atlantic so vociferous an +invocation of the sweet little cherub who sits calculating aloft, +keeping watch on the markets that pay, that such vigilant cherub +would, with a winged sword, have that gallant officer’s +organ of destructiveness out of his head in the space of a flash +of lightning?</p> +<p>If it be unreasonable, then am I the most unreasonable of men, +for I believe it with all my soul.</p> +<p>This was my thought as I walked the dock-quays at Liverpool, +keeping watch on poor Mercantile Jack. Alas for me! I +have long outgrown the state of sweet little cherub; but there I +was, and there Mercantile Jack was, and very busy he was, and +very cold he was: the snow yet lying in the frozen furrows of the +land, and the north-east winds snipping off the tops of the +little waves in the Mersey, and rolling them into hailstones to +pelt him with. Mercantile Jack was hard at it, in the hard +weather: as he mostly is in all weathers, poor Jack. He was +girded to ships’ masts and funnels of steamers, like a +forester to a great oak, scraping and painting; he was lying out +on yards, furling sails that tried to beat him off; he was dimly +discernible up in a world of giant cobwebs, reefing and splicing; +he was faintly audible down in holds, stowing and unshipping +cargo; he was winding round and round at capstans melodious, +monotonous, and drunk; he was of a diabolical aspect, with +coaling for the Antipodes; he was washing decks barefoot, with +the breast of his red shirt open to the blast, though it was +sharper than the knife in his leathern girdle; he was looking +over bulwarks, all eyes and hair; he was standing by at the shoot +of the Cunard steamer, off to-morrow, as the stocks in trade of +several butchers, poulterers, and fishmongers, poured down into +the ice-house; he was coming aboard of other vessels, with his +kit in a tarpaulin bag, attended by plunderers to the very last +moment of his shore-going existence. As though his senses, +when released from the uproar of the elements, were under +obligation to be confused by other turmoil, there was a rattling +of wheels, a clattering of hoofs, a clashing of iron, a jolting +of cotton and hides and casks and timber, an incessant deafening +disturbance on the quays, that was the very madness of +sound. And as, in the midst of it, he stood swaying about, +with his hair blown all manner of wild ways, rather crazedly +taking leave of his plunderers, all the rigging in the docks was +shrill in the wind, and every little steamer coming and going +across the Mersey was sharp in its blowing off, and every buoy in +the river bobbed spitefully up and down, as if there were a +general taunting chorus of ‘Come along, Mercantile +Jack! Ill-lodged, ill-fed, ill-used, hocussed, entrapped, +anticipated, cleaned out. Come along, Poor Mercantile Jack, +and be tempest-tossed till you are drowned!’</p> +<p>The uncommercial transaction which had brought me and Jack +together, was this:—I had entered the Liverpool police +force, that I might have a look at the various unlawful traps +which are every night set for Jack. As my term of service +in that distinguished corps was short, and as my personal bias in +the capacity of one of its members has ceased, no suspicion will +attach to my evidence that it is an admirable force. +Besides that it is composed, without favour, of the best men that +can be picked, it is directed by an unusual intelligence. +Its organisation against Fires, I take to be much better than the +metropolitan system, and in all respects it tempers its +remarkable vigilance with a still more remarkable discretion.</p> +<p>Jack had knocked off work in the docks some hours, and I had +taken, for purposes of identification, a photograph-likeness of a +thief, in the portrait-room at our head police office (on the +whole, he seemed rather complimented by the proceeding), and I +had been on police parade, and the small hand of the clock was +moving on to ten, when I took up my lantern to follow Mr. +Superintendent to the traps that were set for Jack. In Mr. +Superintendent I saw, as anybody might, a tall, well-looking, +well-set-up man of a soldierly bearing, with a cavalry air, a +good chest, and a resolute but not by any means ungentle +face. He carried in his hand a plain black walking-stick of +hard wood; and whenever and wherever, at any after-time of the +night, he struck it on the pavement with a ringing sound, it +instantly produced a whistle out of the darkness, and a +policeman. To this remarkable stick, I refer an air of +mystery and magic which pervaded the whole of my perquisition +among the traps that were set for Jack.</p> +<p>We began by diving into the obscurest streets and lanes of the +port. Suddenly pausing in a flow of cheerful discourse, +before a dead wall, apparently some ten miles long, Mr. +Superintendent struck upon the ground, and the wall opened and +shot out, with military salute of hand to temple, two +policemen—not in the least surprised themselves, not in the +least surprising Mr. Superintendent.</p> +<p>‘All right, Sharpeye?’</p> +<p>‘All right, sir.’</p> +<p>‘All right, Trampfoot?’</p> +<p>‘All right, sir.’</p> +<p>‘Is Quickear there?’</p> +<p>‘Here am I, sir.’</p> +<p>‘Come with us.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, sir.’</p> +<p>So, Sharpeye went before, and Mr. Superintendent and I went +next, and Trampfoot and Quickear marched as rear-guard. +Sharp-eye, I soon had occasion to remark, had a skilful and quite +professional way of opening doors—touched latches +delicately, as if they were keys of musical +instruments—opened every door he touched, as if he were +perfectly confident that there was stolen property behind +it—instantly insinuated himself, to prevent its being +shut.</p> +<p>Sharpeye opened several doors of traps that were set for Jack, +but Jack did not happen to be in any of them. They were all +such miserable places that really, Jack, if I were you, I would +give them a wider berth. In every trap, somebody was +sitting over a fire, waiting for Jack. Now, it was a +crouching old woman, like the picture of the Norwood Gipsy in the +old sixpenny dream-books; now, it was a crimp of the male sex, in +a checked shirt and without a coat, reading a newspaper; now, it +was a man crimp and a woman crimp, who always introduced +themselves as united in holy matrimony; now, it was Jack’s +delight, his (un)lovely Nan; but they were all waiting for Jack, +and were all frightfully disappointed to see us.</p> +<p>‘Who have you got up-stairs here?’ says Sharpeye, +generally. (In the Move-on tone.)</p> +<p>‘Nobody, surr; sure not a blessed sowl!’ +(Irish feminine reply.)</p> +<p>‘What do you mean by nobody? Didn’t I hear a +woman’s step go up-stairs when my hand was on the +latch?’</p> +<p>‘Ah! sure thin you’re right, surr, I forgot +her! ’Tis on’y Betsy White, surr. Ah! you +know Betsy, surr. Come down, Betsy darlin’, and say +the gintlemin.’</p> +<p>Generally, Betsy looks over the banisters (the steep staircase +is in the room) with a forcible expression in her protesting +face, of an intention to compensate herself for the present trial +by grinding Jack finer than usual when he does come. +Generally, Sharpeye turns to Mr. Superintendent, and says, as if +the subjects of his remarks were wax-work:</p> +<p>‘One of the worst, sir, this house is. This woman +has been indicted three times. This man’s a regular +bad one likewise. His real name is Pegg. Gives +himself out as Waterhouse.’</p> +<p>‘Never had sitch a name as Pegg near me back, thin, +since I was in this house, bee the good Lard!’ says the +woman.</p> +<p>Generally, the man says nothing at all, but becomes +exceedingly round-shouldered, and pretends to read his paper with +rapt attention. Generally, Sharpeye directs our observation +with a look, to the prints and pictures that are invariably +numerous on the walls. Always, Trampfoot and Quickear are +taking notice on the doorstep. In default of Sharpeye being +acquainted with the exact individuality of any gentleman +encountered, one of these two is sure to proclaim from the outer +air, like a gruff spectre, that Jackson is not Jackson, but knows +himself to be Fogle; or that Canlon is Walker’s brother, +against whom there was not sufficient evidence; or that the man +who says he never was at sea since he was a boy, came ashore from +a voyage last Thursday, or sails to-morrow morning. +‘And that is a bad class of man, you see,’ says Mr. +Superintendent, when he got out into the dark again, ‘and +very difficult to deal with, who, when he has made this place too +hot to hold him, enters himself for a voyage as steward or cook, +and is out of knowledge for months, and then turns up again worse +than ever.’</p> +<p>When we had gone into many such houses, and had come out +(always leaving everybody relapsing into waiting for Jack), we +started off to a singing-house where Jack was expected to muster +strong.</p> +<p>The vocalisation was taking place in a long low room +up-stairs; at one end, an orchestra of two performers, and a +small platform; across the room, a series of open pews for Jack, +with an aisle down the middle; at the other end a larger pew than +the rest, entitled <span class="smcap">Snug</span>, and reserved +for mates and similar good company. About the room, some +amazing coffee-coloured pictures varnished an inch deep, and some +stuffed creatures in cases; dotted among the audience, in Snug +and out of Snug, the ‘Professionals;’ among them, the +celebrated comic favourite Mr. Banjo Bones, looking very hideous +with his blackened face and limp sugar-loaf hat; beside him, +sipping rum-and-water, Mrs. Banjo Bones, in her natural +colours—a little heightened.</p> +<p>It was a Friday night, and Friday night was considered not a +good night for Jack. At any rate, Jack did not show in very +great force even here, though the house was one to which he much +resorts, and where a good deal of money is taken. There was +British Jack, a little maudlin and sleepy, lolling over his empty +glass, as if he were trying to read his fortune at the bottom; +there was Loafing Jack of the Stars and Stripes, rather an +unpromising customer, with his long nose, lank cheek, high +cheek-bones, and nothing soft about him but his cabbage-leaf hat; +there was Spanish Jack, with curls of black hair, rings in his +ears, and a knife not far from his hand, if you got into trouble +with him; there were Maltese Jack, and Jack of Sweden, and Jack +the Finn, looming through the smoke of their pipes, and turning +faces that looked as if they were carved out of dark wood, +towards the young lady dancing the hornpipe: who found the +platform so exceedingly small for it, that I had a nervous +expectation of seeing her, in the backward steps, disappear +through the window. Still, if all hands had been got +together, they would not have more than half-filled the +room. Observe, however, said Mr. Licensed Victualler, the +host, that it was Friday night, and, besides, it was getting on +for twelve, and Jack had gone aboard. A sharp and watchful +man, Mr. Licensed Victualler, the host, with tight lips and a +complete edition of Cocker’s arithmetic in each eye. +Attended to his business himself, he said. Always on the +spot. When he heard of talent, trusted nobody’s +account of it, but went off by rail to see it. If true +talent, engaged it. Pounds a week for talent—four +pound—five pound. Banjo Bones was undoubted +talent. Hear this instrument that was going to +play—it was real talent! In truth it was very good; a +kind of piano-accordion, played by a young girl of a delicate +prettiness of face, figure, and dress, that made the audience +look coarser. She sang to the instrument, too; first, a +song about village bells, and how they chimed; then a song about +how I went to sea; winding up with an imitation of the bagpipes, +which Mercantile Jack seemed to understand much the best. A +good girl, said Mr. Licensed Victualler. Kept herself +select. Sat in Snug, not listening to the blandishments of +Mates. Lived with mother. Father dead. Once a +merchant well to do, but over-speculated himself. On +delicate inquiry as to salary paid for item of talent under +consideration, Mr. Victualler’s pounds dropped suddenly to +shillings—still it was a very comfortable thing for a young +person like that, you know; she only went on six times a night, +and was only required to be there from six at night to +twelve. What was more conclusive was, Mr. +Victualler’s assurance that he ‘never allowed any +language, and never suffered any disturbance.’ +Sharpeye confirmed the statement, and the order that prevailed +was the best proof of it that could have been cited. So, I +came to the conclusion that poor Mercantile Jack might do (as I +am afraid he does) much worse than trust himself to Mr. +Victualler, and pass his evenings here.</p> +<p>But we had not yet looked, Mr. Superintendent—said +Trampfoot, receiving us in the street again with military +salute—for Dark Jack. True, Trampfoot. Ring the +wonderful stick, rub the wonderful lantern, and cause the spirits +of the stick and lantern to convey us to the Darkies.</p> +<p>There was no disappointment in the matter of Dark Jack; +<i>he</i> was producible. The Genii set us down in the +little first floor of a little public-house, and there, in a +stiflingly close atmosphere, were Dark Jack, and Dark +Jack’s delight, his <i>white</i> unlovely Nan, sitting +against the wall all round the room. More than that: Dark +Jack’s delight was the least unlovely Nan, both morally and +physically, that I saw that night.</p> +<p>As a fiddle and tambourine band were sitting among the +company, Quickear suggested why not strike up? ‘Ah, +la’ads!’ said a negro sitting by the door, ‘gib +the jebblem a darnse. Tak’ yah pardlers, jebblem, for +’um <span class="smcap">Quad</span>-rill.’</p> +<p>This was the landlord, in a Greek cap, and a dress half Greek +and half English. As master of the ceremonies, he called +all the figures, and occasionally addressed himself +parenthetically—after this manner. When he was very +loud, I use capitals.</p> +<p>‘Now den! Hoy! <span +class="smcap">One</span>. Right and left. (Put a +steam on, gib ’um powder.) <span +class="smcap">La</span>-dies’ chail. <span +class="smcap">Bal</span>-loon say. Lemonade! <span +class="smcap">Two</span>. <span +class="smcap">Ad</span>-warnse and go back (gib ’ell a +breakdown, shake it out o’ yerselbs, keep a movil). +<span class="smcap">Swing</span>-corners, <span +class="smcap">Bal</span>-loon say, and Lemonade! +(Hoy!) <span class="smcap">Three</span>. <span +class="smcap">Gent</span> come for’ard with a lady and go +back, hoppersite come for’ard and do what yer can. +(Aeiohoy!) <span class="smcap">Bal</span>-loon say, and +leetle lemonade. (Dat hair nigger by ’um fireplace +’hind a’ time, shake it out o’ yerselbs, gib +’ell a breakdown.) Now den! Hoy! <span +class="smcap">Four</span>! Lemonade. <span +class="smcap">Bal</span>-loon say, and swing. <span +class="smcap">Four</span> ladies meet in ’um middle, <span +class="smcap">Four</span> gents goes round ’um ladies, +<span class="smcap">Four</span> gents passes out under ’um +ladies’ arms, <span class="smcap">swing</span>—and +Lemonade till ’a moosic can’t play no more! +(Hoy, Hoy!)’</p> +<p>The male dancers were all blacks, and one was an unusually +powerful man of six feet three or four. The sound of their +flat feet on the floor was as unlike the sound of white feet as +their faces were unlike white faces. They toed and heeled, +shuffled, double-shuffled, double-double-shuffled, covered the +buckle, and beat the time out, rarely, dancing with a great show +of teeth, and with a childish good-humoured enjoyment that was +very prepossessing. They generally kept together, these +poor fellows, said Mr. Superintendent, because they were at a +disadvantage singly, and liable to slights in the neighbouring +streets. But, if I were Light Jack, I should be very slow +to interfere oppressively with Dark Jack, for, whenever I have +had to do with him I have found him a simple and a gentle +fellow. Bearing this in mind, I asked his friendly +permission to leave him restoration of beer, in wishing him good +night, and thus it fell out that the last words I heard him say +as I blundered down the worn stairs, were, ‘Jebblem’s +elth! Ladies drinks fust!’</p> +<p>The night was now well on into the morning, but, for miles and +hours we explored a strange world, where nobody ever goes to bed, +but everybody is eternally sitting up, waiting for Jack. +This exploration was among a labyrinth of dismal courts and blind +alleys, called Entries, kept in wonderful order by the police, +and in much better order than by the corporation: the want of +gaslight in the most dangerous and infamous of these places being +quite unworthy of so spirited a town. I need describe but +two or three of the houses in which Jack was waited for as +specimens of the rest. Many we attained by noisome passages +so profoundly dark that we felt our way with our hands. Not +one of the whole number we visited, was without its show of +prints and ornamental crockery; the quantity of the latter set +forth on little shelves and in little cases, in otherwise +wretched rooms, indicating that Mercantile Jack must have an +extraordinary fondness for crockery, to necessitate so much of +that bait in his traps.</p> +<p>Among such garniture, in one front parlour in the dead of the +night, four women were sitting by a fire. One of them had a +male child in her arms. On a stool among them was a swarthy +youth with a guitar, who had evidently stopped playing when our +footsteps were heard.</p> +<p>‘Well! how do <i>you</i> do?’ says Mr. +Superintendent, looking about him.</p> +<p>‘Pretty well, sir, and hope you gentlemen are going to +treat us ladies, now you have come to see us.’</p> +<p>‘Order there!’ says Sharpeye.</p> +<p>‘None of that!’ says Quickear.</p> +<p>Trampfoot, outside, is heard to confide to himself, +‘Meggisson’s lot this is. And a bad +’un!’</p> +<p>‘Well!’ says Mr. Superintendent, laying his hand +on the shoulder of the swarthy youth, ‘and who’s +this?’</p> +<p>‘Antonio, sir.’</p> +<p>‘And what does <i>he</i> do here?’</p> +<p>‘Come to give us a bit of music. No harm in that, +I suppose?’</p> +<p>‘A young foreign sailor?’</p> +<p>‘Yes. He’s a Spaniard. You’re a +Spaniard, ain’t you, Antonio?’</p> +<p>‘Me Spanish.’</p> +<p>‘And he don’t know a word you say, not he; not if +you was to talk to him till doomsday.’ (Triumphantly, +as if it redounded to the credit of the house.)</p> +<p>‘Will he play something?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, yes, if you like. Play something, +Antonio. <i>You</i> ain’t ashamed to play something; +are you?’</p> +<p>The cracked guitar raises the feeblest ghost of a tune, and +three of the women keep time to it with their heads, and the +fourth with the child. If Antonio has brought any money in +with him, I am afraid he will never take it out, and it even +strikes me that his jacket and guitar may be in a bad way. +But, the look of the young man and the tinkling of the instrument +so change the place in a moment to a leaf out of Don Quixote, +that I wonder where his mule is stabled, until he leaves off.</p> +<p>I am bound to acknowledge (as it tends rather to my +uncommercial confusion), that I occasioned a difficulty in this +establishment, by having taken the child in my arms. For, +on my offering to restore it to a ferocious joker not +unstimulated by rum, who claimed to be its mother, that unnatural +parent put her hands behind her, and declined to accept it; +backing into the fireplace, and very shrilly declaring, +regardless of remonstrance from her friends, that she knowed it +to be Law, that whoever took a child from its mother of his own +will, was bound to stick to it. The uncommercial sense of +being in a rather ridiculous position with the poor little child +beginning to be frightened, was relieved by my worthy friend and +fellow-constable, Trampfoot; who, laying hands on the article as +if it were a Bottle, passed it on to the nearest woman, and bade +her ‘take hold of that.’ As we came out the +Bottle was passed to the ferocious joker, and they all sat down +as before, including Antonio and the guitar. It was clear +that there was no such thing as a nightcap to this baby’s +head, and that even he never went to bed, but was always kept +up—and would grow up, kept up—waiting for Jack.</p> +<p>Later still in the night, we came (by the court ‘where +the man was murdered,’ and by the other court across the +street, into which his body was dragged) to another parlour in +another Entry, where several people were sitting round a fire in +just the same way. It was a dirty and offensive place, with +some ragged clothes drying in it; but there was a high shelf over +the entrance-door (to be out of the reach of marauding hands, +possibly) with two large white loaves on it, and a great piece of +Cheshire cheese.</p> +<p>‘Well!’ says Mr. Superintendent, with a +comprehensive look all round. ‘How do <i>you</i> +do?’</p> +<p>‘Not much to boast of, sir.’ From the +curtseying woman of the house. ‘This is my good man, +sir.’</p> +<p>‘You are not registered as a common Lodging +House?’</p> +<p>‘No, sir.’</p> +<p>Sharpeye (in the Move-on tone) puts in the pertinent inquiry, +‘Then why ain’t you?’</p> +<p>‘Ain’t got no one here, Mr. Sharpeye,’ +rejoin the woman and my good man together, ‘but our own +family.’</p> +<p>‘How many are you in family?’</p> +<p>The woman takes time to count, under pretence of coughing, and +adds, as one scant of breath, ‘Seven, sir.’</p> +<p>But she has missed one, so Sharpeye, who knows all about it, +says:</p> +<p>‘Here’s a young man here makes eight, who +ain’t of your family?’</p> +<p>‘No, Mr. Sharpeye, he’s a weekly +lodger.’</p> +<p>‘What does he do for a living?’</p> +<p>The young man here, takes the reply upon himself, and shortly +answers, ‘Ain’t got nothing to do.’</p> +<p>The young man here, is modestly brooding behind a damp apron +pendent from a clothes-line. As I glance at him I +become—but I don’t know why—vaguely reminded of +Woolwich, Chatham, Portsmouth, and Dover. When we get out, +my respected fellow-constable Sharpeye, addressing Mr. +Superintendent, says:</p> +<p>‘You noticed that young man, sir, in at +Darby’s?’</p> +<p>‘Yes. What is he?’</p> +<p>‘Deserter, sir.’</p> +<p>Mr. Sharpeye further intimates that when we have done with his +services, he will step back and take that young man. Which +in course of time he does: feeling at perfect ease about finding +him, and knowing for a moral certainty that nobody in that region +will be gone to bed.</p> +<p>Later still in the night, we came to another parlour up a step +or two from the street, which was very cleanly, neatly, even +tastefully, kept, and in which, set forth on a draped chest of +drawers masking the staircase, was such a profusion of ornamental +crockery, that it would have furnished forth a handsome +sale-booth at a fair. It backed up a stout old +lady—<span class="smcap">Hogarth</span> drew her exact +likeness more than once—and a boy who was carefully writing +a copy in a copy-book.</p> +<p>‘Well, ma’am, how do <i>you</i> do?’</p> +<p>Sweetly, she can assure the dear gentlemen, sweetly. +Charmingly, charmingly. And overjoyed to see us!</p> +<p>‘Why, this is a strange time for this boy to be writing +his copy. In the middle of the night!’</p> +<p>‘So it is, dear gentlemen, Heaven bless your welcome +faces and send ye prosperous, but he has been to the Play with a +young friend for his diversion, and he combinates his improvement +with entertainment, by doing his school-writing afterwards, God +be good to ye!’</p> +<p>The copy admonished human nature to subjugate the fire of +every fierce desire. One might have thought it recommended +stirring the fire, the old lady so approved it. There she +sat, rosily beaming at the copy-book and the boy, and invoking +showers of blessings on our heads, when we left her in the middle +of the night, waiting for Jack.</p> +<p>Later still in the night, we came to a nauseous room with an +earth floor, into which the refuse scum of an alley +trickled. The stench of this habitation was abominable; the +seeming poverty of it, diseased and dire. Yet, here again, +was visitor or lodger—a man sitting before the fire, like +the rest of them elsewhere, and apparently not distasteful to the +mistress’s niece, who was also before the fire. The +mistress herself had the misfortune of being in jail.</p> +<p>Three weird old women of transcendent ghastliness, were at +needlework at a table in this room. Says Trampfoot to First +Witch, ‘What are you making?’ Says she, +‘Money-bags.’</p> +<p>‘<i>What</i> are you making?’ retorts Trampfoot, a +little off his balance.</p> +<p>‘Bags to hold your money,’ says the witch, shaking +her head, and setting her teeth; ‘you as has got +it.’</p> +<p>She holds up a common cash-bag, and on the table is a heap of +such bags. Witch Two laughs at us. Witch Three scowls +at us. Witch sisterhood all, stitch, stitch. First +Witch has a circle round each eye. I fancy it like the +beginning of the development of a perverted diabolical halo, and +that when it spreads all round her head, she will die in the +odour of devilry.</p> +<p>Trampfoot wishes to be informed what First Witch has got +behind the table, down by the side of her, there? Witches +Two and Three croak angrily, ‘Show him the +child!’</p> +<p>She drags out a skinny little arm from a brown dustheap on the +ground. Adjured not to disturb the child, she lets it drop +again. Thus we find at last that there is one child in the +world of Entries who goes to bed—if this be bed.</p> +<p>Mr. Superintendent asks how long are they going to work at +those bags?</p> +<p>How long? First Witch repeats. Going to have +supper presently. See the cups and saucers, and the +plates.</p> +<p>‘Late? Ay! But we has to ’arn our +supper afore we eats it!’ Both the other witches +repeat this after First Witch, and take the Uncommercial +measurement with their eyes, as for a charmed +winding-sheet. Some grim discourse ensues, referring to the +mistress of the cave, who will be released from jail +to-morrow. Witches pronounce Trampfoot ‘right +there,’ when he deems it a trying distance for the old lady +to walk; she shall be fetched by niece in a spring-cart.</p> +<p>As I took a parting look at First Witch in turning away, the +red marks round her eyes seemed to have already grown larger, and +she hungrily and thirstily looked out beyond me into the dark +doorway, to see if Jack was there. For, Jack came even +here, and the mistress had got into jail through deluding +Jack.</p> +<p>When I at last ended this night of travel and got to bed, I +failed to keep my mind on comfortable thoughts of Seaman’s +Homes (not overdone with strictness), and improved dock +regulations giving Jack greater benefit of fire and candle aboard +ship, through my mind’s wandering among the vermin I had +seen. Afterwards the same vermin ran all over my +sleep. Evermore, when on a breezy day I see Poor Mercantile +Jack running into port with a fair wind under all sail, I shall +think of the unsleeping host of devourers who never go to bed, +and are always in their set traps waiting for him.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>VI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">REFRESHMENTS FOR TRAVELLERS</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the late high winds I was blown +to a great many places—and indeed, wind or no wind, I +generally have extensive transactions on hand in the article of +Air—but I have not been blown to any English place lately, +and I very seldom have blown to any English place in my life, +where I could get anything good to eat and drink in five minutes, +or where, if I sought it, I was received with a welcome.</p> +<p>This is a curious thing to consider. But before +(stimulated by my own experiences and the representations of many +fellow-travellers of every uncommercial and commercial degree) I +consider it further, I must utter a passing word of wonder +concerning high winds.</p> +<p>I wonder why metropolitan gales always blow so hard at +Walworth. I cannot imagine what Walworth has done, to bring +such windy punishment upon itself, as I never fail to find +recorded in the newspapers when the wind has blown at all +hard. Brixton seems to have something on its conscience; +Peckham suffers more than a virtuous Peckham might be supposed to +deserve; the howling neighbourhood of Deptford figures largely in +the accounts of the ingenious gentlemen who are out in every wind +that blows, and to whom it is an ill high wind that blows no +good; but, there can hardly be any Walworth left by this +time. It must surely be blown away. I have read of +more chimney-stacks and house-copings coming down with terrific +smashes at Walworth, and of more sacred edifices being nearly +(not quite) blown out to sea from the same accursed locality, +than I have read of practised thieves with the appearance and +manners of gentlemen—a popular phenomenon which never +existed on earth out of fiction and a police report. Again: +I wonder why people are always blown into the Surrey Canal, and +into no other piece of water! Why do people get up early +and go out in groups, to be blown into the Surrey Canal? Do +they say to one another, ‘Welcome death, so that we get +into the newspapers’? Even that would be an +insufficient explanation, because even then they might sometimes +put themselves in the way of being blown into the Regent’s +Canal, instead of always saddling Surrey for the field. +Some nameless policeman, too, is constantly, on the slightest +provocation, getting himself blown into this same Surrey +Canal. Will <span class="smcap">Sir Richard Mayne</span> +see to it, and restrain that weak-minded and feeble-bodied +constable?</p> +<p>To resume the consideration of the curious question of +Refreshment. I am a Briton, and, as such, I am aware that I +never will be a slave—and yet I have latent suspicion that +there must be some slavery of wrong custom in this matter.</p> +<p>I travel by railroad. I start from home at seven or +eight in the morning, after breakfasting hurriedly. What +with skimming over the open landscape, what with mining in the +damp bowels of the earth, what with banging, booming and +shrieking the scores of miles away, I am hungry when I arrive at +the ‘Refreshment’ station where I am expected. +Please to observe, expected. I have said, I am hungry; +perhaps I might say, with greater point and force, that I am to +some extent exhausted, and that I need—in the expressive +French sense of the word—to be restored. What is +provided for my restoration? The apartment that is to +restore me is a wind-trap, cunningly set to inveigle all the +draughts in that country-side, and to communicate a special +intensity and velocity to them as they rotate in two hurricanes: +one, about my wretched head: one, about my wretched legs. +The training of the young ladies behind the counter who are to +restore me, has been from their infancy directed to the +assumption of a defiant dramatic show that I am <i>not</i> +expected. It is in vain for me to represent to them by my +humble and conciliatory manners, that I wish to be liberal. +It is in vain for me to represent to myself, for the +encouragement of my sinking soul, that the young ladies have a +pecuniary interest in my arrival. Neither my reason nor my +feelings can make head against the cold glazed glare of eye with +which I am assured that I am not expected, and not wanted. +The solitary man among the bottles would sometimes take pity on +me, if he dared, but he is powerless against the rights and +mights of Woman. (Of the page I make no account, for, he is +a boy, and therefore the natural enemy of Creation.) +Chilling fast, in the deadly tornadoes to which my upper and +lower extremities are exposed, and subdued by the moral +disadvantage at which I stand, I turn my disconsolate eyes on the +refreshments that are to restore me. I find that I must +either scald my throat by insanely ladling into it, against time +and for no wager, brown hot water stiffened with flour; or I must +make myself flaky and sick with Banbury cake; or, I must stuff +into my delicate organisation, a currant pincushion which I know +will swell into immeasurable dimensions when it has got there; +or, I must extort from an iron-bound quarry, with a fork, as if I +were farming an inhospitable soil, some glutinous lumps of +gristle and grease, called pork-pie. While thus forlornly +occupied, I find that the depressing banquet on the table is, in +every phase of its profoundly unsatisfactory character, so like +the banquet at the meanest and shabbiest of evening parties, that +I begin to think I must have ‘brought down’ to +supper, the old lady unknown, blue with cold, who is setting her +teeth on edge with a cool orange at my elbow—that the +pastrycook who has compounded for the company on the lowest terms +per head, is a fraudulent bankrupt, redeeming his contract with +the stale stock from his window—that, for some unexplained +reason, the family giving the party have become my mortal foes, +and have given it on purpose to affront me. Or, I fancy +that I am ‘breaking up’ again, at the evening +conversazione at school, charged two-and-sixpence in the +half-year’s bill; or breaking down again at that celebrated +evening party given at Mrs. Bogles’s boarding-house when I +was a boarder there, on which occasion Mrs. Bogles was taken in +execution by a branch of the legal profession who got in as the +harp, and was removed (with the keys and subscribed capital) to a +place of durance, half an hour prior to the commencement of the +festivities.</p> +<p>Take another case.</p> +<p>Mr. Grazinglands, of the Midland Counties, came to London by +railroad one morning last week, accompanied by the amiable and +fascinating Mrs. Grazinglands. Mr. G. is a gentleman of a +comfortable property, and had a little business to transact at +the Bank of England, which required the concurrence and signature +of Mrs. G. Their business disposed of, Mr. and Mrs. +Grazinglands viewed the Royal Exchange, and the exterior of St. +Paul’s Cathedral. The spirits of Mrs. Grazinglands +then gradually beginning to flag, Mr. Grazinglands (who is the +tenderest of husbands) remarked with sympathy, +‘Arabella’, my dear, ‘fear you are +faint.’ Mrs. Grazing-lands replied, ‘Alexander, +I am rather faint; but don’t mind me, I shall be better +presently.’ Touched by the feminine meekness of this +answer, Mr. Grazinglands looked in at a pastrycook’s +window, hesitating as to the expediency of lunching at that +establishment. He beheld nothing to eat, but butter in +various forms, slightly charged with jam, and languidly frizzling +over tepid water. Two ancient turtle-shells, on which was +inscribed the legend, ‘<span +class="smcap">Soups</span>,’ decorated a glass partition +within, enclosing a stuffy alcove, from which a ghastly mockery +of a marriage-breakfast spread on a rickety table, warned the +terrified traveller. An oblong box of stale and broken +pastry at reduced prices, mounted on a stool, ornamented the +doorway; and two high chairs that looked as if they were +performing on stilts, embellished the counter. Over the +whole, a young lady presided, whose gloomy haughtiness as she +surveyed the street, announced a deep-seated grievance against +society, and an implacable determination to be avenged. +From a beetle-haunted kitchen below this institution, fumes +arose, suggestive of a class of soup which Mr. Grazinglands knew, +from painful experience, enfeebles the mind, distends the +stomach, forces itself into the complexion, and tries to ooze out +at the eyes. As he decided against entering, and turned +away, Mrs. Grazinglands becoming perceptibly weaker, repeated, +‘I am rather faint, Alexander, but don’t mind +me.’ Urged to new efforts by these words of +resignation, Mr. Grazinglands looked in at a cold and floury +baker’s shop, where utilitarian buns unrelieved by a +currant, consorted with hard biscuits, a stone filter of cold +water, a hard pale clock, and a hard little old woman with flaxen +hair, of an undeveloped-farinaceous aspect, as if she had been +fed upon seeds. He might have entered even here, but for +the timely remembrance coming upon him that Jairing’s was +but round the corner.</p> +<p>Now, Jairing’s being an hotel for families and +gentlemen, in high repute among the midland counties, Mr. +Grazinglands plucked up a great spirit when he told Mrs. +Grazinglands she should have a chop there. That lady, +likewise felt that she was going to see Life. Arriving on +that gay and festive scene, they found the second waiter, in a +flabby undress, cleaning the windows of the empty coffee-room; +and the first waiter, denuded of his white tie, making up his +cruets behind the Post-Office Directory. The latter (who +took them in hand) was greatly put out by their patronage, and +showed his mind to be troubled by a sense of the pressing +necessity of instantly smuggling Mrs. Grazinglands into the +obscurest corner of the building. This slighted lady (who +is the pride of her division of the county) was immediately +conveyed, by several dark passages, and up and down several +steps, into a penitential apartment at the back of the house, +where five invalided old plate-warmers leaned up against one +another under a discarded old melancholy sideboard, and where the +wintry leaves of all the dining-tables in the house lay +thick. Also, a sofa, of incomprehensible form regarded from +any sofane point of view, murmured ‘Bed;’ while an +air of mingled fluffiness and heeltaps, added, ‘Second +Waiter’s.’ Secreted in this dismal hold, +objects of a mysterious distrust and suspicion, Mr. Grazinglands +and his charming partner waited twenty minutes for the smoke (for +it never came to a fire), twenty-five minutes for the sherry, +half an hour for the tablecloth, forty minutes for the knives and +forks, three-quarters of an hour for the chops, and an hour for +the potatoes. On settling the little bill—which was +not much more than the day’s pay of a Lieutenant in the +navy—Mr. Grazinglands took heart to remonstrate against the +general quality and cost of his reception. To whom the +waiter replied, substantially, that Jairing’s made it a +merit to have accepted him on any terms: ‘for,’ added +the waiter (unmistakably coughing at Mrs. Grazinglands, the pride +of her division of the county), ‘when indiwiduals is not +staying in the ’Ouse, their favours is not as a rule looked +upon as making it worth Mr. Jairing’s while; nor is it, +indeed, a style of business Mr. Jairing wishes.’ +Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Grazinglands passed out of Jairing’s +hotel for Families and Gentlemen, in a state of the greatest +depression, scorned by the bar; and did not recover their +self-respect for several days.</p> +<p>Or take another case. Take your own case.</p> +<p>You are going off by railway, from any Terminus. You +have twenty minutes for dinner, before you go. You want +your dinner, and like Dr. Johnson, Sir, you like to dine. +You present to your mind, a picture of the refreshment-table at +that terminus. The conventional shabby evening-party +supper—accepted as the model for all termini and all +refreshment stations, because it is the last repast known to this +state of existence of which any human creature would partake, but +in the direst extremity—sickens your contemplation, and +your words are these: ‘I cannot dine on stale sponge-cakes +that turn to sand in the mouth. I cannot dine on shining +brown patties, composed of unknown animals within, and offering +to my view the device of an indigestible star-fish in leaden +pie-crust without. I cannot dine on a sandwich that has +long been pining under an exhausted receiver. I cannot dine +on barley-sugar. I cannot dine on Toffee.’ You +repair to the nearest hotel, and arrive, agitated, in the +coffee-room.</p> +<p>It is a most astonishing fact that the waiter is very cold to +you. Account for it how you may, smooth it over how you +will, you cannot deny that he is cold to you. He is not +glad to see you, he does not want you, he would much rather you +hadn’t come. He opposes to your flushed condition, an +immovable composure. As if this were not enough, another +waiter, born, as it would seem, expressly to look at you in this +passage of your life, stands at a little distance, with his +napkin under his arm and his hands folded, looking at you with +all his might. You impress on your waiter that you have ten +minutes for dinner, and he proposes that you shall begin with a +bit of fish which will be ready in twenty. That proposal +declined, he suggests—as a neat originality—‘a +weal or mutton cutlet.’ You close with either cutlet, +any cutlet, anything. He goes, leisurely, behind a door and +calls down some unseen shaft. A ventriloquial dialogue +ensues, tending finally to the effect that weal only, is +available on the spur of the moment. You anxiously call +out, ‘Veal, then!’ Your waiter having settled +that point, returns to array your tablecloth, with a table napkin +folded cocked-hat-wise (slowly, for something out of window +engages his eye), a white wine-glass, a green wine-glass, a blue +finger-glass, a tumbler, and a powerful field battery of fourteen +casters with nothing in them; or at all events—which is +enough for your purpose—with nothing in them that will come +out. All this time, the other waiter looks at +you—with an air of mental comparison and curiosity, now, as +if it had occurred to him that you are rather like his +brother. Half your time gone, and nothing come but the jug +of ale and the bread, you implore your waiter to ‘see after +that cutlet, waiter; pray do!’ He cannot go at once, +for he is carrying in seventeen pounds of American cheese for you +to finish with, and a small Landed Estate of celery and +water-cresses. The other waiter changes his leg, and takes +a new view of you, doubtfully, now, as if he had rejected the +resemblance to his brother, and had begun to think you more like +his aunt or his grandmother. Again you beseech your waiter +with pathetic indignation, to ‘see after that +cutlet!’ He steps out to see after it, and by-and-by, +when you are going away without it, comes back with it. +Even then, he will not take the sham silver cover off, without a +pause for a flourish, and a look at the musty cutlet as if he +were surprised to see it—which cannot possibly be the case, +he must have seen it so often before. A sort of fur has +been produced upon its surface by the cook’s art, and in a +sham silver vessel staggering on two feet instead of three, is a +cutaneous kind of sauce of brown pimples and pickled +cucumber. You order the bill, but your waiter cannot bring +your bill yet, because he is bringing, instead, three +flinty-hearted potatoes and two grim head of broccoli, like the +occasional ornaments on area railings, badly boiled. You +know that you will never come to this pass, any more than to the +cheese and celery, and you imperatively demand your bill; but, it +takes time to get, even when gone for, because your waiter has to +communicate with a lady who lives behind a sash-window in a +corner, and who appears to have to refer to several Ledgers +before she can make it out—as if you had been staying there +a year. You become distracted to get away, and the other +waiter, once more changing his leg, still looks at you—but +suspiciously, now, as if you had begun to remind him of the party +who took the great-coats last winter. Your bill at last +brought and paid, at the rate of sixpence a mouthful, your waiter +reproachfully reminds you that ‘attendance is not charged +for a single meal,’ and you have to search in all your +pockets for sixpence more. He has a worse opinion of you +than ever, when you have given it to him, and lets you out into +the street with the air of one saying to himself, as you cannot +again doubt he is, ‘I hope we shall never see <i>you</i> +here again!’</p> +<p>Or, take any other of the numerous travelling instances in +which, with more time at your disposal, you are, have been, or +may be, equally ill served. Take the old-established +Bull’s Head with its old-established knife-boxes on its +old-established sideboards, its old-established flue under its +old-established four-post bedsteads in its old-established +airless rooms, its old-established frouziness up-stairs and +down-stairs, its old-established cookery, and its old-established +principles of plunder. Count up your injuries, in its +side-dishes of ailing sweetbreads in white poultices, of +apothecaries’ powders in rice for curry, of pale stewed +bits of calf ineffectually relying for an adventitious interest +on forcemeat balls. You have had experience of the +old-established Bull’s Head stringy fowls, with lower +extremities like wooden legs, sticking up out of the dish; of its +cannibalic boiled mutton, gushing horribly among its capers, when +carved; of its little dishes of pastry—roofs of spermaceti +ointment, erected over half an apple or four gooseberries. +Well for you if you have yet forgotten the old-established +Bull’s Head fruity port: whose reputation was gained solely +by the old-established price the Bull’s Head put upon it, +and by the old-established air with which the Bull’s Head +set the glasses and D’Oyleys on, and held that Liquid Gout +to the three-and-sixpenny wax-candle, as if its old-established +colour hadn’t come from the dyer’s.</p> +<p>Or lastly, take to finish with, two cases that we all know, +every day.</p> +<p>We all know the new hotel near the station, where it is always +gusty, going up the lane which is always muddy, where we are sure +to arrive at night, and where we make the gas start awfully when +we open the front door. We all know the flooring of the +passages and staircases that is too new, and the walls that are +too new, and the house that is haunted by the ghost of +mortar. We all know the doors that have cracked, and the +cracked shutters through which we get a glimpse of the +disconsolate moon. We all know the new people, who have +come to keep the new hotel, and who wish they had never come, and +who (inevitable result) wish <i>we</i> had never come. We +all know how much too scant and smooth and bright the new +furniture is, and how it has never settled down, and cannot fit +itself into right places, and will get into wrong places. +We all know how the gas, being lighted, shows maps of Damp upon +the walls. We all know how the ghost of mortar passes into +our sandwich, stirs our negus, goes up to bed with us, ascends +the pale bedroom chimney, and prevents the smoke from +following. We all know how a leg of our chair comes off at +breakfast in the morning, and how the dejected waiter attributes +the accident to a general greenness pervading the establishment, +and informs us, in reply to a local inquiry, that he is thankful +to say he is an entire stranger in that part of the country and +is going back to his own connexion on Saturday.</p> +<p>We all know, on the other hand, the great station hotel +belonging to the company of proprietors, which has suddenly +sprung up in the back outskirts of any place we like to name, and +where we look out of our palatial windows at little back yards +and gardens, old summer-houses, fowl-houses, pigeon-traps, and +pigsties. We all know this hotel in which we can get +anything we want, after its kind, for money; but where nobody is +glad to see us, or sorry to see us, or minds (our bill paid) +whether we come or go, or how, or when, or why, or cares about +us. We all know this hotel, where we have no individuality, +but put ourselves into the general post, as it were, and are +sorted and disposed of according to our division. We all +know that we can get on very well indeed at such a place, but +still not perfectly well; and this may be, because the place is +largely wholesale, and there is a lingering personal retail +interest within us that asks to be satisfied.</p> +<p>To sum up. My uncommercial travelling has not yet +brought me to the conclusion that we are close to perfection in +these matters. And just as I do not believe that the end of +the world will ever be near at hand, so long as any of the very +tiresome and arrogant people who constantly predict that +catastrophe are left in it, so, I shall have small faith in the +Hotel Millennium, while any of the uncomfortable superstitions I +have glanced at remain in existence.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>VII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">TRAVELLING ABROAD</span></h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">got</span> into the travelling +chariot—it was of German make, roomy, heavy, and +unvarnished—I got into the travelling chariot, pulled up +the steps after me, shut myself in with a smart bang of the door, +and gave the word, ‘Go on!’</p> +<p>Immediately, all that W. and S.W. division of London began to +slide away at a pace so lively, that I was over the river, and +past the Old Kent Road, and out on Blackheath, and even ascending +Shooter’s Hill, before I had had time to look about me in +the carriage, like a collected traveller.</p> +<p>I had two ample Imperials on the roof, other fitted storage +for luggage in front, and other up behind; I had a net for books +overhead, great pockets to all the windows, a leathern pouch or +two hung up for odds and ends, and a reading lamp fixed in the +back of the chariot, in case I should be benighted. I was +amply provided in all respects, and had no idea where I was going +(which was delightful), except that I was going abroad.</p> +<p>So smooth was the old high road, and so fresh were the horses, +and so fast went I, that it was midway between Gravesend and +Rochester, and the widening river was bearing the ships, white +sailed or black-smoked, out to sea, when I noticed by the wayside +a very queer small boy.</p> +<p>‘Holloa!’ said I, to the very queer small boy, +‘where do you live?’</p> +<p>‘At Chatham,’ says he.</p> +<p>‘What do you do there?’ says I.</p> +<p>‘I go to school,’ says he.</p> +<p>I took him up in a moment, and we went on. Presently, +the very queer small boy says, ‘This is Gads-hill we are +coming to, where Falstaff went out to rob those travellers, and +ran away.’</p> +<p>‘You know something about Falstaff, eh?’ said +I.</p> +<p>‘All about him,’ said the very queer small +boy. ‘I am old (I am nine), and I read all sorts of +books. But <i>do</i> let us stop at the top of the hill, +and look at the house there, if you please!’</p> +<p>‘You admire that house?’ said I.</p> +<p>‘Bless you, sir,’ said the very queer small boy, +‘when I was not more than half as old as nine, it used to +be a treat for me to be brought to look at it. And now, I +am nine, I come by myself to look at it. And ever since I +can recollect, my father, seeing me so fond of it, has often said +to me, “If you were to be very persevering and were to work +hard, you might some day come to live in it.” Though +that’s impossible!’ said the very queer small boy, +drawing a low breath, and now staring at the house out of window +with all his might.</p> +<p>I was rather amazed to be told this by the very queer small +boy; for that house happens to be <i>my</i> house, and I have +reason to believe that what he said was true.</p> +<p>Well! I made no halt there, and I soon dropped the very +queer small boy and went on. Over the road where the old +Romans used to march, over the road where the old Canterbury +pilgrims used to go, over the road where the travelling trains of +the old imperious priests and princes used to jingle on horseback +between the continent and this Island through the mud and water, +over the road where Shakespeare hummed to himself, ‘Blow, +blow, thou winter wind,’ as he sat in the saddle at the +gate of the inn yard noticing the carriers; all among the cherry +orchards, apple orchards, corn-fields, and hop-gardens; so went +I, by Canterbury to Dover. There, the sea was tumbling in, +with deep sounds, after dark, and the revolving French light on +Cape Grinez was seen regularly bursting out and becoming +obscured, as if the head of a gigantic light-keeper in an anxious +state of mind were interposed every half-minute, to look how it +was burning.</p> +<p>Early in the morning I was on the deck of the steam-packet, +and we were aiming at the bar in the usual intolerable manner, +and the bar was aiming at us in the usual intolerable manner, and +the bar got by far the best of it, and we got by far the +worst—all in the usual intolerable manner.</p> +<p>But, when I was clear of the Custom House on the other side, +and when I began to make the dust fly on the thirsty French +roads, and when the twigsome trees by the wayside (which, I +suppose, never will grow leafy, for they never did) guarded here +and there a dusty soldier, or field labourer, baking on a heap of +broken stones, sound asleep in a fiction of shade, I began to +recover my travelling spirits. Coming upon the breaker of +the broken stones, in a hard, hot, shining hat, on which the sun +played at a distance as on a burning-glass, I felt that now, +indeed, I was in the dear old France of my affections. I +should have known it, without the well-remembered bottle of rough +ordinary wine, the cold roast fowl, the loaf, and the pinch of +salt, on which I lunched with unspeakable satisfaction, from one +of the stuffed pockets of the chariot.</p> +<p>I must have fallen asleep after lunch, for when a bright face +looked in at the window, I started, and said:</p> +<p>‘Good God, Louis, I dreamed you were dead!’</p> +<p>My cheerful servant laughed, and answered:</p> +<p>‘Me? Not at all, sir.’</p> +<p>‘How glad I am to wake! What are we doing +Louis?’</p> +<p>‘We go to take relay of horses. Will you walk up +the hill?’</p> +<p>‘Certainly.’</p> +<p>Welcome the old French hill, with the old French lunatic (not +in the most distant degree related to Sterne’s Maria) +living in a thatched dog-kennel half-way up, and flying out with +his crutch and his big head and extended nightcap, to be +beforehand with the old men and women exhibiting crippled +children, and with the children exhibiting old men and women, +ugly and blind, who always seemed by resurrectionary process to +be recalled out of the elements for the sudden peopling of the +solitude!</p> +<p>‘It is well,’ said I, scattering among them what +small coin I had; ‘here comes Louis, and I am quite roused +from my nap.’</p> +<p>We journeyed on again, and I welcomed every new assurance that +France stood where I had left it. There were the +posting-houses, with their archways, dirty stable-yards, and +clean post-masters’ wives, bright women of business, +looking on at the putting-to of the horses; there were the +postilions counting what money they got, into their hats, and +never making enough of it; there were the standard population of +grey horses of Flanders descent, invariably biting one another +when they got a chance; there were the fleecy sheepskins, looped +on over their uniforms by the postilions, like bibbed aprons when +it blew and rained; there were their Jack-boots, and their +cracking whips; there were the cathedrals that I got out to see, +as under some cruel bondage, in no wise desiring to see them; +there were the little towns that appeared to have no reason for +being towns, since most of their houses were to let and nobody +could be induced to look at them, except the people who +couldn’t let them and had nothing else to do but look at +them all day. I lay a night upon the road and enjoyed +delectable cookery of potatoes, and some other sensible things, +adoption of which at home would inevitably be shown to be fraught +with ruin, somehow or other, to that rickety national blessing, +the British farmer; and at last I was rattled, like a single pill +in a box, over leagues of stones, until—madly cracking, +plunging, and flourishing two grey tails about—I made my +triumphal entry into Paris.</p> +<p>At Paris, I took an upper apartment for a few days in one of +the hotels of the Rue de Rivoli; my front windows looking into +the garden of the Tuileries (where the principal difference +between the nursemaids and the flowers seemed to be that the +former were locomotive and the latter not): my back windows +looking at all the other back windows in the hotel, and deep down +into a paved yard, where my German chariot had retired under a +tight-fitting archway, to all appearance for life, and where +bells rang all day without anybody’s minding them but +certain chamberlains with feather brooms and green baize caps, +who here and there leaned out of some high window placidly +looking down, and where neat waiters with trays on their left +shoulders passed and repassed from morning to night.</p> +<p>Whenever I am at Paris, I am dragged by invisible force into +the Morgue. I never want to go there, but am always pulled +there. One Christmas Day, when I would rather have been +anywhere else, I was attracted in, to see an old grey man lying +all alone on his cold bed, with a tap of water turned on over his +grey hair, and running, drip, drip, drip, down his wretched face +until it got to the corner of his mouth, where it took a turn, +and made him look sly. One New Year’s Morning (by the +same token, the sun was shining outside, and there was a +mountebank balancing a feather on his nose, within a yard of the +gate), I was pulled in again to look at a flaxen-haired boy of +eighteen, with a heart hanging on his breast—‘from +his mother,’ was engraven on it—who had come into the +net across the river, with a bullet wound in his fair forehead +and his hands cut with a knife, but whence or how was a blank +mystery. This time, I was forced into the same dread place, +to see a large dark man whose disfigurement by water was in a +frightful manner comic, and whose expression was that of a +prize-fighter who had closed his eyelids under a heavy blow, but +was going immediately to open them, shake his head, and +‘come up smiling.’ Oh what this large dark man +cost me in that bright city!</p> +<p>It was very hot weather, and he was none the better for that, +and I was much the worse. Indeed, a very neat and pleasant +little woman with the key of her lodging on her forefinger, who +had been showing him to her little girl while she and the child +ate sweetmeats, observed monsieur looking poorly as we came out +together, and asked monsieur, with her wondering little eyebrows +prettily raised, if there were anything the matter? Faintly +replying in the negative, monsieur crossed the road to a +wine-shop, got some brandy, and resolved to freshen himself with +a dip in the great floating bath on the river.</p> +<p>The bath was crowded in the usual airy manner, by a male +population in striped drawers of various gay colours, who walked +up and down arm in arm, drank coffee, smoked cigars, sat at +little tables, conversed politely with the damsels who dispensed +the towels, and every now and then pitched themselves into the +river head foremost, and came out again to repeat this social +routine. I made haste to participate in the water part of +the entertainments, and was in the full enjoyment of a delightful +bath, when all in a moment I was seized with an unreasonable idea +that the large dark body was floating straight at me.</p> +<p>I was out of the river, and dressing instantly. In the +shock I had taken some water into my mouth, and it turned me +sick, for I fancied that the contamination of the creature was in +it. I had got back to my cool darkened room in the hotel, +and was lying on a sofa there, before I began to reason with +myself.</p> +<p>Of course, I knew perfectly well that the large dark creature +was stone dead, and that I should no more come upon him out of +the place where I had seen him dead, than I should come upon the +cathedral of Notre-Dame in an entirely new situation. What +troubled me was the picture of the creature; and that had so +curiously and strongly painted itself upon my brain, that I could +not get rid of it until it was worn out.</p> +<p>I noticed the peculiarities of this possession, while it was a +real discomfort to me. That very day, at dinner, some +morsel on my plate looked like a piece of him, and I was glad to +get up and go out. Later in the evening, I was walking +along the Rue St. Honoré, when I saw a bill at a public +room there, announcing small-sword exercise, broad-sword +exercise, wrestling, and other such feats. I went in, and +some of the sword-play being very skilful, remained. A +specimen of our own national sport, The British Boaxe, was +announced to be given at the close of the evening. In an +evil hour, I determined to wait for this Boaxe, as became a +Briton. It was a clumsy specimen (executed by two English +grooms out of place), but one of the combatants, receiving a +straight right-hander with the glove between his eyes, did +exactly what the large dark creature in the Morgue had seemed +going to do—and finished me for that night.</p> +<p>There was rather a sickly smell (not at all an unusual +fragrance in Paris) in the little ante-room of my apartment at +the hotel. The large dark creature in the Morgue was by no +direct experience associated with my sense of smell, because, +when I came to the knowledge of him, he lay behind a wall of +thick plate-glass as good as a wall of steel or marble for that +matter. Yet the whiff of the room never failed to reproduce +him. What was more curious, was the capriciousness with +which his portrait seemed to light itself up in my mind, +elsewhere. I might be walking in the Palais Royal, lazily +enjoying the shop windows, and might be regaling myself with one +of the ready-made clothes shops that are set out there. My +eyes, wandering over impossible-waisted dressing-gowns and +luminous waistcoats, would fall upon the master, or the shopman, +or even the very dummy at the door, and would suggest to me, +‘Something like him!’—and instantly I was +sickened again.</p> +<p>This would happen at the theatre, in the same manner. +Often it would happen in the street, when I certainly was not +looking for the likeness, and when probably there was no likeness +there. It was not because the creature was dead that I was +so haunted, because I know that I might have been (and I know it +because I have been) equally attended by the image of a living +aversion. This lasted about a week. The picture did +not fade by degrees, in the sense that it became a whit less +forcible and distinct, but in the sense that it obtruded itself +less and less frequently. The experience may be worth +considering by some who have the care of children. It would +be difficult to overstate the intensity and accuracy of an +intelligent child’s observation. At that impressible +time of life, it must sometimes produce a fixed impression. +If the fixed impression be of an object terrible to the child, it +will be (for want of reasoning upon) inseparable from great +fear. Force the child at such a time, be Spartan with it, +send it into the dark against its will, leave it in a lonely +bedroom against its will, and you had better murder it.</p> +<p>On a bright morning I rattled away from Paris, in the German +chariot, and left the large dark creature behind me for +good. I ought to confess, though, that I had been drawn +back to the Morgue, after he was put underground, to look at his +clothes, and that I found them frightfully like +him—particularly his boots. However, I rattled away +for Switzerland, looking forward and not backward, and so we +parted company.</p> +<p>Welcome again, the long, long spell of France, with the queer +country inns, full of vases of flowers and clocks, in the dull +little town, and with the little population not at all dull on +the little Boulevard in the evening, under the little +trees! Welcome Monsieur the Curé, walking alone in +the early morning a short way out of the town, reading that +eternal Breviary of yours, which surely might be almost read, +without book, by this time! Welcome Monsieur the +Curé, later in the day, jolting through the highway dust +(as if you had already ascended to the cloudy region), in a very +big-headed cabriolet, with the dried mud of a dozen winters on +it. Welcome again Monsieur the Curé, as we exchange +salutations; you, straightening your back to look at the German +chariot, while picking in your little village garden a vegetable +or two for the day’s soup: I, looking out of the German +chariot window in that delicious traveller’s trance which +knows no cares, no yesterdays, no to-morrows, nothing but the +passing objects and the passing scents and sounds! And so I +came, in due course of delight, to Strasbourg, where I passed a +wet Sunday evening at a window, while an idle trifle of a +vaudeville was played for me at the opposite house.</p> +<p>How such a large house came to have only three people living +in it, was its own affair. There were at least a score of +windows in its high roof alone; how many in its grotesque front, +I soon gave up counting. The owner was a shopkeeper, by +name Straudenheim; by trade—I couldn’t make out what +by trade, for he had forborne to write that up, and his shop was +shut.</p> +<p>At first, as I looked at Straudenheim’s, through the +steadily falling rain, I set him up in business in the +goose-liver line. But, inspection of Straudenheim, who +became visible at a window on the second floor, convinced me that +there was something more precious than liver in the case. +He wore a black velvet skull-cap, and looked usurious and +rich. A large-lipped, pear-nosed old man, with white hair, +and keen eyes, though near-sighted. He was writing at a +desk, was Straudenheim, and ever and again left off writing, put +his pen in his mouth, and went through actions with his right +hand, like a man steadying piles of cash. Five-franc +pieces, Straudenheim, or golden Napoleons? A jeweller, +Straudenheim, a dealer in money, a diamond merchant, or what?</p> +<p>Below Straudenheim, at a window on the first floor, sat his +housekeeper—far from young, but of a comely presence, +suggestive of a well-matured foot and ankle. She was +cheerily dressed, had a fan in her hand, and wore large gold +earrings and a large gold cross. She would have been out +holiday-making (as I settled it) but for the pestilent +rain. Strasbourg had given up holiday-making for that once, +as a bad job, because the rain was jerking in gushes out of the +old roof-spouts, and running in a brook down the middle of the +street. The housekeeper, her arms folded on her bosom and +her fan tapping her chin, was bright and smiling at her open +window, but otherwise Straudenheim’s house front was very +dreary. The housekeeper’s was the only open window in +it; Straudenheim kept himself close, though it was a sultry +evening when air is pleasant, and though the rain had brought +into the town that vague refreshing smell of grass which rain +does bring in the summer-time.</p> +<p>The dim appearance of a man at Straudenheim’s shoulder, +inspired me with a misgiving that somebody had come to murder +that flourishing merchant for the wealth with which I had +handsomely endowed him: the rather, as it was an excited man, +lean and long of figure, and evidently stealthy of foot. +But, he conferred with Straudenheim instead of doing him a mortal +injury, and then they both softly opened the other window of that +room—which was immediately over the +housekeeper’s—and tried to see her by looking +down. And my opinion of Straudenheim was much lowered when +I saw that eminent citizen spit out of window, clearly with the +hope of spitting on the housekeeper.</p> +<p>The unconscious housekeeper fanned herself, tossed her head, +and laughed. Though unconscious of Straudenheim, she was +conscious of somebody else—of me?—there was nobody +else.</p> +<p>After leaning so far out of the window, that I confidently +expected to see their heels tilt up, Straudenheim and the lean +man drew their heads in and shut the window. Presently, the +house door secretly opened, and they slowly and spitefully crept +forth into the pouring rain. They were coming over to me (I +thought) to demand satisfaction for my looking at the +housekeeper, when they plunged into a recess in the architecture +under my window and dragged out the puniest of little soldiers, +begirt with the most innocent of little swords. The tall +glazed head-dress of this warrior, Straudenheim instantly knocked +off, and out of it fell two sugar-sticks, and three or four large +lumps of sugar.</p> +<p>The warrior made no effort to recover his property or to pick +up his shako, but looked with an expression of attention at +Straudenheim when he kicked him five times, and also at the lean +man when <i>he</i> kicked him five times, and again at +Straudenheim when he tore the breast of his (the warrior’s) +little coat open, and shook all his ten fingers in his face, as +if they were ten thousand. When these outrages had been +committed, Straudenheim and his man went into the house again and +barred the door. A wonderful circumstance was, that the +housekeeper who saw it all (and who could have taken six such +warriors to her buxom bosom at once), only fanned herself and +laughed as she had laughed before, and seemed to have no opinion +about it, one way or other.</p> +<p>But, the chief effect of the drama was the remarkable +vengeance taken by the little warrior. Left alone in the +rain, he picked up his shako; put it on, all wet and dirty as it +was; retired into a court, of which Straudenheim’s house +formed the corner; wheeled about; and bringing his two +forefingers close to the top of his nose, rubbed them over one +another, cross-wise, in derision, defiance, and contempt of +Straudenheim. Although Straudenheim could not possibly be +supposed to be conscious of this strange proceeding, it so +inflated and comforted the little warrior’s soul, that +twice he went away, and twice came back into the court to repeat +it, as though it must goad his enemy to madness. Not only +that, but he afterwards came back with two other small warriors, +and they all three did it together. Not only that—as +I live to tell the tale!—but just as it was falling quite +dark, the three came back, bringing with them a huge bearded +Sapper, whom they moved, by recital of the original wrong, to go +through the same performance, with the same complete absence of +all possible knowledge of it on the part of Straudenheim. +And then they all went away, arm in arm, singing.</p> +<p>I went away too, in the German chariot at sunrise, and rattled +on, day after day, like one in a sweet dream; with so many clear +little bells on the harness of the horses, that the nursery rhyme +about Banbury Cross and the venerable lady who rode in state +there, was always in my ears. And now I came to the land of +wooden houses, innocent cakes, thin butter soup, and spotless +little inn bedrooms with a family likeness to Dairies. And +now the Swiss marksmen were for ever rifle-shooting at marks +across gorges, so exceedingly near my ear, that I felt like a new +Gesler in a Canton of Tells, and went in highly-deserved danger +of my tyrannical life. The prizes at these shootings, were +watches, smart handkerchiefs, hats, spoons, and (above all) +tea-trays; and at these contests I came upon a more than usually +accomplished and amiable countryman of my own, who had shot +himself deaf in whole years of competition, and had won so many +tea-trays that he went about the country with his carriage full +of them, like a glorified Cheap-Jack.</p> +<p>In the mountain-country into which I had now travelled, a yoke +of oxen were sometimes hooked on before the post-horses, and I +went lumbering up, up, up, through mist and rain, with the roar +of falling water for change of music. Of a sudden, mist and +rain would clear away, and I would come down into picturesque +little towns with gleaming spires and odd towers; and would +stroll afoot into market-places in steep winding streets, where a +hundred women in bodices, sold eggs and honey, butter and fruit, +and suckled their children as they sat by their clean baskets, +and had such enormous goîtres (or glandular swellings in +the throat) that it became a science to know where the nurse +ended and the child began. About this time, I deserted my +German chariot for the back of a mule (in colour and consistency +so very like a dusty old hair trunk I once had at school, that I +half expected to see my initials in brass-headed nails on his +backbone), and went up a thousand rugged ways, and looked down at +a thousand woods of fir and pine, and would on the whole have +preferred my mule’s keeping a little nearer to the inside, +and not usually travelling with a hoof or two over the +precipice—though much consoled by explanation that this was +to be attributed to his great sagacity, by reason of his carrying +broad loads of wood at other times, and not being clear but that +I myself belonged to that station of life, and required as much +room as they. He brought me safely, in his own wise way, +among the passes of the Alps, and here I enjoyed a dozen climates +a day; being now (like Don Quixote on the back of the wooden +horse) in the region of wind, now in the region of fire, now in +the region of unmelting ice and snow. Here, I passed over +trembling domes of ice, beneath which the cataract was roaring; +and here was received under arches of icicles, of unspeakable +beauty; and here the sweet air was so bracing and so light, that +at halting-times I rolled in the snow when I saw my mule do it, +thinking that he must know best. At this part of the +journey we would come, at mid-day, into half an hour’s +thaw: when the rough mountain inn would be found on an island of +deep mud in a sea of snow, while the baiting strings of mules, +and the carts full of casks and bales, which had been in an +Arctic condition a mile off, would steam again. By such +ways and means, I would come to the cluster of châlets +where I had to turn out of the track to see the waterfall; and +then, uttering a howl like a young giant, on espying a +traveller—in other words, something to eat—coming up +the steep, the idiot lying on the wood-pile who sunned himself +and nursed his goître, would rouse the woman-guide within +the hut, who would stream out hastily, throwing her child over +one of her shoulders and her goître over the other, as she +came along. I slept at religious houses, and bleak refuges +of many kinds, on this journey, and by the stove at night heard +stories of travellers who had perished within call, in wreaths +and drifts of snow. One night the stove within, and the +cold outside, awakened childish associations long forgotten, and +I dreamed I was in Russia—the identical serf out of a +picture-book I had, before I could read it for myself—and +that I was going to be knouted by a noble personage in a fur cap, +boots, and earrings, who, I think, must have come out of some +melodrama.</p> +<p>Commend me to the beautiful waters among these +mountains! Though I was not of their mind: they, being +inveterately bent on getting down into the level country, and I +ardently desiring to linger where I was. What desperate +leaps they took, what dark abysses they plunged into, what rocks +they wore away, what echoes they invoked! In one part where +I went, they were pressed into the service of carrying wood down, +to be burnt next winter, as costly fuel, in Italy. But, +their fierce savage nature was not to be easily constrained, and +they fought with every limb of the wood; whirling it round and +round, stripping its bark away, dashing it against pointed +corners, driving it out of the course, and roaring and flying at +the peasants who steered it back again from the bank with long +stout poles. Alas! concurrent streams of time and water +carried <i>me</i> down fast, and I came, on an exquisitely clear +day, to the Lausanne shore of the Lake of Geneva, where I stood +looking at the bright blue water, the flushed white mountains +opposite, and the boats at my feet with their furled +Mediterranean sails, showing like enormous magnifications of this +goose-quill pen that is now in my hand.</p> +<p>—The sky became overcast without any notice; a wind very +like the March east wind of England, blew across me; and a voice +said, ‘How do you like it? Will it do?’</p> +<p>I had merely shut myself, for half a minute, in a German +travelling chariot that stood for sale in the Carriage Department +of the London Pantechnicon. I had a commission to buy it, +for a friend who was going abroad; and the look and manner of the +chariot, as I tried the cushions and the springs, brought all +these hints of travelling remembrance before me.</p> +<p>‘It will do very well,’ said I, rather +sorrowfully, as I got out at the other door, and shut the +carriage up.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>VIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE GREAT TASMANIA’S +CARGO</span></h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">travel</span> constantly, up and down a +certain line of railway that has a terminus in London. It +is the railway for a large military depôt, and for other +large barracks. To the best of my serious belief, I have +never been on that railway by daylight, without seeing some +handcuffed deserters in the train.</p> +<p>It is in the nature of things that such an institution as our +English army should have many bad and troublesome characters in +it. But, this is a reason for, and not against, its being +made as acceptable as possible to well-disposed men of decent +behaviour. Such men are assuredly not tempted into the +ranks, by the beastly inversion of natural laws, and the +compulsion to live in worse than swinish foulness. +Accordingly, when any such Circumlocutional embellishments of the +soldier’s condition have of late been brought to notice, we +civilians, seated in outer darkness cheerfully meditating on an +Income Tax, have considered the matter as being our business, and +have shown a tendency to declare that we would rather not have it +misregulated, if such declaration may, without violence to the +Church Catechism, be hinted to those who are put in authority +over us.</p> +<p>Any animated description of a modern battle, any private +soldier’s letter published in the newspapers, any page of +the records of the Victoria Cross, will show that in the ranks of +the army, there exists under all disadvantages as fine a sense of +duty as is to be found in any station on earth. Who doubts +that if we all did our duty as faithfully as the soldier does +his, this world would be a better place? There may be +greater difficulties in our way than in the +soldier’s. Not disputed. But, let us at least +do our duty towards <i>him</i>.</p> +<p>I had got back again to that rich and beautiful port where I +had looked after Mercantile Jack, and I was walking up a hill +there, on a wild March morning. My conversation with my +official friend Pangloss, by whom I was accidentally accompanied, +took this direction as we took the up-hill direction, because the +object of my uncommercial journey was to see some discharged +soldiers who had recently come home from India. There were +men of <span class="smcap">Havelock’s</span> among them; +there were men who had been in many of the great battles of the +great Indian campaign, among them; and I was curious to note what +our discharged soldiers looked like, when they were done +with.</p> +<p>I was not the less interested (as I mentioned to my official +friend Pangloss) because these men had claimed to be discharged, +when their right to be discharged was not admitted. They +had behaved with unblemished fidelity and bravery; but, a change +of circumstances had arisen, which, as they considered, put an +end to their compact and entitled them to enter on a new +one. Their demand had been blunderingly resisted by the +authorities in India: but, it is to be presumed that the men were +not far wrong, inasmuch as the bungle had ended in their being +sent home discharged, in pursuance of orders from home. +(There was an immense waste of money, of course.)</p> +<p>Under these circumstances—thought I, as I walked up the +hill, on which I accidentally encountered my official +friend—under these circumstances of the men having +successfully opposed themselves to the Pagoda Department of that +great Circumlocution Office on which the sun never sets and the +light of reason never rises, the Pagoda Department will have been +particularly careful of the national honour. It will have +shown these men, in the scrupulous good faith, not to say the +generosity, of its dealing with them, that great national +authorities can have no small retaliations and revenges. It +will have made every provision for their health on the passage +home, and will have landed them, restored from their campaigning +fatigues by a sea-voyage, pure air, sound food, and good +medicines. And I pleased myself with dwelling beforehand, +on the great accounts of their personal treatment which these men +would carry into their various towns and villages, and on the +increasing popularity of the service that would insensibly +follow. I almost began to hope that the +hitherto-never-failing deserters on my railroad would by-and-by +become a phenomenon.</p> +<p>In this agreeable frame of mind I entered the workhouse of +Liverpool.—For, the cultivation of laurels in a sandy soil, +had brought the soldiers in question to <i>that</i> abode of +Glory.</p> +<p>Before going into their wards to visit them, I inquired how +they had made their triumphant entry there? They had been +brought through the rain in carts it seemed, from the +landing-place to the gate, and had then been carried up-stairs on +the backs of paupers. Their groans and pains during the +performance of this glorious pageant, had been so distressing, as +to bring tears into the eyes of spectators but too well +accustomed to scenes of suffering. The men were so +dreadfully cold, that those who could get near the fires were +hard to be restrained from thrusting their feet in among the +blazing coals. They were so horribly reduced, that they +were awful to look upon. Racked with dysentery and +blackened with scurvy, one hundred and forty wretched soldiers +had been revived with brandy and laid in bed.</p> +<p>My official friend Pangloss is lineally descended from a +learned doctor of that name, who was once tutor to Candide, an +ingenious young gentleman of some celebrity. In his +personal character, he is as humane and worthy a gentleman as any +I know; in his official capacity, he unfortunately preaches the +doctrines of his renowned ancestor, by demonstrating on all +occasions that we live in the best of all possible official +worlds.</p> +<p>‘In the name of Humanity,’ said I, ‘how did +the men fall into this deplorable state? Was the ship well +found in stores?’</p> +<p>‘I am not here to asseverate that I know the fact, of my +own knowledge,’ answered Pangloss, ‘but I have +grounds for asserting that the stores were the best of all +possible stores.’</p> +<p>A medical officer laid before us, a handful of rotten biscuit, +and a handful of split peas. The biscuit was a honeycombed +heap of maggots, and the excrement of maggots. The peas +were even harder than this filth. A similar handful had +been experimentally boiled six hours, and had shown no signs of +softening. These were the stores on which the soldiers had +been fed.</p> +<p>‘The beef—’ I began, when Pangloss cut me +short.</p> +<p>‘Was the best of all possible beef,’ said he.</p> +<p>But, behold, there was laid before us certain evidence given +at the Coroner’s Inquest, holden on some of the men (who +had obstinately died of their treatment), and from that evidence +it appeared that the beef was the worst of possible beef!</p> +<p>‘Then I lay my hand upon my heart, and take my +stand,’ said Pangloss, ‘by the pork, which was the +best of all possible pork.’</p> +<p>‘But look at this food before our eyes, if one may so +misuse the word,’ said I. ‘Would any Inspector +who did his duty, pass such abomination?’</p> +<p>‘It ought not to have been passed,’ Pangloss +admitted.</p> +<p>‘Then the authorities out there—’ I began, +when Pangloss cut me short again.</p> +<p>‘There would certainly seem to have been something wrong +somewhere,’ said he; ‘but I am prepared to prove that +the authorities out there, are the best of all possible +authorities.’</p> +<p>I never heard of any impeached public authority in my life, +who was not the best public authority in existence.</p> +<p>‘We are told of these unfortunate men being laid low by +scurvy,’ said I. ‘Since lime-juice has been +regularly stored and served out in our navy, surely that disease, +which used to devastate it, has almost disappeared? Was +there lime-juice aboard this transport?’</p> +<p>My official friend was beginning ‘the best of all +possible—’ when an inconvenient medical forefinger +pointed out another passage in the evidence, from which it +appeared that the lime-juice had been bad too. Not to +mention that the vinegar had been bad too, the vegetables bad +too, the cooking accommodation insufficient (if there had been +anything worth mentioning to cook), the water supply exceedingly +inadequate, and the beer sour.</p> +<p>‘Then the men,’ said Pangloss, a little irritated, +‘Were the worst of all possible men.’</p> +<p>‘In what respect?’ I asked.</p> +<p>‘Oh! Habitual drunkards,’ said Pangloss.</p> +<p>But, again the same incorrigible medical forefinger pointed +out another passage in the evidence, showing that the dead men +had been examined after death, and that they, at least, could not +possibly have been habitual drunkards, because the organs within +them which must have shown traces of that habit, were perfectly +sound.</p> +<p>‘And besides,’ said the three doctors present, +‘one and all, habitual drunkards brought as low as these +men have been, could not recover under care and food, as the +great majority of these men are recovering. They would not +have strength of constitution to do it.’</p> +<p>‘Reckless and improvident dogs, then,’ said +Pangloss. ‘Always are—nine times out of +ten.’</p> +<p>I turned to the master of the workhouse, and asked him whether +the men had any money?</p> +<p>‘Money?’ said he. ‘I have in my iron +safe, nearly four hundred pounds of theirs; the agents have +nearly a hundred pounds more and many of them have left money in +Indian banks besides.’</p> +<p>‘Hah!’ said I to myself, as we went up-stairs, +‘this is not the best of all possible stories, I +doubt!’</p> +<p>We went into a large ward, containing some twenty or +five-and-twenty beds. We went into several such wards, one +after another. I find it very difficult to indicate what a +shocking sight I saw in them, without frightening the reader from +the perusal of these lines, and defeating my object of making it +known.</p> +<p>O the sunken eyes that turned to me as I walked between the +rows of beds, or—worse still—that glazedly looked at +the white ceiling, and saw nothing and cared for nothing! +Here, lay the skeleton of a man, so lightly covered with a thin +unwholesome skin, that not a bone in the anatomy was clothed, and +I could clasp the arm above the elbow, in my finger and +thumb. Here, lay a man with the black scurvy eating his +legs away, his gums gone, and his teeth all gaunt and bare. +This bed was empty, because gangrene had set in, and the patient +had died but yesterday. That bed was a hopeless one, +because its occupant was sinking fast, and could only be roused +to turn the poor pinched mask of face upon the pillow, with a +feeble moan. The awful thinness of the fallen cheeks, the +awful brightness of the deep set eyes, the lips of lead, the +hands of ivory, the recumbent human images lying in the shadow of +death with a kind of solemn twilight on them, like the sixty who +had died aboard the ship and were lying at the bottom of the sea, +O Pangloss, <span class="smcap">God</span> forgive you!</p> +<p>In one bed, lay a man whose life had been saved (as it was +hoped) by deep incisions in the feet and legs. While I was +speaking to him, a nurse came up to change the poultices which +this operation had rendered necessary, and I had an instinctive +feeling that it was not well to turn away, merely to spare +myself. He was sorely wasted and keenly susceptible, but +the efforts he made to subdue any expression of impatience or +suffering, were quite heroic. It was easy to see, in the +shrinking of the figure, and the drawing of the bed-clothes over +the head, how acute the endurance was, and it made me shrink too, +as if I were in pain; but, when the new bandages were on, and the +poor feet were composed again, he made an apology for himself +(though he had not uttered a word), and said plaintively, +‘I am so tender and weak, you see, sir!’ +Neither from him nor from any one sufferer of the whole ghastly +number, did I hear a complaint. Of thankfulness for present +solicitude and care, I heard much; of complaint, not a word.</p> +<p>I think I could have recognised in the dismalest skeleton +there, the ghost of a soldier. Something of the old air was +still latent in the palest shadow of life I talked to. One +emaciated creature, in the strictest literality worn to the bone, +lay stretched on his back, looking so like death that I asked one +of the doctors if he were not dying, or dead? A few kind +words from the doctor, in his ear, and he opened his eyes, and +smiled—looked, in a moment, as if he would have made a +salute, if he could. ‘We shall pull him through, +please God,’ said the Doctor. ‘Plase God, surr, +and thankye,’ said the patient. ‘You are much +better to-day; are you not?’ said the Doctor. +‘Plase God, surr; ’tis the slape I want, surr; +’tis my breathin’ makes the nights so +long.’ ‘He is a careful fellow this, you must +know,’ said the Doctor, cheerfully; ‘it was raining +hard when they put him in the open cart to bring him here, and he +had the presence of mind to ask to have a sovereign taken out of +his pocket that he had there, and a cab engaged. Probably +it saved his life.’ The patient rattled out the +skeleton of a laugh, and said, proud of the story, +‘’Deed, surr, an open cairt was a comical means +o’ bringin’ a dyin’ man here, and a clever way +to kill him.’ You might have sworn to him for a +soldier when he said it.</p> +<p>One thing had perplexed me very much in going from bed to +bed. A very significant and cruel thing. I could find +no young man but one. He had attracted my notice, by having +got up and dressed himself in his soldier’s jacket and +trousers, with the intention of sitting by the fire; but he had +found himself too weak, and had crept back to his bed and laid +himself down on the outside of it. I could have pronounced +him, alone, to be a young man aged by famine and sickness. +As we were standing by the Irish soldier’s bed, I mentioned +my perplexity to the Doctor. He took a board with an +inscription on it from the head of the Irishman’s bed, and +asked me what age I supposed that man to be? I had observed +him with attention while talking to him, and answered, +confidently, ‘Fifty.’ The Doctor, with a +pitying glance at the patient, who had dropped into a stupor +again, put the board back, and said, +‘Twenty-four.’</p> +<p>All the arrangements of the wards were excellent. They +could not have been more humane, sympathising, gentle, attentive, +or wholesome. The owners of the ship, too, had done all +they could, liberally. There were bright fires in every +room, and the convalescent men were sitting round them, reading +various papers and periodicals. I took the liberty of +inviting my official friend Pangloss to look at those +convalescent men, and to tell me whether their faces and bearing +were or were not, generally, the faces and bearing of steady +respectable soldiers? The master of the workhouse, +overhearing me, said he had had a pretty large experience of +troops, and that better conducted men than these, he had never +had to do with. They were always (he added) as we saw +them. And of us visitors (I add) they knew nothing +whatever, except that we were there.</p> +<p>It was audacious in me, but I took another liberty with +Pangloss. Prefacing it with the observation that, of +course, I knew beforehand that there was not the faintest desire, +anywhere, to hush up any part of this dreadful business, and that +the Inquest was the fairest of all possible Inquests, I besought +four things of Pangloss. Firstly, to observe that the +Inquest <i>was not held in that place</i>, but at some distance +off. Secondly, to look round upon those helpless spectres +in their beds. Thirdly, to remember that the witnesses +produced from among them before that Inquest, could not have been +selected because they were the men who had the most to tell it, +but because they happened to be in a state admitting of their +safe removal. Fourthly, to say whether the coroner and jury +could have come there, to those pillows, and taken a little +evidence? My official friend declined to commit himself to +a reply.</p> +<p>There was a sergeant, reading, in one of the fireside +groups. As he was a man of very intelligent countenance, +and as I have a great respect for non-commissioned officers as a +class, I sat down on the nearest bed, to have some talk with +him. (It was the bed of one of the grisliest of the poor +skeletons, and he died soon afterwards.)</p> +<p>‘I was glad to see, in the evidence of an officer at the +Inquest, sergeant, that he never saw men behave better on board +ship than these men.’</p> +<p>‘They did behave very well, sir.’</p> +<p>‘I was glad to see, too, that every man had a +hammock.’ The sergeant gravely shook his head. +‘There must be some mistake, sir. The men of my own +mess had no hammocks. There were not hammocks enough on +board, and the men of the two next messes laid hold of hammocks +for themselves as soon as they got on board, and squeezed my men +out, as I may say.’</p> +<p>‘Had the squeezed-out men none then?’</p> +<p>‘None, sir. As men died, their hammocks were used +by other men, who wanted hammocks; but many men had none at +all.’</p> +<p>‘Then you don’t agree with the evidence on that +point?’</p> +<p>‘Certainly not, sir. A man can’t, when he +knows to the contrary.’</p> +<p>‘Did any of the men sell their bedding for +drink?’</p> +<p>‘There is some mistake on that point too, sir. Men +were under the impression—I knew it for a fact at the +time—that it was not allowed to take blankets or bedding on +board, and so men who had things of that sort came to sell them +purposely.’</p> +<p>‘Did any of the men sell their clothes for +drink?’</p> +<p>‘They did, sir.’ (I believe there never was +a more truthful witness than the sergeant. He had no +inclination to make out a case.)</p> +<p>‘Many?’</p> +<p>‘Some, sir’ (considering the question). +‘Soldier-like. They had been long marching in the +rainy season, by bad roads—no roads at all, in +short—and when they got to Calcutta, men turned to and +drank, before taking a last look at it. +Soldier-like.’</p> +<p>‘Do you see any men in this ward, for example, who sold +clothes for drink at that time?’</p> +<p>The sergeant’s wan eye, happily just beginning to +rekindle with health, travelled round the place and came back to +me. ‘Certainly, sir.’</p> +<p>‘The marching to Calcutta in the rainy season must have +been severe?’</p> +<p>‘It was very severe, sir.’</p> +<p>‘Yet what with the rest and the sea air, I should have +thought that the men (even the men who got drunk) would have soon +begun to recover on board ship?’</p> +<p>‘So they might; but the bad food told upon them, and +when we got into a cold latitude, it began to tell more, and the +men dropped.’</p> +<p>‘The sick had a general disinclination for food, I am +told, sergeant?’</p> +<p>‘Have you seen the food, sir?’</p> +<p>‘Some of it.’</p> +<p>‘Have you seen the state of their mouths, +sir?’</p> +<p>If the sergeant, who was a man of a few orderly words, had +spoken the amount of this volume, he could not have settled that +question better. I believe the sick could as soon have +eaten the ship, as the ship’s provisions.</p> +<p>I took the additional liberty with my friend Pangloss, when I +had left the sergeant with good wishes, of asking Pangloss +whether he had ever heard of biscuit getting drunk and bartering +its nutritious qualities for putrefaction and vermin; of peas +becoming hardened in liquor; of hammocks drinking themselves off +the face of the earth; of lime-juice, vegetables, vinegar, +cooking accommodation, water supply, and beer, all taking to +drinking together and going to ruin? ‘If not (I asked +him), what did he say in defence of the officers condemned by the +Coroner’s jury, who, by signing the General Inspection +report relative to the ship Great Tasmania, chartered for these +troops, had deliberately asserted all that bad and poisonous +dunghill refuse, to be good and wholesome food?’ My +official friend replied that it was a remarkable fact, that +whereas some officers were only positively good, and other +officers only comparatively better, those particular officers +were superlatively the very best of all possible officers.</p> +<p>My hand and my heart fail me, in writing my record of this +journey. The spectacle of the soldiers in the hospital-beds +of that Liverpool workhouse (a very good workhouse, indeed, be it +understood), was so shocking and so shameful, that as an +Englishman I blush to remember it. It would have been +simply unbearable at the time, but for the consideration and pity +with which they were soothed in their sufferings.</p> +<p>No punishment that our inefficient laws provide, is worthy of +the name when set against the guilt of this transaction. +But, if the memory of it die out unavenged, and if it do not +result in the inexorable dismissal and disgrace of those who are +responsible for it, their escape will be infamous to the +Government (no matter of what party) that so neglects its duty, +and infamous to the nation that tamely suffers such intolerable +wrong to be done in its name.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>IX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CITY OF LONDON CHURCHES</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">If</span> the confession that I have often +travelled from this Covent Garden lodging of mine on Sundays, +should give offence to those who never travel on Sundays, they +will be satisfied (I hope) by my adding that the journeys in +question were made to churches.</p> +<p>Not that I have any curiosity to hear powerful +preachers. Time was, when I was dragged by the hair of my +head, as one may say, to hear too many. On summer evenings, +when every flower, and tree, and bird, might have better +addressed my soft young heart, I have in my day been caught in +the palm of a female hand by the crown, have been violently +scrubbed from the neck to the roots of the hair as a purification +for the Temple, and have then been carried off highly charged +with saponaceous electricity, to be steamed like a potato in the +unventilated breath of the powerful Boanerges Boiler and his +congregation, until what small mind I had, was quite steamed out +of me. In which pitiable plight I have been haled out of +the place of meeting, at the conclusion of the exercises, and +catechised respecting Boanerges Boiler, his fifthly, his sixthly, +and his seventhly, until I have regarded that reverend person in +the light of a most dismal and oppressive Charade. Time +was, when I was carried off to platform assemblages at which no +human child, whether of wrath or grace, could possibly keep its +eyes open, and when I felt the fatal sleep stealing, stealing +over me, and when I gradually heard the orator in possession, +spinning and humming like a great top, until he rolled, +collapsed, and tumbled over, and I discovered to my burning shame +and fear, that as to that last stage it was not he, but I. +I have sat under Boanerges when he has specifically addressed +himself to us—us, the infants—and at this present +writing I hear his lumbering jocularity (which never amused us, +though we basely pretended that it did), and I behold his big +round face, and I look up the inside of his outstretched +coat-sleeve as if it were a telescope with the stopper on, and I +hate him with an unwholesome hatred for two hours. Through +such means did it come to pass that I knew the powerful preacher +from beginning to end, all over and all through, while I was very +young, and that I left him behind at an early period of +life. Peace be with him! More peace than he brought +to me!</p> +<p>Now, I have heard many preachers since that time—not +powerful; merely Christian, unaffected, and reverential—and +I have had many such preachers on my roll of friends. But, +it was not to hear these, any more than the powerful class, that +I made my Sunday journeys. They were journeys of curiosity +to the numerous churches in the City of London. It came +into my head one day, here had I been cultivating a familiarity +with all the churches of Rome, and I knew nothing of the insides +of the old churches of London! This befell on a Sunday +morning. I began my expeditions that very same day, and +they lasted me a year.</p> +<p>I never wanted to know the names of the churches to which I +went, and to this hour I am profoundly ignorant in that +particular of at least nine-tenths of them. Indeed, saying +that I know the church of old <span +class="smcap">Gower’s</span> tomb (he lies in effigy with +his head upon his books) to be the church of Saint +Saviour’s, Southwark; and the church of <span +class="smcap">Milton’s</span> tomb to be the church of +Cripplegate; and the church on Cornhill with the great golden +keys to be the church of Saint Peter; I doubt if I could pass a +competitive examination in any of the names. No question +did I ever ask of living creature concerning these churches, and +no answer to any antiquarian question on the subject that I ever +put to books, shall harass the reader’s soul. A full +half of my pleasure in them arose out of their mystery; +mysterious I found them; mysterious they shall remain for me.</p> +<p>Where shall I begin my round of hidden and forgotten old +churches in the City of London?</p> +<p>It is twenty minutes short of eleven on a Sunday morning, when +I stroll down one of the many narrow hilly streets in the City +that tend due south to the Thames. It is my first +experiment, and I have come to the region of Whittington in an +omnibus, and we have put down a fierce-eyed, spare old woman, +whose slate-coloured gown smells of herbs, and who walked up +Aldersgate-street to some chapel where she comforts herself with +brimstone doctrine, I warrant. We have also put down a +stouter and sweeter old lady, with a pretty large prayer-book in +an unfolded pocket-handkerchief, who got out at a corner of a +court near Stationers’ Hall, and who I think must go to +church there, because she is the widow of some deceased old +Company’s Beadle. The rest of our freight were mere +chance pleasure-seekers and rural walkers, and went on to the +Blackwall railway. So many bells are ringing, when I stand +undecided at a street corner, that every sheep in the +ecclesiastical fold might be a bell-wether. The discordance +is fearful. My state of indecision is referable to, and +about equally divisible among, four great churches, which are all +within sight and sound, all within the space of a few square +yards.</p> +<p>As I stand at the street corner, I don’t see as many as +four people at once going to church, though I see as many as four +churches with their steeples clamouring for people. I +choose my church, and go up the flight of steps to the great +entrance in the tower. A mouldy tower within, and like a +neglected washhouse. A rope comes through the beamed roof, +and a man in the corner pulls it and clashes the bell—a +whity-brown man, whose clothes were once black—a man with +flue on him, and cobweb. He stares at me, wondering how I +come there, and I stare at him, wondering how he comes +there. Through a screen of wood and glass, I peep into the +dim church. About twenty people are discernible, waiting to +begin. Christening would seem to have faded out of this +church long ago, for the font has the dust of desuetude thick +upon it, and its wooden cover (shaped like an old-fashioned +tureen-cover) looks as if it wouldn’t come off, upon +requirement. I perceive the altar to be rickety and the +Commandments damp. Entering after this survey, I jostle the +clergyman in his canonicals, who is entering too from a dark lane +behind a pew of state with curtains, where nobody sits. The +pew is ornamented with four blue wands, once carried by four +somebodys, I suppose, before somebody else, but which there is +nobody now to hold or receive honour from. I open the door +of a family pew, and shut myself in; if I could occupy twenty +family pews at once I might have them. The clerk, a brisk +young man (how does <i>he</i> come here?), glances at me +knowingly, as who should say, ‘You have done it now; you +must stop.’ Organ plays. Organ-loft is in a +small gallery across the church; gallery congregation, two +girls. I wonder within myself what will happen when we are +required to sing.</p> +<p>There is a pale heap of books in the corner of my pew, and +while the organ, which is hoarse and sleepy, plays in such +fashion that I can hear more of the rusty working of the stops +than of any music, I look at the books, which are mostly bound in +faded baize and stuff. They belonged in 1754, to the +Dowgate family; and who were they? Jane Comport must have +married Young Dowgate, and come into the family that way; Young +Dowgate was courting Jane Comport when he gave her her +prayer-book, and recorded the presentation in the fly-leaf; if +Jane were fond of Young Dowgate, why did she die and leave the +book here? Perhaps at the rickety altar, and before the +damp Commandments, she, Comport, had taken him, Dowgate, in a +flush of youthful hope and joy, and perhaps it had not turned out +in the long run as great a success as was expected?</p> +<p>The opening of the service recalls my wandering +thoughts. I then find, to my astonishment, that I have +been, and still am, taking a strong kind of invisible snuff, up +my nose, into my eyes, and down my throat. I wink, sneeze, +and cough. The clerk sneezes; the clergyman winks; the +unseen organist sneezes and coughs (and probably winks); all our +little party wink, sneeze, and cough. The snuff seems to be +made of the decay of matting, wood, cloth, stone, iron, earth, +and something else. Is the something else, the decay of +dead citizens in the vaults below? As sure as Death it +is! Not only in the cold, damp February day, do we cough +and sneeze dead citizens, all through the service, but dead +citizens have got into the very bellows of the organ, and half +choked the same. We stamp our feet to warm them, and dead +citizens arise in heavy clouds. Dead citizens stick upon +the walls, and lie pulverised on the sounding-board over the +clergyman’s head, and, when a gust of air comes, tumble +down upon him.</p> +<p>In this first experience I was so nauseated by too much snuff, +made of the Dowgate family, the Comport branch, and other +families and branches, that I gave but little heed to our dull +manner of ambling through the service; to the brisk clerk’s +manner of encouraging us to try a note or two at psalm time; to +the gallery-congregation’s manner of enjoying a shrill +duet, without a notion of time or tune; to the whity-brown +man’s manner of shutting the minister into the pulpit, and +being very particular with the lock of the door, as if he were a +dangerous animal. But, I tried again next Sunday, and soon +accustomed myself to the dead citizens when I found that I could +not possibly get on without them among the City churches.</p> +<p>Another Sunday.</p> +<p>After being again rung for by conflicting bells, like a leg of +mutton or a laced hat a hundred years ago, I make selection of a +church oddly put away in a corner among a number of lanes—a +smaller church than the last, and an ugly: of about the date of +Queen Anne. As a congregation, we are fourteen strong: not +counting an exhausted charity school in a gallery, which has +dwindled away to four boys, and two girls. In the porch, is +a benefaction of loaves of bread, which there would seem to be +nobody left in the exhausted congregation to claim, and which I +saw an exhausted beadle, long faded out of uniform, eating with +his eyes for self and family when I passed in. There is +also an exhausted clerk in a brown wig, and two or three +exhausted doors and windows have been bricked up, and the service +books are musty, and the pulpit cushions are threadbare, and the +whole of the church furniture is in a very advanced stage of +exhaustion. We are three old women (habitual), two young +lovers (accidental), two tradesmen, one with a wife and one +alone, an aunt and nephew, again two girls (these two girls +dressed out for church with everything about them limp that +should be stiff, and <i>vice versâ</i>, are an invariable +experience), and three sniggering boys. The clergyman is, +perhaps, the chaplain of a civic company; he has the moist and +vinous look, and eke the bulbous boots, of one acquainted with +’Twenty port, and comet vintages.</p> +<p>We are so quiet in our dulness that the three sniggering boys, +who have got away into a corner by the altar-railing, give us a +start, like crackers, whenever they laugh. And this reminds +me of my own village church where, during sermon-time on bright +Sundays when the birds are very musical indeed, farmers’ +boys patter out over the stone pavement, and the clerk steps out +from his desk after them, and is distinctly heard in the summer +repose to pursue and punch them in the churchyard, and is seen to +return with a meditative countenance, making believe that nothing +of the sort has happened. The aunt and nephew in this City +church are much disturbed by the sniggering boys. The +nephew is himself a boy, and the sniggerers tempt him to secular +thoughts of marbles and string, by secretly offering such +commodities to his distant contemplation. This young Saint +Anthony for a while resists, but presently becomes a backslider, +and in dumb show defies the sniggerers to ‘heave’ a +marble or two in his direction. Here in he is detected by +the aunt (a rigorous reduced gentlewoman who has the charge of +offices), and I perceive that worthy relative to poke him in the +side, with the corrugated hooked handle of an ancient +umbrella. The nephew revenges himself for this, by holding +his breath and terrifying his kinswoman with the dread belief +that he has made up his mind to burst. Regardless of +whispers and shakes, he swells and becomes discoloured, and yet +again swells and becomes discoloured, until the aunt can bear it +no longer, but leads him out, with no visible neck, and with his +eyes going before him like a prawn’s. This causes the +sniggerers to regard flight as an eligible move, and I know which +of them will go out first, because of the over-devout attention +that he suddenly concentrates on the clergyman. In a little +while, this hypocrite, with an elaborate demonstration of hushing +his footsteps, and with a face generally expressive of having +until now forgotten a religious appointment elsewhere, is +gone. Number two gets out in the same way, but rather +quicker. Number three getting safely to the door, there +turns reckless, and banging it open, flies forth with a Whoop! +that vibrates to the top of the tower above us.</p> +<p>The clergyman, who is of a prandial presence and a muffled +voice, may be scant of hearing as well as of breath, but he only +glances up, as having an idea that somebody has said Amen in a +wrong place, and continues his steady jog-trot, like a +farmer’s wife going to market. He does all he has to +do, in the same easy way, and gives us a concise sermon, still +like the jog-trot of the farmer’s wife on a level +road. Its drowsy cadence soon lulls the three old women +asleep, and the unmarried tradesman sits looking out at window, +and the married tradesman sits looking at his wife’s +bonnet, and the lovers sit looking at one another, so +superlatively happy, that I mind when I, turned of eighteen, went +with my Angelica to a City church on account of a shower (by this +special coincidence that it was in Huggin-lane), and when I said +to my Angelica, ‘Let the blessed event, Angelica, occur at +no altar but this!’ and when my Angelica consented that it +should occur at no other—which it certainly never did, for +it never occurred anywhere. And O, Angelica, what has +become of you, this present Sunday morning when I can’t +attend to the sermon; and, more difficult question than that, +what has become of Me as I was when I sat by your side!</p> +<p>But, we receive the signal to make that unanimous dive which +surely is a little conventional—like the strange rustlings +and settlings and clearings of throats and noses, which are never +dispensed with, at certain points of the Church service, and are +never held to be necessary under any other circumstances. +In a minute more it is all over, and the organ expresses itself +to be as glad of it as it can be of anything in its rheumatic +state, and in another minute we are all of us out of the church, +and Whity-brown has locked it up. Another minute or little +more, and, in the neighbouring churchyard—not the yard of +that church, but of another—a churchyard like a great +shabby old mignonette box, with two trees in it and one +tomb—I meet Whity-brown, in his private capacity, fetching +a pint of beer for his dinner from the public-house in the +corner, where the keys of the rotting fire-ladders are kept and +were never asked for, and where there is a ragged, white-seamed, +out-at-elbowed bagatelle board on the first floor.</p> +<p>In one of these City churches, and only in one, I found an +individual who might have been claimed as expressly a City +personage. I remember the church, by the feature that the +clergyman couldn’t get to his own desk without going +through the clerk’s, or couldn’t get to the pulpit +without going through the reading-desk—I forget which, and +it is no matter—and by the presence of this personage among +the exceedingly sparse congregation. I doubt if we were a +dozen, and we had no exhausted charity school to help us +out. The personage was dressed in black of square cut, and +was stricken in years, and wore a black velvet cap, and cloth +shoes. He was of a staid, wealthy, and dissatisfied +aspect. In his hand, he conducted to church a mysterious +child: a child of the feminine gender. The child had a +beaver hat, with a stiff drab plume that surely never belonged to +any bird of the air. The child was further attired in a +nankeen frock and spencer, brown boxing-gloves, and a veil. +It had a blemish, in the nature of currant jelly, on its chin; +and was a thirsty child. Insomuch that the personage +carried in his pocket a green bottle, from which, when the first +psalm was given out, the child was openly refreshed. At all +other times throughout the service it was motionless, and stood +on the seat of the large pew, closely fitted into the corner, +like a rain-water pipe.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image72" href="images/p72b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The City Personage" +title= +"The City Personage" + src="images/p72s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The personage never opened his book, and never looked at the +clergyman. He never sat down either, but stood with his +arms leaning on the top of the pew, and his forehead sometimes +shaded with his right hand, always looking at the church +door. It was a long church for a church of its size, and he +was at the upper end, but he always looked at the door. +That he was an old bookkeeper, or an old trader who had kept his +own books, and that he might be seen at the Bank of England about +Dividend times, no doubt. That he had lived in the City all +his life and was disdainful of other localities, no doubt. +Why he looked at the door, I never absolutely proved, but it is +my belief that he lived in expectation of the time when the +citizens would come back to live in the City, and its ancient +glories would be renewed. He appeared to expect that this +would occur on a Sunday, and that the wanderers would first +appear, in the deserted churches, penitent and humbled. +Hence, he looked at the door which they never darkened. +Whose child the child was, whether the child of a disinherited +daughter, or some parish orphan whom the personage had adopted, +there was nothing to lead up to. It never played, or +skipped, or smiled. Once, the idea occurred to me that it +was an automaton, and that the personage had made it; but +following the strange couple out one Sunday, I heard the +personage say to it, ‘Thirteen thousand pounds;’ to +which it added in a weak human voice, ‘Seventeen and +fourpence.’ Four Sundays I followed them out, and +this is all I ever heard or saw them say. One Sunday, I +followed them home. They lived behind a pump, and the +personage opened their abode with an exceeding large key. +The one solitary inscription on their house related to a +fire-plug. The house was partly undermined by a deserted +and closed gateway; its windows were blind with dirt; and it +stood with its face disconsolately turned to a wall. Five +great churches and two small ones rang their Sunday bells between +this house and the church the couple frequented, so they must +have had some special reason for going a quarter of a mile to +it. The last time I saw them, was on this wise. I had +been to explore another church at a distance, and happened to +pass the church they frequented, at about two of the afternoon +when that edifice was closed. But, a little side-door, +which I had never observed before, stood open, and disclosed +certain cellarous steps. Methought ‘They are airing +the vaults to-day,’ when the personage and the child +silently arrived at the steps, and silently descended. Of +course, I came to the conclusion that the personage had at last +despaired of the looked-for return of the penitent citizens, and +that he and the child went down to get themselves buried.</p> +<p>In the course of my pilgrimages I came upon one obscure church +which had broken out in the melodramatic style, and was got up +with various tawdry decorations, much after the manner of the +extinct London may-poles. These attractions had induced +several young priests or deacons in black bibs for waistcoats, +and several young ladies interested in that holy order (the +proportion being, as I estimated, seventeen young ladies to a +deacon), to come into the City as a new and odd excitement. +It was wonderful to see how these young people played out their +little play in the heart of the City, all among themselves, +without the deserted City’s knowing anything about +it. It was as if you should take an empty counting-house on +a Sunday, and act one of the old Mysteries there. They had +impressed a small school (from what neighbourhood I don’t +know) to assist in the performances, and it was pleasant to +notice frantic garlands of inscription on the walls, especially +addressing those poor innocents in characters impossible for them +to decipher. There was a remarkably agreeable smell of +pomatum in this congregation.</p> +<p>But, in other cases, rot and mildew and dead citizens formed +the uppermost scent, while, infused into it in a dreamy way not +at all displeasing, was the staple character of the +neighbourhood. In the churches about Mark-lane, for +example, there was a dry whiff of wheat; and I accidentally +struck an airy sample of barley out of an aged hassock in one of +them. From Rood-lane to Tower-street, and thereabouts, +there was often a subtle flavour of wine: sometimes, of +tea. One church near Mincing-lane smelt like a +druggist’s drawer. Behind the Monument the service +had a flavour of damaged oranges, which, a little further down +towards the river, tempered into herrings, and gradually toned +into a cosmopolitan blast of fish. In one church, the exact +counterpart of the church in the Rake’s Progress where the +hero is being married to the horrible old lady, there was no +speciality of atmosphere, until the organ shook a perfume of +hides all over us from some adjacent warehouse.</p> +<p>Be the scent what it would, however, there was no speciality +in the people. There were never enough of them to represent +any calling or neighbourhood. They had all gone elsewhere +over-night, and the few stragglers in the many churches +languished there inexpressively.</p> +<p>Among the Uncommercial travels in which I have engaged, this +year of Sunday travel occupies its own place, apart from all the +rest. Whether I think of the church where the sails of the +oyster-boats in the river almost flapped against the windows, or +of the church where the railroad made the bells hum as the train +rushed by above the roof, I recall a curious experience. On +summer Sundays, in the gentle rain or the bright +sunshine—either, deepening the idleness of the idle +City—I have sat, in that singular silence which belongs to +resting-places usually astir, in scores of buildings at the heart +of the world’s metropolis, unknown to far greater numbers +of people speaking the English tongue, than the ancient edifices +of the Eternal City, or the Pyramids of Egypt. The dark +vestries and registries into which I have peeped, and the little +hemmed-in churchyards that have echoed to my feet, have left +impressions on my memory as distinct and quaint as any it has in +that way received. In all those dusty registers that the +worms are eating, there is not a line but made some hearts leap, +or some tears flow, in their day. Still and dry now, still +and dry! and the old tree at the window with no room for its +branches, has seen them all out. So with the tomb of the +old Master of the old Company, on which it drips. His son +restored it and died, his daughter restored it and died, and then +he had been remembered long enough, and the tree took possession +of him, and his name cracked out.</p> +<p>There are few more striking indications of the changes of +manners and customs that two or three hundred years have brought +about, than these deserted churches. Many of them are +handsome and costly structures, several of them were designed by +<span class="smcap">Wren</span>, many of them arose from the +ashes of the great fire, others of them outlived the plague and +the fire too, to die a slow death in these later days. No +one can be sure of the coming time; but it is not too much to say +of it that it has no sign in its outsetting tides, of the reflux +to these churches of their congregations and uses. They +remain like the tombs of the old citizens who lie beneath them +and around them, Monuments of another age. They are worth a +Sunday-exploration, now and then, for they yet echo, not +unharmoniously, to the time when the City of London really was +London; when the ’Prentices and Trained Bands were of mark +in the state; when even the Lord Mayor himself was a +Reality—not a Fiction conventionally be-puffed on one day +in the year by illustrious friends, who no less conventionally +laugh at him on the remaining three hundred and sixty-four +days.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>X<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">SHY NEIGHBOURHOODS</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">So</span> much of my travelling is done on +foot, that if I cherished betting propensities, I should probably +be found registered in sporting newspapers under some such title +as the Elastic Novice, challenging all eleven stone mankind to +competition in walking. My last special feat was turning +out of bed at two, after a hard day, pedestrian and otherwise, +and walking thirty miles into the country to breakfast. The +road was so lonely in the night, that I fell asleep to the +monotonous sound of my own feet, doing their regular four miles +an hour. Mile after mile I walked, without the slightest +sense of exertion, dozing heavily and dreaming constantly. +It was only when I made a stumble like a drunken man, or struck +out into the road to avoid a horseman close upon me on the +path—who had no existence—that I came to myself and +looked about. The day broke mistily (it was autumn time), +and I could not disembarrass myself of the idea that I had to +climb those heights and banks of cloud, and that there was an +Alpine Convent somewhere behind the sun, where I was going to +breakfast. This sleepy notion was so much stronger than +such substantial objects as villages and haystacks, that, after +the sun was up and bright, and when I was sufficiently awake to +have a sense of pleasure in the prospect, I still occasionally +caught myself looking about for wooden arms to point the right +track up the mountain, and wondering there was no snow yet. +It is a curiosity of broken sleep that I made immense quantities +of verses on that pedestrian occasion (of course I never make any +when I am in my right senses), and that I spoke a certain +language once pretty familiar to me, but which I have nearly +forgotten from disuse, with fluency. Of both these +phenomena I have such frequent experience in the state between +sleeping and waking, that I sometimes argue with myself that I +know I cannot be awake, for, if I were, I should not be half so +ready. The readiness is not imaginary, because I often +recall long strings of the verses, and many turns of the fluent +speech, after I am broad awake.</p> +<p>My walking is of two kinds: one, straight on end to a definite +goal at a round pace; one, objectless, loitering, and purely +vagabond. In the latter state, no gipsy on earth is a +greater vagabond than myself; it is so natural to me, and strong +with me, that I think I must be the descendant, at no great +distance, of some irreclaimable tramp.</p> +<p>One of the pleasantest things I have lately met with, in a +vagabond course of shy metropolitan neighbourhoods and small +shops, is the fancy of a humble artist, as exemplified in two +portraits representing Mr. Thomas Sayers, of Great Britain, and +Mr. John Heenan, of the United States of America. These +illustrious men are highly coloured in fighting trim, and +fighting attitude. To suggest the pastoral and meditative +nature of their peaceful calling, Mr. Heenan is represented on +emerald sward, with primroses and other modest flowers springing +up under the heels of his half-boots; while Mr. Sayers is +impelled to the administration of his favourite blow, the +Auctioneer, by the silent eloquence of a village church. +The humble homes of England, with their domestic virtues and +honeysuckle porches, urge both heroes to go in and win; and the +lark and other singing birds are observable in the upper air, +ecstatically carolling their thanks to Heaven for a fight. +On the whole, the associations entwined with the pugilistic art +by this artist are much in the manner of Izaak Walton.</p> +<p>But, it is with the lower animals of back streets and by-ways +that my present purpose rests. For human notes we may +return to such neighbourhoods when leisure and opportunity +serve.</p> +<p>Nothing in shy neighbourhoods perplexes my mind more, than the +bad company birds keep. Foreign birds often get into good +society, but British birds are inseparable from low +associates. There is a whole street of them in St. +Giles’s; and I always find them in poor and immoral +neighbourhoods, convenient to the public-house and the +pawnbroker’s. They seem to lead people into drinking, +and even the man who makes their cages usually gets into a +chronic state of black eye. Why is this? Also, they +will do things for people in short-skirted velveteen coats with +bone buttons, or in sleeved waistcoats and fur caps, which they +cannot be persuaded by the respectable orders of society to +undertake. In a dirty court in Spitalfields, once, I found +a goldfinch drawing his own water, and drawing as much of it as +if he were in a consuming fever. That goldfinch lived at a +bird-shop, and offered, in writing, to barter himself against old +clothes, empty bottles, or even kitchen stuff. Surely a low +thing and a depraved taste in any finch! I bought that +goldfinch for money. He was sent home, and hung upon a nail +over against my table. He lived outside a counterfeit +dwelling-house, supposed (as I argued) to be a dyer’s; +otherwise it would have been impossible to account for his perch +sticking out of the garret window. From the time of his +appearance in my room, either he left off being +thirsty—which was not in the bond—or he could not +make up his mind to hear his little bucket drop back into his +well when he let it go: a shock which in the best of times had +made him tremble. He drew no water but by stealth and under +the cloak of night. After an interval of futile and at +length hopeless expectation, the merchant who had educated him +was appealed to. The merchant was a bow-legged character, +with a flat and cushiony nose, like the last new +strawberry. He wore a fur cap, and shorts, and was of the +velveteen race, velveteeny. He sent word that he would +‘look round.’ He looked round, appeared in the +doorway of the room, and slightly cocked up his evil eye at the +goldfinch. Instantly a raging thirst beset that bird; when +it was appeased, he still drew several unnecessary buckets of +water; and finally, leaped about his perch and sharpened his +bill, as if he had been to the nearest wine vaults and got +drunk.</p> +<p>Donkeys again. I know shy neighbourhoods where the +Donkey goes in at the street door, and appears to live up-stairs, +for I have examined the back-yard from over the palings, and have +been unable to make him out. Gentility, nobility, Royalty, +would appeal to that donkey in vain to do what he does for a +costermonger. Feed him with oats at the highest price, put +an infant prince and princess in a pair of panniers on his back, +adjust his delicate trappings to a nicety, take him to the +softest slopes at Windsor, and try what pace you can get out of +him. Then, starve him, harness him anyhow to a truck with a +flat tray on it, and see him bowl from Whitechapel to +Bayswater. There appears to be no particular private +understanding between birds and donkeys, in a state of nature; +but in the shy neighbourhood state, you shall see them always in +the same hands and always developing their very best energies for +the very worst company. I have known a donkey—by +sight; we were not on speaking terms—who lived over on the +Surrey side of London-bridge, among the fastnesses of +Jacob’s Island and Dockhead. It was the habit of that +animal, when his services were not in immediate requisition, to +go out alone, idling. I have met him a mile from his place +of residence, loitering about the streets; and the expression of +his countenance at such times was most degraded. He was +attached to the establishment of an elderly lady who sold +periwinkles, and he used to stand on Saturday nights with a +cartful of those delicacies outside a gin-shop, pricking up his +ears when a customer came to the cart, and too evidently deriving +satisfaction from the knowledge that they got bad measure. +His mistress was sometimes overtaken by inebriety. The last +time I ever saw him (about five years ago) he was in +circumstances of difficulty, caused by this failing. Having +been left alone with the cart of periwinkles, and forgotten, he +went off idling. He prowled among his usual low haunts for +some time, gratifying his depraved tastes, until, not taking the +cart into his calculations, he endeavoured to turn up a narrow +alley, and became greatly involved. He was taken into +custody by the police, and, the Green Yard of the district being +near at hand, was backed into that place of durance. At +that crisis, I encountered him; the stubborn sense he evinced of +being—not to compromise the expression—a blackguard, +I never saw exceeded in the human subject. A flaring candle +in a paper shade, stuck in among his periwinkles, showed him, +with his ragged harness broken and his cart extensively +shattered, twitching his mouth and shaking his hanging head, a +picture of disgrace and obduracy. I have seen boys being +taken to station-houses, who were as like him as his own +brother.</p> +<p>The dogs of shy neighbourhoods, I observe to avoid play, and +to be conscious of poverty. They avoid work, too, if they +can, of course; that is in the nature of all animals. I +have the pleasure to know a dog in a back street in the +neighbourhood of Walworth, who has greatly distinguished himself +in the minor drama, and who takes his portrait with him when he +makes an engagement, for the illustration of the play-bill. +His portrait (which is not at all like him) represents him in the +act of dragging to the earth a recreant Indian, who is supposed +to have tomahawked, or essayed to tomahawk, a British +officer. The design is pure poetry, for there is no such +Indian in the piece, and no such incident. He is a dog of +the Newfoundland breed, for whose honesty I would be bail to any +amount; but whose intellectual qualities in association with +dramatic fiction, I cannot rate high. Indeed, he is too +honest for the profession he has entered. Being at a town +in Yorkshire last summer, and seeing him posted in the bill of +the night, I attended the performance. His first scene was +eminently successful; but, as it occupied a second in its +representation (and five lines in the bill), it scarcely afforded +ground for a cool and deliberate judgment of his powers. He +had merely to bark, run on, and jump through an inn window, after +a comic fugitive. The next scene of importance to the fable +was a little marred in its interest by his over-anxiety; +forasmuch as while his master (a belated soldier in a den of +robbers on a tempestuous night) was feelingly lamenting the +absence of his faithful dog, and laying great stress on the fact +that he was thirty leagues away, the faithful dog was barking +furiously in the prompter’s box, and clearly choking +himself against his collar. But it was in his greatest +scene of all, that his honesty got the better of him. He +had to enter a dense and trackless forest, on the trail of the +murderer, and there to fly at the murderer when he found him +resting at the foot of a tree, with his victim bound ready for +slaughter. It was a hot night, and he came into the forest +from an altogether unexpected direction, in the sweetest temper, +at a very deliberate trot, not in the least excited; trotted to +the foot-lights with his tongue out; and there sat down, panting, +and amiably surveying the audience, with his tail beating on the +boards, like a Dutch clock. Meanwhile the murderer, +impatient to receive his doom, was audibly calling to him +‘<span class="smcap">Co-o-ome</span> here!’ while the +victim, struggling with his bonds, assailed him with the most +injurious expressions. It happened through these means, +that when he was in course of time persuaded to trot up and rend +the murderer limb from limb, he made it (for dramatic purposes) a +little too obvious that he worked out that awful retribution by +licking butter off his blood-stained hands.</p> +<p>In a shy street, behind Long-acre, two honest dogs live, who +perform in Punch’s shows. I may venture to say that I +am on terms of intimacy with both, and that I never saw either +guilty of the falsehood of failing to look down at the man inside +the show, during the whole performance. The difficulty +other dogs have in satisfying their minds about these dogs, +appears to be never overcome by time. The same dogs must +encounter them over and over again, as they trudge along in their +off-minutes behind the legs of the show and beside the drum; but +all dogs seem to suspect their frills and jackets, and to sniff +at them as if they thought those articles of personal adornment, +an eruption—a something in the nature of mange, +perhaps. From this Covent-garden window of mine I noticed a +country dog, only the other day, who had come up to Covent-garden +Market under a cart, and had broken his cord, an end of which he +still trailed along with him. He loitered about the corners +of the four streets commanded by my window; and bad London dogs +came up, and told him lies that he didn’t believe; and +worse London dogs came up, and made proposals to him to go and +steal in the market, which his principles rejected; and the ways +of the town confused him, and he crept aside and lay down in a +doorway. He had scarcely got a wink of sleep, when up comes +Punch with Toby. He was darting to Toby for consolation and +advice, when he saw the frill, and stopped, in the middle of the +street, appalled. The show was pitched, Toby retired behind +the drapery, the audience formed, the drum and pipes struck +up. My country dog remained immovable, intently staring at +these strange appearances, until Toby opened the drama by +appearing on his ledge, and to him entered Punch, who put a +tobacco-pipe into Toby’s mouth. At this spectacle, +the country dog threw up his head, gave one terrible howl, and +fled due west.</p> +<p>We talk of men keeping dogs, but we might often talk more +expressively of dogs keeping men. I know a bull-dog in a +shy corner of Hammersmith who keeps a man. He keeps him up +a yard, and makes him go to public-houses and lay wagers on him, +and obliges him to lean against posts and look at him, and forces +him to neglect work for him, and keeps him under rigid +coercion. I once knew a fancy terrier who kept a +gentleman—a gentleman who had been brought up at Oxford, +too. The dog kept the gentleman entirely for his +glorification, and the gentleman never talked about anything but +the terrier. This, however, was not in a shy neighbourhood, +and is a digression consequently.</p> +<p>There are a great many dogs in shy neighbourhoods, who keep +boys. I have my eye on a mongrel in Somerstown who keeps +three boys. He feigns that he can bring down sparrows, and +unburrow rats (he can do neither), and he takes the boys out on +sporting pretences into all sorts of suburban fields. He +has likewise made them believe that he possesses some mysterious +knowledge of the art of fishing, and they consider themselves +incompletely equipped for the Hampstead ponds, with a pickle-jar +and wide-mouthed bottle, unless he is with them and barking +tremendously. There is a dog residing in the Borough of +Southwark who keeps a blind man. He may be seen, most days, +in Oxford-street, haling the blind man away on expeditions wholly +uncontemplated by, and unintelligible to, the man: wholly of the +dog’s conception and execution. Contrariwise, when +the man has projects, the dog will sit down in a crowded +thoroughfare and meditate. I saw him yesterday, wearing the +money-tray like an easy collar, instead of offering it to the +public, taking the man against his will, on the invitation of a +disreputable cur, apparently to visit a dog at Harrow—he +was so intent on that direction. The north wall of +Burlington House Gardens, between the Arcade and the Albany, +offers a shy spot for appointments among blind men at about two +or three o’clock in the afternoon. They sit (very +uncomfortably) on a sloping stone there, and compare notes. +Their dogs may always be observed at the same time, openly +disparaging the men they keep, to one another, and settling where +they shall respectively take their men when they begin to move +again. At a small butcher’s, in a shy neighbourhood +(there is no reason for suppressing the name; it is by +Notting-hill, and gives upon the district called the Potteries), +I know a shaggy black and white dog who keeps a drover. He +is a dog of an easy disposition, and too frequently allows this +drover to get drunk. On these occasions, it is the +dog’s custom to sit outside the public-house, keeping his +eye on a few sheep, and thinking. I have seen him with six +sheep, plainly casting up in his mind how many he began with when +he left the market, and at what places he has left the +rest. I have seen him perplexed by not being able to +account to himself for certain particular sheep. A light +has gradually broken on him, he has remembered at what +butcher’s he left them, and in a burst of grave +satisfaction has caught a fly off his nose, and shown himself +much relieved. If I could at any time have doubted the fact +that it was he who kept the drover, and not the drover who kept +him, it would have been abundantly proved by his way of taking +undivided charge of the six sheep, when the drover came out +besmeared with red ochre and beer, and gave him wrong directions, +which he calmly disregarded. He has taken the sheep +entirely into his own hands, has merely remarked with respectful +firmness, ‘That instruction would place them under an +omnibus; you had better confine your attention to +yourself—you will want it all;’ and has driven his +charge away, with an intelligence of ears and tail, and a +knowledge of business, that has left his lout of a man very, very +far behind.</p> +<p>As the dogs of shy neighbourhoods usually betray a slinking +consciousness of being in poor circumstances—for the most +part manifested in an aspect of anxiety, an awkwardness in their +play, and a misgiving that somebody is going to harness them to +something, to pick up a living—so the cats of shy +neighbourhoods exhibit a strong tendency to relapse into +barbarism. Not only are they made selfishly ferocious by +ruminating on the surplus population around them, and on the +densely crowded state of all the avenues to cat’s meat; not +only is there a moral and politico-economical haggardness in +them, traceable to these reflections; but they evince a physical +deterioration. Their linen is not clean, and is wretchedly +got up; their black turns rusty, like old mourning; they wear +very indifferent fur; and take to the shabbiest cotton velvet, +instead of silk velvet. I am on terms of recognition with +several small streets of cats, about the Obelisk in Saint +George’s Fields, and also in the vicinity of +Clerkenwell-green, and also in the back settlements of +Drury-lane. In appearance, they are very like the women +among whom they live. They seem to turn out of their +unwholesome beds into the street, without any preparation. +They leave their young families to stagger about the gutters, +unassisted, while they frouzily quarrel and swear and scratch and +spit, at street corners. In particular, I remark that when +they are about to increase their families (an event of frequent +recurrence) the resemblance is strongly expressed in a certain +dusty dowdiness, down-at-heel self-neglect, and general giving up +of things. I cannot honestly report that I have ever seen a +feline matron of this class washing her face when in an +interesting condition.</p> +<p>Not to prolong these notes of uncommercial travel among the +lower animals of shy neighbourhoods, by dwelling at length upon +the exasperated moodiness of the tom-cats, and their resemblance +in many respects to a man and a brother, I will come to a close +with a word on the fowls of the same localities.</p> +<p>That anything born of an egg and invested with wings, should +have got to the pass that it hops contentedly down a ladder into +a cellar, and calls <i>that</i> going home, is a circumstance so +amazing as to leave one nothing more in this connexion to wonder +at. Otherwise I might wonder at the completeness with which +these fowls have become separated from all the birds of the +air—have taken to grovelling in bricks and mortar and +mud—have forgotten all about live trees, and make +roosting-places of shop-boards, barrows, oyster-tubs, bulk-heads, +and door-scrapers. I wonder at nothing concerning them, and +take them as they are. I accept as products of Nature and +things of course, a reduced Bantam family of my acquaintance in +the Hackney-road, who are incessantly at the +pawnbroker’s. I cannot say that they enjoy +themselves, for they are of a melancholy temperament; but what +enjoyment they are capable of, they derive from crowding together +in the pawnbroker’s side-entry. Here, they are always +to be found in a feeble flutter, as if they were newly come down +in the world, and were afraid of being identified. I know a +low fellow, originally of a good family from Dorking, who takes +his whole establishment of wives, in single file, in at the door +of the jug Department of a disorderly tavern near the Haymarket, +manœuvres them among the company’s legs, emerges with +them at the Bottle Entrance, and so passes his life: seldom, in +the season, going to bed before two in the morning. Over +Waterloo-bridge, there is a shabby old speckled couple (they +belong to the wooden French-bedstead, washing-stand, and +towel-horse-making trade), who are always trying to get in at the +door of a chapel. Whether the old lady, under a delusion +reminding one of Mrs. Southcott, has an idea of entrusting an egg +to that particular denomination, or merely understands that she +has no business in the building and is consequently frantic to +enter it, I cannot determine; but she is constantly endeavouring +to undermine the principal door: while her partner, who is infirm +upon his legs, walks up and down, encouraging her and defying the +Universe. But, the family I have been best acquainted with, +since the removal from this trying sphere of a Chinese circle at +Brentford, reside in the densest part of Bethnal-green. +Their abstraction from the objects among which they live, or +rather their conviction that those objects have all come into +existence in express subservience to fowls, has so enchanted me, +that I have made them the subject of many journeys at divers +hours. After careful observation of the two lords and the +ten ladies of whom this family consists, I have come to the +conclusion that their opinions are represented by the leading +lord and leading lady: the latter, as I judge, an aged personage, +afflicted with a paucity of feather and visibility of quill, that +gives her the appearance of a bundle of office pens. When a +railway goods van that would crush an elephant comes round the +corner, tearing over these fowls, they emerge unharmed from under +the horses, perfectly satisfied that the whole rush was a passing +property in the air, which may have left something to eat behind +it. They look upon old shoes, wrecks of kettles and +saucepans, and fragments of bonnets, as a kind of meteoric +discharge, for fowls to peck at. Peg-tops and hoops they +account, I think, as a sort of hail; shuttlecocks, as rain, or +dew. Gaslight comes quite as natural to them as any other +light; and I have more than a suspicion that, in the minds of the +two lords, the early public-house at the corner has superseded +the sun. I have established it as a certain fact, that they +always begin to crow when the public-house shutters begin to be +taken down, and that they salute the potboy, the instant he +appears to perform that duty, as if he were Phoebus in +person.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>XI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">TRAMPS</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> chance use of the word +‘Tramp’ in my last paper, brought that numerous +fraternity so vividly before my mind’s eye, that I had no +sooner laid down my pen than a compulsion was upon me to take it +up again, and make notes of the Tramps whom I perceived on all +the summer roads in all directions.</p> +<p>Whenever a tramp sits down to rest by the wayside, he sits +with his legs in a dry ditch; and whenever he goes to sleep +(which is very often indeed), he goes to sleep on his back. +Yonder, by the high road, glaring white in the bright sunshine, +lies, on the dusty bit of turf under the bramble-bush that fences +the coppice from the highway, the tramp of the order savage, fast +asleep. He lies on the broad of his back, with his face +turned up to the sky, and one of his ragged arms loosely thrown +across his face. His bundle (what can be the contents of +that mysterious bundle, to make it worth his while to carry it +about?) is thrown down beside him, and the waking woman with him +sits with her legs in the ditch, and her back to the road. +She wears her bonnet rakishly perched on the front of her head, +to shade her face from the sun in walking, and she ties her +skirts round her in conventionally tight tramp-fashion with a +sort of apron. You can seldom catch sight of her, resting +thus, without seeing her in a despondently defiant manner doing +something to her hair or her bonnet, and glancing at you between +her fingers. She does not often go to sleep herself in the +daytime, but will sit for any length of time beside the +man. And his slumberous propensities would not seem to be +referable to the fatigue of carrying the bundle, for she carries +it much oftener and further than he. When they are afoot, +you will mostly find him slouching on ahead, in a gruff temper, +while she lags heavily behind with the burden. He is given +to personally correcting her, too—which phase of his +character develops itself oftenest, on benches outside alehouse +doors—and she appears to become strongly attached to him +for these reasons; it may usually be noticed that when the poor +creature has a bruised face, she is the most affectionate. +He has no occupation whatever, this order of tramp, and has no +object whatever in going anywhere. He will sometimes call +himself a brickmaker, or a sawyer, but only when he takes an +imaginary flight. He generally represents himself, in a +vague way, as looking out for a job of work; but he never did +work, he never does, and he never will. It is a favourite +fiction with him, however (as if he were the most industrious +character on earth), that <i>you</i> never work; and as he goes +past your garden and sees you looking at your flowers, you will +overhear him growl with a strong sense of contrast, +‘<i>You</i> are a lucky hidle devil, <i>you</i> +are!’</p> +<p>The slinking tramp is of the same hopeless order, and has the +same injured conviction on him that you were born to whatever you +possess, and never did anything to get it: but he is of a less +audacious disposition. He will stop before your gate, and +say to his female companion with an air of constitutional +humility and propitiation—to edify any one who may be +within hearing behind a blind or a bush—‘This is a +sweet spot, ain’t it? A lovelly spot! And I +wonder if they’d give two poor footsore travellers like me +and you, a drop of fresh water out of such a pretty gen-teel +crib? We’d take it wery koind on ’em, +wouldn’t us? Wery koind, upon my word, us +would?’ He has a quick sense of a dog in the +vicinity, and will extend his modestly-injured propitiation to +the dog chained up in your yard; remarking, as he slinks at the +yard gate, ‘Ah! You are a foine breed o’ dog, +too, and <i>you</i> ain’t kep for nothink! I’d +take it wery koind o’ your master if he’d elp a +traveller and his woife as envies no gentlefolk their good +fortun, wi’ a bit o’ your broken wittles. +He’d never know the want of it, nor more would you. +Don’t bark like that, at poor persons as never done you no +arm; the poor is down-trodden and broke enough without that; O +<span class="GutSmall">DON’T</span>!’ He +generally heaves a prodigious sigh in moving away, and always +looks up the lane and down the lane, and up the road and down the +road, before going on.</p> +<p>Both of these orders of tramp are of a very robust habit; let +the hard-working labourer at whose cottage-door they prowl and +beg, have the ague never so badly, these tramps are sure to be in +good health.</p> +<p>There is another kind of tramp, whom you encounter this bright +summer day—say, on a road with the sea-breeze making its +dust lively, and sails of ships in the blue distance beyond the +slope of Down. As you walk enjoyingly on, you descry in the +perspective at the bottom of a steep hill up which your way lies, +a figure that appears to be sitting airily on a gate, whistling +in a cheerful and disengaged manner. As you approach nearer +to it, you observe the figure to slide down from the gate, to +desist from whistling, to uncock its hat, to become tender of +foot, to depress its head and elevate its shoulders, and to +present all the characteristics of profound despondency. +Arriving at the bottom of the hill and coming close to the +figure, you observe it to be the figure of a shabby young +man. He is moving painfully forward, in the direction in +which you are going, and his mind is so preoccupied with his +misfortunes that he is not aware of your approach until you are +close upon him at the hill-foot. When he is aware of you, +you discover him to be a remarkably well-behaved young man, and a +remarkably well-spoken young man. You know him to be +well-behaved, by his respectful manner of touching his hat: you +know him to be well-spoken, by his smooth manner of expressing +himself. He says in a flowing confidential voice, and +without punctuation, ‘I ask your pardon sir but if you +would excuse the liberty of being so addressed upon the public +Iway by one who is almost reduced to rags though it as not always +been so and by no fault of his own but through ill elth in his +family and many unmerited sufferings it would be a great +obligation sir to know the time.’ You give the +well-spoken young man the time. The well-spoken young man, +keeping well up with you, resumes: ‘I am aware sir that it +is a liberty to intrude a further question on a gentleman walking +for his entertainment but might I make so bold as ask the favour +of the way to Dover sir and about the distance?’ You +inform the well-spoken young man that the way to Dover is +straight on, and the distance some eighteen miles. The +well-spoken young man becomes greatly agitated. ‘In +the condition to which I am reduced,’ says he, ‘I +could not ope to reach Dover before dark even if my shoes were in +a state to take me there or my feet were in a state to old out +over the flinty road and were not on the bare ground of which any +gentleman has the means to satisfy himself by looking Sir may I +take the liberty of speaking to you?’ As the +well-spoken young man keeps so well up with you that you +can’t prevent his taking the liberty of speaking to you, he +goes on, with fluency: ‘Sir it is not begging that is my +intention for I was brought up by the best of mothers and begging +is not my trade I should not know sir how to follow it as a trade +if such were my shameful wishes for the best of mothers long +taught otherwise and in the best of omes though now reduced to +take the present liberty on the Iway Sir my business was the +law-stationering and I was favourably known to the +Solicitor-General the Attorney-General the majority of the judges +and the ole of the legal profession but through ill elth in my +family and the treachery of a friend for whom I became security +and he no other than my own wife’s brother the brother of +my own wife I was cast forth with my tender partner and three +young children not to beg for I will sooner die of deprivation +but to make my way to the sea-port town of Dover where I have a +relative i in respect not only that will assist me but that would +trust me with untold gold Sir in appier times and hare this +calamity fell upon me I made for my amusement when I little +thought that I should ever need it excepting for my air +this’—here the well-spoken young man put his hand +into his breast—‘this comb! Sir I implore you +in the name of charity to purchase a tortoiseshell comb which is +a genuine article at any price that your humanity may put upon it +and may the blessings of a ouseless family awaiting with beating +arts the return of a husband and a father from Dover upon the +cold stone seats of London-bridge ever attend you Sir may I take +the liberty of speaking to you I implore you to buy this +comb!’ By this time, being a reasonably good walker, +you will have been too much for the well-spoken young man, who +will stop short and express his disgust and his want of breath, +in a long expectoration, as you leave him behind.</p> +<p>Towards the end of the same walk, on the same bright summer +day, at the corner of the next little town or village, you may +find another kind of tramp, embodied in the persons of a most +exemplary couple whose only improvidence appears to have been, +that they spent the last of their little All on soap. They +are a man and woman, spotless to behold—John Anderson, with +the frost on his short smock-frock instead of his +‘pow,’ attended by Mrs. Anderson. John is +over-ostentatious of the frost upon his raiment, and wears a +curious and, you would say, an almost unnecessary demonstration +of girdle of white linen wound about his waist—a girdle, +snowy as Mrs. Anderson’s apron. This cleanliness was +the expiring effort of the respectable couple, and nothing then +remained to Mr. Anderson but to get chalked upon his spade in +snow-white copy-book characters, <span +class="GutSmall">HUNGRY</span>! and to sit down here. Yes; +one thing more remained to Mr. Anderson—his character; +Monarchs could not deprive him of his hard-earned +character. Accordingly, as you come up with this spectacle +of virtue in distress, Mrs. Anderson rises, and with a decent +curtsey presents for your consideration a certificate from a +Doctor of Divinity, the reverend the Vicar of Upper Dodgington, +who informs his Christian friends and all whom it may concern +that the bearers, John Anderson and lawful wife, are persons to +whom you cannot be too liberal. This benevolent pastor +omitted no work of his hands to fit the good couple out, for with +half an eye you can recognise his autograph on the spade.</p> +<p>Another class of tramp is a man, the most valuable part of +whose stock-in-trade is a highly perplexed demeanour. He is +got up like a countryman, and you will often come upon the poor +fellow, while he is endeavouring to decipher the inscription on a +milestone—quite a fruitless endeavour, for he cannot +read. He asks your pardon, he truly does (he is very slow +of speech, this tramp, and he looks in a bewildered way all round +the prospect while he talks to you), but all of us shold do as we +wold be done by, and he’ll take it kind, if you’ll +put a power man in the right road fur to jine his eldest son as +has broke his leg bad in the masoning, and is in this heere +Orspit’l as is wrote down by Squire Pouncerby’s own +hand as wold not tell a lie fur no man. He then produces +from under his dark frock (being always very slow and perplexed) +a neat but worn old leathern purse, from which he takes a scrap +of paper. On this scrap of paper is written, by Squire +Pouncerby, of The Grove, ‘Please to direct the Bearer, a +poor but very worthy man, to the Sussex County Hospital, near +Brighton’—a matter of some difficulty at the moment, +seeing that the request comes suddenly upon you in the depths of +Hertfordshire. The more you endeavour to indicate where +Brighton is—when you have with the greatest difficulty +remembered—the less the devoted father can be made to +comprehend, and the more obtusely he stares at the prospect; +whereby, being reduced to extremity, you recommend the faithful +parent to begin by going to St. Albans, and present him with +half-a-crown. It does him good, no doubt, but scarcely +helps him forward, since you find him lying drunk that same +evening in the wheelwright’s sawpit under the shed where +the felled trees are, opposite the sign of the Three Jolly +Hedgers.</p> +<p>But, the most vicious, by far, of all the idle tramps, is the +tramp who pretends to have been a gentleman. +‘Educated,’ he writes, from the village beer-shop in +pale ink of a ferruginous complexion; ‘educated at Trin. +Coll. Cam.—nursed in the lap of affluence—once in my +small way the pattron of the Muses,’ &c. &c. +&c.—surely a sympathetic mind will not withhold a +trifle, to help him on to the market-town where he thinks of +giving a Lecture to the <i>fruges consumere nati</i>, on things +in general? This shameful creature lolling about hedge +tap-rooms in his ragged clothes, now so far from being black that +they look as if they never can have been black, is more selfish +and insolent than even the savage tramp. He would sponge on +the poorest boy for a farthing, and spurn him when he had got it; +he would interpose (if he could get anything by it) between the +baby and the mother’s breast. So much lower than the +company he keeps, for his maudlin assumption of being higher, +this pitiless rascal blights the summer road as he maunders on +between the luxuriant hedges; where (to my thinking) even the +wild convolvulus and rose and sweet-briar, are the worse for his +going by, and need time to recover from the taint of him in the +air.</p> +<p>The young fellows who trudge along barefoot, five or six +together, their boots slung over their shoulders, their shabby +bundles under their arms, their sticks newly cut from some +roadside wood, are not eminently prepossessing, but are much less +objectionable. There is a tramp-fellowship among +them. They pick one another up at resting stations, and go +on in companies. They always go at a fast +swing—though they generally limp too—and there is +invariably one of the company who has much ado to keep up with +the rest. They generally talk about horses, and any other +means of locomotion than walking: or, one of the company relates +some recent experiences of the road—which are always +disputes and difficulties. As for example. ‘So +as I’m a standing at the pump in the market, blest if there +don’t come up a Beadle, and he ses, “Mustn’t +stand here,” he ses. “Why not?” I +ses. “No beggars allowed in this town,” he +ses. “Who’s a beggar?” I ses. +“You are,” he ses. “Who ever see +<i>me</i> beg? Did <i>you</i>?” I ses. +“Then you’re a tramp,” he ses. +“I’d rather be that than a Beadle,” I +ses.’ (The company express great approval.) +‘“Would you?” he ses to me. “Yes, I +would,” I ses to him. “Well,” he ses, +“anyhow, get out of this town.” “Why, +blow your little town!” I ses, “who wants to be in +it? Wot does your dirty little town mean by comin’ +and stickin’ itself in the road to anywhere? Why +don’t you get a shovel and a barrer, and clear your town +out o’ people’s way?”’ (The company +expressing the highest approval and laughing aloud, they all go +down the hill.)</p> +<p>Then, there are the tramp handicraft men. Are they not +all over England, in this Midsummer time? Where does the +lark sing, the corn grow, the mill turn, the river run, and they +are not among the lights and shadows, tinkering, chair-mending, +umbrella-mending, clock-mending, knife-grinding? Surely, a +pleasant thing, if we were in that condition of life, to grind +our way through Kent, Sussex, and Surrey. For the worst six +weeks or so, we should see the sparks we ground off, fiery bright +against a background of green wheat and green leaves. A +little later, and the ripe harvest would pale our sparks from red +to yellow, until we got the dark newly-turned land for a +background again, and they were red once more. By that +time, we should have ground our way to the sea cliffs, and the +whirr of our wheel would be lost in the breaking of the +waves. Our next variety in sparks would be derived from +contrast with the gorgeous medley of colours in the autumn woods, +and, by the time we had ground our way round to the heathy lands +between Reigate and Croydon, doing a prosperous stroke of +business all along, we should show like a little firework in the +light frosty air, and be the next best thing to the +blacksmith’s forge. Very agreeable, too, to go on a +chair-mending tour. What judges we should be of rushes, and +how knowingly (with a sheaf and a bottomless chair at our back) +we should lounge on bridges, looking over at osier-beds! +Among all the innumerable occupations that cannot possibly be +transacted without the assistance of lookers-on, chair-mending +may take a station in the first rank. When we sat down with +our backs against the barn or the public-house, and began to +mend, what a sense of popularity would grow upon us! When +all the children came to look at us, and the tailor, and the +general dealer, and the farmer who had been giving a small order +at the little saddler’s, and the groom from the great +house, and the publican, and even the two skittle-players (and +here note that, howsoever busy all the rest of village human-kind +may be, there will always be two people with leisure to play at +skittles, wherever village skittles are), what encouragement +would be on us to plait and weave! No one looks at us while +we plait and weave these words. Clock-mending again. +Except for the slight inconvenience of carrying a clock under our +arm, and the monotony of making the bell go, whenever we came to +a human habitation, what a pleasant privilege to give a voice to +the dumb cottage-clock, and set it talking to the cottage family +again! Likewise we foresee great interest in going round by +the park plantations, under the overhanging boughs (hares, +rabbits, partridges, and pheasants, scudding like mad across and +across the chequered ground before us), and so over the park +ladder, and through the wood, until we came to the Keeper’s +lodge. Then, would the Keeper be discoverable at his door, +in a deep nest of leaves, smoking his pipe. Then, on our +accosting him in the way of our trade, would he call to Mrs. +Keeper, respecting ‘t’ould clock’ in the +kitchen. Then, would Mrs. Keeper ask us into the lodge, and +on due examination we should offer to make a good job of it for +eighteenpence; which offer, being accepted, would set us tinkling +and clinking among the chubby, awe-struck little Keepers for an +hour and more. So completely to the family’s +satisfaction would we achieve our work, that the Keeper would +mention how that there was something wrong with the bell of the +turret stable-clock up at the Hall, and that if we thought good +of going up to the housekeeper on the chance of that job too, why +he would take us. Then, should we go, among the branching +oaks and the deep fern, by silent ways of mystery known to the +Keeper, seeing the herd glancing here and there as we went along, +until we came to the old Hall, solemn and grand. Under the +Terrace Flower Garden, and round by the stables, would the Keeper +take us in, and as we passed we should observe how spacious and +stately the stables, and how fine the painting of the +horses’ names over their stalls, and how solitary all: the +family being in London. Then, should we find ourselves +presented to the housekeeper, sitting, in hushed state, at +needlework, in a bay-window looking out upon a mighty grim +red-brick quadrangle, guarded by stone lions disrespectfully +throwing somersaults over the escutcheons of the noble +family. Then, our services accepted and we insinuated with +a candle into the stable-turret, we should find it to be a mere +question of pendulum, but one that would hold us until +dark. Then, should we fall to work, with a general +impression of Ghosts being about, and of pictures indoors that of +a certainty came out of their frames and ‘walked,’ if +the family would only own it. Then, should we work and +work, until the day gradually turned to dusk, and even until the +dusk gradually turned to dark. Our task at length +accomplished, we should be taken into an enormous servants’ +hall, and there regaled with beef and bread, and powerful +ale. Then, paid freely, we should be at liberty to go, and +should be told by a pointing helper to keep round over yinder by +the blasted ash, and so straight through the woods, till we +should see the town-lights right afore us. Then, feeling +lonesome, should we desire upon the whole, that the ash had not +been blasted, or that the helper had had the manners not to +mention it. However, we should keep on, all right, till +suddenly the stable bell would strike ten in the dolefullest way, +quite chilling our blood, though we had so lately taught him how +to acquit himself. Then, as we went on, should we recall +old stories, and dimly consider what it would be most advisable +to do, in the event of a tall figure, all in white, with saucer +eyes, coming up and saying, ‘I want you to come to a +churchyard and mend a church clock. Follow me!’ +Then, should we make a burst to get clear of the trees, and +should soon find ourselves in the open, with the town-lights +bright ahead of us. So should we lie that night at the +ancient sign of the Crispin and Crispanus, and rise early next +morning to be betimes on tramp again.</p> +<p>Bricklayers often tramp, in twos and threes, lying by night at +their ‘lodges,’ which are scattered all over the +country. Bricklaying is another of the occupations that can +by no means be transacted in rural parts, without the assistance +of spectators—of as many as can be convened. In +thinly-peopled spots, I have known brick-layers on tramp, coming +up with bricklayers at work, to be so sensible of the +indispensability of lookers-on, that they themselves have sat up +in that capacity, and have been unable to subside into the +acceptance of a proffered share in the job, for two or three days +together. Sometimes, the ‘navvy,’ on tramp, +with an extra pair of half-boots over his shoulder, a bag, a +bottle, and a can, will take a similar part in a job of +excavation, and will look at it without engaging in it, until all +his money is gone. The current of my uncommercial pursuits +caused me only last summer to want a little body of workmen for a +certain spell of work in a pleasant part of the country; and I +was at one time honoured with the attendance of as many as +seven-and-twenty, who were looking at six.</p> +<p>Who can be familiar with any rustic highway in summer-time, +without storing up knowledge of the many tramps who go from one +oasis of town or village to another, to sell a stock in trade, +apparently not worth a shilling when sold? Shrimps are a +favourite commodity for this kind of speculation, and so are +cakes of a soft and spongy character, coupled with Spanish nuts +and brandy balls. The stock is carried on the head in a +basket, and, between the head and the basket, are the trestles on +which the stock is displayed at trading times. Fleet of +foot, but a careworn class of tramp this, mostly; with a certain +stiffness of neck, occasioned by much anxious balancing of +baskets; and also with a long, Chinese sort of eye, which an +overweighted forehead would seem to have squeezed into that +form.</p> +<p>On the hot dusty roads near seaport towns and great rivers, +behold the tramping Soldier. And if you should happen never +to have asked yourself whether his uniform is suited to his work, +perhaps the poor fellow’s appearance as he comes +distressfully towards you, with his absurdly tight jacket +unbuttoned, his neck-gear in his hand, and his legs well chafed +by his trousers of baize, may suggest the personal inquiry, how +you think <i>you</i> would like it. Much better the +tramping Sailor, although his cloth is somewhat too thick for +land service. But, why the tramping merchant-mate should +put on a black velvet waistcoat, for a chalky country in the +dog-days, is one of the great secrets of nature that will never +be discovered.</p> +<p>I have my eye upon a piece of Kentish road, bordered on either +side by a wood, and having on one hand, between the road-dust and +the trees, a skirting patch of grass. Wild flowers grow in +abundance on this spot, and it lies high and airy, with a distant +river stealing steadily away to the ocean, like a man’s +life. To gain the milestone here, which the moss, +primroses, violets, blue-bells, and wild roses, would soon render +illegible but for peering travellers pushing them aside with +their sticks, you must come up a steep hill, come which way you +may. So, all the tramps with carts or caravans—the +Gipsy-tramp, the Show-tramp, the Cheap Jack—find it +impossible to resist the temptations of the place, and all turn +the horse loose when they come to it, and boil the pot. +Bless the place, I love the ashes of the vagabond fires that have +scorched its grass! What tramp children do I see here, +attired in a handful of rags, making a gymnasium of the shafts of +the cart, making a feather-bed of the flints and brambles, making +a toy of the hobbled old horse who is not much more like a horse +than any cheap toy would be! Here, do I encounter the cart +of mats and brooms and baskets—with all thoughts of +business given to the evening wind—with the stew made and +being served out—with Cheap Jack and Dear Jill striking +soft music out of the plates that are rattled like warlike +cymbals when put up for auction at fairs and markets—their +minds so influenced (no doubt) by the melody of the nightingales +as they begin to sing in the woods behind them, that if I were to +propose to deal, they would sell me anything at cost price. +On this hallowed ground has it been my happy privilege (let me +whisper it), to behold the White-haired Lady with the pink eyes, +eating meat-pie with the Giant: while, by the hedge-side, on the +box of blankets which I knew contained the snakes, were set forth +the cups and saucers and the teapot. It was on an evening +in August, that I chanced upon this ravishing spectacle, and I +noticed that, whereas the Giant reclined half concealed beneath +the overhanging boughs and seemed indifferent to Nature, the +white hair of the gracious Lady streamed free in the breath of +evening, and her pink eyes found pleasure in the landscape. +I heard only a single sentence of her uttering, yet it bespoke a +talent for modest repartee. The ill-mannered +Giant—accursed be his evil race!—had interrupted the +Lady in some remark, and, as I passed that enchanted corner of +the wood, she gently reproved him, with the words, ‘Now, +Cobby;’—Cobby! so short a +name!—‘ain’t one fool enough to talk at a +time?’</p> +<p>Within appropriate distance of this magic ground, though not +so near it as that the song trolled from tap or bench at door, +can invade its woodland silence, is a little hostelry which no +man possessed of a penny was ever known to pass in warm +weather. Before its entrance, are certain pleasant, trimmed +limes; likewise, a cool well, with so musical a bucket-handle +that its fall upon the bucket rim will make a horse prick up his +ears and neigh, upon the droughty road half a mile off. +This is a house of great resort for haymaking tramps and harvest +tramps, insomuch that as they sit within, drinking their mugs of +beer, their relinquished scythes and reaping-hooks glare out of +the open windows, as if the whole establishment were a family +war-coach of Ancient Britons. Later in the season, the +whole country-side, for miles and miles, will swarm with hopping +tramps. They come in families, men, women, and children, +every family provided with a bundle of bedding, an iron pot, a +number of babies, and too often with some poor sick creature +quite unfit for the rough life, for whom they suppose the smell +of the fresh hop to be a sovereign remedy. Many of these +hoppers are Irish, but many come from London. They crowd +all the roads, and camp under all the hedges and on all the +scraps of common-land, and live among and upon the hops until +they are all picked, and the hop-gardens, so beautiful through +the summer, look as if they had been laid waste by an invading +army. Then, there is a vast exodus of tramps out of the +country; and if you ride or drive round any turn of any road, at +more than a foot pace, you will be bewildered to find that you +have charged into the bosom of fifty families, and that there are +splashing up all around you, in the utmost prodigality of +confusion, bundles of bedding, babies, iron pots, and a +good-humoured multitude of both sexes and all ages, equally +divided between perspiration and intoxication.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>XII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">DULLBOROUGH TOWN</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> lately happened that I found +myself rambling about the scenes among which my earliest days +were passed; scenes from which I departed when I was a child, and +which I did not revisit until I was a man. This is no +uncommon chance, but one that befalls some of us any day; perhaps +it may not be quite uninteresting to compare notes with the +reader respecting an experience so familiar and a journey so +uncommercial.</p> +<p>I call my boyhood’s home (and I feel like a Tenor in an +English Opera when I mention it) Dullborough. Most of us +come from Dullborough who come from a country town.</p> +<p>As I left Dullborough in the days when there were no railroads +in the land, I left it in a stage-coach. Through all the +years that have since passed, have I ever lost the smell of the +damp straw in which I was packed—like game—and +forwarded, carriage paid, to the Cross Keys, Wood-street, +Cheapside, London? There was no other inside passenger, and +I consumed my sandwiches in solitude and dreariness, and it +rained hard all the way, and I thought life sloppier than I had +expected to find it.</p> +<p>With this tender remembrance upon me, I was cavalierly shunted +back into Dullborough the other day, by train. My ticket +had been previously collected, like my taxes, and my shining new +portmanteau had had a great plaster stuck upon it, and I had been +defied by Act of Parliament to offer an objection to anything +that was done to it, or me, under a penalty of not less than +forty shillings or more than five pounds, compoundable for a term +of imprisonment. When I had sent my disfigured property on +to the hotel, I began to look about me; and the first discovery I +made, was, that the Station had swallowed up the +playing-field.</p> +<p>It was gone. The two beautiful hawthorn-trees, the +hedge, the turf, and all those buttercups and daisies, had given +place to the stoniest of jolting roads: while, beyond the +Station, an ugly dark monster of a tunnel kept its jaws open, as +if it had swallowed them and were ravenous for more +destruction. The coach that had carried me away, was +melodiously called Timpson’s Blue-Eyed Maid, and belonged +to Timpson, at the coach-office up-street; the locomotive engine +that had brought me back, was called severely No. 97, and +belonged to S.E.R., and was spitting ashes and hot water over the +blighted ground.</p> +<p>When I had been let out at the platform-door, like a prisoner +whom his turnkey grudgingly released, I looked in again over the +low wall, at the scene of departed glories. Here, in the +haymaking time, had I been delivered from the dungeons of +Seringapatam, an immense pile (of haycock), by my own countrymen, +the victorious British (boy next door and his two cousins), and +had been recognised with ecstasy by my affianced one (Miss +Green), who had come all the way from England (second house in +the terrace) to ransom me, and marry me. Here, had I first +heard in confidence, from one whose father was greatly connected, +being under Government, of the existence of a terrible banditti, +called ‘The Radicals,’ whose principles were, that +the Prince Regent wore stays, and that nobody had a right to any +salary, and that the army and navy ought to be put +down—horrors at which I trembled in my bed, after +supplicating that the Radicals might be speedily taken and +hanged. Here, too, had we, the small boys of Boles’s, +had that cricket match against the small boys of Coles’s, +when Boles and Coles had actually met upon the ground, and when, +instead of instantly hitting out at one another with the utmost +fury, as we had all hoped and expected, those sneaks had said +respectively, ‘I hope Mrs. Boles is well,’ and +‘I hope Mrs. Coles and the baby are doing +charmingly.’ Could it be that, after all this, and +much more, the Playing-field was a Station, and No. 97 +expectorated boiling water and redhot cinders on it, and the +whole belonged by Act of Parliament to S.E.R.?</p> +<p>As it could be, and was, I left the place with a heavy heart +for a walk all over the town. And first of Timpson’s +up-street. When I departed from Dullborough in the strawy +arms of Timpson’s Blue-Eyed Maid, Timpson’s was a +moderate-sized coach-office (in fact, a little coach-office), +with an oval transparency in the window, which looked beautiful +by night, representing one of Timpson’s coaches in the act +of passing a milestone on the London road with great velocity, +completely full inside and out, and all the passengers dressed in +the first style of fashion, and enjoying themselves +tremendously. I found no such place as Timpson’s +now—no such bricks and rafters, not to mention the +name—no such edifice on the teeming earth. Pickford +had come and knocked Timpson’s down. Pickford had not +only knocked Timpson’s down, but had knocked two or three +houses down on each side of Timpson’s, and then had knocked +the whole into one great establishment with a pair of big gates, +in and out of which, his (Pickford’s) waggons are, in these +days, always rattling, with their drivers sitting up so high, +that they look in at the second-floor windows of the +old-fashioned houses in the High-street as they shake the +town. I have not the honour of Pickford’s +acquaintance, but I felt that he had done me an injury, not to +say committed an act of boyslaughter, in running over my +Childhood in this rough manner; and if ever I meet Pickford +driving one of his own monsters, and smoking a pipe the while +(which is the custom of his men), he shall know by the expression +of my eye, if it catches his, that there is something wrong +between us.</p> +<p>Moreover, I felt that Pickford had no right to come rushing +into Dullborough and deprive the town of a public picture. +He is not Napoleon Bonaparte. When he took down the +transparent stage-coach, he ought to have given the town a +transparent van. With a gloomy conviction that Pickford is +wholly utilitarian and unimaginative, I proceeded on my way.</p> +<p>It is a mercy I have not a red and green lamp and a night-bell +at my door, for in my very young days I was taken to so many +lyings-in that I wonder I escaped becoming a professional martyr +to them in after-life. I suppose I had a very sympathetic +nurse, with a large circle of married acquaintance. However +that was, as I continued my walk through Dullborough, I found +many houses to be solely associated in my mind with this +particular interest. At one little greengrocer’s +shop, down certain steps from the street, I remember to have +waited on a lady who had had four children (I am afraid to write +five, though I fully believe it was five) at a birth. This +meritorious woman held quite a reception in her room on the +morning when I was introduced there, and the sight of the house +brought vividly to my mind how the four (five) deceased young +people lay, side by side, on a clean cloth on a chest of drawers; +reminding me by a homely association, which I suspect their +complexion to have assisted, of pigs’ feet as they are +usually displayed at a neat tripe-shop. Hot candle was +handed round on the occasion, and I further remembered as I stood +contemplating the greengrocer’s, that a subscription was +entered into among the company, which became extremely alarming +to my consciousness of having pocket-money on my person. +This fact being known to my conductress, whoever she was, I was +earnestly exhorted to contribute, but resolutely declined: +therein disgusting the company, who gave me to understand that I +must dismiss all expectations of going to Heaven.</p> +<p>How does it happen that when all else is change wherever one +goes, there yet seem, in every place, to be some few people who +never alter? As the sight of the greengrocer’s house +recalled these trivial incidents of long ago, the identical +greengrocer appeared on the steps, with his hands in his pockets, +and leaning his shoulder against the door-post, as my childish +eyes had seen him many a time; indeed, there was his old mark on +the door-post yet, as if his shadow had become a fixture +there. It was he himself; he might formerly have been an +old-looking young man, or he might now be a young-looking old +man, but there he was. In walking along the street, I had +as yet looked in vain for a familiar face, or even a transmitted +face; here was the very greengrocer who had been weighing and +handling baskets on the morning of the reception. As he +brought with him a dawning remembrance that he had had no +proprietary interest in those babies, I crossed the road, and +accosted him on the subject. He was not in the least +excited or gratified, or in any way roused, by the accuracy of my +recollection, but said, Yes, summut out of the common—he +didn’t remember how many it was (as if half-a-dozen babes +either way made no difference)—had happened to a Mrs. +What’s-her-name, as once lodged there—but he +didn’t call it to mind, particular. Nettled by this +phlegmatic conduct, I informed him that I had left the town when +I was a child. He slowly returned, quite unsoftened, and +not without a sarcastic kind of complacency, <i>Had</i> I? +Ah! And did I find it had got on tolerably well without +me? Such is the difference (I thought, when I had left him +a few hundred yards behind, and was by so much in a better +temper) between going away from a place and remaining in +it. I had no right, I reflected, to be angry with the +greengrocer for his want of interest, I was nothing to him: +whereas he was the town, the cathedral, the bridge, the river, my +childhood, and a large slice of my life, to me.</p> +<p>Of course the town had shrunk fearfully, since I was a child +there. I had entertained the impression that the +High-street was at least as wide as Regent-street, London, or the +Italian Boulevard at Paris. I found it little better than a +lane. There was a public clock in it, which I had supposed +to be the finest clock in the world: whereas it now turned out to +be as inexpressive, moon-faced, and weak a clock as ever I +saw. It belonged to a Town Hall, where I had seen an Indian +(who I now suppose wasn’t an Indian) swallow a sword (which +I now suppose he didn’t). The edifice had appeared to +me in those days so glorious a structure, that I had set it up in +my mind as the model on which the Genie of the Lamp built the +palace for Aladdin. A mean little brick heap, like a +demented chapel, with a few yawning persons in leather gaiters, +and in the last extremity for something to do, lounging at the +door with their hands in their pockets, and calling themselves a +Corn Exchange!</p> +<p>The Theatre was in existence, I found, on asking the +fishmonger, who had a compact show of stock in his window, +consisting of a sole and a quart of shrimps—and I resolved +to comfort my mind by going to look at it. Richard the +Third, in a very uncomfortable cloak, had first appeared to me +there, and had made my heart leap with terror by backing up +against the stage-box in which I was posted, while struggling for +life against the virtuous Richmond. It was within those +walls that I had learnt as from a page of English history, how +that wicked King slept in war-time on a sofa much too short for +him, and how fearfully his conscience troubled his boots. +There, too, had I first seen the funny countryman, but countryman +of noble principles, in a flowered waistcoat, crunch up his +little hat and throw it on the ground, and pull off his coat, +saying, ‘Dom thee, squire, coom on with thy fistes +then!’ At which the lovely young woman who kept +company with him (and who went out gleaning, in a narrow white +muslin apron with five beautiful bars of five different-coloured +ribbons across it) was so frightened for his sake, that she +fainted away. Many wondrous secrets of Nature had I come to +the knowledge of in that sanctuary: of which not the least +terrific were, that the witches in Macbeth bore an awful +resemblance to the Thanes and other proper inhabitants of +Scotland; and that the good King Duncan couldn’t rest in +his grave, but was constantly coming out of it and calling +himself somebody else. To the Theatre, therefore, I +repaired for consolation. But I found very little, for it +was in a bad and declining way. A dealer in wine and +bottled beer had already squeezed his trade into the box-office, +and the theatrical money was taken—when it came—in a +kind of meat-safe in the passage. The dealer in wine and +bottled beer must have insinuated himself under the stage too; +for he announced that he had various descriptions of alcoholic +drinks ‘in the wood,’ and there was no possible +stowage for the wood anywhere else. Evidently, he was by +degrees eating the establishment away to the core, and would soon +have sole possession of it. It was To Let, and hopelessly +so, for its old purposes; and there had been no entertainment +within its walls for a long time except a Panorama; and even that +had been announced as ‘pleasingly instructive,’ and I +know too well the fatal meaning and the leaden import of those +terrible expressions. No, there was no comfort in the +Theatre. It was mysteriously gone, like my own youth. +Unlike my own youth, it might be coming back some day; but there +was little promise of it.</p> +<p>As the town was placarded with references to the Dullborough +Mechanics’ Institution, I thought I would go and look at +that establishment next. There had been no such thing in +the town, in my young day, and it occurred to me that its extreme +prosperity might have brought adversity upon the Drama. I +found the Institution with some difficulty, and should scarcely +have known that I had found it if I had judged from its external +appearance only; but this was attributable to its never having +been finished, and having no front: consequently, it led a modest +and retired existence up a stable-yard. It was (as I +learnt, on inquiry) a most flourishing Institution, and of the +highest benefit to the town: two triumphs which I was glad to +understand were not at all impaired by the seeming drawbacks that +no mechanics belonged to it, and that it was steeped in debt to +the chimney-pots. It had a large room, which was approached +by an infirm step-ladder: the builder having declined to +construct the intended staircase, without a present payment in +cash, which Dullborough (though profoundly appreciative of the +Institution) seemed unaccountably bashful about +subscribing. The large room had cost—or would, when +paid for—five hundred pounds; and it had more mortar in it +and more echoes, than one might have expected to get for the +money. It was fitted up with a platform, and the usual +lecturing tools, including a large black board of a menacing +appearance. On referring to lists of the courses of +lectures that had been given in this thriving Hall, I fancied I +detected a shyness in admitting that human nature when at leisure +has any desire whatever to be relieved and diverted; and a +furtive sliding in of any poor make-weight piece of amusement, +shame-facedly and edgewise. Thus, I observed that it was +necessary for the members to be knocked on the head with Gas, +Air, Water, Food, the Solar System, the Geological periods, +Criticism on Milton, the Steam-engine, John Bunyan, and +Arrow-Headed Inscriptions, before they might be tickled by those +unaccountable choristers, the negro singers in the court costume +of the reign of George the Second. Likewise, that they must +be stunned by a weighty inquiry whether there was internal +evidence in Shakespeare’s works, to prove that his uncle by +the mother’s side lived for some years at Stoke Newington, +before they were brought-to by a Miscellaneous Concert. +But, indeed, the masking of entertainment, and pretending it was +something else—as people mask bedsteads when they are +obliged to have them in sitting-rooms, and make believe that they +are book-cases, sofas, chests of drawers, anything rather than +bedsteads—was manifest even in the pretence of dreariness +that the unfortunate entertainers themselves felt obliged in +decency to put forth when they came here. One very +agreeable professional singer, who travelled with two +professional ladies, knew better than to introduce either of +those ladies to sing the ballad ‘Comin’ through the +Rye’ without prefacing it himself, with some general +remarks on wheat and clover; and even then, he dared not for his +life call the song, a song, but disguised it in the bill as an +‘Illustration.’ In the library, +also—fitted with shelves for three thousand books, and +containing upwards of one hundred and seventy (presented copies +mostly), seething their edges in damp plaster—there was +such a painfully apologetic return of 62 offenders who had read +Travels, Popular Biography, and mere Fiction descriptive of the +aspirations of the hearts and souls of mere human creatures like +themselves; and such an elaborate parade of 2 bright examples who +had had down Euclid after the day’s occupation and +confinement; and 3 who had had down Metaphysics after ditto; and +I who had had down Theology after ditto; and 4 who had worried +Grammar, Political Economy, Botany, and Logarithms all at once +after ditto; that I suspected the boasted class to be one man, +who had been hired to do it.</p> +<p>Emerging from the Mechanics’ Institution and continuing +my walk about the town, I still noticed everywhere the +prevalence, to an extraordinary degree, of this custom of putting +the natural demand for amusement out of sight, as some untidy +housekeepers put dust, and pretending that it was swept +away. And yet it was ministered to, in a dull and abortive +manner, by all who made this feint. Looking in at what is +called in Dullborough ‘the serious +bookseller’s,’ where, in my childhood, I had studied +the faces of numbers of gentlemen depicted in rostrums with a +gaslight on each side of them, and casting my eyes over the open +pages of certain printed discourses there, I found a vast deal of +aiming at jocosity and dramatic effect, even in them—yes, +verily, even on the part of one very wrathful expounder who +bitterly anathematised a poor little Circus. Similarly, in +the reading provided for the young people enrolled in the Lasso +of Love, and other excellent unions, I found the writers +generally under a distressing sense that they must start (at all +events) like story-tellers, and delude the young persons into the +belief that they were going to be interesting. As I looked +in at this window for twenty minutes by the clock, I am in a +position to offer a friendly remonstrance—not bearing on +this particular point—to the designers and engravers of the +pictures in those publications. Have they considered the +awful consequences likely to flow from their representations of +Virtue? Have they asked themselves the question, whether +the terrific prospect of acquiring that fearful chubbiness of +head, unwieldiness of arm, feeble dislocation of leg, crispiness +of hair, and enormity of shirt-collar, which they represent as +inseparable from Goodness, may not tend to confirm sensitive +waverers, in Evil? A most impressive example (if I had +believed it) of what a Dustman and a Sailor may come to, when +they mend their ways, was presented to me in this same +shop-window. When they were leaning (they were intimate +friends) against a post, drunk and reckless, with surpassingly +bad hats on, and their hair over their foreheads, they were +rather picturesque, and looked as if they might be agreeable men, +if they would not be beasts. But, when they had got over +their bad propensities, and when, as a consequence, their heads +had swelled alarmingly, their hair had got so curly that it +lifted their blown-out cheeks up, their coat-cuffs were so long +that they never could do any work, and their eyes were so wide +open that they never could do any sleep, they presented a +spectacle calculated to plunge a timid nature into the depths of +Infamy.</p> +<p>But, the clock that had so degenerated since I saw it last, +admonished me that I had stayed here long enough; and I resumed +my walk.</p> +<p>I had not gone fifty paces along the street when I was +suddenly brought up by the sight of a man who got out of a little +phaeton at the doctor’s door, and went into the +doctor’s house. Immediately, the air was filled with +the scent of trodden grass, and the perspective of years opened, +and at the end of it was a little likeness of this man keeping a +wicket, and I said, ‘God bless my soul! Joe +Specks!’</p> +<p>Through many changes and much work, I had preserved a +tenderness for the memory of Joe, forasmuch as we had made the +acquaintance of Roderick Random together, and had believed him to +be no ruffian, but an ingenuous and engaging hero. Scorning +to ask the boy left in the phaeton whether it was really Joe, and +scorning even to read the brass plate on the door—so sure +was I—I rang the bell and informed the servant maid that a +stranger sought audience of Mr. Specks. Into a room, half +surgery, half study, I was shown to await his coming, and I found +it, by a series of elaborate accidents, bestrewn with testimonies +to Joe. Portrait of Mr. Specks, bust of Mr. Specks, silver +cup from grateful patient to Mr. Specks, presentation sermon from +local clergyman, dedication poem from local poet, dinner-card +from local nobleman, tract on balance of power from local +refugee, inscribed <i>Hommage de l’auteur à +Specks</i>.</p> +<p>When my old schoolfellow came in, and I informed him with a +smile that I was not a patient, he seemed rather at a loss to +perceive any reason for smiling in connexion with that fact, and +inquired to what was he to attribute the honour? I asked +him with another smile, could he remember me at all? He had +not (he said) that pleasure. I was beginning to have but a +poor opinion of Mr. Specks, when he said reflectively, ‘And +yet there’s a something too.’ Upon that, I saw +a boyish light in his eyes that looked well, and I asked him if +he could inform me, as a stranger who desired to know and had not +the means of reference at hand, what the name of the young lady +was, who married Mr. Random? Upon that, he said +‘Narcissa,’ and, after staring for a moment, called +me by my name, shook me by the hand, and melted into a roar of +laughter. ‘Why, of course, you’ll remember Lucy +Green,’ he said, after we had talked a little. +‘Of course,’ said I. ‘Whom do you think +she married?’ said he. ‘You?’ I +hazarded. ‘Me,’ said Specks, ‘and you +shall see her.’ So I saw her, and she was fat, and if +all the hay in the world had been heaped upon her, it could +scarcely have altered her face more than Time had altered it from +my remembrance of the face that had once looked down upon me into +the fragrant dungeons of Seringapatam. But when her +youngest child came in after dinner (for I dined with them, and +we had no other company than Specks, Junior, Barrister-at-law, +who went away as soon as the cloth was removed, to look after the +young lady to whom he was going to be married next week), I saw +again, in that little daughter, the little face of the hayfield, +unchanged, and it quite touched my foolish heart. We talked +immensely, Specks and Mrs. Specks, and I, and we spoke of our old +selves as though our old selves were dead and gone, and indeed, +indeed they were—dead and gone as the playing-field that +had become a wilderness of rusty iron, and the property of +S.E.R.</p> +<p>Specks, however, illuminated Dullborough with the rays of +interest that I wanted and should otherwise have missed in it, +and linked its present to its past, with a highly agreeable +chain. And in Specks’s society I had new occasion to +observe what I had before noticed in similar communications among +other men. All the schoolfellows and others of old, whom I +inquired about, had either done superlatively well or +superlatively ill—had either become uncertificated +bankrupts, or been felonious and got themselves transported; or +had made great hits in life, and done wonders. And this is +so commonly the case, that I never can imagine what becomes of +all the mediocre people of people’s youth—especially +considering that we find no lack of the species in our +maturity. But, I did not propound this difficulty to +Specks, for no pause in the conversation gave me an +occasion. Nor, could I discover one single flaw in the good +doctor—when he reads this, he will receive in a friendly +spirit the pleasantly meant record—except that he had +forgotten his Roderick Random, and that he confounded Strap with +Lieutenant Hatchway; who never knew Random, howsoever intimate +with Pickle.</p> +<p>When I went alone to the Railway to catch my train at night +(Specks had meant to go with me, but was inopportunely called +out), I was in a more charitable mood with Dullborough than I had +been all day; and yet in my heart I had loved it all day +too. Ah! who was I that I should quarrel with the town for +being changed to me, when I myself had come back, so changed, to +it! All my early readings and early imaginations dated from +this place, and I took them away so full of innocent construction +and guileless belief, and I brought them back so worn and torn, +so much the wiser and so much the worse!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>XIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">NIGHT WALKS</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Some</span> years ago, a temporary +inability to sleep, referable to a distressing impression, caused +me to walk about the streets all night, for a series of several +nights. The disorder might have taken a long time to +conquer, if it had been faintly experimented on in bed; but, it +was soon defeated by the brisk treatment of getting up directly +after lying down, and going out, and coming home tired at +sunrise.</p> +<p>In the course of those nights, I finished my education in a +fair amateur experience of houselessness. My principal +object being to get through the night, the pursuit of it brought +me into sympathetic relations with people who have no other +object every night in the year.</p> +<p>The month was March, and the weather damp, cloudy, and +cold. The sun not rising before half-past five, the night +perspective looked sufficiently long at half-past twelve: which +was about my time for confronting it.</p> +<p>The restlessness of a great city, and the way in which it +tumbles and tosses before it can get to sleep, formed one of the +first entertainments offered to the contemplation of us houseless +people. It lasted about two hours. We lost a great +deal of companionship when the late public-houses turned their +lamps out, and when the potmen thrust the last brawling drunkards +into the street; but stray vehicles and stray people were left +us, after that. If we were very lucky, a policeman’s +rattle sprang and a fray turned up; but, in general, surprisingly +little of this diversion was provided. Except in the +Haymarket, which is the worst kept part of London, and about +Kent-street in the Borough, and along a portion of the line of +the Old Kent-road, the peace was seldom violently broken. +But, it was always the case that London, as if in imitation of +individual citizens belonging to it, had expiring fits and starts +of restlessness. After all seemed quiet, if one cab rattled +by, half-a-dozen would surely follow; and Houselessness even +observed that intoxicated people appeared to be magnetically +attracted towards each other; so that we knew when we saw one +drunken object staggering against the shutters of a shop, that +another drunken object would stagger up before five minutes were +out, to fraternise or fight with it. When we made a +divergence from the regular species of drunkard, the thin-armed, +puff-faced, leaden-lipped gin-drinker, and encountered a rarer +specimen of a more decent appearance, fifty to one but that +specimen was dressed in soiled mourning. As the street +experience in the night, so the street experience in the day; the +common folk who come unexpectedly into a little property, come +unexpectedly into a deal of liquor.</p> +<p>At length these flickering sparks would die away, worn +out—the last veritable sparks of waking life trailed from +some late pieman or hot-potato man—and London would sink to +rest. And then the yearning of the houseless mind would be +for any sign of company, any lighted place, any movement, +anything suggestive of any one being up—nay, even so much +as awake, for the houseless eye looked out for lights in +windows.</p> +<p>Walking the streets under the pattering rain, Houselessness +would walk and walk and walk, seeing nothing but the interminable +tangle of streets, save at a corner, here and there, two +policemen in conversation, or the sergeant or inspector looking +after his men. Now and then in the night—but +rarely—Houselessness would become aware of a furtive head +peering out of a doorway a few yards before him, and, coming up +with the head, would find a man standing bolt upright to keep +within the doorway’s shadow, and evidently intent upon no +particular service to society. Under a kind of fascination, +and in a ghostly silence suitable to the time, Houselessness and +this gentleman would eye one another from head to foot, and so, +without exchange of speech, part, mutually suspicious. +Drip, drip, drip, from ledge and coping, splash from pipes and +water-spouts, and by-and-by the houseless shadow would fall upon +the stones that pave the way to Waterloo-bridge; it being in the +houseless mind to have a halfpenny worth of excuse for saying +‘Good-night’ to the toll-keeper, and catching a +glimpse of his fire. A good fire and a good great-coat and +a good woollen neck-shawl, were comfortable things to see in +conjunction with the toll-keeper; also his brisk wakefulness was +excellent company when he rattled the change of halfpence down +upon that metal table of his, like a man who defied the night, +with all its sorrowful thoughts, and didn’t care for the +coming of dawn. There was need of encouragement on the +threshold of the bridge, for the bridge was dreary. The +chopped-up murdered man, had not been lowered with a rope over +the parapet when those nights were; he was alive, and slept then +quietly enough most likely, and undisturbed by any dream of where +he was to come. But the river had an awful look, the +buildings on the banks were muffled in black shrouds, and the +reflected lights seemed to originate deep in the water, as if the +spectres of suicides were holding them to show where they went +down. The wild moon and clouds were as restless as an evil +conscience in a tumbled bed, and the very shadow of the immensity +of London seemed to lie oppressively upon the river.</p> +<p>Between the bridge and the two great theatres, there was but +the distance of a few hundred paces, so the theatres came +next. Grim and black within, at night, those great dry +Wells, and lonesome to imagine, with the rows of faces faded out, +the lights extinguished, and the seats all empty. One would +think that nothing in them knew itself at such a time but +Yorick’s skull. In one of my night walks, as the +church steeples were shaking the March winds and rain with the +strokes of Four, I passed the outer boundary of one of these +great deserts, and entered it. With a dim lantern in my +hand, I groped my well-known way to the stage and looked over the +orchestra—which was like a great grave dug for a time of +pestilence—into the void beyond. A dismal cavern of +an immense aspect, with the chandelier gone dead like everything +else, and nothing visible through mist and fog and space, but +tiers of winding-sheets. The ground at my feet where, when +last there, I had seen the peasantry of Naples dancing among the +vines, reckless of the burning mountain which threatened to +overwhelm them, was now in possession of a strong serpent of +engine-hose, watchfully lying in wait for the serpent Fire, and +ready to fly at it if it showed its forked tongue. A ghost +of a watchman, carrying a faint corpse candle, haunted the +distant upper gallery and flitted away. Retiring within the +proscenium, and holding my light above my head towards the +rolled-up curtain—green no more, but black as +ebony—my sight lost itself in a gloomy vault, showing faint +indications in it of a shipwreck of canvas and cordage. +Methought I felt much as a diver might, at the bottom of the +sea.</p> +<p>In those small hours when there was no movement in the +streets, it afforded matter for reflection to take Newgate in the +way, and, touching its rough stone, to think of the prisoners in +their sleep, and then to glance in at the lodge over the spiked +wicket, and see the fire and light of the watching turnkeys, on +the white wall. Not an inappropriate time either, to linger +by that wicked little Debtors’ Door—shutting tighter +than any other door one ever saw—which has been +Death’s Door to so many. In the days of the uttering +of forged one-pound notes by people tempted up from the country, +how many hundreds of wretched creatures of both sexes—many +quite innocent—swung out of a pitiless and inconsistent +world, with the tower of yonder Christian church of Saint +Sepulchre monstrously before their eyes! Is there any +haunting of the Bank Parlour, by the remorseful souls of old +directors, in the nights of these later days, I wonder, or is it +as quiet as this degenerate Aceldama of an Old Bailey?</p> +<p>To walk on to the Bank, lamenting the good old times and +bemoaning the present evil period, would be an easy next step, so +I would take it, and would make my houseless circuit of the Bank, +and give a thought to the treasure within; likewise to the guard +of soldiers passing the night there, and nodding over the +fire. Next, I went to Billingsgate, in some hope of +market-people, but it proving as yet too early, crossed +London-bridge and got down by the water-side on the Surrey shore +among the buildings of the great brewery. There was plenty +going on at the brewery; and the reek, and the smell of grains, +and the rattling of the plump dray horses at their mangers, were +capital company. Quite refreshed by having mingled with +this good society, I made a new start with a new heart, setting +the old King’s Bench prison before me for my next object, +and resolving, when I should come to the wall, to think of poor +Horace Kinch, and the Dry Rot in men.</p> +<p>A very curious disease the Dry Rot in men, and difficult to +detect the beginning of. It had carried Horace Kinch inside +the wall of the old King’s Bench prison, and it had carried +him out with his feet foremost. He was a likely man to look +at, in the prime of life, well to do, as clever as he needed to +be, and popular among many friends. He was suitably +married, and had healthy and pretty children. But, like +some fair-looking houses or fair-looking ships, he took the Dry +Rot. The first strong external revelation of the Dry Rot in +men, is a tendency to lurk and lounge; to be at street-corners +without intelligible reason; to be going anywhere when met; to be +about many places rather than at any; to do nothing tangible, but +to have an intention of performing a variety of intangible duties +to-morrow or the day after. When this manifestation of the +disease is observed, the observer will usually connect it with a +vague impression once formed or received, that the patient was +living a little too hard. He will scarcely have had leisure +to turn it over in his mind and form the terrible suspicion +‘Dry Rot,’ when he will notice a change for the worse +in the patient’s appearance: a certain slovenliness and +deterioration, which is not poverty, nor dirt, nor intoxication, +nor ill-health, but simply Dry Rot. To this, succeeds a +smell as of strong waters, in the morning; to that, a looseness +respecting money; to that, a stronger smell as of strong waters, +at all times; to that, a looseness respecting everything; to +that, a trembling of the limbs, somnolency, misery, and crumbling +to pieces. As it is in wood, so it is in men. Dry Rot +advances at a compound usury quite incalculable. A plank is +found infected with it, and the whole structure is devoted. +Thus it had been with the unhappy Horace Kinch, lately buried by +a small subscription. Those who knew him had not nigh done +saying, ‘So well off, so comfortably established, with such +hope before him—and yet, it is feared, with a slight touch +of Dry Rot!’ when lo! the man was all Dry Rot and dust.</p> +<p>From the dead wall associated on those houseless nights with +this too common story, I chose next to wander by Bethlehem +Hospital; partly, because it lay on my road round to Westminster; +partly, because I had a night fancy in my head which could be +best pursued within sight of its walls and dome. And the +fancy was this: Are not the sane and the insane equal at night as +the sane lie a dreaming? Are not all of us outside this +hospital, who dream, more or less in the condition of those +inside it, every night of our lives? Are we not nightly +persuaded, as they daily are, that we associate preposterously +with kings and queens, emperors and empresses, and notabilities +of all sorts? Do we not nightly jumble events and +personages and times and places, as these do daily? Are we +not sometimes troubled by our own sleeping inconsistencies, and +do we not vexedly try to account for them or excuse them, just as +these do sometimes in respect of their waking delusions? +Said an afflicted man to me, when I was last in a hospital like +this, ‘Sir, I can frequently fly.’ I was half +ashamed to reflect that so could I—by night. Said a +woman to me on the same occasion, ‘Queen Victoria +frequently comes to dine with me, and her Majesty and I dine off +peaches and maccaroni in our night-gowns, and his Royal Highness +the Prince Consort does us the honour to make a third on +horseback in a Field-Marshal’s uniform.’ Could +I refrain from reddening with consciousness when I remembered the +amazing royal parties I myself had given (at night), the +unaccountable viands I had put on table, and my extraordinary +manner of conducting myself on those distinguished +occasions? I wonder that the great master who knew +everything, when he called Sleep the death of each day’s +life, did not call Dreams the insanity of each day’s +sanity.</p> +<p>By this time I had left the Hospital behind me, and was again +setting towards the river; and in a short breathing space I was +on Westminster-bridge, regaling my houseless eyes with the +external walls of the British Parliament—the perfection of +a stupendous institution, I know, and the admiration of all +surrounding nations and succeeding ages, I do not doubt, but +perhaps a little the better now and then for being pricked up to +its work. Turning off into Old Palace-yard, the Courts of +Law kept me company for a quarter of an hour; hinting in low +whispers what numbers of people they were keeping awake, and how +intensely wretched and horrible they were rendering the small +hours to unfortunate suitors. Westminster Abbey was fine +gloomy society for another quarter of an hour; suggesting a +wonderful procession of its dead among the dark arches and +pillars, each century more amazed by the century following it +than by all the centuries going before. And indeed in those +houseless night walks—which even included cemeteries where +watchmen went round among the graves at stated times, and moved +the tell-tale handle of an index which recorded that they had +touched it at such an hour—it was a solemn consideration +what enormous hosts of dead belong to one old great city, and +how, if they were raised while the living slept, there would not +be the space of a pin’s point in all the streets and ways +for the living to come out into. Not only that, but the +vast armies of dead would overflow the hills and valleys beyond +the city, and would stretch away all round it, God knows how +far.</p> +<p>When a church clock strikes, on houseless ears in the dead of +the night, it may be at first mistaken for company and hailed as +such. But, as the spreading circles of vibration, which you +may perceive at such a time with great clearness, go opening out, +for ever and ever afterwards widening perhaps (as the philosopher +has suggested) in eternal space, the mistake is rectified and the +sense of loneliness is profounder. Once—it was after +leaving the Abbey and turning my face north—I came to the +great steps of St. Martin’s church as the clock was +striking Three. Suddenly, a thing that in a moment more I +should have trodden upon without seeing, rose up at my feet with +a cry of loneliness and houselessness, struck out of it by the +bell, the like of which I never heard. We then stood face +to face looking at one another, frightened by one another. +The creature was like a beetle-browed hair-lipped youth of +twenty, and it had a loose bundle of rags on, which it held +together with one of its hands. It shivered from head to +foot, and its teeth chattered, and as it stared at +me—persecutor, devil, ghost, whatever it thought +me—it made with its whining mouth as if it were snapping at +me, like a worried dog. Intending to give this ugly object +money, I put out my hand to stay it—for it recoiled as it +whined and snapped—and laid my hand upon its +shoulder. Instantly, it twisted out of its garment, like +the young man in the New Testament, and left me standing alone +with its rags in my hands.</p> +<p>Covent-garden Market, when it was market morning, was +wonderful company. The great waggons of cabbages, with +growers’ men and boys lying asleep under them, and with +sharp dogs from market-garden neighbourhoods looking after the +whole, were as good as a party. But one of the worst night sights +I know in London, is to be found in the children who prowl about +this place; who sleep in the baskets, fight for the offal, dart +at any object they think they can lay their thieving hands on, +dive under the carts and barrows, dodge the constables, and are +perpetually making a blunt pattering on the pavement of the +Piazza with the rain of their naked feet. A painful and unnatural +result comes of the comparison one is forced to institute between +the growth of corruption as displayed in the so much improved and +cared for fruits of the earth, and the growth of corruption as +displayed in these all uncared for (except inasmuch as +ever-hunted) savages.</p> +<p>There was early coffee to be got about Covent-garden Market, +and that was more company—warm company, too, which was +better. Toast of a very substantial quality, was likewise +procurable: though the towzled-headed man who made it, in an +inner chamber within the coffee-room, hadn’t got his coat +on yet, and was so heavy with sleep that in every interval of +toast and coffee he went off anew behind the partition into +complicated cross-roads of choke and snore, and lost his way +directly. Into one of these establishments (among the +earliest) near Bow-street, there came one morning as I sat over +my houseless cup, pondering where to go next, a man in a high and +long snuff-coloured coat, and shoes, and, to the best of my +belief, nothing else but a hat, who took out of his hat a large +cold meat pudding; a meat pudding so large that it was a very +tight fit, and brought the lining of the hat out with it. +This mysterious man was known by his pudding, for on his +entering, the man of sleep brought him a pint of hot tea, a small +loaf, and a large knife and fork and plate. Left to himself +in his box, he stood the pudding on the bare table, and, instead +of cutting it, stabbed it, overhand, with the knife, like a +mortal enemy; then took the knife out, wiped it on his sleeve, +tore the pudding asunder with his fingers, and ate it all +up. The remembrance of this man with the pudding remains +with me as the remembrance of the most spectral person my +houselessness encountered. Twice only was I in that +establishment, and twice I saw him stalk in (as I should say, +just out of bed, and presently going back to bed), take out his +pudding, stab his pudding, wipe the dagger, and eat his pudding +all up. He was a man whose figure promised cadaverousness, +but who had an excessively red face, though shaped like a +horse’s. On the second occasion of my seeing him, he +said huskily to the man of sleep, ‘Am I red +to-night?’ ‘You are,’ he uncompromisingly +answered. ‘My mother,’ said the spectre, +‘was a red-faced woman that liked drink, and I looked at +her hard when she laid in her coffin, and I took the +complexion.’ Somehow, the pudding seemed an +unwholesome pudding after that, and I put myself in its way no +more.</p> +<p>When there was no market, or when I wanted variety, a railway +terminus with the morning mails coming in, was remunerative +company. But like most of the company to be had in this +world, it lasted only a very short time. The station lamps +would burst out ablaze, the porters would emerge from places of +concealment, the cabs and trucks would rattle to their places +(the post-office carts were already in theirs), and, finally, the +bell would strike up, and the train would come banging in. +But there were few passengers and little luggage, and everything +scuttled away with the greatest expedition. The locomotive +post-offices, with their great nets—as if they had been +dragging the country for bodies—would fly open as to their +doors, and would disgorge a smell of lamp, an exhausted clerk, a +guard in a red coat, and their bags of letters; the engine would +blow and heave and perspire, like an engine wiping its forehead +and saying what a run it had had; and within ten minutes the +lamps were out, and I was houseless and alone again.</p> +<p>But now, there were driven cattle on the high road near, +wanting (as cattle always do) to turn into the midst of stone +walls, and squeeze themselves through six inches’ width of +iron railing, and getting their heads down (also as cattle always +do) for tossing-purchase at quite imaginary dogs, and giving +themselves and every devoted creature associated with them a most +extraordinary amount of unnecessary trouble. Now, too, the +conscious gas began to grow pale with the knowledge that daylight +was coming, and straggling workpeople were already in the +streets, and, as waking life had become extinguished with the +last pieman’s sparks, so it began to be rekindled with the +fires of the first street-corner breakfast-sellers. And so +by faster and faster degrees, until the last degrees were very +fast, the day came, and I was tired and could sleep. And it +is not, as I used to think, going home at such times, the least +wonderful thing in London, that in the real desert region of the +night, the houseless wanderer is alone there. I knew well +enough where to find Vice and Misfortune of all kinds, if I had +chosen; but they were put out of sight, and my houselessness had +many miles upon miles of streets in which it could, and did, have +its own solitary way.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>XIV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CHAMBERS</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Having</span> occasion to transact some +business with a solicitor who occupies a highly suicidal set of +chambers in Gray’s Inn, I afterwards took a turn in the +large square of that stronghold of Melancholy, reviewing, with +congenial surroundings, my experiences of Chambers.</p> +<p>I began, as was natural, with the Chambers I had just +left. They were an upper set on a rotten staircase, with a +mysterious bunk or bulkhead on the landing outside them, of a +rather nautical and Screw Collier-like appearance than otherwise, +and painted an intense black. Many dusty years have passed +since the appropriation of this Davy Jones’s locker to any +purpose, and during the whole period within the memory of living +man, it has been hasped and padlocked. I cannot quite +satisfy my mind whether it was originally meant for the reception +of coals, or bodies, or as a place of temporary security for the +plunder ‘looted’ by laundresses; but I incline to the +last opinion. It is about breast high, and usually serves +as a bulk for defendants in reduced circumstances to lean against +and ponder at, when they come on the hopeful errand of trying to +make an arrangement without money—under which auspicious +circumstances it mostly happens that the legal gentleman they +want to see, is much engaged, and they pervade the staircase for +a considerable period. Against this opposing bulk, in the +absurdest manner, the tomb-like outer door of the +solicitor’s chambers (which is also of an intense black) +stands in dark ambush, half open, and half shut, all day. +The solicitor’s apartments are three in number; consisting +of a slice, a cell, and a wedge. The slice is assigned to +the two clerks, the cell is occupied by the principal, and the +wedge is devoted to stray papers, old game baskets from the +country, a washing-stand, and a model of a patent Ship’s +Caboose which was exhibited in Chancery at the commencement of +the present century on an application for an injunction to +restrain infringement. At about half-past nine on every +week-day morning, the younger of the two clerks (who, I have +reason to believe, leads the fashion at Pentonville in the +articles of pipes and shirts) may be found knocking the dust out +of his official door-key on the bunk or locker before mentioned; +and so exceedingly subject to dust is his key, and so very +retentive of that superfluity, that in exceptional summer weather +when a ray of sunlight has fallen on the locker in my presence, I +have noticed its inexpressive countenance to be deeply marked by +a kind of Bramah erysipelas or small-pox.</p> +<p>This set of chambers (as I have gradually discovered, when I +have had restless occasion to make inquiries or leave messages, +after office hours) is under the charge of a lady named Sweeney, +in figure extremely like an old family-umbrella: whose dwelling +confronts a dead wall in a court off Gray’s Inn-lane, and +who is usually fetched into the passage of that bower, when +wanted, from some neighbouring home of industry, which has the +curious property of imparting an inflammatory appearance to her +visage. Mrs. Sweeney is one of the race of professed +laundresses, and is the compiler of a remarkable manuscript +volume entitled ‘Mrs. Sweeney’s Book,’ from +which much curious statistical information may be gathered +respecting the high prices and small uses of soda, soap, sand, +firewood, and other such articles. I have created a legend +in my mind—and consequently I believe it with the utmost +pertinacity—that the late Mr. Sweeney was a ticket-porter +under the Honourable Society of Gray’s Inn, and that, in +consideration of his long and valuable services, Mrs. Sweeney was +appointed to her present post. For, though devoid of +personal charms, I have observed this lady to exercise a +fascination over the elderly ticker-porter mind (particularly +under the gateway, and in corners and entries), which I can only +refer to her being one of the fraternity, yet not competing with +it. All that need be said concerning this set of chambers, +is said, when I have added that it is in a large double house in +Gray’s Inn-square, very much out of repair, and that the +outer portal is ornamented in a hideous manner with certain stone +remains, which have the appearance of the dismembered bust, +torso, and limbs of a petrified bencher.</p> +<p>Indeed, I look upon Gray’s Inn generally as one of the +most depressing institutions in brick and mortar, known to the +children of men. Can anything be more dreary than its arid +Square, Sahara Desert of the law, with the ugly old tiled-topped +tenements, the dirty windows, the bills To Let, To Let, the +door-posts inscribed like gravestones, the crazy gateway giving +upon the filthy Lane, the scowling, iron-barred prison-like +passage into Verulam-buildings, the mouldy red-nosed +ticket-porters with little coffin plates, and why with aprons, +the dry, hard, atomy-like appearance of the whole +dust-heap? When my uncommercial travels tend to this dismal +spot, my comfort is its rickety state. Imagination gloats +over the fulness of time when the staircases shall have quite +tumbled down—they are daily wearing into an ill-savoured +powder, but have not quite tumbled down yet—when the last +old prolix bencher all of the olden time, shall have been got out +of an upper window by means of a Fire Ladder, and carried off to +the Holborn Union; when the last clerk shall have engrossed the +last parchment behind the last splash on the last of the +mud-stained windows, which, all through the miry year, are +pilloried out of recognition in Gray’s Inn-lane. +Then, shall a squalid little trench, with rank grass and a pump +in it, lying between the coffee-house and South-square, be wholly +given up to cats and rats, and not, as now, have its empire +divided between those animals and a few briefless +bipeds—surely called to the Bar by voices of deceiving +spirits, seeing that they are wanted there by no mortal—who +glance down, with eyes better glazed than their casements, from +their dreary and lacklustre rooms. Then shall the way +Nor’ Westward, now lying under a short grim colonnade where +in summer-time pounce flies from law-stationering windows into +the eyes of laymen, be choked with rubbish and happily become +impassable. Then shall the gardens where turf, trees, and +gravel wear a legal livery of black, run rank, and pilgrims go to +Gorhambury to see Bacon’s effigy as he sat, and not come +here (which in truth they seldom do) to see where he +walked. Then, in a word, shall the old-established vendor +of periodicals sit alone in his little crib of a shop behind the +Holborn Gate, like that lumbering Marius among the ruins of +Carthage, who has sat heavy on a thousand million of similes.</p> +<p>At one period of my uncommercial career I much frequented +another set of chambers in Gray’s Inn-square. They +were what is familiarly called ‘a top set,’ and all +the eatables and drinkables introduced into them acquired a +flavour of Cockloft. I have known an unopened Strasbourg +pâté fresh from Fortnum and Mason’s, to draw +in this cockloft tone through its crockery dish, and become +penetrated with cockloft to the core of its inmost truffle in +three-quarters of an hour. This, however, was not the most +curious feature of those chambers; that, consisted in the +profound conviction entertained by my esteemed friend Parkle +(their tenant) that they were clean. Whether it was an +inborn hallucination, or whether it was imparted to him by Mrs. +Miggot the laundress, I never could ascertain. But, I +believe he would have gone to the stake upon the question. +Now, they were so dirty that I could take off the distinctest +impression of my figure on any article of furniture by merely +lounging upon it for a few moments; and it used to be a private +amusement of mine to print myself off—if I may use the +expression—all over the rooms. It was the first large +circulation I had. At other times I have accidentally +shaken a window curtain while in animated conversation with +Parkle, and struggling insects which were certainly red, and were +certainly not ladybirds, have dropped on the back of my +hand. Yet Parkle lived in that top set years, bound body +and soul to the superstition that they were clean. He used +to say, when congratulated upon them, ‘Well, they are not +like chambers in one respect, you know; they are +clean.’ Concurrently, he had an idea which he could +never explain, that Mrs. Miggot was in some way connected with +the Church. When he was in particularly good spirits, he +used to believe that a deceased uncle of hers had been a Dean; +when he was poorly and low, he believed that her brother had been +a Curate. I and Mrs. Miggot (she was a genteel woman) were +on confidential terms, but I never knew her to commit herself to +any distinct assertion on the subject; she merely claimed a +proprietorship in the Church, by looking when it was mentioned, +as if the reference awakened the slumbering Past, and were +personal. It may have been his amiable confidence in Mrs. +Miggot’s better days that inspired my friend with his +delusion respecting the chambers, but he never wavered in his +fidelity to it for a moment, though he wallowed in dirt seven +years.</p> +<p>Two of the windows of these chambers looked down into the +garden; and we have sat up there together many a summer evening, +saying how pleasant it was, and talking of many things. To +my intimacy with that top set, I am indebted for three of my +liveliest personal impressions of the loneliness of life in +chambers. They shall follow here, in order; first, second, +and third.</p> +<p>First. My Gray’s Inn friend, on a time, hurt one +of his legs, and it became seriously inflamed. Not knowing +of his indisposition, I was on my way to visit him as usual, one +summer evening, when I was much surprised by meeting a lively +leech in Field-court, Gray’s Inn, seemingly on his way to +the West End of London. As the leech was alone, and was of +course unable to explain his position, even if he had been +inclined to do so (which he had not the appearance of being), I +passed him and went on. Turning the corner of Gray’s +Inn-square, I was beyond expression amazed by meeting another +leech—also entirely alone, and also proceeding in a +westerly direction, though with less decision of purpose. +Ruminating on this extraordinary circumstance, and endeavouring +to remember whether I had ever read, in the Philosophical +Transactions or any work on Natural History, of a migration of +Leeches, I ascended to the top set, past the dreary series of +closed outer doors of offices and an empty set or two, which +intervened between that lofty region and the surface. +Entering my friend’s rooms, I found him stretched upon his +back, like Prometheus Bound, with a perfectly demented +ticket-porter in attendance on him instead of the Vulture: which +helpless individual, who was feeble and frightened, and had (my +friend explained to me, in great choler) been endeavouring for +some hours to apply leeches to his leg, and as yet had only got +on two out of twenty. To this Unfortunate’s +distraction between a damp cloth on which he had placed the +leeches to freshen them, and the wrathful adjurations of my +friend to ‘Stick ’em on, sir!’ I referred the +phenomenon I had encountered: the rather as two fine specimens +were at that moment going out at the door, while a general +insurrection of the rest was in progress on the table. +After a while our united efforts prevailed, and, when the leeches +came off and had recovered their spirits, we carefully tied them +up in a decanter. But I never heard more of them than that +they were all gone next morning, and that the Out-of-door young +man of Bickle, Bush and Bodger, on the ground floor, had been +bitten and blooded by some creature not identified. They +never ‘took’ on Mrs. Miggot, the laundress; but, I +have always preserved fresh, the belief that she unconsciously +carried several about her, until they gradually found openings in +life.</p> +<p>Second. On the same staircase with my friend Parkle, and +on the same floor, there lived a man of law who pursued his +business elsewhere, and used those chambers as his place of +residence. For three or four years, Parkle rather knew of +him than knew him, but after that—for +Englishmen—short pause of consideration, they began to +speak. Parkle exchanged words with him in his private +character only, and knew nothing of his business ways, or +means. He was a man a good deal about town, but always +alone. We used to remark to one another, that although we +often encountered him in theatres, concert-rooms, and similar +public places, he was always alone. Yet he was not a gloomy +man, and was of a decidedly conversational turn; insomuch that he +would sometimes of an evening lounge with a cigar in his mouth, +half in and half out of Parkle’s rooms, and discuss the +topics of the day by the hour. He used to hint on these +occasions that he had four faults to find with life; firstly, +that it obliged a man to be always winding up his watch; +secondly, that London was too small; thirdly, that it therefore +wanted variety; fourthly, that there was too much dust in +it. There was so much dust in his own faded chambers, +certainly, that they reminded me of a sepulchre, furnished in +prophetic anticipation of the present time, which had newly been +brought to light, after having remained buried a few thousand +years. One dry, hot autumn evening at twilight, this man, +being then five years turned of fifty, looked in upon Parkle in +his usual lounging way, with his cigar in his mouth as usual, and +said, ‘I am going out of town.’ As he never +went out of town, Parkle said, ‘Oh indeed! At +last?’ ‘Yes,’ says he, ‘at +last. For what is a man to do? London is so +small! If you go West, you come to Hounslow. If you +go East, you come to Bow. If you go South, there’s +Brixton or Norwood. If you go North, you can’t get +rid of Barnet. Then, the monotony of all the streets, +streets, streets—and of all the roads, roads, +roads—and the dust, dust, dust!’ When he had +said this, he wished Parkle a good evening, but came back again +and said, with his watch in his hand, ‘Oh, I really cannot +go on winding up this watch over and over again; I wish you would +take care of it.’ So, Parkle laughed and consented, +and the man went out of town. The man remained out of town +so long, that his letter-box became choked, and no more letters +could be got into it, and they began to be left at the lodge and +to accumulate there. At last the head-porter decided, on +conference with the steward, to use his master-key and look into +the chambers, and give them the benefit of a whiff of air. +Then, it was found that he had hanged himself to his bedstead, +and had left this written memorandum: ‘I should prefer to +be cut down by my neighbour and friend (if he will allow me to +call him so), H. Parkle, Esq.’ This was an end of +Parkle’s occupancy of chambers. He went into lodgings +immediately.</p> +<p>Third. While Parkle lived in Gray’s Inn, and I +myself was uncommercially preparing for the Bar—which is +done, as everybody knows, by having a frayed old gown put on in a +pantry by an old woman in a chronic state of Saint +Anthony’s fire and dropsy, and, so decorated, bolting a bad +dinner in a party of four, whereof each individual mistrusts the +other three—I say, while these things were, there was a +certain elderly gentleman who lived in a court of the Temple, and +was a great judge and lover of port wine. Every day he +dined at his club and drank his bottle or two of port wine, and +every night came home to the Temple and went to bed in his lonely +chambers. This had gone on many years without variation, +when one night he had a fit on coming home, and fell and cut his +head deep, but partly recovered and groped about in the dark to +find the door. When he was afterwards discovered, dead, it +was clearly established by the marks of his hands about the room +that he must have done so. Now, this chanced on the night +of Christmas Eve, and over him lived a young fellow who had +sisters and young country friends, and who gave them a little +party that night, in the course of which they played at +Blindman’s Buff. They played that game, for their +greater sport, by the light of the fire only; and once, when they +were all quietly rustling and stealing about, and the blindman +was trying to pick out the prettiest sister (for which I am far +from blaming him), somebody cried, Hark! The man below must +be playing Blindman’s Buff by himself to-night! They +listened, and they heard sounds of some one falling about and +stumbling against furniture, and they all laughed at the conceit, +and went on with their play, more light-hearted and merry than +ever. Thus, those two so different games of life and death +were played out together, blindfolded, in the two sets of +chambers.</p> +<p>Such are the occurrences, which, coming to my knowledge, +imbued me long ago with a strong sense of the loneliness of +chambers. There was a fantastic illustration to much the +same purpose implicitly believed by a strange sort of man now +dead, whom I knew when I had not quite arrived at legal years of +discretion, though I was already in the uncommercial line.</p> +<p>This was a man who, though not more than thirty, had seen the +world in divers irreconcilable capacities—had been an +officer in a South American regiment among other odd +things—but had not achieved much in any way of life, and +was in debt, and in hiding. He occupied chambers of the +dreariest nature in Lyons Inn; his name, however, was not up on +the door, or door-post, but in lieu of it stood the name of a +friend who had died in the chambers, and had given him the +furniture. The story arose out of the furniture, and was to +this effect:—Let the former holder of the chambers, whose +name was still upon the door and door-post, be Mr. Testator.</p> +<p>Mr. Testator took a set of chambers in Lyons Inn when he had +but very scanty furniture for his bedroom, and none for his +sitting-room. He had lived some wintry months in this +condition, and had found it very bare and cold. One night, +past midnight, when he sat writing and still had writing to do +that must be done before he went to bed, he found himself out of +coals. He had coals down-stairs, but had never been to his +cellar; however the cellar-key was on his mantelshelf, and if he +went down and opened the cellar it fitted, he might fairly assume +the coals in that cellar to be his. As to his laundress, +she lived among the coal-waggons and Thames watermen—for +there were Thames watermen at that time—in some unknown +rat-hole by the river, down lanes and alleys on the other side of +the Strand. As to any other person to meet him or obstruct +him, Lyons Inn was dreaming, drunk, maudlin, moody, betting, +brooding over bill-discounting or renewing—asleep or awake, +minding its own affairs. Mr. Testator took his coal-scuttle +in one hand, his candle and key in the other, and descended to +the dismallest underground dens of Lyons Inn, where the late +vehicles in the streets became thunderous, and all the +water-pipes in the neighbourhood seemed to have Macbeth’s +Amen sticking in their throats, and to be trying to get it +out. After groping here and there among low doors to no +purpose, Mr. Testator at length came to a door with a rusty +padlock which his key fitted. Getting the door open with +much trouble, and looking in, he found, no coals, but a confused +pile of furniture. Alarmed by this intrusion on another +man’s property, he locked the door again, found his own +cellar, filled his scuttle, and returned up-stairs.</p> +<p>But the furniture he had seen, ran on castors across and +across Mr. Testator’s mind incessantly, when, in the chill +hour of five in the morning, he got to bed. He particularly +wanted a table to write at, and a table expressly made to be +written at, had been the piece of furniture in the foreground of +the heap. When his laundress emerged from her burrow in the +morning to make his kettle boil, he artfully led up to the +subject of cellars and furniture; but the two ideas had evidently +no connexion in her mind. When she left him, and he sat at +his breakfast, thinking about the furniture, he recalled the +rusty state of the padlock, and inferred that the furniture must +have been stored in the cellars for a long time—was perhaps +forgotten—owner dead, perhaps? After thinking it +over, a few days, in the course of which he could pump nothing +out of Lyons Inn about the furniture, he became desperate, and +resolved to borrow that table. He did so, that night. +He had not had the table long, when he determined to borrow an +easy-chair; he had not had that long, when he made up his mind to +borrow a bookcase; then, a couch; then, a carpet and rug. +By that time, he felt he was ‘in furniture stepped in so +far,’ as that it could be no worse to borrow it all. +Consequently, he borrowed it all, and locked up the cellar for +good. He had always locked it, after every visit. He +had carried up every separate article in the dead of the night, +and, at the best, had felt as wicked as a Resurrection Man. +Every article was blue and furry when brought into his rooms, and +he had had, in a murderous and guilty sort of way, to polish it +up while London slept.</p> +<p>Mr. Testator lived in his furnished chambers two or three +years, or more, and gradually lulled himself into the opinion +that the furniture was his own. This was his convenient +state of mind when, late one night, a step came up the stairs, +and a hand passed over his door feeling for his knocker, and then +one deep and solemn rap was rapped that might have been a spring +in Mr. Testator’s easy-chair to shoot him out of it; so +promptly was it attended with that effect.</p> +<p>With a candle in his hand, Mr. Testator went to the door, and +found there, a very pale and very tall man; a man who stooped; a +man with very high shoulders, a very narrow chest, and a very red +nose; a shabby-genteel man. He was wrapped in a long +thread-bare black coat, fastened up the front with more pins than +buttons, and under his arm he squeezed an umbrella without a +handle, as if he were playing bagpipes. He said, ‘I +ask your pardon, but can you tell me—’ and stopped; +his eyes resting on some object within the chambers.</p> +<p>‘Can I tell you what?’ asked Mr. Testator, noting +his stoppage with quick alarm.</p> +<p>‘I ask your pardon,’ said the stranger, +‘but—this is not the inquiry I was going to +make—<i>do</i> I see in there, any small article of +property belonging to <i>me</i>?’</p> +<p>Mr. Testator was beginning to stammer that he was not +aware—when the visitor slipped past him, into the +chambers. There, in a goblin way which froze Mr. Testator +to the marrow, he examined, first, the writing-table, and said, +‘Mine;’ then, the easy-chair, and said, +‘Mine;’ then, the bookcase, and said, +‘Mine;’ then, turned up a corner of the carpet, and +said, ‘Mine!’ in a word, inspected every item of +furniture from the cellar, in succession, and said, +‘Mine!’ Towards the end of this investigation, +Mr. Testator perceived that he was sodden with liquor, and that +the liquor was gin. He was not unsteady with gin, either in +his speech or carriage; but he was stiff with gin in both +particulars.</p> +<p>Mr. Testator was in a dreadful state, for (according to his +making out of the story) the possible consequences of what he had +done in recklessness and hardihood, flashed upon him in their +fulness for the first time. When they had stood gazing at +one another for a little while, he tremulously began:</p> +<p>‘Sir, I am conscious that the fullest explanation, +compensation, and restitution, are your due. They shall be +yours. Allow me to entreat that, without temper, without +even natural irritation on your part, we may have a +little—’</p> +<p>‘Drop of something to drink,’ interposed the +stranger. ‘I am agreeable.’</p> +<p>Mr. Testator had intended to say, ‘a little quiet +conversation,’ but with great relief of mind adopted the +amendment. He produced a decanter of gin, and was bustling +about for hot water and sugar, when he found that his visitor had +already drunk half of the decanter’s contents. With +hot water and sugar the visitor drank the remainder before he had +been an hour in the chambers by the chimes of the church of St. +Mary in the Strand; and during the process he frequently +whispered to himself, ‘Mine!’</p> +<p>The gin gone, and Mr. Testator wondering what was to follow +it, the visitor rose and said, with increased stiffness, +‘At what hour of the morning, sir, will it be +convenient?’ Mr. Testator hazarded, ‘At +ten?’ ‘Sir,’ said the visitor, ‘at +ten, to the moment, I shall be here.’ He then +contemplated Mr. Testator somewhat at leisure, and said, +‘God bless you! How is your wife?’ Mr. +Testator (who never had a wife) replied with much feeling, +‘Deeply anxious, poor soul, but otherwise +well.’ The visitor thereupon turned and went away, +and fell twice in going down-stairs. From that hour he was +never heard of. Whether he was a ghost, or a spectral +illusion of conscience, or a drunken man who had no business +there, or the drunken rightful owner of the furniture, with a +transitory gleam of memory; whether he got safe home, or had no +time to get to; whether he died of liquor on the way, or lived in +liquor ever afterwards; he never was heard of more. This +was the story, received with the furniture and held to be as +substantial, by its second possessor in an upper set of chambers +in grim Lyons Inn.</p> +<p>It is to be remarked of chambers in general, that they must +have been built for chambers, to have the right kind of +loneliness. You may make a great dwelling-house very +lonely, by isolating suites of rooms and calling them chambers, +but you cannot make the true kind of loneliness. In +dwelling-houses, there have been family festivals; children have +grown in them, girls have bloomed into women in them, courtships +and marriages have taken place in them. True chambers never +were young, childish, maidenly; never had dolls in them, or +rocking-horses, or christenings, or betrothals, or little +coffins. Let Gray’s Inn identify the child who first +touched hands and hearts with Robinson Crusoe, in any one of its +many ‘sets,’ and that child’s little statue, in +white marble with a golden inscription, shall be at its service, +at my cost and charge, as a drinking fountain for the spirit, to +freshen its thirsty square. Let Lincoln’s produce +from all its houses, a twentieth of the procession derivable from +any dwelling-house one-twentieth of its age, of fair young brides +who married for love and hope, not settlements, and all the +Vice-Chancellors shall thenceforward be kept in nosegays for +nothing, on application to the writer hereof. It is not +denied that on the terrace of the Adelphi, or in any of the +streets of that subterranean-stable-haunted spot, or about +Bedford-row, or James-street of that ilk (a grewsome place), or +anywhere among the neighbourhoods that have done flowering and +have run to seed, you may find Chambers replete with the +accommodations of Solitude, Closeness, and Darkness, where you +may be as low-spirited as in the genuine article, and might be as +easily murdered, with the placid reputation of having merely gone +down to the sea-side. But, the many waters of life did run +musical in those dry channels once;—among the Inns, +never. The only popular legend known in relation to any one +of the dull family of Inns, is a dark Old Bailey whisper +concerning Clement’s, and importing how the black creature +who holds the sun-dial there, was a negro who slew his master and +built the dismal pile out of the contents of his strong +box—for which architectural offence alone he ought to have +been condemned to live in it. But, what populace would +waste fancy upon such a place, or on New Inn, Staple Inn, +Barnard’s Inn, or any of the shabby crew?</p> +<p>The genuine laundress, too, is an institution not to be had in +its entirety out of and away from the genuine Chambers. +Again, it is not denied that you may be robbed elsewhere. +Elsewhere you may have—for money—dishonesty, +drunkenness, dirt, laziness, and profound incapacity. But +the veritable shining-red-faced shameless laundress; the true +Mrs. Sweeney—in figure, colour, texture, and smell, like +the old damp family umbrella; the tip-top complicated abomination +of stockings, spirits, bonnet, limpness, looseness, and larceny; +is only to be drawn at the fountain-head. Mrs. Sweeney is +beyond the reach of individual art. It requires the united +efforts of several men to ensure that great result, and it is +only developed in perfection under an Honourable Society and in +an Inn of Court.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>XV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">NURSE’S STORIES</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are not many places that I +find it more agreeable to revisit when I am in an idle mood, than +some places to which I have never been. For, my +acquaintance with those spots is of such long standing, and has +ripened into an intimacy of so affectionate a nature, that I take +a particular interest in assuring myself that they are +unchanged.</p> +<p>I never was in Robinson Crusoe’s Island, yet I +frequently return there. The colony he established on it +soon faded away, and it is uninhabited by any descendants of the +grave and courteous Spaniards, or of Will Atkins and the other +mutineers, and has relapsed into its original condition. +Not a twig of its wicker houses remains, its goats have long run +wild again, its screaming parrots would darken the sun with a +cloud of many flaming colours if a gun were fired there, no face +is ever reflected in the waters of the little creek which Friday +swam across when pursued by his two brother cannibals with +sharpened stomachs. After comparing notes with other +travellers who have similarly revisited the Island and +conscientiously inspected it, I have satisfied myself that it +contains no vestige of Mr. Atkins’s domesticity or +theology, though his track on the memorable evening of his +landing to set his captain ashore, when he was decoyed about and +round about until it was dark, and his boat was stove, and his +strength and spirits failed him, is yet plainly to be +traced. So is the hill-top on which Robinson was struck +dumb with joy when the reinstated captain pointed to the ship, +riding within half a mile of the shore, that was to bear him +away, in the nine-and-twentieth year of his seclusion in that +lonely place. So is the sandy beach on which the memorable +footstep was impressed, and where the savages hauled up their +canoes when they came ashore for those dreadful public dinners, +which led to a dancing worse than speech-making. So is the +cave where the flaring eyes of the old goat made such a goblin +appearance in the dark. So is the site of the hut where +Robinson lived with the dog and the parrot and the cat, and where +he endured those first agonies of solitude, which—strange +to say—never involved any ghostly fancies; a circumstance +so very remarkable, that perhaps he left out something in writing +his record? Round hundreds of such objects, hidden in the +dense tropical foliage, the tropical sea breaks evermore; and +over them the tropical sky, saving in the short rainy season, +shines bright and cloudless.</p> +<p>Neither, was I ever belated among wolves, on the borders of +France and Spain; nor, did I ever, when night was closing in and +the ground was covered with snow, draw up my little company among +some felled trees which served as a breastwork, and there fire a +train of gunpowder so dexterously that suddenly we had three or +four score blazing wolves illuminating the darkness around +us. Nevertheless, I occasionally go back to that dismal +region and perform the feat again; when indeed to smell the +singeing and the frying of the wolves afire, and to see them +setting one another alight as they rush and tumble, and to behold +them rolling in the snow vainly attempting to put themselves out, +and to hear their howlings taken up by all the echoes as well as +by all the unseen wolves within the woods, makes me tremble.</p> +<p>I was never in the robbers’ cave, where Gil Blas lived, +but I often go back there and find the trap-door just as heavy to +raise as it used to be, while that wicked old disabled Black lies +everlastingly cursing in bed. I was never in Don +Quixote’s study, where he read his books of chivalry until +he rose and hacked at imaginary giants, and then refreshed +himself with great draughts of water, yet you couldn’t move +a book in it without my knowledge, or with my consent. I +was never (thank Heaven) in company with the little old woman who +hobbled out of the chest and told the merchant Abudah to go in +search of the Talisman of Oromanes, yet I make it my business to +know that she is well preserved and as intolerable as ever. +I was never at the school where the boy Horatio Nelson got out of +bed to steal the pears: not because he wanted any, but because +every other boy was afraid: yet I have several times been back to +this Academy, to see him let down out of window with a +sheet. So with Damascus, and Bagdad, and Brobingnag (which +has the curious fate of being usually misspelt when written), and +Lilliput, and Laputa, and the Nile, and Abyssinia, and the +Ganges, and the North Pole, and many hundreds of places—I +was never at them, yet it is an affair of my life to keep them +intact, and I am always going back to them.</p> +<p>But, when I was in Dullborough one day, revisiting the +associations of my childhood as recorded in previous pages of +these notes, my experience in this wise was made quite +inconsiderable and of no account, by the quantity of places and +people—utterly impossible places and people, but none the +less alarmingly real—that I found I had been introduced to +by my nurse before I was six years old, and used to be forced to +go back to at night without at all wanting to go. If we all +knew our own minds (in a more enlarged sense than the popular +acceptation of that phrase), I suspect we should find our nurses +responsible for most of the dark corners we are forced to go back +to, against our wills.</p> +<p>The first diabolical character who intruded himself on my +peaceful youth (as I called to mind that day at Dullborough), was +a certain Captain Murderer. This wretch must have been an +off-shoot of the Blue Beard family, but I had no suspicion of the +consanguinity in those times. His warning name would seem +to have awakened no general prejudice against him, for he was +admitted into the best society and possessed immense +wealth. Captain Murderer’s mission was matrimony, and +the gratification of a cannibal appetite with tender +brides. On his marriage morning, he always caused both +sides of the way to church to be planted with curious flowers; +and when his bride said, ‘Dear Captain Murderer, I ever saw +flowers like these before: what are they called?’ he +answered, ‘They are called Garnish for house-lamb,’ +and laughed at his ferocious practical joke in a horrid manner, +disquieting the minds of the noble bridal company, with a very +sharp show of teeth, then displayed for the first time. He +made love in a coach and six, and married in a coach and twelve, +and all his horses were milk-white horses with one red spot on +the back which he caused to be hidden by the harness. For, +the spot <i>would</i> come there, though every horse was +milk-white when Captain Murderer bought him. And the spot +was young bride’s blood. (To this terrific point I am +indebted for my first personal experience of a shudder and cold +beads on the forehead.) When Captain Murderer had made an +end of feasting and revelry, and had dismissed the noble guests, +and was alone with his wife on the day month after their +marriage, it was his whimsical custom to produce a golden +rolling-pin and a silver pie-board. Now, there was this +special feature in the Captain’s courtships, that he always +asked if the young lady could make pie-crust; and if she +couldn’t by nature or education, she was taught. +Well. When the bride saw Captain Murderer produce the +golden rolling-pin and silver pie-board, she remembered this, and +turned up her laced-silk sleeves to make a pie. The Captain +brought out a silver pie-dish of immense capacity, and the +Captain brought out flour and butter and eggs and all things +needful, except the inside of the pie; of materials for the +staple of the pie itself, the Captain brought out none. +Then said the lovely bride, ‘Dear Captain Murderer, what +pie is this to be?’ He replied, ‘A meat +pie.’ Then said the lovely bride, ‘Dear Captain +Murderer, I see no meat.’ The Captain humorously +retorted, ‘Look in the glass.’ She looked in +the glass, but still she saw no meat, and then the Captain roared +with laughter, and suddenly frowning and drawing his sword, bade +her roll out the crust. So she rolled out the crust, +dropping large tears upon it all the time because he was so +cross, and when she had lined the dish with crust and had cut the +crust all ready to fit the top, the Captain called out, ‘I +see the meat in the glass!’ And the bride looked up +at the glass, just in time to see the Captain cutting her head +off; and he chopped her in pieces, and peppered her, and salted +her, and put her in the pie, and sent it to the baker’s, +and ate it all, and picked the bones.</p> +<p>Captain Murderer went on in this way, prospering exceedingly, +until he came to choose a bride from two twin sisters, and at +first didn’t know which to choose. For, though one +was fair and the other dark, they were both equally +beautiful. But the fair twin loved him, and the dark twin +hated him, so he chose the fair one. The dark twin would +have prevented the marriage if she could, but she couldn’t; +however, on the night before it, much suspecting Captain +Murderer, she stole out and climbed his garden wall, and looked +in at his window through a chink in the shutter, and saw him +having his teeth filed sharp. Next day she listened all +day, and heard him make his joke about the house-lamb. And +that day month, he had the paste rolled out, and cut the fair +twin’s head off, and chopped her in pieces, and peppered +her, and salted her, and put her in the pie, and sent it to the +baker’s, and ate it all, and picked the bones.</p> +<p>Now, the dark twin had had her suspicions much increased by +the filing of the Captain’s teeth, and again by the +house-lamb joke. Putting all things together when he gave +out that her sister was dead, she divined the truth, and +determined to be revenged. So, she went up to Captain +Murderer’s house, and knocked at the knocker and pulled at +the bell, and when the Captain came to the door, said: +‘Dear Captain Murderer, marry me next, for I always loved +you and was jealous of my sister.’ The Captain took +it as a compliment, and made a polite answer, and the marriage +was quickly arranged. On the night before it, the bride +again climbed to his window, and again saw him having his teeth +filed sharp. At this sight she laughed such a terrible +laugh at the chink in the shutter, that the Captain’s blood +curdled, and he said: ‘I hope nothing has disagreed with +me!’ At that, she laughed again, a still more +terrible laugh, and the shutter was opened and search made, but +she was nimbly gone, and there was no one. Next day they +went to church in a coach and twelve, and were married. And +that day month, she rolled the pie-crust out, and Captain +Murderer cut her head off, and chopped her in pieces, and +peppered her, and salted her, and put her in the pie, and sent it +to the baker’s, and ate it all, and picked the bones.</p> +<p>But before she began to roll out the paste she had taken a +deadly poison of a most awful character, distilled from +toads’ eyes and spiders’ knees; and Captain Murderer +had hardly picked her last bone, when he began to swell, and to +turn blue, and to be all over spots, and to scream. And he +went on swelling and turning bluer, and being more all over spots +and screaming, until he reached from floor to ceiling and from +wall to wall; and then, at one o’clock in the morning, he +blew up with a loud explosion. At the sound of it, all the +milk-white horses in the stables broke their halters and went +mad, and then they galloped over everybody in Captain +Murderer’s house (beginning with the family blacksmith who +had filed his teeth) until the whole were dead, and then they +galloped away.</p> +<p>Hundreds of times did I hear this legend of Captain Murderer, +in my early youth, and added hundreds of times was there a mental +compulsion upon me in bed, to peep in at his window as the dark +twin peeped, and to revisit his horrible house, and look at him +in his blue and spotty and screaming stage, as he reached from +floor to ceiling and from wall to wall. The young woman who +brought me acquainted with Captain Murderer had a fiendish +enjoyment of my terrors, and used to begin, I remember—as a +sort of introductory overture—by clawing the air with both +hands, and uttering a long low hollow groan. So acutely did +I suffer from this ceremony in combination with this infernal +Captain, that I sometimes used to plead I thought I was hardly +strong enough and old enough to hear the story again just +yet. But, she never spared me one word of it, and indeed +commanded the awful chalice to my lips as the only preservative +known to science against ‘The Black Cat’—a +weird and glaring-eyed supernatural Tom, who was reputed to prowl +about the world by night, sucking the breath of infancy, and who +was endowed with a special thirst (as I was given to understand) +for mine.</p> +<p>This female bard—may she have been repaid my debt of +obligation to her in the matter of nightmares and +perspirations!—reappears in my memory as the daughter of a +shipwright. Her name was Mercy, though she had none on +me. There was something of a shipbuilding flavour in the +following story. As it always recurs to me in a vague +association with calomel pills, I believe it to have been +reserved for dull nights when I was low with medicine.</p> +<p>There was once a shipwright, and he wrought in a Government +Yard, and his name was Chips. And his father’s name +before him was Chips, and <i>his</i> father’s name before +<i>him</i> was Chips, and they were all Chipses. And Chips +the father had sold himself to the Devil for an iron pot and a +bushel of tenpenny nails and half a ton of copper and a rat that +could speak; and Chips the grandfather had sold himself to the +Devil for an iron pot and a bushel of tenpenny nails and half a +ton of copper and a rat that could speak; and Chips the +great-grandfather had disposed of himself in the same direction +on the same terms; and the bargain had run in the family for a +long, long time. So, one day, when young Chips was at work +in the Dock Slip all alone, down in the dark hold of an old +Seventy-four that was haled up for repairs, the Devil presented +himself, and remarked:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘A Lemon has pips,<br /> +And a Yard has ships,<br /> +And <i>I</i>’ll have Chips!’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>(I don’t know why, but this fact of the Devil’s +expressing himself in rhyme was peculiarly trying to me.) +Chips looked up when he heard the words, and there he saw the +Devil with saucer eyes that squinted on a terrible great scale, +and that struck out sparks of blue fire continually. And +whenever he winked his eyes, showers of blue sparks came out, and +his eyelashes made a clattering like flints and steels striking +lights. And hanging over one of his arms by the handle was +an iron pot, and under that arm was a bushel of tenpenny nails, +and under his other arm was half a ton of copper, and sitting on +one of his shoulders was a rat that could speak. So, the +Devil said again:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘A Lemon has pips,<br /> +And a Yard has ships,<br /> +And <i>I</i>’ll have Chips!’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>(The invariable effect of this alarming tautology on the part +of the Evil Spirit was to deprive me of my senses for some +moments.) So, Chips answered never a word, but went on with +his work. ‘What are you doing, Chips?’ said the +rat that could speak. ‘I am putting in new planks +where you and your gang have eaten old away,’ said +Chips. ‘But we’ll eat them too,’ said the +rat that could speak; ‘and we’ll let in the water and +drown the crew, and we’ll eat them too.’ Chips, +being only a shipwright, and not a Man-of-war’s man, said, +‘You are welcome to it.’ But he couldn’t +keep his eyes off the half a ton of copper or the bushel of +tenpenny nails; for nails and copper are a shipwright’s +sweethearts, and shipwrights will run away with them whenever +they can. So, the Devil said, ‘I see what you are +looking at, Chips. You had better strike the bargain. +You know the terms. Your father before you was well +acquainted with them, and so were your grandfather and +great-grandfather before him.’ Says Chips, ‘I +like the copper, and I like the nails, and I don’t mind the +pot, but I don’t like the rat.’ Says the Devil, +fiercely, ‘You can’t have the metal without +him—and <i>he’s</i> a curiosity. I’m +going.’ Chips, afraid of losing the half a ton of +copper and the bushel of nails, then said, ‘Give us +hold!’ So, he got the copper and the nails and the +pot and the rat that could speak, and the Devil vanished. +Chips sold the copper, and he sold the nails, and he would have +sold the pot; but whenever he offered it for sale, the rat was in +it, and the dealers dropped it, and would have nothing to say to +the bargain. So, Chips resolved to kill the rat, and, being +at work in the Yard one day with a great kettle of hot pitch on +one side of him and the iron pot with the rat in it on the other, +he turned the scalding pitch into the pot, and filled it +full. Then, he kept his eye upon it till it cooled and +hardened, and then he let it stand for twenty days, and then he +heated the pitch again and turned it back into the kettle, and +then he sank the pot in water for twenty days more, and then he +got the smelters to put it in the furnace for twenty days more, +and then they gave it him out, red hot, and looking like red-hot +glass instead of iron-yet there was the rat in it, just the same +as ever! And the moment it caught his eye, it said with a +jeer:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘A Lemon has pips,<br /> +And a Yard has ships,<br /> +And <i>I</i>’ll have Chips!’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>(For this Refrain I had waited since its last appearance, with +inexpressible horror, which now culminated.) Chips now felt +certain in his own mind that the rat would stick to him; the rat, +answering his thought, said, ‘I will—like +pitch!’</p> +<p>Now, as the rat leaped out of the pot when it had spoken, and +made off, Chips began to hope that it wouldn’t keep its +word. But, a terrible thing happened next day. For, +when dinner-time came, and the Dock-bell rang to strike work, he +put his rule into the long pocket at the side of his trousers, +and there he found a rat—not that rat, but another +rat. And in his hat, he found another; and in his +pocket-handkerchief, another; and in the sleeves of his coat, +when he pulled it on to go to dinner, two more. And from +that time he found himself so frightfully intimate with all the +rats in the Yard, that they climbed up his legs when he was at +work, and sat on his tools while he used them. And they +could all speak to one another, and he understood what they +said. And they got into his lodging, and into his bed, and +into his teapot, and into his beer, and into his boots. And +he was going to be married to a corn-chandler’s daughter; +and when he gave her a workbox he had himself made for her, a rat +jumped out of it; and when he put his arm round her waist, a rat +clung about her; so the marriage was broken off, though the banns +were already twice put up—which the parish clerk well +remembers, for, as he handed the book to the clergyman for the +second time of asking, a large fat rat ran over the leaf. +(By this time a special cascade of rats was rolling down my back, +and the whole of my small listening person was overrun with +them. At intervals ever since, I have been morbidly afraid +of my own pocket, lest my exploring hand should find a specimen +or two of those vermin in it.)</p> +<p>You may believe that all this was very terrible to Chips; but +even all this was not the worst. He knew besides, what the +rats were doing, wherever they were. So, sometimes he would +cry aloud, when he was at his club at night, ‘Oh! +Keep the rats out of the convicts’ burying-ground! +Don’t let them do that!’ Or, +‘There’s one of them at the cheese +down-stairs!’ Or, ‘There’s two of them +smelling at the baby in the garret!’ Or, other things +of that sort. At last, he was voted mad, and lost his work +in the Yard, and could get no other work. But, King George +wanted men, so before very long he got pressed for a +sailor. And so he was taken off in a boat one evening to +his ship, lying at Spithead, ready to sail. And so the +first thing he made out in her as he got near her, was the +figure-head of the old Seventy-four, where he had seen the +Devil. She was called the Argonaut, and they rowed right +under the bowsprit where the figure-head of the Argonaut, with a +sheepskin in his hand and a blue gown on, was looking out to sea; +and sitting staring on his forehead was the rat who could speak, +and his exact words were these: ‘Chips ahoy! Old +boy! We’ve pretty well eat them too, and we’ll +drown the crew, and will eat them too!’ (Here I +always became exceedingly faint, and would have asked for water, +but that I was speechless.)</p> +<p>The ship was bound for the Indies; and if you don’t know +where that is, you ought to it, and angels will never love +you. (Here I felt myself an outcast from a future +state.) The ship set sail that very night, and she sailed, +and sailed, and sailed. Chips’s feelings were +dreadful. Nothing ever equalled his terrors. No +wonder. At last, one day he asked leave to speak to the +Admiral. The Admiral giv’ leave. Chips went +down on his knees in the Great State Cabin. ‘Your +Honour, unless your Honour, without a moment’s loss of +time, makes sail for the nearest shore, this is a doomed ship, +and her name is the Coffin!’ ‘Young man, your +words are a madman’s words.’ ‘Your Honour +no; they are nibbling us away.’ +‘They?’ ‘Your Honour, them dreadful +rats. Dust and hollowness where solid oak ought to +be! Rats nibbling a grave for every man on board! +Oh! Does your Honour love your Lady and your pretty +children?’ ‘Yes, my man, to be +sure.’ ‘Then, for God’s sake, make for +the nearest shore, for at this present moment the rats are all +stopping in their work, and are all looking straight towards you +with bare teeth, and are all saying to one another that you shall +never, never, never, never, see your Lady and your children +more.’ ‘My poor fellow, you are a case for the +doctor. Sentry, take care of this man!’</p> +<p>So, he was bled and he was blistered, and he was this and +that, for six whole days and nights. So, then he again +asked leave to speak to the Admiral. The Admiral giv’ +leave. He went down on his knees in the Great State +Cabin. ‘Now, Admiral, you must die! You took no +warning; you must die! The rats are never wrong in their +calculations, and they make out that they’ll be through, at +twelve to-night. So, you must die!—With me and all +the rest!’ And so at twelve o’clock there was a +great leak reported in the ship, and a torrent of water rushed in +and nothing could stop it, and they all went down, every living +soul. And what the rats—being water-rats—left +of Chips, at last floated to shore, and sitting on him was an +immense overgrown rat, laughing, that dived when the corpse +touched the beach and never came up. And there was a deal +of seaweed on the remains. And if you get thirteen bits of +seaweed, and dry them and burn them in the fire, they will go off +like in these thirteen words as plain as plain can be:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘A Lemon has pips,<br /> +And a Yard has ships,<br /> +And <i>I</i>’ve got Chips!’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The same female bard—descended, possibly, from those +terrible old Scalds who seem to have existed for the express +purpose of addling the brains of mankind when they begin to +investigate languages—made a standing pretence which +greatly assisted in forcing me back to a number of hideous places +that I would by all means have avoided. This pretence was, +that all her ghost stories had occurred to her own +relations. Politeness towards a meritorious family, +therefore, forbade my doubting them, and they acquired an air of +authentication that impaired my digestive powers for life. +There was a narrative concerning an unearthly animal foreboding +death, which appeared in the open street to a parlour-maid who +‘went to fetch the beer’ for supper: first (as I now +recall it) assuming the likeness of a black dog, and gradually +rising on its hind-legs and swelling into the semblance of some +quadruped greatly surpassing a hippopotamus: which +apparition—not because I deemed it in the least improbable, +but because I felt it to be really too large to bear—I +feebly endeavoured to explain away. But, on Mercy’s +retorting with wounded dignity that the parlour-maid was her own +sister-in-law, I perceived there was no hope, and resigned myself +to this zoological phenomenon as one of my many pursuers. +There was another narrative describing the apparition of a young +woman who came out of a glass-case and haunted another young +woman until the other young woman questioned it and elicited that +its bones (Lord! To think of its being so particular about +its bones!) were buried under the glass-case, whereas she +required them to be interred, with every Undertaking solemnity up +to twenty-four pound ten, in another particular place. This +narrative I considered—I had a personal interest in +disproving, because we had glass-cases at home, and how, +otherwise, was I to be guaranteed from the intrusion of young +women requiring <i>me</i> to bury them up to twenty-four pound +ten, when I had only twopence a week? But my remorseless +nurse cut the ground from under my tender feet, by informing me +that She was the other young woman; and I couldn’t say +‘I don’t believe you;’ it was not possible.</p> +<p>Such are a few of the uncommercial journeys that I was forced +to make, against my will, when I was very young and +unreasoning. And really, as to the latter part of them, it +is not so very long ago—now I come to think of +it—that I was asked to undertake them once again, with a +steady countenance.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>XVI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ARCADIAN LONDON</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Being</span> in a humour for complete +solitude and uninterrupted meditation this autumn, I have taken a +lodging for six weeks in the most unfrequented part of +England—in a word, in London.</p> +<p>The retreat into which I have withdrawn myself, is +Bond-street. From this lonely spot I make pilgrimages into +the surrounding wilderness, and traverse extensive tracts of the +Great Desert. The first solemn feeling of isolation +overcome, the first oppressive consciousness of profound +retirement conquered, I enjoy that sense of freedom, and feel +reviving within me that latent wildness of the original savage, +which has been (upon the whole somewhat frequently) noticed by +Travellers.</p> +<p>My lodgings are at a hatter’s—my own +hatter’s. After exhibiting no articles in his window +for some weeks, but sea-side wide-awakes, shooting-caps, and a +choice of rough waterproof head-gear for the moors and mountains, +he has put upon the heads of his family as much of this stock as +they could carry, and has taken them off to the Isle of +Thanet. His young man alone remains—and remains alone +in the shop. The young man has let out the fire at which +the irons are heated, and, saving his strong sense of duty, I see +no reason why he should take the shutters down.</p> +<p>Happily for himself and for his country the young man is a +Volunteer; most happily for himself, or I think he would become +the prey of a settled melancholy. For, to live surrounded +by human hats, and alienated from human heads to fit them on, is +surely a great endurance. But, the young man, sustained by +practising his exercise, and by constantly furbishing up his +regulation plume (it is unnecessary to observe that, as a hatter, +he is in a cock’s-feather corps), is resigned, and +uncomplaining. On a Saturday, when he closes early and gets +his Knickerbockers on, he is even cheerful. I am gratefully +particular in this reference to him, because he is my companion +through many peaceful hours.</p> +<p>My hatter has a desk up certain steps behind his counter, +enclosed like the clerk’s desk at Church. I shut +myself into this place of seclusion, after breakfast, and +meditate. At such times, I observe the young man loading an +imaginary rifle with the greatest precision, and maintaining a +most galling and destructive fire upon the national enemy. +I thank him publicly for his companionship and his +patriotism.</p> +<p>The simple character of my life, and the calm nature of the +scenes by which I am surrounded, occasion me to rise early. +I go forth in my slippers, and promenade the pavement. It +is pastoral to feel the freshness of the air in the uninhabited +town, and to appreciate the shepherdess character of the few +milkwomen who purvey so little milk that it would be worth +nobody’s while to adulterate it, if anybody were left to +undertake the task. On the crowded sea-shore, the great +demand for milk, combined with the strong local temptation of +chalk, would betray itself in the lowered quality of the +article. In Arcadian London I derive it from the cow.</p> +<p>The Arcadian simplicity of the metropolis altogether, and the +primitive ways into which it has fallen in this autumnal Golden +Age, make it entirely new to me. Within a few hundred yards +of my retreat, is the house of a friend who maintains a most +sumptuous butler. I never, until yesterday, saw that butler +out of superfine black broadcloth. Until yesterday, I never +saw him off duty, never saw him (he is the best of butlers) with +the appearance of having any mind for anything but the glory of +his master and his master’s friends. Yesterday +morning, walking in my slippers near the house of which he is the +prop and ornament—a house now a waste of shutters—I +encountered that butler, also in his slippers, and in a shooting +suit of one colour, and in a low-crowned straw-hat, smoking an +early cigar. He felt that we had formerly met in another +state of existence, and that we were translated into a new +sphere. Wisely and well, he passed me without +recognition. Under his arm he carried the morning paper, +and shortly afterwards I saw him sitting on a rail in the +pleasant open landscape of Regent-street, perusing it at his ease +under the ripening sun.</p> +<p>My landlord having taken his whole establishment to be salted +down, I am waited on by an elderly woman labouring under a +chronic sniff, who, at the shadowy hour of half-past nine +o’clock of every evening, gives admittance at the street +door to a meagre and mouldy old man whom I have never yet seen +detached from a flat pint of beer in a pewter pot. The +meagre and mouldy old man is her husband, and the pair have a +dejected consciousness that they are not justified in appearing +on the surface of the earth. They come out of some hole +when London empties itself, and go in again when it fills. +I saw them arrive on the evening when I myself took possession, +and they arrived with the flat pint of beer, and their bed in a +bundle. The old man is a weak old man, and appeared to me +to get the bed down the kitchen stairs by tumbling down with and +upon it. They make their bed in the lowest and remotest +corner of the basement, and they smell of bed, and have no +possession but bed: unless it be (which I rather infer from an +under-current of flavour in them) cheese. I know their +name, through the chance of having called the wife’s +attention, at half-past nine on the second evening of our +acquaintance, to the circumstance of there being some one at the +house door; when she apologetically explained, ‘It’s +only Mr. Klem.’ What becomes of Mr. Klem all day, or +when he goes out, or why, is a mystery I cannot penetrate; but at +half-past nine he never fails to turn up on the door-step with +the flat pint of beer. And the pint of beer, flat as it is, +is so much more important than himself, that it always seems to +my fancy as if it had found him drivelling in the street and had +humanely brought him home. In making his way below, Mr. +Klem never goes down the middle of the passage, like another +Christian, but shuffles against the wall as if entreating me to +take notice that he is occupying as little space as possible in +the house; and whenever I come upon him face to face, he backs +from me in fascinated confusion. The most extraordinary +circumstance I have traced in connexion with this aged couple, +is, that there is a Miss Klem, their daughter, apparently ten +years older than either of them, who has also a bed and smells of +it, and carries it about the earth at dusk and hides it in +deserted houses. I came into this piece of knowledge +through Mrs. Klem’s beseeching me to sanction the +sheltering of Miss Klem under that roof for a single night, +‘between her takin’ care of the upper part in Pall +Mall which the family of his back, and a ’ouse in +Serjameses-street, which the family of leaves towng +ter-morrer.’ I gave my gracious consent (having +nothing that I know of to do with it), and in the shadowy hours +Miss Klem became perceptible on the door-step, wrestling with a +bed in a bundle. Where she made it up for the night I +cannot positively state, but, I think, in a sink. I know +that with the instinct of a reptile or an insect, she stowed it +and herself away in deep obscurity. In the Klem family, I +have noticed another remarkable gift of nature, and that is a +power they possess of converting everything into flue. Such +broken victuals as they take by stealth, appear (whatever the +nature of the viands) invariably to generate flue; and even the +nightly pint of beer, instead of assimilating naturally, strikes +me as breaking out in that form, equally on the shabby gown of +Mrs. Klem, and the threadbare coat of her husband.</p> +<p>Mrs. Klem has no idea of my name—as to Mr. Klem he has +no idea of anything—and only knows me as her good +gentleman. Thus, if doubtful whether I am in my room or no, +Mrs. Klem taps at the door and says, ‘Is my good gentleman +here?’ Or, if a messenger desiring to see me were +consistent with my solitude, she would show him in with +‘Here is my good gentleman.’ I find this to be +a generic custom. For, I meant to have observed before now, +that in its Arcadian time all my part of London is indistinctly +pervaded by the Klem species. They creep about with beds, +and go to bed in miles of deserted houses. They hold no +companionship except that sometimes, after dark, two of them will +emerge from opposite houses, and meet in the middle of the road +as on neutral ground, or will peep from adjoining houses over an +interposing barrier of area railings, and compare a few reserved +mistrustful notes respecting their good ladies or good +gentlemen. This I have discovered in the course of various +solitary rambles I have taken Northward from my retirement, along +the awful perspectives of Wimpole-street, Harley-street, and +similar frowning regions. Their effect would be scarcely +distinguishable from that of the primeval forests, but for the +Klem stragglers; these may be dimly observed, when the heavy +shadows fall, flitting to and fro, putting up the door-chain, +taking in the pint of beer, lowering like phantoms at the dark +parlour windows, or secretly consorting underground with the +dust-bin and the water-cistern.</p> +<p>In the Burlington Arcade, I observe, with peculiar pleasure, a +primitive state of manners to have superseded the baneful +influences of ultra civilisation. Nothing can surpass the +innocence of the ladies’ shoe-shops, the artificial-flower +repositories, and the head-dress depots. They are in +strange hands at this time of year—hands of unaccustomed +persons, who are imperfectly acquainted with the prices of the +goods, and contemplate them with unsophisticated delight and +wonder. The children of these virtuous people exchange +familiarities in the Arcade, and temper the asperity of the two +tall beadles. Their youthful prattle blends in an unwonted +manner with the harmonious shade of the scene, and the general +effect is, as of the voices of birds in a grove. In this +happy restoration of the golden time, it has been my privilege +even to see the bigger beadle’s wife. She brought him +his dinner in a basin, and he ate it in his arm-chair, and +afterwards fell asleep like a satiated child. At Mr. +Truefitt’s, the excellent hairdresser’s, they are +learning French to beguile the time; and even the few solitaries +left on guard at Mr. Atkinson’s, the perfumer’s round +the corner (generally the most inexorable gentleman in London, +and the most scornful of three-and-sixpence), condescend a +little, as they drowsily bide or recall their turn for chasing +the ebbing Neptune on the ribbed sea-sand. From Messrs. +Hunt and Roskell’s, the jewellers, all things are absent +but the precious stones, and the gold and silver, and the +soldierly pensioner at the door with his decorated breast. +I might stand night and day for a month to come, in Saville-row, +with my tongue out, yet not find a doctor to look at it for love +or money. The dentists’ instruments are rusting in +their drawers, and their horrible cool parlours, where people +pretend to read the Every-Day Book and not to be afraid, are +doing penance for their grimness in white sheets. The +light-weight of shrewd appearance, with one eye always shut up, +as if he were eating a sharp gooseberry in all seasons, who +usually stands at the gateway of the livery-stables on very +little legs under a very large waistcoat, has gone to +Doncaster. Of such undesigning aspect is his guileless yard +now, with its gravel and scarlet beans, and the yellow Break +housed under a glass roof in a corner, that I almost believe I +could not be taken in there, if I tried. In the places of +business of the great tailors, the cheval-glasses are dim and +dusty for lack of being looked into. Ranges of brown paper +coat and waistcoat bodies look as funereal as if they were the +hatchments of the customers with whose names they are inscribed; +the measuring tapes hang idle on the wall; the order-taker, left +on the hopeless chance of some one looking in, yawns in the last +extremity over the book of patterns, as if he were trying to read +that entertaining library. The hotels in Brook-street have +no one in them, and the staffs of servants stare disconsolately +for next season out of all the windows. The very man who +goes about like an erect Turtle, between two boards +recommendatory of the Sixteen Shilling Trousers, is aware of +himself as a hollow mockery, and eats filberts while he leans his +hinder shell against a wall.</p> +<p>Among these tranquillising objects, it is my delight to walk +and meditate. Soothed by the repose around me, I wander +insensibly to considerable distances, and guide myself back by +the stars. Thus, I enjoy the contrast of a few still +partially inhabited and busy spots where all the lights are not +fled, where all the garlands are not dead, whence all but I have +not departed. Then, does it appear to me that in this age +three things are clamorously required of Man in the miscellaneous +thoroughfares of the metropolis. Firstly, that he have his +boots cleaned. Secondly, that he eat a penny ice. +Thirdly, that he get himself photographed. Then do I +speculate, What have those seam-worn artists been who stand at +the photograph doors in Greek caps, sample in hand, and +mysteriously salute the public—the female public with a +pressing tenderness—to come in and be +‘took’? What did they do with their greasy +blandishments, before the era of cheap photography? Of what +class were their previous victims, and how victimised? And +how did they get, and how did they pay for, that large collection +of likenesses, all purporting to have been taken inside, with the +taking of none of which had that establishment any more to do +than with the taking of Delhi?</p> +<p>But, these are small oases, and I am soon back again in +metropolitan Arcadia. It is my impression that much of its +serene and peaceful character is attributable to the absence of +customary Talk. How do I know but there may be subtle +influences in Talk, to vex the souls of men who don’t hear +it? How do I know but that Talk, five, ten, twenty miles +off, may get into the air and disagree with me? If I rise +from my bed, vaguely troubled and wearied and sick of my life, in +the session of Parliament, who shall say that my noble friend, my +right reverend friend, my right honourable friend, my honourable +friend, my honourable and learned friend, or my honourable and +gallant friend, may not be responsible for that effect upon my +nervous system? Too much Ozone in the air, I am informed +and fully believe (though I have no idea what it is), would +affect me in a marvellously disagreeable way; why may not too +much Talk? I don’t see or hear the Ozone; I +don’t see or hear the Talk. And there is so much +Talk; so much too much; such loud cry, and such scant supply of +wool; such a deal of fleecing, and so little fleece! Hence, +in the Arcadian season, I find it a delicious triumph to walk +down to deserted Westminster, and see the Courts shut up; to walk +a little further and see the Two Houses shut up; to stand in the +Abbey Yard, like the New Zealander of the grand English History +(concerning which unfortunate man, a whole rookery of +mares’ nests is generally being discovered), and gloat upon +the ruins of Talk. Returning to my primitive solitude and +lying down to sleep, my grateful heart expands with the +consciousness that there is no adjourned Debate, no ministerial +explanation, nobody to give notice of intention to ask the noble +Lord at the head of her Majesty’s Government +five-and-twenty bootless questions in one, no term time with +legal argument, no Nisi Prius with eloquent appeal to British +Jury; that the air will to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, +remain untroubled by this superabundant generating of Talk. +In a minor degree it is a delicious triumph to me to go into the +club, and see the carpets up, and the Bores and the other dust +dispersed to the four winds. Again, New Zealander-like, I +stand on the cold hearth, and say in the solitude, ‘Here I +watched Bore A 1, with voice always mysteriously low and head +always mysteriously drooped, whispering political secrets into +the ears of Adam’s confiding children. Accursed be +his memory for ever and a day!’</p> +<p>But, I have all this time been coming to the point, that the +happy nature of my retirement is most sweetly expressed in its +being the abode of Love. It is, as it were, an inexpensive +Agapemone: nobody’s speculation: everybody’s +profit. The one great result of the resumption of primitive +habits, and (convertible terms) the not having much to do, is, +the abounding of Love.</p> +<p>The Klem species are incapable of the softer emotions; +probably, in that low nomadic race, the softer emotions have all +degenerated into flue. But, with this exception, all the +sharers of my retreat make love.</p> +<p>I have mentioned Saville-row. We all know the +Doctor’s servant. We all know what a respectable man +he is, what a hard dry man, what a firm man, what a confidential +man: how he lets us into the waiting-room, like a man who knows +minutely what is the matter with us, but from whom the rack +should not wring the secret. In the prosaic +“season,” he has distinctly the appearance of a man +conscious of money in the savings bank, and taking his stand on +his respectability with both feet. At that time it is as +impossible to associate him with relaxation, or any human +weakness, as it is to meet his eye without feeling guilty of +indisposition. In the blest Arcadian time, how +changed! I have seen him, in a pepper-and-salt +jacket—jacket—and drab trousers, with his arm round +the waist of a bootmaker’s housemaid, smiling in open +day. I have seen him at the pump by the Albany, +unsolicitedly pumping for two fair young creatures, whose figures +as they bent over their cans, were—if I may be allowed an +original expression—a model for the sculptor. I have +seen him trying the piano in the Doctor’s drawing-room with +his forefinger, and have heard him humming tunes in praise of +lovely woman. I have seen him seated on a fire-engine, and +going (obviously in search of excitement) to a fire. I saw +him, one moonlight evening when the peace and purity of our +Arcadian west were at their height, polk with the lovely daughter +of a cleaner of gloves, from the door-steps of his own residence, +across Saville-row, round by Clifford-street and Old +Burlington-street, back to Burlington-gardens. Is this the +Golden Age revived, or Iron London?</p> +<p>The Dentist’s servant. Is that man no mystery to +us, no type of invisible power? The tremendous individual +knows (who else does?) what is done with the extracted teeth; he +knows what goes on in the little room where something is always +being washed or filed; he knows what warm spicy infusion is put +into the comfortable tumbler from which we rinse our wounded +mouth, with a gap in it that feels a foot wide; he knows whether +the thing we spit into is a fixture communicating with the +Thames, or could be cleared away for a dance; he sees the +horrible parlour where there are no patients in it, and he could +reveal, if he would, what becomes of the Every-Day Book +then. The conviction of my coward conscience when I see +that man in a professional light, is, that he knows all the +statistics of my teeth and gums, my double teeth, my single +teeth, my stopped teeth, and my sound. In this Arcadian +rest, I am fearless of him as of a harmless, powerless creature +in a Scotch cap, who adores a young lady in a voluminous +crinoline, at a neighbouring billiard-room, and whose passion +would be uninfluenced if every one of her teeth were false. +They may be. He takes them all on trust.</p> +<p>In secluded corners of the place of my seclusion, there are +little shops withdrawn from public curiosity, and never two +together, where servants’ perquisites are bought. The +cook may dispose of grease at these modest and convenient marts; +the butler, of bottles; the valet and lady’s maid, of +clothes; most servants, indeed, of most things they may happen to +lay hold of. I have been told that in sterner times loving +correspondence, otherwise interdicted, may be maintained by +letter through the agency of some of these useful +establishments. In the Arcadian autumn, no such device is +necessary. Everybody loves, and openly and blamelessly +loves. My landlord’s young man loves the whole of one +side of the way of Old Bond-street, and is beloved several doors +up New Bond-street besides. I never look out of window but +I see kissing of hands going on all around me. It is the +morning custom to glide from shop to shop and exchange tender +sentiments; it is the evening custom for couples to stand hand in +hand at house doors, or roam, linked in that flowery manner, +through the unpeopled streets. There is nothing else to do +but love; and what there is to do, is done.</p> +<p>In unison with this pursuit, a chaste simplicity obtains in +the domestic habits of Arcadia. Its few scattered people +dine early, live moderately, sup socially, and sleep +soundly. It is rumoured that the Beadles of the Arcade, +from being the mortal enemies of boys, have signed with tears an +address to Lord Shaftesbury, and subscribed to a ragged +school. No wonder! For, they might turn their heavy +maces into crooks and tend sheep in the Arcade, to the purling of +the water-carts as they give the thirsty streets much more to +drink than they can carry.</p> +<p>A happy Golden Age, and a serene tranquillity. Charming +picture, but it will fade. The iron age will return, London +will come back to town, if I show my tongue then in Saville-row +for half a minute I shall be prescribed for, the Doctor’s +man and the Dentist’s man will then pretend that these days +of unprofessional innocence never existed. Where Mr. and +Mrs. Klem and their bed will be at that time, passes human +knowledge; but my hatter hermitage will then know them no more, +nor will it then know me. The desk at which I have written +these meditations will retributively assist at the making out of +my account, and the wheels of gorgeous carriages and the hoofs of +high-stepping horses will crush the silence out of +Bond-street—will grind Arcadia away, and give it to the +elements in granite powder.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>XVII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE ITALIAN PRISONER</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> rising of the Italian people +from under their unutterable wrongs, and the tardy burst of day +upon them after the long long night of oppression that has +darkened their beautiful country, have naturally caused my mind +to dwell often of late on my own small wanderings in Italy. +Connected with them, is a curious little drama, in which the +character I myself sustained was so very subordinate that I may +relate its story without any fear of being suspected of +self-display. It is strictly a true story.</p> +<p>I am newly arrived one summer evening, in a certain small town +on the Mediterranean. I have had my dinner at the inn, and +I and the mosquitoes are coming out into the streets +together. It is far from Naples; but a bright, brown, plump +little woman-servant at the inn, is a Neapolitan, and is so +vivaciously expert in panto-mimic action, that in the single +moment of answering my request to have a pair of shoes cleaned +which I have left up-stairs, she plies imaginary brushes, and +goes completely through the motions of polishing the shoes up, +and laying them at my feet. I smile at the brisk little +woman in perfect satisfaction with her briskness; and the brisk +little woman, amiably pleased with me because I am pleased with +her, claps her hands and laughs delightfully. We are in the +inn yard. As the little woman’s bright eyes sparkle +on the cigarette I am smoking, I make bold to offer her one; she +accepts it none the less merrily, because I touch a most charming +little dimple in her fat cheek, with its light paper end. +Glancing up at the many green lattices to assure herself that the +mistress is not looking on, the little woman then puts her two +little dimple arms a-kimbo, and stands on tiptoe to light her +cigarette at mine. ‘And now, dear little sir,’ +says she, puffing out smoke in a most innocent and cherubic +manner, ‘keep quite straight on, take the first to the +right and probably you will see him standing at his +door.’</p> +<p>I gave a commission to ‘him,’ and I have been +inquiring about him. I have carried the commission about +Italy several months. Before I left England, there came to +me one night a certain generous and gentle English nobleman (he +is dead in these days when I relate the story, and exiles have +lost their best British friend), with this request: +‘Whenever you come to such a town, will you seek out one +Giovanni Carlavero, who keeps a little wine-shop there, mention +my name to him suddenly, and observe how it affects +him?’ I accepted the trust, and am on my way to +discharge it.</p> +<p>The sirocco has been blowing all day, and it is a hot +unwholesome evening with no cool sea-breeze. Mosquitoes and +fire-flies are lively enough, but most other creatures are +faint. The coquettish airs of pretty young women in the +tiniest and wickedest of dolls’ straw hats, who lean out at +opened lattice blinds, are almost the only airs stirring. +Very ugly and haggard old women with distaffs, and with a grey +tow upon them that looks as if they were spinning out their own +hair (I suppose they were once pretty, too, but it is very +difficult to believe so), sit on the footway leaning against +house walls. Everybody who has come for water to the +fountain, stays there, and seems incapable of any such energetic +idea as going home. Vespers are over, though not so long +but that I can smell the heavy resinous incense as I pass the +church. No man seems to be at work, save the +coppersmith. In an Italian town he is always at work, and +always thumping in the deadliest manner.</p> +<p>I keep straight on, and come in due time to the first on the +right: a narrow dull street, where I see a well-favoured man of +good stature and military bearing, in a great cloak, standing at +a door. Drawing nearer to this threshold, I see it is the +threshold of a small wine-shop; and I can just make out, in the +dim light, the inscription that it is kept by Giovanni +Carlavero.</p> +<p>I touch my hat to the figure in the cloak, and pass in, and +draw a stool to a little table. The lamp (just such another +as they dig out of Pompeii) is lighted, but the place is +empty. The figure in the cloak has followed me in, and +stands before me.</p> +<p>‘The master?’</p> +<p>‘At your service, sir.’</p> +<p>‘Please to give me a glass of the wine of the +country.’</p> +<p>He turns to a little counter, to get it. As his striking +face is pale, and his action is evidently that of an enfeebled +man, I remark that I fear he has been ill. It is not much, +he courteously and gravely answers, though bad while it lasts: +the fever.</p> +<p>As he sets the wine on the little table, to his manifest +surprise I lay my hand on the back of his, look him in the face, +and say in a low voice: ‘I am an Englishman, and you are +acquainted with a friend of mine. Do you +recollect—?’ and I mentioned the name of my generous +countryman.</p> +<p>Instantly, he utters a loud cry, bursts into tears, and falls +on his knees at my feet, clasping my legs in both his arms and +bowing his head to the ground.</p> +<p>Some years ago, this man at my feet, whose over-fraught heart +is heaving as if it would burst from his breast, and whose tears +are wet upon the dress I wear, was a galley-slave in the North of +Italy. He was a political offender, having been concerned +in the then last rising, and was sentenced to imprisonment for +life. That he would have died in his chains, is certain, +but for the circumstance that the Englishman happened to visit +his prison.</p> +<p>It was one of the vile old prisons of Italy, and a part of it +was below the waters of the harbour. The place of his +confinement was an arched under-ground and under-water gallery, +with a grill-gate at the entrance, through which it received such +light and air as it got. Its condition was insufferably +foul, and a stranger could hardly breathe in it, or see in it +with the aid of a torch. At the upper end of this dungeon, +and consequently in the worst position, as being the furthest +removed from light and air, the Englishman first beheld him, +sitting on an iron bedstead to which he was chained by a heavy +chain. His countenance impressed the Englishmen as having +nothing in common with the faces of the malefactors with whom he +was associated, and he talked with him, and learnt how he came to +be there.</p> +<p>When the Englishman emerged from the dreadful den into the +light of day, he asked his conductor, the governor of the jail, +why Giovanni Carlavero was put into the worst place?</p> +<p>‘Because he is particularly recommended,’ was the +stringent answer.</p> +<p>‘Recommended, that is to say, for death?’</p> +<p>‘Excuse me; particularly recommended,’ was again +the answer.</p> +<p>‘He has a bad tumour in his neck, no doubt occasioned by +the hardship of his miserable life. If he continues to be +neglected, and he remains where he is, it will kill +him.’</p> +<p>‘Excuse me, I can do nothing. He is particularly +recommended.’ The Englishman was staying in that +town, and he went to his home there; but the figure of this man +chained to the bedstead made it no home, and destroyed his rest +and peace. He was an Englishman of an extraordinarily +tender heart, and he could not bear the picture. He went +back to the prison grate; went back again and again, and talked +to the man and cheered him. He used his utmost influence to +get the man unchained from the bedstead, were it only for ever so +short a time in the day, and permitted to come to the +grate. It look a long time, but the Englishman’s +station, personal character, and steadiness of purpose, wore out +opposition so far, and that grace was at last accorded. +Through the bars, when he could thus get light upon the tumour, +the Englishman lanced it, and it did well, and healed. His +strong interest in the prisoner had greatly increased by this +time, and he formed the desperate resolution that he would exert +his utmost self-devotion and use his utmost efforts, to get +Carlavero pardoned.</p> +<p>If the prisoner had been a brigand and a murderer, if he had +committed every non-political crime in the Newgate Calendar and +out of it, nothing would have been easier than for a man of any +court or priestly influence to obtain his release. As it +was, nothing could have been more difficult. Italian +authorities, and English authorities who had interest with them, +alike assured the Englishman that his object was hopeless. +He met with nothing but evasion, refusal, and ridicule. His +political prisoner became a joke in the place. It was +especially observable that English Circumlocution, and English +Society on its travels, were as humorous on the subject as +Circumlocution and Society may be on any subject without loss of +caste. But, the Englishman possessed (and proved it well in +his life) a courage very uncommon among us: he had not the least +fear of being considered a bore, in a good humane cause. So +he went on persistently trying, and trying, and trying, to get +Giovanni Carlavero out. That prisoner had been rigorously +re-chained, after the tumour operation, and it was not likely +that his miserable life could last very long.</p> +<p>One day, when all the town knew about the Englishman and his +political prisoner, there came to the Englishman, a certain +sprightly Italian Advocate of whom he had some knowledge; and he +made this strange proposal. ‘Give me a hundred pounds +to obtain Carlavero’s release. I think I can get him +a pardon, with that money. But I cannot tell you what I am +going to do with the money, nor must you ever ask me the question +if I succeed, nor must you ever ask me for an account of the +money if I fail.’ The Englishman decided to hazard +the hundred pounds. He did so, and heard not another word +of the matter. For half a year and more, the Advocate made +no sign, and never once ‘took on’ in any way, to have +the subject on his mind. The Englishman was then obliged to +change his residence to another and more famous town in the North +of Italy. He parted from the poor prisoner with a sorrowful +heart, as from a doomed man for whom there was no release but +Death.</p> +<p>The Englishman lived in his new place of abode another +half-year and more, and had no tidings of the wretched +prisoner. At length, one day, he received from the Advocate +a cool, concise, mysterious note, to this effect. ‘If +you still wish to bestow that benefit upon the man in whom you +were once interested, send me fifty pounds more, and I think it +can be ensured.’ Now, the Englishman had long settled +in his mind that the Advocate was a heartless sharper, who had +preyed upon his credulity and his interest in an unfortunate +sufferer. So, he sat down and wrote a dry answer, giving +the Advocate to understand that he was wiser now than he had been +formerly, and that no more money was extractable from his +pocket.</p> +<p>He lived outside the city gates, some mile or two from the +post-office, and was accustomed to walk into the city with his +letters and post them himself. On a lovely spring day, when +the sky was exquisitely blue, and the sea Divinely beautiful, he +took his usual walk, carrying this letter to the Advocate in his +pocket. As he went along, his gentle heart was much moved +by the loveliness of the prospect, and by the thought of the +slowly dying prisoner chained to the bedstead, for whom the +universe had no delights. As he drew nearer and nearer to +the city where he was to post the letter, he became very uneasy +in his mind. He debated with himself, was it remotely +possible, after all, that this sum of fifty pounds could restore +the fellow-creature whom he pitied so much, and for whom he had +striven so hard, to liberty? He was not a conventionally +rich Englishman—very far from that—but, he had a +spare fifty pounds at the banker’s. He resolved to +risk it. Without doubt, <span class="smcap">God</span> has +recompensed him for the resolution.</p> +<p>He went to the banker’s, and got a bill for the amount, +and enclosed it in a letter to the Advocate that I wish I could +have seen. He simply told the Advocate that he was quite a +poor man, and that he was sensible it might be a great weakness +in him to part with so much money on the faith of so vague a +communication; but, that there it was, and that he prayed the +Advocate to make a good use of it. If he did otherwise no +good could ever come of it, and it would lie heavy on his soul +one day.</p> +<p>Within a week, the Englishman was sitting at his breakfast, +when he heard some suppressed sounds of agitation on the +staircase, and Giovanni Carlavero leaped into the room and fell +upon his breast, a free man!</p> +<p>Conscious of having wronged the Advocate in his own thoughts, +the Englishman wrote him an earnest and grateful letter, avowing +the fact, and entreating him to confide by what means and through +what agency he had succeeded so well. The Advocate returned +for answer through the post, ‘There are many things, as you +know, in this Italy of ours, that are safest and best not even +spoken of—far less written of. We may meet some day, +and then I may tell you what you want to know; not here, and +now.’ But, the two never did meet again. The +Advocate was dead when the Englishman gave me my trust; and how +the man had been set free, remained as great a mystery to the +Englishman, and to the man himself, as it was to me.</p> +<p>But, I knew this:—here was the man, this sultry night, +on his knees at my feet, because I was the Englishman’s +friend; here were his tears upon my dress; here were his sobs +choking his utterance; here were his kisses on my hands, because +they had touched the hands that had worked out his release. +He had no need to tell me it would be happiness to him to die for +his benefactor; I doubt if I ever saw real, sterling, fervent +gratitude of soul, before or since.</p> +<p>He was much watched and suspected, he said, and had had enough +to do to keep himself out of trouble. This, and his not +having prospered in his worldly affairs, had led to his having +failed in his usual communications to the Englishman for—as +I now remember the period—some two or three years. +But, his prospects were brighter, and his wife who had been very +ill had recovered, and his fever had left him, and he had bought +a little vineyard, and would I carry to his benefactor the first +of its wine? Ay, that I would (I told him with enthusiasm), +and not a drop of it should be spilled or lost!</p> +<p>He had cautiously closed the door before speaking of himself, +and had talked with such excess of emotion, and in a provincial +Italian so difficult to understand, that I had more than once +been obliged to stop him, and beg him to have compassion on me +and be slower and calmer. By degrees he became so, and +tranquilly walked back with me to the hotel. There, I sat +down before I went to bed and wrote a faithful account of him to +the Englishman: which I concluded by saying that I would bring +the wine home, against any difficulties, every drop.</p> +<p>Early next morning, when I came out at the hotel door to +pursue my journey, I found my friend waiting with one of those +immense bottles in which the Italian peasants store their +wine—a bottle holding some half-dozen gallons—bound +round with basket-work for greater safety on the journey. I +see him now, in the bright sunshine, tears of gratitude in his +eyes, proudly inviting my attention to this corpulent +bottle. (At the street-comer hard by, two high-flavoured, +able-bodied monks—pretending to talk together, but keeping +their four evil eyes upon us.)</p> +<p>How the bottle had been got there, did not appear; but the +difficulty of getting it into the ramshackle vetturino carriage +in which I was departing, was so great, and it took up so much +room when it was got in, that I elected to sit outside. The +last I saw of Giovanni Carlavero was his running through the town +by the side of the jingling wheels, clasping my hand as I +stretched it down from the box, charging me with a thousand last +loving and dutiful messages to his dear patron, and finally +looking in at the bottle as it reposed inside, with an admiration +of its honourable way of travelling that was beyond measure +delightful.</p> +<p>And now, what disquiet of mind this dearly-beloved and +highly-treasured Bottle began to cost me, no man knows. It +was my precious charge through a long tour, and, for hundreds of +miles, I never had it off my mind by day or by night. Over +bad roads—and they were many—I clung to it with +affectionate desperation. Up mountains, I looked in at it +and saw it helplessly tilting over on its back, with +terror. At innumerable inn doors when the weather was bad, +I was obliged to be put into my vehicle before the Bottle could +be got in, and was obliged to have the Bottle lifted out before +human aid could come near me. The Imp of the same name, +except that his associations were all evil and these associations +were all good, would have been a less troublesome travelling +companion. I might have served Mr. Cruikshank as a subject +for a new illustration of the miseries of the Bottle. The +National Temperance Society might have made a powerful Tract of +me.</p> +<p>The suspicions that attached to this innocent Bottle, greatly +aggravated my difficulties. It was like the apple-pie in +the child’s book. Parma pouted at it, Modena mocked +it, Tuscany tackled it, Naples nibbled it, Rome refused it, +Austria accused it, Soldiers suspected it, Jesuits jobbed +it. I composed a neat Oration, developing my inoffensive +intentions in connexion with this Bottle, and delivered it in an +infinity of guard-houses, at a multitude of town gates, and on +every drawbridge, angle, and rampart, of a complete system of +fortifications. Fifty times a day, I got down to harangue +an infuriated soldiery about the Bottle. Through the filthy +degradation of the abject and vile Roman States, I had as much +difficulty in working my way with the Bottle, as if it had +bottled up a complete system of heretical theology. In the +Neapolitan country, where everybody was a spy, a soldier, a +priest, or a lazzarone, the shameless beggars of all four +denominations incessantly pounced on the Bottle and made it a +pretext for extorting money from me. Quires—quires do +I say? Reams—of forms illegibly printed on +whity-brown paper were filled up about the Bottle, and it was the +subject of more stamping and sanding than I had ever seen +before. In consequence of which haze of sand, perhaps, it +was always irregular, and always latent with dismal penalties of +going back or not going forward, which were only to be abated by +the silver crossing of a base hand, poked shirtless out of a +ragged uniform sleeve. Under all discouragements, however, +I stuck to my Bottle, and held firm to my resolution that every +drop of its contents should reach the Bottle’s +destination.</p> +<p>The latter refinement cost me a separate heap of troubles on +its own separate account. What corkscrews did I see the +military power bring out against that Bottle; what gimlets, +spikes, divining rods, gauges, and unknown tests and +instruments! At some places, they persisted in declaring +that the wine must not be passed, without being opened and +tasted; I, pleading to the contrary, used then to argue the +question seated on the Bottle lest they should open it in spite +of me. In the southern parts of Italy more violent +shrieking, face-making, and gesticulating, greater vehemence of +speech and countenance and action, went on about that Bottle than +would attend fifty murders in a northern latitude. It +raised important functionaries out of their beds, in the dead of +night. I have known half-a-dozen military lanterns to +disperse themselves at all points of a great sleeping Piazza, +each lantern summoning some official creature to get up, put on +his cocked-hat instantly, and come and stop the Bottle. It +was characteristic that while this innocent Bottle had such +immense difficulty in getting from little town to town, Signor +Mazzini and the fiery cross were traversing Italy from end to +end.</p> +<p>Still, I stuck to my Bottle, like any fine old English +gentleman all of the olden time. The more the Bottle was +interfered with, the stauncher I became (if possible) in my first +determination that my countryman should have it delivered to him +intact, as the man whom he had so nobly restored to life and +liberty had delivered it to me. If ever I had been +obstinate in my days—and I may have been, say, once or +twice—I was obstinate about the Bottle. But, I made +it a rule always to keep a pocket full of small coin at its +service, and never to be out of temper in its cause. Thus, +I and the Bottle made our way. Once we had a break-down; +rather a bad break-down, on a steep high place with the sea below +us, on a tempestuous evening when it blew great guns. We +were driving four wild horses abreast, Southern fashion, and +there was some little difficulty in stopping them. I was +outside, and not thrown off; but no words can describe my +feelings when I saw the Bottle—travelling inside, as +usual—burst the door open, and roll obesely out into the +road. A blessed Bottle with a charmed existence, he took no +hurt, and we repaired damage, and went on triumphant.</p> +<p>A thousand representations were made to me that the Bottle +must be left at this place, or that, and called for again. +I never yielded to one of them, and never parted from the Bottle, +on any pretence, consideration, threat, or entreaty. I had +no faith in any official receipt for the Bottle, and nothing +would induce me to accept one. These unmanageable politics +at last brought me and the Bottle, still triumphant, to +Genoa. There, I took a tender and reluctant leave of him +for a few weeks, and consigned him to a trusty English captain, +to be conveyed to the Port of London by sea.</p> +<p>While the Bottle was on his voyage to England, I read the +Shipping Intelligence as anxiously as if I had been an +underwriter. There was some stormy weather after I myself +had got to England by way of Switzerland and France, and my mind +greatly misgave me that the Bottle might be wrecked. At +last to my great joy, I received notice of his safe arrival, and +immediately went down to Saint Katharine’s Docks, and found +him in a state of honourable captivity in the Custom House.</p> +<p>The wine was mere vinegar when I set it down before the +generous Englishman—probably it had been something like +vinegar when I took it up from Giovanni Carlavero—but not a +drop of it was spilled or gone. And the Englishman told me, +with much emotion in his face and voice, that he had never tasted +wine that seemed to him so sweet and sound. And long +afterwards, the Bottle graced his table. And the last time +I saw him in this world that misses him, he took me aside in a +crowd, to say, with his amiable smile: ‘We were talking of +you only to-day at dinner, and I wished you had been there, for I +had some Claret up in Carlavero’s Bottle.’</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>XVIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE CALAIS NIGHT MAIL</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is an unsettled question with me +whether I shall leave Calais something handsome in my will, or +whether I shall leave it my malediction. I hate it so much, +and yet I am always so very glad to see it, that I am in a state +of constant indecision on this subject. When I first made +acquaintance with Calais, it was as a maundering young wretch in +a clammy perspiration and dripping saline particles, who was +conscious of no extremities but the one great extremity, +sea-sickness—who was a mere bilious torso, with a mislaid +headache somewhere in its stomach—who had been put into a +horrible swing in Dover Harbour, and had tumbled giddily out of +it on the French coast, or the Isle of Man, or anywhere. +Times have changed, and now I enter Calais self-reliant and +rational. I know where it is beforehand, I keep a look out +for it, I recognise its landmarks when I see any of them, I am +acquainted with its ways, and I know—and I can +bear—its worst behaviour.</p> +<p>Malignant Calais! Low-lying alligator, evading the +eyesight and discouraging hope! Dodging flat streak, now on +this bow, now on that, now anywhere, now everywhere, now +nowhere! In vain Cape Grinez, coming frankly forth into the +sea, exhorts the failing to be stout of heart and stomach: +sneaking Calais, prone behind its bar, invites emetically to +despair. Even when it can no longer quite conceal itself in +its muddy dock, it has an evil way of falling off, has Calais, +which is more hopeless than its invisibility. The pier is +all but on the bowsprit, and you think you are there—roll, +roar, wash!—Calais has retired miles inland, and Dover has +burst out to look for it. It has a last dip and slide in +its character, has Calais, to be especially commanded to the +infernal gods. Thrice accursed be that garrison-town, when +it dives under the boat’s keel, and comes up a league or +two to the right, with the packet shivering and spluttering and +staring about for it!</p> +<p>Not but what I have my animosities towards Dover. I +particularly detest Dover for the self-complacency with which it +goes to bed. It always goes to bed (when I am going to +Calais) with a more brilliant display of lamp and candle than any +other town. Mr. and Mrs. Birmingham, host and hostess of +the Lord Warden Hotel, are my much esteemed friends, but they are +too conceited about the comforts of that establishment when the +Night Mail is starting. I know it is a good house to stay +at, and I don’t want the fact insisted upon in all its warm +bright windows at such an hour. I know the Warden is a +stationary edifice that never rolls or pitches, and I object to +its big outline seeming to insist upon that circumstance, and, as +it were, to come over me with it, when I am reeling on the deck +of the boat. Beshrew the Warden likewise, for obstructing +that corner, and making the wind so angry as it rushes +round. Shall I not know that it blows quite soon enough, +without the officious Warden’s interference?</p> +<p>As I wait here on board the night packet, for the +South-Eastern Train to come down with the Mail, Dover appears to +me to be illuminated for some intensely aggravating festivity in +my personal dishonour. All its noises smack of taunting +praises of the land, and dispraises of the gloomy sea, and of me +for going on it. The drums upon the heights have gone to +bed, or I know they would rattle taunts against me for having my +unsteady footing on this slippery deck. The many gas eyes +of the Marine Parade twinkle in an offensive manner, as if with +derision. The distant dogs of Dover bark at me in my +misshapen wrappers, as if I were Richard the Third.</p> +<p>A screech, a bell, and two red eyes come gliding down the +Admiralty Pier with a smoothness of motion rendered more smooth +by the heaving of the boat. The sea makes noises against +the pier, as if several hippopotami were lapping at it, and were +prevented by circumstances over which they had no control from +drinking peaceably. We, the boat, become violently +agitated—rumble, hum, scream, roar, and establish an +immense family washing-day at each paddle-box. Bright +patches break out in the train as the doors of the post-office +vans are opened, and instantly stooping figures with sacks upon +their backs begin to be beheld among the piles, descending as it +would seem in ghostly procession to Davy Jones’s +Locker. The passengers come on board; a few shadowy +Frenchmen, with hatboxes shaped like the stoppers of gigantic +case-bottles; a few shadowy Germans in immense fur coats and +boots; a few shadowy Englishmen prepared for the worst and +pretending not to expect it. I cannot disguise from my +uncommercial mind the miserable fact that we are a body of +outcasts; that the attendants on us are as scant in number as may +serve to get rid of us with the least possible delay; that there +are no night-loungers interested in us; that the unwilling lamps +shiver and shudder at us; that the sole object is to commit us to +the deep and abandon us. Lo, the two red eyes glaring in +increasing distance, and then the very train itself has gone to +bed before we are off!</p> +<p>What is the moral support derived by some sea-going amateurs +from an umbrella? Why do certain voyagers across the +Channel always put up that article, and hold it up with a grim +and fierce tenacity? A fellow-creature near me—whom I +only know to <i>be</i> a fellow-creature, because of his +umbrella: without which he might be a dark bit of cliff, pier, or +bulkbead—clutches that instrument with a desperate grasp, +that will not relax until he lands at Calais. Is there any +analogy, in certain constitutions, between keeping an umbrella +up, and keeping the spirits up? A hawser thrown on board +with a flop replies ‘Stand by!’ ‘Stand +by, below!’ ‘Half a turn a head!’ +‘Half a turn a head!’ ‘Half +speed!’ ‘Half speed!’ +‘Port!’ ‘Port!’ +‘Steady!’ ‘Steady!’ ‘Go +on!’ ‘Go on!’</p> +<p>A stout wooden wedge driven in at my right temple and out at +my left, a floating deposit of lukewarm oil in my throat, and a +compression of the bridge of my nose in a blunt pair of +pincers,—these are the personal sensations by which I know +we are off, and by which I shall continue to know it until I am +on the soil of France. My symptoms have scarcely +established themselves comfortably, when two or three skating +shadows that have been trying to walk or stand, get flung +together, and other two or three shadows in tarpaulin slide with +them into corners and cover them up. Then the South +Foreland lights begin to hiccup at us in a way that bodes no +good.</p> +<p>It is at about this period that my detestation of Calais knows +no bounds. Inwardly I resolve afresh that I never will +forgive that hated town. I have done so before, many times, +but that is past. Let me register a vow. Implacable +animosity to Calais everm— that was an awkward sea, and the +funnel seems of my opinion, for it gives a complaining roar.</p> +<p>The wind blows stiffly from the Nor-East, the sea runs high, +we ship a deal of water, the night is dark and cold, and the +shapeless passengers lie about in melancholy bundles, as if they +were sorted out for the laundress; but for my own uncommercial +part I cannot pretend that I am much inconvenienced by any of +these things. A general howling, whistling, flopping, +gurgling, and scooping, I am aware of, and a general knocking +about of Nature; but the impressions I receive are very +vague. In a sweet faint temper, something like the smell of +damaged oranges, I think I should feel languidly benevolent if I +had time. I have not time, because I am under a curious +compulsion to occupy myself with the Irish melodies. +‘Rich and rare were the gems she wore,’ is the +particular melody to which I find myself devoted. I sing it +to myself in the most charming manner and with the greatest +expression. Now and then, I raise my head (I am sitting on +the hardest of wet seats, in the most uncomfortable of wet +attitudes, but I don’t mind it,) and notice that I am a +whirling shuttlecock between a fiery battledore of a lighthouse +on the French coast and a fiery battledore of a lighthouse on the +English coast; but I don’t notice it particularly, except +to feel envenomed in my hatred of Calais. Then I go on +again, ‘Rich and rare were the ge-ems she-e-e-e wore, And a +bright gold ring on her wa-and she bo-ore, But O her beauty was +fa-a-a-a-r beyond’—I am particularly proud of my +execution here, when I become aware of another awkward shock from +the sea, and another protest from the funnel, and a +fellow-creature at the paddle-box more audibly indisposed than I +think he need be—‘Her sparkling gems, or snow-white +wand, But O her beauty was fa-a-a-a-a-r +beyond’—another awkward one here, and the +fellow-creature with the umbrella down and picked +up—‘Her spa-a-rkling ge-ems, or her Port! port! +steady! steady! snow-white fellow-creature at the paddle-box very +selfishly audible, bump, roar, wash, white wand.’</p> +<p>As my execution of the Irish melodies partakes of my imperfect +perceptions of what is going on around me, so what is going on +around me becomes something else than what it is. The +stokers open the furnace doors below, to feed the fires, and I am +again on the box of the old Exeter Telegraph fast coach, and that +is the light of the for ever extinguished coach-lamps, and the +gleam on the hatches and paddle-boxes is <i>their</i> gleam on +cottages and haystacks, and the monotonous noise of the engines +is the steady jingle of the splendid team. Anon, the +intermittent funnel roar of protest at every violent roll, +becomes the regular blast of a high pressure engine, and I +recognise the exceedingly explosive steamer in which I ascended +the Mississippi when the American civil war was not, and when +only its causes were. A fragment of mast on which the light +of a lantern falls, an end of rope, and a jerking block or so, +become suggestive of Franconi’s Circus at Paris where I +shall be this very night mayhap (for it must be morning now), and +they dance to the self-same time and tune as the trained steed, +Black Raven. What may be the speciality of these waves as +they come rushing on, I cannot desert the pressing demands made +upon me by the gems she wore, to inquire, but they are charged +with something about Robinson Crusoe, and I think it was in +Yarmouth Roads that he first went a seafaring and was near +foundering (what a terrific sound that word had for me when I was +a boy!) in his first gale of wind. Still, through all this, +I must ask her (who <i>was</i> she I wonder!) for the fiftieth +time, and without ever stopping, Does she not fear to stray, So +lone and lovely through this bleak way, And are Erin’s sons +so good or so cold, As not to be tempted by more fellow-creatures +at the paddle-box or gold? Sir Knight I feel not the least +alarm, No son of Erin will offer me harm, For though they love +fellow-creature with umbrella down again and golden store, Sir +Knight they what a tremendous one love honour and virtue more: +For though they love Stewards with a bull’s eye bright, +they’ll trouble you for your ticket, sir-rough passage +to-night!</p> +<p>I freely admit it to be a miserable piece of human weakness +and inconsistency, but I no sooner become conscious of those last +words from the steward than I begin to soften towards +Calais. Whereas I have been vindictively wishing that those +Calais burghers who came out of their town by a short cut into +the History of England, with those fatal ropes round their necks +by which they have since been towed into so many cartoons, had +all been hanged on the spot, I now begin to regard them as highly +respectable and virtuous tradesmen. Looking about me, I see +the light of Cape Grinez well astern of the boat on the davits to +leeward, and the light of Calais Harbour undeniably at its old +tricks, but still ahead and shining. Sentiments of +forgiveness of Calais, not to say of attachment to Calais, begin +to expand my bosom. I have weak notions that I will stay +there a day or two on my way back. A faded and recumbent +stranger pausing in a profound reverie over the rim of a basin, +asks me what kind of place Calais is? I tell him (Heaven +forgive me!) a very agreeable place indeed—rather hilly +than otherwise.</p> +<p>So strangely goes the time, and on the whole so +quickly—though still I seem to have been on board a +week—that I am bumped, rolled, gurgled, washed and pitched +into Calais Harbour before her maiden smile has finally lighted +her through the Green Isle, When blest for ever is she who +relied, On entering Calais at the top of the tide. For we +have not to land to-night down among those slimy +timbers—covered with green hair as if it were the +mermaids’ favourite combing-place—where one crawls to +the surface of the jetty, like a stranded shrimp, but we go +steaming up the harbour to the Railway Station Quay. And as +we go, the sea washes in and out among piles and planks, with +dead heavy beats and in quite a furious manner (whereof we are +proud), and the lamps shake in the wind, and the bells of Calais +striking One seem to send their vibrations struggling against +troubled air, as we have come struggling against troubled +water. And now, in the sudden relief and wiping of faces, +everybody on board seems to have had a prodigious double-tooth +out, and to be this very instant free of the Dentist’s +hands. And now we all know for the first time how wet and +cold we are, and how salt we are; and now I love Calais with my +heart of hearts!</p> +<p>‘Hôtel Dessin!’ (but in this one case it is +not a vocal cry; it is but a bright lustre in the eyes of the +cheery representative of that best of inns). +‘Hôtel Meurice!’ ‘Hôtel de +France!’ ‘Hôtel de Calais!’ +‘The Royal Hotel, Sir, Angaishe ouse!’ +‘You going to Parry, Sir?’ ‘Your baggage, +registair froo, Sir?’ Bless ye, my Touters, bless ye, +my commissionaires, bless ye, my hungry-eyed mysteries in caps of +a military form, who are always here, day or night, fair weather +or foul, seeking inscrutable jobs which I never see you +get! Bless ye, my Custom House officers in green and grey; +permit me to grasp the welcome hands that descend into my +travelling-bag, one on each side, and meet at the bottom to give +my change of linen a peculiar shake up, as if it were a measure +of chaff or grain! I have nothing to declare, Monsieur le +Douanier, except that when I cease to breathe, Calais will be +found written on my heart. No article liable to local duty +have I with me, Monsieur l’Officier de l’Octroi, +unless the overflowing of a breast devoted to your charming town +should be in that wise chargeable. Ah! see at the gangway +by the twinkling lantern, my dearest brother and friend, he once +of the Passport Office, he who collects the names! May he +be for ever changeless in his buttoned black surtout, with his +note-book in his hand, and his tall black hat, surmounting his +round, smiling, patient face! Let us embrace, my dearest +brother. I am yours à tout jamais—for the +whole of ever.</p> +<p>Calais up and doing at the railway station, and Calais down +and dreaming in its bed; Calais with something of ‘an +ancient and fish-like smell’ about it, and Calais blown and +sea-washed pure; Calais represented at the Buffet by savoury +roast fowls, hot coffee, cognac, and Bordeaux; and Calais +represented everywhere by flitting persons with a monomania for +changing money—though I never shall be able to understand +in my present state of existence how they live by it, but I +suppose I should, if I understood the currency +question—Calais <i>en gros</i>, and Calais <i>en +détail</i>, forgive one who has deeply wronged +you.—I was not fully aware of it on the other side, but I +meant Dover.</p> +<p>Ding, ding! To the carriages, gentlemen the +travellers. Ascend then, gentlemen the travellers, for +Hazebroucke, Lille, Douai, Bruxelles, Arras, Amiens, and +Paris! I, humble representative of the uncommercial +interest, ascend with the rest. The train is light +to-night, and I share my compartment with but two +fellow-travellers; one, a compatriot in an obsolete cravat, who +thinks it a quite unaccountable thing that they don’t keep +‘London time’ on a French railway, and who is made +angry by my modestly suggesting the possibility of Paris time +being more in their way; the other, a young priest, with a very +small bird in a very small cage, who feeds the small bird with a +quill, and then puts him up in the network above his head, where +he advances twittering, to his front wires, and seems to address +me in an electioneering manner. The compatriot (who crossed +in the boat, and whom I judge to be some person of distinction, +as he was shut up, like a stately species of rabbit, in a private +hutch on deck) and the young priest (who joined us at Calais) are +soon asleep, and then the bird and I have it all to +ourselves.</p> +<p>A stormy night still; a night that sweeps the wires of the +electric telegraph with a wild and fitful hand; a night so very +stormy, with the added storm of the train-progress through it, +that when the Guard comes clambering round to mark the tickets +while we are at full speed (a really horrible performance in an +express train, though he holds on to the open window by his +elbows in the most deliberate manner), he stands in such a +whirlwind that I grip him fast by the collar, and feel it next to +manslaughter to let him go. Still, when he is gone, the +small, small bird remains at his front wires feebly twittering to +me—twittering and twittering, until, leaning back in my +place and looking at him in drowsy fascination, I find that he +seems to jog my memory as we rush along.</p> +<p>Uncommercial travels (thus the small, small bird) have lain in +their idle thriftless way through all this range of swamp and +dyke, as through many other odd places; and about here, as you +very well know, are the queer old stone farm-houses, approached +by drawbridges, and the windmills that you get at by boats. +Here, are the lands where the women hoe and dig, paddling +canoe-wise from field to field, and here are the cabarets and +other peasant-houses where the stone dove-cotes in the littered +yards are as strong as warders’ towers in old +castles. Here, are the long monotonous miles of canal, with +the great Dutch-built barges garishly painted, and the towing +girls, sometimes harnessed by the forehead, sometimes by the +girdle and the shoulders, not a pleasant sight to see. +Scattered through this country are mighty works of <span +class="smcap">Vauban</span>, whom you know about, and regiments +of such corporals as you heard of once upon a time, and many a +blue-eyed Bebelle. Through these flat districts, in the +shining summer days, walk those long, grotesque files of young +novices in enormous shovel-hats, whom you remember blackening the +ground checkered by the avenues of leafy trees. And now +that Hazebroucke slumbers certain kilometres ahead, recall the +summer evening when your dusty feet strolling up from the station +tended hap-hazard to a Fair there, where the oldest inhabitants +were circling round and round a barrel-organ on hobby-horses, +with the greatest gravity, and where the principal show in the +Fair was a Religious Richardson’s—literally, on its +own announcement in great letters, <span class="smcap">Theatre +Religieux</span>. In which improving Temple, the dramatic +representation was of ‘all the interesting events in the +life of our Lord, from the Manger to the Tomb;’ the +principal female character, without any reservation or exception, +being at the moment of your arrival, engaged in trimming the +external Moderators (as it was growing dusk), while the next +principal female character took the money, and the Young Saint +John disported himself upside down on the platform.</p> +<p>Looking up at this point to confirm the small, small bird in +every particular he has mentioned, I find he has ceased to +twitter, and has put his head under his wing. Therefore, in +my different way I follow the good example.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>XIX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF +MORTALITY</span></h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">had</span> parted from the small bird at +somewhere about four o’clock in the morning, when he had +got out at Arras, and had been received by two shovel-hats in +waiting at the station, who presented an appropriately +ornithological and crow-like appearance. My compatriot and +I had gone on to Paris; my compatriot enlightening me +occasionally with a long list of the enormous grievances of +French railway travelling: every one of which, as I am a sinner, +was perfectly new to me, though I have as much experience of +French railways as most uncommercials. I had left him at +the terminus (through his conviction, against all explanation and +remonstrance, that his baggage-ticket was his passenger-ticket), +insisting in a very high temper to the functionary on duty, that +in his own personal identity he was four packages weighing so +many kilogrammes—as if he had been Cassim Baba! I had +bathed and breakfasted, and was strolling on the bright +quays. The subject of my meditations was the question +whether it is positively in the essence and nature of things, as +a certain school of Britons would seem to think it, that a +Capital must be ensnared and enslaved before it can be made +beautiful: when I lifted up my eyes and found that my feet, +straying like my mind, had brought me to Notre-Dame.</p> +<p>That is to say, Notre-Dame was before me, but there was a +large open space between us. A very little while gone, I +had left that space covered with buildings densely crowded; and +now it was cleared for some new wonder in the way of public +Street, Place, Garden, Fountain, or all four. Only the +obscene little Morgue, slinking on the brink of the river and +soon to come down, was left there, looking mortally ashamed of +itself, and supremely wicked. I had but glanced at this old +acquaintance, when I beheld an airy procession coming round in +front of Notre-Dame, past the great hospital. It had +something of a Masaniello look, with fluttering striped curtains +in the midst of it, and it came dancing round the cathedral in +the liveliest manner.</p> +<p>I was speculating on a marriage in Blouse-life, or a +Christening, or some other domestic festivity which I would see +out, when I found, from the talk of a quick rush of Blouses past +me, that it was a Body coming to the Morgue. Having never +before chanced upon this initiation, I constituted myself a +Blouse likewise, and ran into the Morgue with the rest. It +was a very muddy day, and we took in a quantity of mire with us, +and the procession coming in upon our heels brought a quantity +more. The procession was in the highest spirits, and +consisted of idlers who had come with the curtained litter from +its starting-place, and of all the reinforcements it had picked +up by the way. It set the litter down in the midst of the +Morgue, and then two Custodians proclaimed aloud that we were all +‘invited’ to go out. This invitation was +rendered the more pressing, if not the more flattering, by our +being shoved out, and the folding-gates being barred upon us.</p> +<p>Those who have never seen the Morgue, may see it perfectly, by +presenting to themselves on indifferently paved coach-house +accessible from the street by a pair of folding-gates; on the +left of the coach-house, occupying its width, any large London +tailor’s or linendraper’s plate-glass window reaching +to the ground; within the window, on two rows of inclined plane, +what the coach-house has to show; hanging above, like irregular +stalactites from the roof of a cave, a quantity of +clothes—the clothes of the dead and buried shows of the +coach-house.</p> +<p>We had been excited in the highest degree by seeing the +Custodians pull off their coats and tuck up their shirt-sleeves, +as the procession came along. It looked so interestingly +like business. Shut out in the muddy street, we now became +quite ravenous to know all about it. Was it river, pistol, +knife, love, gambling, robbery, hatred, how many stabs, how many +bullets, fresh or decomposed, suicide or murder? All wedged +together, and all staring at one another with our heads thrust +forward, we propounded these inquiries and a hundred more +such. Imperceptibly, it came to be known that Monsieur the +tall and sallow mason yonder, was acquainted with the +facts. Would Monsieur the tall and sallow mason, surged at +by a new wave of us, have the goodness to impart? It was +but a poor old man, passing along the street under one of the new +buildings, on whom a stone had fallen, and who had tumbled +dead. His age? Another wave surged up against the +tall and sallow mason, and our wave swept on and broke, and he +was any age from sixty-five to ninety.</p> +<p>An old man was not much: moreover, we could have wished he had +been killed by human agency—his own, or somebody +else’s: the latter, preferable—but our comfort was, +that he had nothing about him to lead to his identification, and +that his people must seek him here. Perhaps they were +waiting dinner for him even now? We liked that. Such +of us as had pocket-handkerchiefs took a slow, intense, +protracted wipe at our noses, and then crammed our handkerchiefs +into the breast of our blouses. Others of us who had no +handkerchiefs administered a similar relief to our overwrought +minds, by means of prolonged smears or wipes of our mouths on our +sleeves. One man with a gloomy malformation of brow—a +homicidal worker in white-lead, to judge from his blue tone of +colour, and a certain flavour of paralysis pervading +him—got his coat-collar between his teeth, and bit at it +with an appetite. Several decent women arrived upon the +outskirts of the crowd, and prepared to launch themselves into +the dismal coach-house when opportunity should come; among them, +a pretty young mother, pretending to bite the forefinger of her +baby-boy, kept it between her rosy lips that it might be handy +for guiding to point at the show. Meantime, all faces were +turned towards the building, and we men waited with a fixed and +stern resolution:—for the most part with folded arms. +Surely, it was the only public French sight these uncommercial +eyes had seen, at which the expectant people did not form <i>en +queue</i>. But there was no such order of arrangement here; +nothing but a general determination to make a rush for it, and a +disposition to object to some boys who had mounted on the two +stone posts by the hinges of the gates, with the design of +swooping in when the hinges should turn.</p> +<p>Now, they turned, and we rushed! Great pressure, and a +scream or two from the front. Then a laugh or two, some +expressions of disappointment, and a slackening of the pressure +and subsidence of the struggle.—Old man not there.</p> +<p>‘But what would you have?’ the Custodian +reasonably argues, as he looks out at his little door. +‘Patience, patience! We make his toilette, +gentlemen. He will be exposed presently. It is +necessary to proceed according to rule. His toilette is not +made all at a blow. He will be exposed in good time, +gentlemen, in good time.’ And so retires, smoking, +with a wave of his sleeveless arm towards the window, importing, +‘Entertain yourselves in the meanwhile with the other +curiosities. Fortunately the Museum is not empty +to-day.’</p> +<p>Who would have thought of public fickleness even at the +Morgue? But there it was, on that occasion. Three +lately popular articles that had been attracting greatly when the +litter was first descried coming dancing round the corner by the +great cathedral, were so completely deposed now, that nobody save +two little girls (one showing them to a doll) would look at +them. Yet the chief of the three, the article in the front +row, had received jagged injury of the left temple; and the other +two in the back row, the drowned two lying side by side with +their heads very slightly turned towards each other, seemed to be +comparing notes about it. Indeed, those two of the back row +were so furtive of appearance, and so (in their puffed way) +assassinatingly knowing as to the one of the front, that it was +hard to think the three had never come together in their lives, +and were only chance companions after death. Whether or no +this was the general, as it was the uncommercial, fancy, it is +not to be disputed that the group had drawn exceedingly within +ten minutes. Yet now, the inconstant public turned its back +upon them, and even leaned its elbows carelessly against the bar +outside the window and shook off the mud from its shoes, and also +lent and borrowed fire for pipes.</p> +<p>Custodian re-enters from his door. ‘Again once, +gentlemen, you are invited—’ No further +invitation necessary. Ready dash into the street. +Toilette finished. Old man coming out.</p> +<p>This time, the interest was grown too hot to admit of +toleration of the boys on the stone posts. The homicidal +white-lead worker made a pounce upon one boy who was hoisting +himself up, and brought him to earth amidst general +commendation. Closely stowed as we were, we yet formed into +groups—groups of conversation, without separation from the +mass—to discuss the old man. Rivals of the tall and +sallow mason sprang into being, and here again was popular +inconstancy. These rivals attracted audiences, and were +greedily listened to; and whereas they had derived their +information solely from the tall and sallow one, officious +members of the crowd now sought to enlighten <i>him</i> on their +authority. Changed by this social experience into an +iron-visaged and inveterate misanthrope, the mason glared at +mankind, and evidently cherished in his breast the wish that the +whole of the present company could change places with the +deceased old man. And now listeners became inattentive, and +people made a start forward at a slight sound, and an unholy fire +kindled in the public eye, and those next the gates beat at them +impatiently, as if they were of the cannibal species and +hungry.</p> +<p>Again the hinges creaked, and we rushed. Disorderly +pressure for some time ensued before the uncommercial unit got +figured into the front row of the sum. It was strange to +see so much heat and uproar seething about one poor spare, +white-haired old man, quiet for evermore. He was calm of +feature and undisfigured, as he lay on his back—having been +struck upon the hinder part of his head, and thrown +forward—and something like a tear or two had started from +the closed eyes, and lay wet upon the face. The +uncommercial interest, sated at a glance, directed itself upon +the striving crowd on either side and behind: wondering whether +one might have guessed, from the expression of those faces +merely, what kind of sight they were looking at. The +differences of expression were not many. There was a little +pity, but not much, and that mostly with a selfish touch in +it—as who would say, ‘Shall I, poor I, look like +that, when the time comes!’ There was more of a +secretly brooding contemplation and curiosity, as ‘That man +I don’t like, and have the grudge against; would such be +his appearance, if some one—not to mention names—by +any chance gave him an knock?’ There was a wolfish +stare at the object, in which homicidal white-lead worker shone +conspicuous. And there was a much more general, +purposeless, vacant staring at it—like looking at waxwork, +without a catalogue, and not knowing what to make of it. +But all these expressions concurred in possessing the one +underlying expression of <i>looking at something that could not +return a look</i>. The uncommercial notice had established +this as very remarkable, when a new pressure all at once coming +up from the street pinioned him ignominiously, and hurried him +into the arms (now sleeved again) of the Custodian smoking at his +door, and answering questions, between puffs, with a certain +placid meritorious air of not being proud, though high in +office. And mentioning pride, it may be observed, by the +way, that one could not well help investing the original sole +occupant of the front row with an air depreciatory of the +legitimate attraction of the poor old man: while the two in the +second row seemed to exult at this superseded popularity.</p> +<p>Pacing presently round the garden of the Tower of St. Jacques +de la Boucherie, and presently again in front of the Hôtel +de Ville, I called to mind a certain desolate open-air Morgue +that I happened to light upon in London, one day in the hard +winter of 1861, and which seemed as strange to me, at the time of +seeing it, as if I had found it in China. Towards that hour +of a winter’s afternoon when the lamp-lighters are +beginning to light the lamps in the streets a little before they +are wanted, because the darkness thickens fast and soon, I was +walking in from the country on the northern side of the +Regent’s Park—hard frozen and deserted—when I +saw an empty Hansom cab drive up to the lodge at Gloucester-gate, +and the driver with great agitation call to the man there: who +quickly reached a long pole from a tree, and, deftly collared by +the driver, jumped to the step of his little seat, and so the +Hansom rattled out at the gate, galloping over the iron-bound +road. I followed running, though not so fast but that when +I came to the right-hand Canal Bridge, near the cross-path to +Chalk Farm, the Hansom was stationary, the horse was smoking hot, +the long pole was idle on the ground, and the driver and the +park-keeper were looking over the bridge parapet. Looking +over too, I saw, lying on the towing-path with her face turned up +towards us, a woman, dead a day or two, and under thirty, as I +guessed, poorly dressed in black. The feet were lightly +crossed at the ankles, and the dark hair, all pushed back from +the face, as though that had been the last action of her +desperate hands, streamed over the ground. Dabbled all +about her, was the water and the broken ice that had dropped from +her dress, and had splashed as she was got out. The +policeman who had just got her out, and the passing costermonger +who had helped him, were standing near the body; the latter with +that stare at it which I have likened to being at a waxwork +exhibition without a catalogue; the former, looking over his +stock, with professional stiffness and coolness, in the direction +in which the bearers he had sent for were expected. So +dreadfully forlorn, so dreadfully sad, so dreadfully mysterious, +this spectacle of our dear sister here departed! A barge +came up, breaking the floating ice and the silence, and a woman +steered it. The man with the horse that towed it, cared so +little for the body, that the stumbling hoofs had been among the +hair, and the tow-rope had caught and turned the head, before our +cry of horror took him to the bridle. At which sound the +steering woman looked up at us on the bridge, with contempt +unutterable, and then looking down at the body with a similar +expression—as if it were made in another likeness from +herself, had been informed with other passions, had been lost by +other chances, had had another nature dragged down to +perdition—steered a spurning streak of mud at it, and +passed on.</p> +<p>A better experience, but also of the Morgue kind, in which +chance happily made me useful in a slight degree, arose to my +remembrance as I took my way by the Boulevard de +Sébastopol to the brighter scenes of Paris.</p> +<p>The thing happened, say five-and-twenty years ago. I was +a modest young uncommercial then, and timid and +inexperienced. Many suns and winds have browned me in the +line, but those were my pale days. Having newly taken the +lease of a house in a certain distinguished metropolitan +parish—a house which then appeared to me to be a +frightfully first-class Family Mansion, involving awful +responsibilities—I became the prey of a Beadle. I +think the Beadle must have seen me going in or coming out, and +must have observed that I tottered under the weight of my +grandeur. Or he may have been in hiding under straw when I +bought my first horse (in the desirable stable-yard attached to +the first-class Family Mansion), and when the vendor remarked to +me, in an original manner, on bringing him for approval, taking +his cloth off and smacking him, ‘There, Sir! +<i>There’s</i> a Orse!’ And when I said +gallantly, ‘How much do you want for him?’ and when +the vendor said, ‘No more than sixty guineas, from +you,’ and when I said smartly, ‘Why not more than +sixty from <i>me</i>?’ And when he said crushingly, +‘Because upon my soul and body he’d be considered +cheap at seventy, by one who understood the subject—but you +don’t.’—I say, the Beadle may have been in +hiding under straw, when this disgrace befell me, or he may have +noted that I was too raw and young an Atlas to carry the +first-class Family Mansion in a knowing manner. Be this as +it may, the Beadle did what Melancholy did to the youth in +Gray’s Elegy—he marked me for his own. And the +way in which the Beadle did it, was this: he summoned me as a +Juryman on his Coroner’s Inquests.</p> +<p>In my first feverish alarm I repaired ‘for safety and +for succour’—like those sagacious Northern shepherds +who, having had no previous reason whatever to believe in young +Norval, very prudently did not originate the hazardous idea of +believing in him—to a deep householder. This profound +man informed me that the Beadle counted on my buying him off; on +my bribing him not to summon me; and that if I would attend an +Inquest with a cheerful countenance, and profess alacrity in that +branch of my country’s service, the Beadle would be +disheartened, and would give up the game.</p> +<p>I roused my energies, and the next time the wily Beadle +summoned me, I went. The Beadle was the blankest Beadle I +have ever looked on when I answered to my name; and his +discomfiture gave me courage to go through with it.</p> +<p>We were impanelled to inquire concerning the death of a very +little mite of a child. It was the old miserable +story. Whether the mother had committed the minor offence +of concealing the birth, or whether she had committed the major +offence of killing the child, was the question on which we were +wanted. We must commit her on one of the two issues.</p> +<p>The Inquest came off in the parish workhouse, and I have yet a +lively impression that I was unanimously received by my brother +Jurymen as a brother of the utmost conceivable +insignificance. Also, that before we began, a broker who +had lately cheated me fearfully in the matter of a pair of +card-tables, was for the utmost rigour of the law. I +remember that we sat in a sort of board-room, on such very large +square horse-hair chairs that I wondered what race of Patagonians +they were made for; and further, that an undertaker gave me his +card when we were in the full moral freshness of having just been +sworn, as ‘an inhabitant that was newly come into the +parish, and was likely to have a young family.’ The +case was then stated to us by the Coroner, and then we went +down-stairs—led by the plotting Beadle—to view the +body. From that day to this, the poor little figure, on +which that sounding legal appellation was bestowed, has lain in +the same place and with the same surroundings, to my +thinking. In a kind of crypt devoted to the warehousing of +the parochial coffins, and in the midst of a perfect Panorama of +coffins of all sizes, it was stretched on a box; the mother had +put it in her box—this box—almost as soon as it was +born, and it had been presently found there. It had been +opened, and neatly sewn up, and regarded from that point of view, +it looked like a stuffed creature. It rested on a clean +white cloth, with a surgical instrument or so at hand, and +regarded from that point of view, it looked as if the cloth were +‘laid,’ and the Giant were coming to dinner. +There was nothing repellent about the poor piece of innocence, +and it demanded a mere form of looking at. So, we looked at +an old pauper who was going about among the coffins with a foot +rule, as if he were a case of Self-Measurement; and we looked at +one another; and we said the place was well whitewashed anyhow; +and then our conversational powers as a British Jury flagged, and +the foreman said, ‘All right, gentlemen? Back again, +Mr. Beadle!’</p> +<p>The miserable young creature who had given birth to this child +within a very few days, and who had cleaned the cold wet +door-steps immediately afterwards, was brought before us when we +resumed our horse-hair chairs, and was present during the +proceedings. She had a horse-hair chair herself, being very +weak and ill; and I remember how she turned to the unsympathetic +nurse who attended her, and who might have been the figure-head +of a pauper-ship, and how she hid her face and sobs and tears +upon that wooden shoulder. I remember, too, how hard her +mistress was upon her (she was a servant-of-all-work), and with +what a cruel pertinacity that piece of Virtue spun her thread of +evidence double, by intertwisting it with the sternest thread of +construction. Smitten hard by the terrible low wail from +the utterly friendless orphan girl, which never ceased during the +whole inquiry, I took heart to ask this witness a question or +two, which hopefully admitted of an answer that might give a +favourable turn to the case. She made the turn as little +favourable as it could be, but it did some good, and the Coroner, +who was nobly patient and humane (he was the late Mr. Wakley), +cast a look of strong encouragement in my direction. Then, +we had the doctor who had made the examination, and the usual +tests as to whether the child was born alive; but he was a timid, +muddle-headed doctor, and got confused and contradictory, and +wouldn’t say this, and couldn’t answer for that, and +the immaculate broker was too much for him, and our side slid +back again. However, I tried again, and the Coroner backed +me again, for which I ever afterwards felt grateful to him as I +do now to his memory; and we got another favourable turn, out of +some other witness, some member of the family with a strong +prepossession against the sinner; and I think we had the doctor +back again; and I know that the Coroner summed up for our side, +and that I and my British brothers turned round to discuss our +verdict, and get ourselves into great difficulties with our large +chairs and the broker. At that stage of the case I tried +hard again, being convinced that I had cause for it; and at last +we found for the minor offence of only concealing the birth; and +the poor desolate creature, who had been taken out during our +deliberation, being brought in again to be told of the verdict, +then dropped upon her knees before us, with protestations that we +were right—protestations among the most affecting that I +have ever heard in my life—and was carried away +insensible.</p> +<p>(In private conversation after this was all over, the Coroner +showed me his reasons as a trained surgeon, for perceiving it to +be impossible that the child could, under the most favourable +circumstances, have drawn many breaths, in the very doubtful case +of its having ever breathed at all; this, owing to the discovery +of some foreign matter in the windpipe, quite irreconcilable with +many moments of life.)</p> +<p>When the agonised girl had made those final protestations, I +had seen her face, and it was in unison with her distracted +heartbroken voice, and it was very moving. It certainly did +not impress me by any beauty that it had, and if I ever see it +again in another world I shall only know it by the help of some +new sense or intelligence. But it came to me in my sleep +that night, and I selfishly dismissed it in the most efficient +way I could think of. I caused some extra care to be taken +of her in the prison, and counsel to be retained for her defence +when she was tried at the Old Bailey; and her sentence was +lenient, and her history and conduct proved that it was +right. In doing the little I did for her, I remember to +have had the kind help of some gentle-hearted functionary to whom +I addressed myself—but what functionary I have long +forgotten—who I suppose was officially present at the +Inquest.</p> +<p>I regard this as a very notable uncommercial experience, +because this good came of a Beadle. And to the best of my +knowledge, information, and belief, it is the only good that ever +did come of a Beadle since the first Beadle put on his +cocked-hat.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>XX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> came into my mind that I would +recall in these notes a few of the many hostelries I have rested +at in the course of my journeys; and, indeed, I had taken up my +pen for the purpose, when I was baffled by an accidental +circumstance. It was the having to leave off, to wish the +owner of a certain bright face that looked in at my door, +‘many happy returns of the day.’ Thereupon a +new thought came into my mind, driving its predecessor out, and I +began to recall—instead of Inns—the birthdays that I +have put up at, on my way to this present sheet of paper.</p> +<p>I can very well remember being taken out to visit some +peach-faced creature in a blue sash, and shoes to correspond, +whose life I supposed to consist entirely of birthdays. +Upon seed-cake, sweet wine, and shining presents, that glorified +young person seemed to me to be exclusively reared. At so +early a stage of my travels did I assist at the anniversary of +her nativity (and become enamoured of her), that I had not yet +acquired the recondite knowledge that a birthday is the common +property of all who are born, but supposed it to be a special +gift bestowed by the favouring Heavens on that one distinguished +infant. There was no other company, and we sat in a shady +bower—under a table, as my better (or worse) knowledge +leads me to believe—and were regaled with saccharine +substances and liquids, until it was time to part. A bitter +powder was administered to me next morning, and I was +wretched. On the whole, a pretty accurate foreshadowing of +my more mature experiences in such wise!</p> +<p>Then came the time when, inseparable from one’s own +birthday, was a certain sense of merit, a consciousness of +well-earned distinction. When I regarded my birthday as a +graceful achievement of my own, a monument of my perseverance, +independence, and good sense, redounding greatly to my +honour. This was at about the period when Olympia Squires +became involved in the anniversary. Olympia was most +beautiful (of course), and I loved her to that degree, that I +used to be obliged to get out of my little bed in the night, +expressly to exclaim to Solitude, ‘O, Olympia +Squires!’ Visions of Olympia, clothed entirely in +sage-green, from which I infer a defectively educated taste on +the part of her respected parents, who were necessarily +unacquainted with the South Kensington Museum, still arise before +me. Truth is sacred, and the visions are crowned by a +shining white beaver bonnet, impossibly suggestive of a little +feminine postboy. My memory presents a birthday when +Olympia and I were taken by an unfeeling relative—some +cruel uncle, or the like—to a slow torture called an +Orrery. The terrible instrument was set up at the local +Theatre, and I had expressed a profane wish in the morning that +it was a Play: for which a serious aunt had probed my conscience +deep, and my pocket deeper, by reclaiming a bestowed +half-crown. It was a venerable and a shabby Orrery, at +least one thousand stars and twenty-five comets behind the +age. Nevertheless, it was awful. When the +low-spirited gentleman with a wand said, ‘Ladies and +gentlemen’ (meaning particularly Olympia and me), +‘the lights are about to be put out, but there is not the +slightest cause for alarm,’ it was very alarming. +Then the planets and stars began. Sometimes they +wouldn’t come on, sometimes they wouldn’t go off, +sometimes they had holes in them, and mostly they didn’t +seem to be good likenesses. All this time the gentleman +with the wand was going on in the dark (tapping away at the +heavenly bodies between whiles, like a wearisome woodpecker), +about a sphere revolving on its own axis eight hundred and +ninety-seven thousand millions of times—or miles—in +two hundred and sixty-three thousand five hundred and twenty-four +millions of something elses, until I thought if this was a +birthday it were better never to have been born. Olympia, +also, became much depressed, and we both slumbered and woke +cross, and still the gentleman was going on in the +dark—whether up in the stars, or down on the stage, it +would have been hard to make out, if it had been worth +trying—cyphering away about planes of orbits, to such an +infamous extent that Olympia, stung to madness, actually kicked +me. A pretty birthday spectacle, when the lights were +turned up again, and all the schools in the town (including the +National, who had come in for nothing, and serve them right, for +they were always throwing stones) were discovered with exhausted +countenances, screwing their knuckles into their eyes, or +clutching their heads of hair. A pretty birthday speech +when Dr. Sleek of the City-Free bobbed up his powdered head in +the stage-box, and said that before this assembly dispersed he +really must beg to express his entire approval of a lecture as +improving, as informing, as devoid of anything that could call a +blush into the cheek of youth, as any it had ever been his lot to +hear delivered. A pretty birthday altogether, when +Astronomy couldn’t leave poor Small Olympia Squires and me +alone, but must put an end to our loves! For, we never got +over it; the threadbare Orrery outwore our mutual tenderness; the +man with the wand was too much for the boy with the bow.</p> +<p>When shall I disconnect the combined smells of oranges, brown +paper, and straw, from those other birthdays at school, when the +coming hamper casts its shadow before, and when a week of social +harmony—shall I add of admiring and affectionate +popularity—led up to that Institution? What noble +sentiments were expressed to me in the days before the hamper, +what vows of friendship were sworn to me, what exceedingly old +knives were given me, what generous avowals of having been in the +wrong emanated from else obstinate spirits once enrolled among my +enemies! The birthday of the potted game and guava jelly, +is still made special to me by the noble conduct of Bully +Globson. Letters from home had mysteriously inquired +whether I should be much surprised and disappointed if among the +treasures in the coming hamper I discovered potted game, and +guava jelly from the Western Indies. I had mentioned those +hints in confidence to a few friends, and had promised to give +away, as I now see reason to believe, a handsome covey of +partridges potted, and about a hundredweight of guava +jelly. It was now that Globson, Bully no more, sought me +out in the playground. He was a big fat boy, with a big fat +head and a big fat fist, and at the beginning of that Half had +raised such a bump on my forehead that I couldn’t get my +hat of state on, to go to church. He said that after an +interval of cool reflection (four months) he now felt this blow +to have been an error of judgment, and that he wished to +apologise for the same. Not only that, but holding down his +big head between his two big hands in order that I might reach it +conveniently, he requested me, as an act of justice which would +appease his awakened conscience, to raise a retributive bump upon +it, in the presence of witnesses. This handsome proposal I +modestly declined, and he then embraced me, and we walked away +conversing. We conversed respecting the West India Islands, +and, in the pursuit of knowledge he asked me with much interest +whether in the course of my reading I had met with any reliable +description of the mode of manufacturing guava jelly; or whether +I had ever happened to taste that conserve, which he had been +given to understand was of rare excellence.</p> +<p>Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty; and then with the +waning months came an ever augmenting sense of the dignity of +twenty-one. Heaven knows I had nothing to ‘come +into,’ save the bare birthday, and yet I esteemed it as a +great possession. I now and then paved the way to my state +of dignity, by beginning a proposition with the casual words, +‘say that a man of twenty-one,’ or by the incidental +assumption of a fact that could not sanely be disputed, as, +‘for when a fellow comes to be a man of +twenty-one.’ I gave a party on the occasion. +She was there. It is unnecessary to name Her, more +particularly; She was older than I, and had pervaded every chink +and crevice of my mind for three or four years. I had held +volumes of Imaginary Conversations with her mother on the subject +of our union, and I had written letters more in number than +Horace Walpole’s, to that discreet woman, soliciting her +daughter’s hand in marriage. I had never had the +remotest intention of sending any of those letters; but to write +them, and after a few days tear them up, had been a sublime +occupation. Sometimes, I had begun ‘Honoured +Madam. I think that a lady gifted with those powers of +observation which I know you to possess, and endowed with those +womanly sympathies with the young and ardent which it were more +than heresy to doubt, can scarcely have failed to discover that I +love your adorable daughter, deeply, devotedly.’ In +less buoyant states of mind I had begun, ‘Bear with me, +Dear Madam, bear with a daring wretch who is about to make a +surprising confession to you, wholly unanticipated by yourself, +and which he beseeches you to commit to the flames as soon as you +have become aware to what a towering height his mad ambition +soars.’ At other times—periods of profound +mental depression, when She had gone out to balls where I was +not—the draft took the affecting form of a paper to be left +on my table after my departure to the confines of the +globe. As thus: ‘For Mrs. Onowenever, these lines +when the hand that traces them shall be far away. I could +not bear the daily torture of hopelessly loving the dear one whom +I will not name. Broiling on the coast of Africa, or +congealing on the shores of Greenland, I am far far better there +than here.’ (In this sentiment my cooler judgment +perceives that the family of the beloved object would have most +completely concurred.) ‘If I ever emerge from +obscurity, and my name is ever heralded by Fame, it will be for +her dear sake. If I ever amass Gold, it will be to pour it +at her feet. Should I on the other hand become the prey of +Ravens—’ I doubt if I ever quite made up my +mind what was to be done in that affecting case; I tried +‘then it is better so;’ but not feeling convinced +that it would be better so, I vacillated between leaving all else +blank, which looked expressive and bleak, or winding up with +‘Farewell!’</p> +<p>This fictitious correspondence of mine is to blame for the +foregoing digression. I was about to pursue the statement +that on my twenty-first birthday I gave a party, and She was +there. It was a beautiful party. There was not a +single animate or inanimate object connected with it (except the +company and myself) that I had ever seen before. Everything +was hired, and the mercenaries in attendance were profound +strangers to me. Behind a door, in the crumby part of the +night when wine-glasses were to be found in unexpected spots, I +spoke to Her—spoke out to Her. What passed, I cannot +as a man of honour reveal. She was all angelical +gentleness, but a word was mentioned—a short and dreadful +word of three letters, beginning with a B— which, as I +remarked at the moment, ‘scorched my brain.’ +She went away soon afterwards, and when the hollow throng (though +to be sure it was no fault of theirs) dispersed, I issued forth, +with a dissipated scorner, and, as I mentioned expressly to him, +‘sought oblivion.’ It was found, with a +dreadful headache in it, but it didn’t last; for, in the +shaming light of next day’s noon, I raised my heavy head in +bed, looking back to the birthdays behind me, and tracking the +circle by which I had got round, after all, to the bitter powder +and the wretchedness again.</p> +<p>This reactionary powder (taken so largely by the human race I +am inclined to regard it as the Universal Medicine once sought +for in Laboratories) is capable of being made up in another form +for birthday use. Anybody’s long-lost brother will do +ill to turn up on a birthday. If I had a long-lost brother +I should know beforehand that he would prove a tremendous +fraternal failure if he appointed to rush into my arms on my +birthday. The first Magic Lantern I ever saw, was secretly +and elaborately planned to be the great effect of a very juvenile +birthday; but it wouldn’t act, and its images were +dim. My experience of adult birthday Magic Lanterns may +possibly have been unfortunate, but has certainly been +similar. I have an illustrative birthday in my eye: a +birthday of my friend Flipfield, whose birthdays had long been +remarkable as social successes. There had been nothing set +or formal about them; Flipfield having been accustomed merely to +say, two or three days before, ‘Don’t forget to come +and dine, old boy, according to custom;’—I +don’t know what he said to the ladies he invited, but I may +safely assume it <i>not</i> to have been ‘old +girl.’ Those were delightful gatherings, and were +enjoyed by all participators. In an evil hour, a long-lost +brother of Flipfield’s came to light in foreign +parts. Where he had been hidden, or what he had been doing, +I don’t know, for Flipfield vaguely informed me that he had +turned up ‘on the banks of the Ganges’—speaking +of him as if he had been washed ashore. The Long-lost was +coming home, and Flipfield made an unfortunate calculation, based +on the well-known regularity of the P. and O. Steamers, that +matters might be so contrived as that the Long-lost should appear +in the nick of time on his (Flipfield’s) birthday. +Delicacy commanded that I should repress the gloomy anticipations +with which my soul became fraught when I heard of this +plan. The fatal day arrived, and we assembled in +force. Mrs. Flipfield senior formed an interesting feature +in the group, with a blue-veined miniature of the late Mr. +Flipfield round her neck, in an oval, resembling a tart from the +pastrycook’s: his hair powdered, and the bright buttons on +his coat, evidently very like. She was accompanied by Miss +Flipfield, the eldest of her numerous family, who held her +pocket-handkerchief to her bosom in a majestic manner, and spoke +to all of us (none of us had ever seen her before), in pious and +condoning tones, of all the quarrels that had taken place in the +family, from her infancy—which must have been a long time +ago—down to that hour. The Long-lost did not +appear. Dinner, half an hour later than usual, was +announced, and still no Long-lost. We sat down to +table. The knife and fork of the Long-lost made a vacuum in +Nature, and when the champagne came round for the first time, +Flipfield gave him up for the day, and had them removed. It +was then that the Long-lost gained the height of his popularity +with the company; for my own part, I felt convinced that I loved +him dearly. Flipfield’s dinners are perfect, and he +is the easiest and best of entertainers. Dinner went on +brilliantly, and the more the Long-lost didn’t come, the +more comfortable we grew, and the more highly we thought of +him. Flipfield’s own man (who has a regard for me) +was in the act of struggling with an ignorant stipendiary, to +wrest from him the wooden leg of a Guinea-fowl which he was +pressing on my acceptance, and to substitute a slice of the +breast, when a ringing at the door-bell suspended the +strife. I looked round me, and perceived the sudden pallor +which I knew my own visage revealed, reflected in the faces of +the company. Flipfield hurriedly excused himself, went out, +was absent for about a minute or two, and then re-entered with +the Long-lost.</p> +<p>I beg to say distinctly that if the stranger had brought Mont +Blanc with him, or had come attended by a retinue of eternal +snows, he could not have chilled the circle to the marrow in a +more efficient manner. Embodied Failure sat enthroned upon +the Long-lost’s brow, and pervaded him to his Long-lost +boots. In vain Mrs. Flipfield senior, opening her arms, +exclaimed, ‘My Tom!’ and pressed his nose against the +counterfeit presentment of his other parent. In vain Miss +Flipfield, in the first transports of this re-union, showed him a +dint upon her maidenly cheek, and asked him if he remembered when +he did that with the bellows? We, the bystanders, were +overcome, but overcome by the palpable, undisguisable, utter, and +total break-down of the Long-lost. Nothing he could have +done would have set him right with us but his instant return to +the Ganges. In the very same moments it became established +that the feeling was reciprocal, and that the Long-lost detested +us. When a friend of the family (not myself, upon my +honour), wishing to set things going again, asked him, while he +partook of soup—asked him with an amiability of intention +beyond all praise, but with a weakness of execution open to +defeat—what kind of river he considered the Ganges, the +Long-lost, scowling at the friend of the family over his spoon, +as one of an abhorrent race, replied, ‘Why, a river of +water, I suppose,’ and spooned his soup into himself with a +malignancy of hand and eye that blighted the amiable +questioner. Not an opinion could be elicited from the +Long-lost, in unison with the sentiments of any individual +present. He contradicted Flipfield dead, before he had +eaten his salmon. He had no idea—or affected to have +no idea—that it was his brother’s birthday, and on +the communication of that interesting fact to him, merely wanted +to make him out four years older than he was. He was an +antipathetical being, with a peculiar power and gift of treading +on everybody’s tenderest place. They talk in America +of a man’s ‘Platform.’ I should describe +the Platform of the Long-lost as a Platform composed of other +people’s corns, on which he had stumped his way, with all +his might and main, to his present position. It is needless +to add that Flipfield’s great birthday went by the board, +and that he was a wreck when I pretended at parting to wish him +many happy returns of it.</p> +<p>There is another class of birthdays at which I have so +frequently assisted, that I may assume such birthdays to be +pretty well known to the human race. My friend +Mayday’s birthday is an example. The guests have no +knowledge of one another except on that one day in the year, and +are annually terrified for a week by the prospect of meeting one +another again. There is a fiction among us that we have +uncommon reasons for being particularly lively and spirited on +the occasion, whereas deep despondency is no phrase for the +expression of our feelings. But the wonderful feature of +the case is, that we are in tacit accordance to avoid the +subject—to keep it as far off as possible, as long as +possible—and to talk about anything else, rather than the +joyful event. I may even go so far as to assert that there +is a dumb compact among us that we will pretend that it is <span +class="GutSmall">NOT</span> Mayday’s birthday. A +mysterious and gloomy Being, who is said to have gone to school +with Mayday, and who is so lank and lean that he seriously +impugns the Dietary of the establishment at which they were +jointly educated, always leads us, as I may say, to the block, by +laying his grisly hand on a decanter and begging us to fill our +glasses. The devices and pretences that I have seen put in +practice to defer the fatal moment, and to interpose between this +man and his purpose, are innumerable. I have known +desperate guests, when they saw the grisly hand approaching the +decanter, wildly to begin, without any antecedent whatsoever, +‘That reminds me—’ and to plunge into long +stories. When at last the hand and the decanter come +together, a shudder, a palpable perceptible shudder, goes round +the table. We receive the reminder that it is +Mayday’s birthday, as if it were the anniversary of some +profound disgrace he had undergone, and we sought to comfort +him. And when we have drunk Mayday’s health, and +wished him many happy returns, we are seized for some moments +with a ghastly blitheness, an unnatural levity, as if we were in +the first flushed reaction of having undergone a surgical +operation.</p> +<p>Birthdays of this species have a public as well as a private +phase. My ‘boyhood’s home,’ Dullborough, +presents a case in point. An Immortal Somebody was wanted +in Dullborough, to dimple for a day the stagnant face of the +waters; he was rather wanted by Dullborough generally, and much +wanted by the principal hotel-keeper. The County history +was looked up for a locally Immortal Somebody, but the registered +Dullborough worthies were all Nobodies. In this state of +things, it is hardly necessary to record that Dullborough did +what every man does when he wants to write a book or deliver a +lecture, and is provided with all the materials except a +subject. It fell back upon Shakespeare.</p> +<p>No sooner was it resolved to celebrate Shakespeare’s +birthday in Dullborough, than the popularity of the immortal bard +became surprising. You might have supposed the first +edition of his works to have been published last week, and +enthusiastic Dullborough to have got half through them. (I +doubt, by the way, whether it had ever done half that, but that +is a private opinion.) A young gentleman with a sonnet, the +retention of which for two years had enfeebled his mind and +undermined his knees, got the sonnet into the Dullborough Warden, +and gained flesh. Portraits of Shakespeare broke out in the +bookshop windows, and our principal artist painted a large +original portrait in oils for the decoration of the +dining-room. It was not in the least like any of the other +Portraits, and was exceedingly admired, the head being much +swollen. At the Institution, the Debating Society discussed +the new question, Was there sufficient ground for supposing that +the Immortal Shakespeare ever stole deer? This was +indignantly decided by an overwhelming majority in the negative; +indeed, there was but one vote on the Poaching side, and that was +the vote of the orator who had undertaken to advocate it, and who +became quite an obnoxious character—particularly to the +Dullborough ‘roughs,’ who were about as well informed +on the matter as most other people. Distinguished speakers +were invited down, and very nearly came (but not quite). +Subscriptions were opened, and committees sat, and it would have +been far from a popular measure in the height of the excitement, +to have told Dullborough that it wasn’t +Stratford-upon-Avon. Yet, after all these preparations, +when the great festivity took place, and the portrait, elevated +aloft, surveyed the company as if it were in danger of springing +a mine of intellect and blowing itself up, it did undoubtedly +happen, according to the inscrutable mysteries of things, that +nobody could be induced, not to say to touch upon Shakespeare, +but to come within a mile of him, until the crack speaker of +Dullborough rose to propose the immortal memory. Which he +did with the perplexing and astonishing result that before he had +repeated the great name half-a-dozen times, or had been upon his +legs as many minutes, he was assailed with a general shout of +‘Question.’</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>XXI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE SHORT-TIMERS</span></h2> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">Within</span> so many yards of this +Covent-garden lodging of mine, as within so many yards of +Westminster Abbey, Saint Paul’s Cathedral, the Houses of +Parliament, the Prisons, the Courts of Justice, all the +Institutions that govern the land, I can find—<i>must</i> +find, whether I will or no—in the open streets, shameful +instances of neglect of children, intolerable toleration of the +engenderment of paupers, idlers, thieves, races of wretched and +destructive cripples both in body and mind, a misery to +themselves, a misery to the community, a disgrace to +civilisation, and an outrage on Christianity.—I know it to +be a fact as easy of demonstration as any sum in any of the +elementary rules of arithmetic, that if the State would begin its +work and duty at the beginning, and would with the strong hand +take those children out of the streets, while they are yet +children, and wisely train them, it would make them a part of +England’s glory, not its shame—of England’s +strength, not its weakness—would raise good soldiers and +sailors, and good citizens, and many great men, out of the seeds +of its criminal population. Yet I go on bearing with the +enormity as if it were nothing, and I go on reading the +Parliamentary Debates as if they were something, and I concern +myself far more about one railway-bridge across a public +thoroughfare, than about a dozen generations of scrofula, +ignorance, wickedness, prostitution, poverty, and felony. I +can slip out at my door, in the small hours after any midnight, +and, in one circuit of the purlieus of Covent-garden Market, can +behold a state of infancy and youth, as vile as if a Bourbon sat +upon the English throne; a great police force looking on with +authority to do no more than worry and hunt the dreadful vermin +into corners, and there leave them. Within the length of a +few streets I can find a workhouse, mismanaged with that dull +short-sighted obstinacy that its greatest opportunities as to the +children it receives are lost, and yet not a farthing saved to +any one. But the wheel goes round, and round, and round; +and because it goes round—so I am told by the politest +authorities—it goes well.’</p> +<p>Thus I reflected, one day in the Whitsun week last past, as I +floated down the Thames among the bridges, looking—not +inappropriately—at the drags that were hanging up at +certain dirty stairs to hook the drowned out, and at the numerous +conveniences provided to facilitate their tumbling in. My +object in that uncommercial journey called up another train of +thought, and it ran as follows:</p> +<p>‘When I was at school, one of seventy boys, I wonder by +what secret understanding our attention began to wander when we +had pored over our books for some hours. I wonder by what +ingenuity we brought on that confused state of mind when sense +became nonsense, when figures wouldn’t work, when dead +languages wouldn’t construe, when live languages +wouldn’t be spoken, when memory wouldn’t come, when +dulness and vacancy wouldn’t go. I cannot remember +that we ever conspired to be sleepy after dinner, or that we ever +particularly wanted to be stupid, and to have flushed faces and +hot beating heads, or to find blank hopelessness and obscurity +this afternoon in what would become perfectly clear and bright in +the freshness of to-morrow morning. We suffered for these +things, and they made us miserable enough. Neither do I +remember that we ever bound ourselves by any secret oath or other +solemn obligation, to find the seats getting too hard to be sat +upon after a certain time; or to have intolerable twitches in our +legs, rendering us aggressive and malicious with those members; +or to be troubled with a similar uneasiness in our elbows, +attended with fistic consequences to our neighbours; or to carry +two pounds of lead in the chest, four pounds in the head, and +several active blue-bottles in each ear. Yet, for certain, +we suffered under those distresses, and were always charged at +for labouring under them, as if we had brought them on, of our +own deliberate act and deed. As to the mental portion of +them being my own fault in my own case—I should like to ask +any well-trained and experienced teacher, not to say +psychologist. And as to the physical portion—I should +like to ask <span class="smcap">Professor Owen</span>.’</p> +<p>It happened that I had a small bundle of papers with me, on +what is called ‘The Half-Time System’ in +schools. Referring to one of those papers I found that the +indefatigable <span class="smcap">Mr. Chadwick</span> had been +beforehand with me, and had already asked Professor Owen: who had +handsomely replied that I was not to blame, but that, being +troubled with a skeleton, and having been constituted according +to certain natural laws, I and my skeleton were unfortunately +bound by those laws even in school—and had comported +ourselves accordingly. Much comforted by the good +Professor’s being on my side, I read on to discover whether +the indefatigable Mr. Chadwick had taken up the mental part of my +afflictions. I found that he had, and that he had gained on +my behalf, <span class="smcap">Sir Benjamin Brodie</span>, <span +class="smcap">Sir David Wilkie</span>, <span class="smcap">Sir +Walter Scott</span>, and the common sense of mankind. For +which I beg Mr. Chadwick, if this should meet his eye, to accept +my warm acknowledgments.</p> +<p>Up to that time I had retained a misgiving that the seventy +unfortunates of whom I was one, must have been, without knowing +it, leagued together by the spirit of evil in a sort of perpetual +Guy Fawkes Plot, to grope about in vaults with dark lanterns +after a certain period of continuous study. But now the +misgiving vanished, and I floated on with a quieted mind to see +the Half-Time System in action. For that was the purpose of +my journey, both by steamboat on the Thames, and by very dirty +railway on the shore. To which last institution, I beg to +recommend the legal use of coke as engine-fuel, rather than the +illegal use of coal; the recommendation is quite disinterested, +for I was most liberally supplied with small coal on the journey, +for which no charge was made. I had not only my eyes, nose, +and ears filled, but my hat, and all my pockets, and my +pocket-book, and my watch.</p> +<p>The V.D.S.C.R.C. (or Very Dirty and Small Coal Railway +Company) delivered me close to my destination, and I soon found +the Half-Time System established in spacious premises, and freely +placed at my convenience and disposal.</p> +<p>What would I see first of the Half-Time System? I chose +Military Drill. ‘Atten-tion!’ Instantly a +hundred boys stood forth in the paved yard as one boy; bright, +quick, eager, steady, watchful for the look of command, instant +and ready for the word. Not only was there complete +precision—complete accord to the eye and to the +ear—but an alertness in the doing of the thing which +deprived it, curiously, of its monotonous or mechanical +character. There was perfect uniformity, and yet an +individual spirit and emulation. No spectator could doubt +that the boys liked it. With non-commissioned officers +varying from a yard to a yard and a half high, the result could +not possibly have been attained otherwise. They marched, +and counter-marched, and formed in line and square, and company, +and single file and double file, and performed a variety of +evolutions; all most admirably. In respect of an air of +enjoyable understanding of what they were about, which seems to +be forbidden to English soldiers, the boys might have been small +French troops. When they were dismissed and the broadsword +exercise, limited to a much smaller number, succeeded, the boys +who had no part in that new drill, either looked on attentively, +or disported themselves in a gymnasium hard by. The +steadiness of the broadsword boys on their short legs, and the +firmness with which they sustained the different positions, was +truly remarkable.</p> +<p>The broadsword exercise over, suddenly there was great +excitement and a rush. Naval Drill!</p> +<p>In the corner of the ground stood a decked mimic ship, with +real masts, yards, and sails—mainmast seventy feet +high. At the word of command from the Skipper of this +ship—a mahogany-faced Old Salt, with the indispensable quid +in his cheek, the true nautical roll, and all wonderfully +complete—the rigging was covered with a swarm of boys: one, +the first to spring into the shrouds, outstripping all the +others, and resting on the truck of the main-topmast in no +time.</p> +<p>And now we stood out to sea, in a most amazing manner; the +Skipper himself, the whole crew, the Uncommercial, and all hands +present, implicitly believing that there was not a moment to +lose, that the wind had that instant chopped round and sprung up +fair, and that we were away on a voyage round the world. +Get all sail upon her! With a will, my lads! Lay out +upon the main-yard there! Look alive at the weather +earring! Cheery, my boys! Let go the sheet, +now! Stand by at the braces, you! With a will, aloft +there! Belay, starboard watch! Fifer! Come aft, +fifer, and give ’em a tune! Forthwith, springs up +fifer, fife in hand—smallest boy ever seen—big lump +on temple, having lately fallen down on a +paving-stone—gives ’em a tune with all his might and +main. Hoo-roar, fifer! With a will, my lads! +Tip ’em a livelier one, fifer! Fifer tips ’em a +livelier one, and excitement increases. Shake ’em +out, my lads! Well done! There you have her! +Pretty, pretty! Every rag upon her she can carry, wind +right astarn, and ship cutting through the water fifteen knots an +hour!</p> +<p>At this favourable moment of her voyage, I gave the alarm +‘A man overboard!’ (on the gravel), but he was +immediately recovered, none the worse. Presently, I +observed the Skipper overboard, but forbore to mention it, as he +seemed in no wise disconcerted by the accident. Indeed, I +soon came to regard the Skipper as an amphibious creature, for he +was so perpetually plunging overboard to look up at the hands +aloft, that he was oftener in the bosom of the ocean than on +deck. His pride in his crew on those occasions was +delightful, and the conventional unintelligibility of his orders +in the ears of uncommercial landlubbers and loblolly boys, though +they were always intelligible to the crew, was hardly less +pleasant. But we couldn’t expect to go on in this way +for ever; dirty weather came on, and then worse weather, and when +we least expected it we got into tremendous difficulties. +Screw loose in the chart perhaps—something certainly wrong +somewhere—but here we were with breakers ahead, my lads, +driving head on, slap on a lee shore! The Skipper broached +this terrific announcement in such great agitation, that the +small fifer, not fifeing now, but standing looking on near the +wheel with his fife under his arm, seemed for the moment quite +unboyed, though he speedily recovered his presence of mind. +In the trying circumstances that ensued, the Skipper and the crew +proved worthy of one another. The Skipper got dreadfully +hoarse, but otherwise was master of the situation. The man +at the wheel did wonders; all hands (except the fifer) were +turned up to wear ship; and I observed the fifer, when we were at +our greatest extremity, to refer to some document in his +waistcoat-pocket, which I conceived to be his will. I think +she struck. I was not myself conscious of any collision, +but I saw the Skipper so very often washed overboard and back +again, that I could only impute it to the beating of the +ship. I am not enough of a seaman to describe the +manœuvres by which we were saved, but they made the Skipper +very hot (French polishing his mahogany face) and the crew very +nimble, and succeeded to a marvel; for, within a few minutes of +the first alarm, we had wore ship and got her off, and were all +a-tauto—which I felt very grateful for: not that I knew +what it was, but that I perceived that we had not been all +a-tauto lately. Land now appeared on our weather-bow, and +we shaped our course for it, having the wind abeam, and +frequently changing the man at the helm, in order that every man +might have his spell. We worked into harbour under +prosperous circumstances, and furled our sails, and squared our +yards, and made all ship-shape and handsome, and so our voyage +ended. When I complimented the Skipper at parting on his +exertions and those of his gallant crew, he informed me that the +latter were provided for the worst, all hands being taught to +swim and dive; and he added that the able seaman at the +main-topmast truck especially, could dive as deep as he could go +high.</p> +<p>The next adventure that befell me in my visit to the +Short-Timers, was the sudden apparition of a military band. +I had been inspecting the hammocks of the crew of the good ship, +when I saw with astonishment that several musical instruments, +brazen and of great size, appeared to have suddenly developed two +legs each, and to be trotting about a yard. And my +astonishment was heightened when I observed a large drum, that +had previously been leaning helpless against a wall, taking up a +stout position on four legs. Approaching this drum and +looking over it, I found two boys behind it (it was too much for +one), and then I found that each of the brazen instruments had +brought out a boy, and was going to discourse sweet sounds. +The boys—not omitting the fifer, now playing a new +instrument—were dressed in neat uniform, and stood up in a +circle at their music-stands, like any other Military Band. +They played a march or two, and then we had Cheer boys, Cheer, +and then we had Yankee Doodle, and we finished, as in loyal duty +bound, with God save the Queen. The band’s +proficiency was perfectly wonderful, and it was not at all +wonderful that the whole body corporate of Short-Timers listened +with faces of the liveliest interest and pleasure.</p> +<p>What happened next among the Short-Timers? As if the +band had blown me into a great class-room out of their brazen +tubes, <i>in</i> a great class-room I found myself now, with the +whole choral force of Short-Timers singing the praises of a +summer’s day to the harmonium, and my small but highly +respected friend the fifer blazing away vocally, as if he had +been saving up his wind for the last twelvemonth; also the whole +crew of the good ship Nameless swarming up and down the scale as +if they had never swarmed up and down the rigging. This +done, we threw our whole power into God bless the Prince of +Wales, and blessed his Royal Highness to such an extent that, for +my own Uncommercial part, I gasped again when it was over. +The moment this was done, we formed, with surpassing freshness, +into hollow squares, and fell to work at oral lessons as if we +never did, and had never thought of doing, anything else.</p> +<p>Let a veil be drawn over the self-committals into which the +Uncommercial Traveller would have been betrayed but for a +discreet reticence, coupled with an air of absolute wisdom on the +part of that artful personage. Take the square of five, +multiply it by fifteen, divide it by three, deduct eight from it, +add four dozen to it, give me the result in pence, and tell me +how many eggs I could get for it at three farthings apiece. +The problem is hardly stated, when a dozen small boys pour out +answers. Some wide, some very nearly right, some worked as +far as they go with such accuracy, as at once to show what link +of the chain has been dropped in the hurry. For the moment, +none are quite right; but behold a labouring spirit beating the +buttons on its corporeal waistcoat, in a process of internal +calculation, and knitting an accidental bump on its corporeal +forehead in a concentration of mental arithmetic! It is my +honourable friend (if he will allow me to call him so) the +fifer. With right arm eagerly extended in token of being +inspired with an answer, and with right leg foremost, the fifer +solves the mystery: then recalls both arm and leg, and with bump +in ambush awaits the next poser. Take the square of three, +multiply it by seven, divide it by four, add fifty to it, take +thirteen from it, multiply it by two, double it, give me the +result in pence, and say how many halfpence. Wise as the +serpent is the four feet of performer on the nearest approach to +that instrument, whose right arm instantly appears, and quenches +this arithmetical fire. Tell me something about Great +Britain, tell me something about its principal productions, tell +me something about its ports, tell me something about its seas +and rivers, tell me something about coal, iron, cotton, timber, +tin, and turpentine. The hollow square bristles with +extended right arms; but ever faithful to fact is the fifer, ever +wise as the serpent is the performer on that instrument, ever +prominently buoyant and brilliant are all members of the +band. I observe the player of the cymbals to dash at a +sounding answer now and then rather than not cut in at all; but I +take that to be in the way of his instrument. All these +questions, and many such, are put on the spur of the moment, and +by one who has never examined these boys. The Uncommercial, +invited to add another, falteringly demands how many birthdays a +man born on the twenty-ninth of February will have had on +completing his fiftieth year? A general perception of trap +and pitfall instantly arises, and the fifer is seen to retire +behind the corduroys of his next neighbours, as perceiving +special necessity for collecting himself and communing with his +mind. Meanwhile, the wisdom of the serpent suggests that +the man will have had only one birthday in all that time, for how +can any man have more than one, seeing that he is born once and +dies once? The blushing Uncommercial stands corrected, and +amends the formula. Pondering ensues, two or three wrong +answers are offered, and Cymbals strikes up ‘Six!’ +but doesn’t know why. Then modestly emerging from his +Academic Grove of corduroys appears the fifer, right arm +extended, right leg foremost, bump irradiated. +‘Twelve, and two over!’</p> +<p>The feminine Short-Timers passed a similar examination, and +very creditably too. Would have done better perhaps, with a +little more geniality on the part of their pupil-teacher; for a +cold eye, my young friend, and a hard, abrupt manner, are not by +any means the powerful engines that your innocence supposes them +to be. Both girls and boys wrote excellently, from copy and +dictation; both could cook; both could mend their own clothes; +both could clean up everything about them in an orderly and +skilful way, the girls having womanly household knowledge +superadded. Order and method began in the songs of the +Infant School which I visited likewise, and they were even in +their dwarf degree to be found in the Nursery, where the +Uncommercial walking-stick was carried off with acclamations, and +where ‘the Doctor’—a medical gentleman of two, +who took his degree on the night when he was found at an +apothecary’s door—did the honours of the +establishment with great urbanity and gaiety.</p> +<p>These have long been excellent schools; long before the days +of the Short-Time. I first saw them, twelve or fifteen +years ago. But since the introduction of the Short-Time +system it has been proved here that eighteen hours a week of +book-learning are more profitable than thirty-six, and that the +pupils are far quicker and brighter than of yore. The good +influences of music on the whole body of children have likewise +been surprisingly proved. Obviously another of the immense +advantages of the Short-Time system to the cause of good +education is the great diminution of its cost, and of the period +of time over which it extends. The last is a most important +consideration, as poor parents are always impatient to profit by +their children’s labour.</p> +<p>It will be objected: Firstly, that this is all very well, but +special local advantages and special selection of children must +be necessary to such success. Secondly, that this is all +very well, but must be very expensive. Thirdly, that this +is all very well, but we have no proof of the results, sir, no +proof.</p> +<p>On the first head of local advantages and special +selection. Would Limehouse Hole be picked out for the site +of a Children’s Paradise? Or would the legitimate and +illegitimate pauper children of the long-shore population of such +a riverside district, be regarded as unusually favourable +specimens to work with? Yet these schools are at Limehouse, +and are the Pauper Schools of the Stepney Pauper Union.</p> +<p>On the second head of expense. Would sixpence a week be +considered a very large cost for the education of each pupil, +including all salaries of teachers and rations of teachers? +But supposing the cost were not sixpence a week, not fivepence? +it is <span class="GutSmall">FOURPENCE-HALFPENNY</span>.</p> +<p>On the third head of no proof, sir, no proof. Is there +any proof in the facts that Pupil Teachers more in number, and +more highly qualified, have been produced here under the +Short-Time system than under the Long-Time system? That the +Short-Timers, in a writing competition, beat the Long-Timers of a +first-class National School? That the sailor-boys are in +such demand for merchant ships, that whereas, before they were +trained, 10<i>l.</i> premium used to be given with each +boy—too often to some greedy brute of a drunken skipper, +who disappeared before the term of apprenticeship was out, if the +ill-used boy didn’t—captains of the best character +now take these boys more than willingly, with no premium at +all? That they are also much esteemed in the Royal Navy, +which they prefer, ‘because everything is so neat and clean +and orderly’? Or, is there any proof in Naval +captains writing ‘Your little fellows are all that I can +desire’? Or, is there any proof in such testimony as +this: ‘The owner of a vessel called at the school, and said +that as his ship was going down Channel on her last voyage, with +one of the boys from the school on board, the pilot said, +“It would be as well if the royal were lowered; I wish it +were down.” Without waiting for any orders, and +unobserved by the pilot, the lad, whom they had taken on board +from the school, instantly mounted the mast and lowered the +royal, and at the next glance of the pilot to the masthead, he +perceived that the sail had been let down. He exclaimed, +“Who’s done that job?” The owner, who was +on board, said, “That was the little fellow whom I put on +board two days ago.” The pilot immediately said, +“Why, where could he have been brought up?” The +boy had never seen the sea or been on a real ship +before’? Or, is there any proof in these boys being +in greater demand for Regimental Bands than the Union can +meet? Or, in ninety-eight of them having gone into +Regimental Bands in three years? Or, in twelve of them +being in the band of one regiment? Or, in the colonel of +that regiment writing, ‘We want six more boys; they are +excellent lads’? Or, in one of the boys having risen +to be band-corporal in the same regiment? Or, in employers +of all kinds chorusing, ‘Give us drilled boys, for they are +prompt, obedient, and punctual’? Other proofs I have +myself beheld with these Uncommercial eyes, though I do not +regard myself as having a right to relate in what social +positions they have seen respected men and women who were once +pauper children of the Stepney Union.</p> +<p>Into what admirable soldiers others of these boys have the +capabilities for being turned, I need not point out. Many +of them are always ambitious of military service; and once upon a +time when an old boy came back to see the old place, a cavalry +soldier all complete, <i>with his spurs on</i>, such a yearning +broke out to get into cavalry regiments and wear those sublime +appendages, that it was one of the greatest excitements ever +known in the school. The girls make excellent domestic +servants, and at certain periods come back, a score or two at a +time, to see the old building, and to take tea with the old +teachers, and to hear the old band, and to see the old ship with +her masts towering up above the neighbouring roofs and +chimneys. As to the physical health of these schools, it is +so exceptionally remarkable (simply because the sanitary +regulations are as good as the other educational arrangements), +that when Mr. <span class="smcap">Tufnell</span>, the Inspector, +first stated it in a report, he was supposed, in spite of his +high character, to have been betrayed into some extraordinary +mistake or exaggeration. In the moral health of these +schools—where corporal punishment is +unknown—Truthfulness stands high. When the ship was +first erected, the boys were forbidden to go aloft, until the +nets, which are now always there, were stretched as a precaution +against accidents. Certain boys, in their eagerness, +disobeyed the injunction, got out of window in the early +daylight, and climbed to the masthead. One boy +unfortunately fell, and was killed. There was no clue to +the others; but all the boys were assembled, and the chairman of +the Board addressed them. ‘I promise nothing; you see +what a dreadful thing has happened; you know what a grave offence +it is that has led to such a consequence; I cannot say what will +be done with the offenders; but, boys, you have been trained +here, above all things, to respect the truth. I want the +truth. Who are the delinquents?’ Instantly, the +whole number of boys concerned, separated from the rest, and +stood out.</p> +<p>Now, the head and heart of that gentleman (it is needless to +say, a good head and a good heart) have been deeply interested in +these schools for many years, and are so still; and the +establishment is very fortunate in a most admirable master, and +moreover the schools of the Stepney Union cannot have got to be +what they are, without the Stepney Board of Guardians having been +earnest and humane men strongly imbued with a sense of their +responsibility. But what one set of men can do in this +wise, another set of men can do; and this is a noble example to +all other Bodies and Unions, and a noble example to the +State. Followed, and enlarged upon by its enforcement on +bad parents, it would clear London streets of the most terrible +objects they smite the sight with—myriads of little +children who awfully reverse Our Saviour’s words, and are +not of the Kingdom of Heaven, but of the Kingdom of Hell.</p> +<p>Clear the public streets of such shame, and the public +conscience of such reproach? Ah! Almost prophetic, +surely, the child’s jingle:</p> +<blockquote><p>When will that be,<br /> +Say the bells of Step-ney!</p> +</blockquote> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>XXII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">BOUND FOR THE GREAT SALT LAKE</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Behold</span> me on my way to an Emigrant +Ship, on a hot morning early in June. My road lies through +that part of London generally known to the initiated as +‘Down by the Docks.’ Down by the Docks, is home +to a good many people—to too many, if I may judge from the +overflow of local population in the streets—but my nose +insinuates that the number to whom it is Sweet Home might be +easily counted. Down by the Docks, is a region I would +choose as my point of embarkation aboard ship if I were an +emigrant. It would present my intention to me in such a +sensible light; it would show me so many things to be run away +from.</p> +<p>Down by the Docks, they eat the largest oysters and scatter +the roughest oyster-shells, known to the descendants of Saint +George and the Dragon. Down by the Docks, they consume the +slimiest of shell-fish, which seem to have been scraped off the +copper bottoms of ships. Down by the Docks, the vegetables +at green-grocers’ doors acquire a saline and a scaly look, +as if they had been crossed with fish and seaweed. Down by +the Docks, they ‘board seamen’ at the eating-houses, +the public-houses, the slop-shops, the coffee-shops, the +tally-shops, all kinds of shops mentionable and +unmentionable—board them, as it were, in the piratical +sense, making them bleed terribly, and giving no quarter. +Down by the Docks, the seamen roam in mid-street and mid-day, +their pockets inside out, and their heads no better. Down +by the Docks, the daughters of wave-ruling Britannia also rove, +clad in silken attire, with uncovered tresses streaming in the +breeze, bandanna kerchiefs floating from their shoulders, and +crinoline not wanting. Down by the Docks, you may hear the +Incomparable Joe Jackson sing the Standard of England, with a +hornpipe, any night; or any day may see at the waxwork, for a +penny and no waiting, him as killed the policeman at Acton and +suffered for it. Down by the Docks, you may buy polonies, +saveloys, and sausage preparations various, if you are not +particular what they are made of besides seasoning. Down by +the Docks, the children of Israel creep into any gloomy cribs and +entries they can hire, and hang slops there—pewter watches, +sou’-wester hats, waterproof overalls—‘firtht +rate articleth, Thjack.’ Down by the Docks, such +dealers exhibiting on a frame a complete nautical suit without +the refinement of a waxen visage in the hat, present the +imaginary wearer as drooping at the yard-arm, with his seafaring +and earthfaring troubles over. Down by the Docks, the +placards in the shops apostrophise the customer, knowing him +familiarly beforehand, as, ‘Look here, Jack!’ +‘Here’s your sort, my lad!’ ‘Try +our sea-going mixed, at two and nine!’ ‘The +right kit for the British tar!’ ‘Ship +ahoy!’ ‘Splice the main-brace, +brother!’ ‘Come, cheer up, my lads. +We’ve the best liquors here, And you’ll find +something new In our wonderful Beer!’ Down by the +Docks, the pawnbroker lends money on Union-Jack +pocket-handkerchiefs, on watches with little ships pitching fore +and aft on the dial, on telescopes, nautical instruments in +cases, and such-like. Down by the Docks, the apothecary +sets up in business on the wretchedest scale—chiefly on +lint and plaster for the strapping of wounds—and with no +bright bottles, and with no little drawers. Down by the +Docks, the shabby undertaker’s shop will bury you for next +to nothing, after the Malay or Chinaman has stabbed you for +nothing at all: so you can hardly hope to make a cheaper +end. Down by the Docks, anybody drunk will quarrel with +anybody drunk or sober, and everybody else will have a hand in +it, and on the shortest notice you may revolve in a whirlpool of +red shirts, shaggy beards, wild heads of hair, bare tattooed +arms, Britannia’s daughters, malice, mud, maundering, and +madness. Down by the Docks, scraping fiddles go in the +public-houses all day long, and, shrill above their din and all +the din, rises the screeching of innumerable parrots brought from +foreign parts, who appear to be very much astonished by what they +find on these native shores of ours. Possibly the parrots +don’t know, possibly they do, that Down by the Docks is the +road to the Pacific Ocean, with its lovely islands, where the +savage girls plait flowers, and the savage boys carve cocoa-nut +shells, and the grim blind idols muse in their shady groves to +exactly the same purpose as the priests and chiefs. And +possibly the parrots don’t know, possibly they do, that the +noble savage is a wearisome impostor wherever he is, and has five +hundred thousand volumes of indifferent rhyme, and no reason, to +answer for.</p> +<p>Shadwell church! Pleasant whispers of there being a +fresher air down the river than down by the Docks, go pursuing +one another, playfully, in and out of the openings in its +spire. Gigantic in the basin just beyond the church, looms +my Emigrant Ship: her name, the Amazon. Her figure-head is +not disfigured as those beauteous founders of the race of +strong-minded women are fabled to have been, for the convenience +of drawing the bow; but I sympathise with the carver:</p> +<blockquote><p>A flattering carver who made it his care<br /> +To carve busts as they ought to be—not as they were.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>My Emigrant Ship lies broadside-on to the wharf. Two +great gangways made of spars and planks connect her with the +wharf; and up and down these gangways, perpetually crowding to +and fro and in and out, like ants, are the Emigrants who are +going to sail in my Emigrant Ship. Some with cabbages, some +with loaves of bread, some with cheese and butter, some with milk +and beer, some with boxes, beds, and bundles, some with +babies—nearly all with children—nearly all with +bran-new tin cans for their daily allowance of water, +uncomfortably suggestive of a tin flavour in the drink. To +and fro, up and down, aboard and ashore, swarming here and there +and everywhere, my Emigrants. And still as the Dock-Gate +swings upon its hinges, cabs appear, and carts appear, and vans +appear, bringing more of my Emigrants, with more cabbages, more +loaves, more cheese and butter, more milk and beer, more boxes, +beds, and bundles, more tin cans, and on those shipping +investments accumulated compound interest of children.</p> +<p>I go aboard my Emigrant Ship. I go first to the great +cabin, and find it in the usual condition of a Cabin at that +pass. Perspiring landsmen, with loose papers, and with pens +and inkstands, pervade it; and the general appearance of things +is as if the late Mr. Amazon’s funeral had just come home +from the cemetery, and the disconsolate Mrs. Amazon’s +trustees found the affairs in great disorder, and were looking +high and low for the will. I go out on the poop-deck, for +air, and surveying the emigrants on the deck below (indeed they +are crowded all about me, up there too), find more pens and +inkstands in action, and more papers, and interminable +complication respecting accounts with individuals for tin cans +and what not. But nobody is in an ill-temper, nobody is the +worse for drink, nobody swears an oath or uses a coarse word, +nobody appears depressed, nobody is weeping, and down upon the +deck in every corner where it is possible to find a few square +feet to kneel, crouch, or lie in, people, in every unsuitable +attitude for writing, are writing letters.</p> +<p>Now, I have seen emigrant ships before this day in June. +And these people are so strikingly different from all other +people in like circumstances whom I have ever seen, that I wonder +aloud, ‘What <i>would</i> a stranger suppose these +emigrants to be!’</p> +<p>The vigilant, bright face of the weather-browned captain of +the Amazon is at my shoulder, and he says, ‘What, +indeed! The most of these came aboard yesterday +evening. They came from various parts of England in small +parties that had never seen one another before. Yet they +had not been a couple of hours on board, when they established +their own police, made their own regulations, and set their own +watches at all the hatchways. Before nine o’clock, +the ship was as orderly and as quiet as a man-of-war.’</p> +<p>I looked about me again, and saw the letter-writing going on +with the most curious composure. Perfectly abstracted in +the midst of the crowd; while great casks were swinging aloft, +and being lowered into the hold; while hot agents were hurrying +up and down, adjusting the interminable accounts; while two +hundred strangers were searching everywhere for two hundred other +strangers, and were asking questions about them of two hundred +more; while the children played up and down all the steps, and in +and out among all the people’s legs, and were beheld, to +the general dismay, toppling over all the dangerous places; the +letter-writers wrote on calmly. On the starboard side of +the ship, a grizzled man dictated a long letter to another +grizzled man in an immense fur cap: which letter was of so +profound a quality, that it became necessary for the amanuensis +at intervals to take off his fur cap in both his hands, for the +ventilation of his brain, and stare at him who dictated, as a man +of many mysteries who was worth looking at. On the +lar-board side, a woman had covered a belaying-pin with a white +cloth to make a neat desk of it, and was sitting on a little box, +writing with the deliberation of a bookkeeper. Down, upon +her breast on the planks of the deck at this woman’s feet, +with her head diving in under a beam of the bulwarks on that +side, as an eligible place of refuge for her sheet of paper, a +neat and pretty girl wrote for a good hour (she fainted at last), +only rising to the surface occasionally for a dip of ink. +Alongside the boat, close to me on the poop-deck, another girl, a +fresh, well-grown country girl, was writing another letter on the +bare deck. Later in the day, when this self-same boat was +filled with a choir who sang glees and catches for a long time, +one of the singers, a girl, sang her part mechanically all the +while, and wrote a letter in the bottom of the boat while doing +so.</p> +<p>‘A stranger would be puzzled to guess the right name for +these people, Mr. Uncommercial,’ says the captain.</p> +<p>‘Indeed he would.’</p> +<p>‘If you hadn’t known, could you ever have +supposed—?’</p> +<p>‘How could I! I should have said they were in +their degree, the pick and flower of England.’</p> +<p>‘So should I,’ says the captain.</p> +<p>‘How many are they?’</p> +<p>‘Eight hundred in round numbers.’</p> +<p>I went between-decks, where the families with children swarmed +in the dark, where unavoidable confusion had been caused by the +last arrivals, and where the confusion was increased by the +little preparations for dinner that were going on in each +group. A few women here and there, had got lost, and were +laughing at it, and asking their way to their own people, or out +on deck again. A few of the poor children were crying; but +otherwise the universal cheerfulness was amazing. ‘We +shall shake down by to-morrow.’ ‘We shall come +all right in a day or so.’ ‘We shall have more +light at sea.’ Such phrases I heard everywhere, as I +groped my way among chests and barrels and beams and unstowed +cargo and ring-bolts and Emigrants, down to the lower-deck, and +thence up to the light of day again, and to my former +station.</p> +<p>Surely, an extraordinary people in their power of +self-abstraction! All the former letter-writers were still +writing calmly, and many more letter-writers had broken out in my +absence. A boy with a bag of books in his hand and a slate +under his arm, emerged from below, concentrated himself in my +neighbourhood (espying a convenient skylight for his purpose), +and went to work at a sum as if he were stone deaf. A +father and mother and several young children, on the main deck +below me, had formed a family circle close to the foot of the +crowded restless gangway, where the children made a nest for +themselves in a coil of rope, and the father and mother, she +suckling the youngest, discussed family affairs as peaceably as +if they were in perfect retirement. I think the most +noticeable characteristic in the eight hundred as a mass, was +their exemption from hurry.</p> +<p>Eight hundred what? ‘Geese, villain?’ +<span class="smcap">Eight hundred Mormons</span>. I, +Uncommercial Traveller for the firm of Human Interest Brothers, +had come aboard this Emigrant Ship to see what Eight hundred +Latter-day Saints were like, and I found them (to the rout and +overthrow of all my expectations) like what I now describe with +scrupulous exactness.</p> +<p>The Mormon Agent who had been active in getting them together, +and in making the contract with my friends the owners of the ship +to take them as far as New York on their way to the Great Salt +Lake, was pointed out to me. A compactly-made handsome man +in black, rather short, with rich brown hair and beard, and clear +bright eyes. From his speech, I should set him down as +American. Probably, a man who had ‘knocked about the +world’ pretty much. A man with a frank open manner, +and unshrinking look; withal a man of great quickness. I +believe he was wholly ignorant of my Uncommercial individuality, +and consequently of my immense Uncommercial importance.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. These are a +very fine set of people you have brought together here.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. Yes, sir, they +are a <i>very</i> fine set of people.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span> (looking about). +Indeed, I think it would be difficult to find Eight hundred +people together anywhere else, and find so much beauty and so +much strength and capacity for work among them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span> (not looking about, +but looking steadily at Uncommercial). I think so.—We +sent out about a thousand more, yes’day, from +Liverpool.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. You are not +going with these emigrants?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. No, sir. +I remain.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. But you have +been in the Mormon Territory?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. Yes; I left +Utah about three years ago.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. It is +surprising to me that these people are all so cheery, and make so +little of the immense distance before them.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. Well, you see; +many of ’em have friends out at Utah, and many of ’em +look forward to meeting friends on the way.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. On the way?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. This way +’tis. This ship lands ’em in New York +City. Then they go on by rail right away beyond St. Louis, +to that part of the Banks of the Missouri where they strike the +Plains. There, waggons from the settlement meet ’em +to bear ’em company on their journey ’cross-twelve +hundred miles about. Industrious people who come out to the +settlement soon get waggons of their own, and so the friends of +some of these will come down in their own waggons to meet +’em. They look forward to that, greatly.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. On their long +journey across the Desert, do you arm them?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. Mostly you +would find they have arms of some kind or another already with +them. Such as had not arms we should arm across the Plains, +for the general protection and defence.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. Will these +waggons bring down any produce to the Missouri?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. Well, since the +war broke out, we’ve taken to growing cotton, and +they’ll likely bring down cotton to be exchanged for +machinery. We want machinery. Also we have taken to +growing indigo, which is a fine commodity for profit. It +has been found that the climate on the further side of the Great +Salt Lake suits well for raising indigo.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. I am told that +these people now on board are principally from the South of +England?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. And from +Wales. That’s true.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. Do you get many +Scotch?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. Not many.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. Highlanders, +for instance?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. No, not +Highlanders. They ain’t interested enough in +universal brotherhood and peace and good will.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. The old +fighting blood is strong in them?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span>. Well, +yes. And besides; they’ve no faith.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span> (who has been burning +to get at the Prophet Joe Smith, and seems to discover an +opening). Faith in—!</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mormon Agent</span> (far too many for +Uncommercial). Well.—In anything!</p> +<p>Similarly on this same head, the Uncommercial underwent +discomfiture from a Wiltshire labourer: a simple, fresh-coloured +farm-labourer, of eight-and-thirty, who at one time stood beside +him looking on at new arrivals, and with whom he held this +dialogue:</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. Would you mind +my asking you what part of the country you come from?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Wiltshire</span>. Not a bit. +Theer! (exultingly) I’ve worked all my life o’ +Salisbury Plain, right under the shadder o’ +Stonehenge. You mightn’t think it, but I haive.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. And a pleasant +country too.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Wiltshire</span>. Ah! +’Tis a pleasant country.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. Have you any +family on board?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Wiltshire</span>. Two children, boy +and gal. I am a widderer, <i>I</i> am, and I’m going +out alonger my boy and gal. That’s my gal, and +she’s a fine gal o’ sixteen (pointing out the girl +who is writing by the boat). I’ll go and fetch my +boy. I’d like to show you my boy. (Here +Wiltshire disappears, and presently comes back with a big, shy +boy of twelve, in a superabundance of boots, who is not at all +glad to be presented.) He is a fine boy too, and a boy fur +to work! (Boy having undutifully bolted, Wiltshire drops +him.)</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. It must cost +you a great deal of money to go so far, three strong.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Wiltshire</span>. A power of +money. Theer! Eight shillen a week, eight shillen a +week, eight shillen a week, put by out of the week’s wages +for ever so long.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span>. I wonder how +you did it.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Wiltshire</span> (recognising in this a +kindred spirit). See theer now! I wonder how I done +it! But what with a bit o’ subscription heer, and +what with a bit o’ help theer, it were done at last, though +I don’t hardly know how. Then it were +unfort’net for us, you see, as we got kep’ in Bristol +so long—nigh a fortnight, it were—on accounts of a +mistake wi’ Brother Halliday. Swaller’d up +money, it did, when we might have come straight on.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Uncommercial</span> (delicately +approaching Joe Smith). You are of the Mormon religion, of +course?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Wiltshire</span> (confidently). O +yes, I’m a Mormon. (Then reflectively.) +I’m a Mormon. (Then, looking round the ship, feigns +to descry a particular friend in an empty spot, and evades the +Uncommercial for evermore.)</p> +<p>After a noontide pause for dinner, during which my Emigrants +were nearly all between-decks, and the Amazon looked deserted, a +general muster took place. The muster was for the ceremony +of passing the Government Inspector and the Doctor. Those +authorities held their temporary state amidships, by a cask or +two; and, knowing that the whole Eight hundred emigrants must +come face to face with them, I took my station behind the +two. They knew nothing whatever of me, I believe, and my +testimony to the unpretending gentleness and good nature with +which they discharged their duty, may be of the greater +worth. There was not the slightest flavour of the +Circumlocution Office about their proceedings.</p> +<p>The emigrants were now all on deck. They were densely +crowded aft, and swarmed upon the poop-deck like bees. Two +or three Mormon agents stood ready to hand them on to the +Inspector, and to hand them forward when they had passed. +By what successful means, a special aptitude for organisation had +been infused into these people, I am, of course, unable to +report. But I know that, even now, there was no disorder, +hurry, or difficulty.</p> +<p>All being ready, the first group are handed on. That +member of the party who is entrusted with the passenger-ticket +for the whole, has been warned by one of the agents to have it +ready, and here it is in his hand. In every instance +through the whole eight hundred, without an exception, this paper +is always ready.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Inspector</span> (reading the +ticket). Jessie Jobson, Sophronia Jobson, Jessie Jobson +again, Matilda Jobson, William Jobson, Jane Jobson, Matilda +Jobson again, Brigham Jobson, Leonardo Jobson, and Orson +Jobson. Are you all here? (glancing at the party, over his +spectacles).</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Jessie Jobson Number Two</span>. All +here, sir.</p> +<p>This group is composed of an old grandfather and grandmother, +their married son and his wife, and <i>their</i> family of +children. Orson Jobson is a little child asleep in his +mother’s arms. The Doctor, with a kind word or so, +lifts up the corner of the mother’s shawl, looks at the +child’s face, and touches the little clenched hand. +If we were all as well as Orson Jobson, doctoring would be a poor +profession.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Inspector</span>. Quite right, +Jessie Jobson. Take your ticket, Jessie, and pass on.</p> +<p>And away they go. Mormon agent, skilful and quiet, hands +them on. Mormon agent, skilful and quiet, hands next party +up.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Inspector</span> (reading ticket +again). Susannah Cleverly and William Cleverly. +Brother and sister, eh?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Sister</span> (young woman of business, +hustling slow brother). Yes, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Inspector</span>. Very good, +Susannah Cleverly. Take your ticket, Susannah, and take +care of it.</p> +<p>And away they go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Inspector</span> (taking ticket +again). Sampson Dibble and Dorothy Dibble (surveying a very +old couple over his spectacles, with some surprise). Your +husband quite blind, Mrs. Dibble?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Dibble</span>. Yes, sir, he be +stone-blind.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Dibble</span> (addressing the +mast). Yes, sir, I be stone-blind.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Inspector</span>. That’s a bad +job. Take your ticket, Mrs. Dibble, and don’t lose +it, and pass on.</p> +<p>Doctor taps Mr. Dibble on the eyebrow with his forefinger, and +away they go.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Inspector</span> (taking ticket +again). Anastatia Weedle.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Anastatia</span> (a pretty girl, in a +bright Garibaldi, this morning elected by universal suffrage the +Beauty of the Ship). That is me, sir.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Inspector</span>. Going alone, +Anastatia?</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Anastatia</span> (shaking her +curls). I am with Mrs. Jobson, sir, but I’ve got +separated for the moment.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Inspector</span>. Oh! You are +with the Jobsons? Quite right. That’ll do, Miss +Weedle. Don’t lose your ticket.</p> +<p>Away she goes, and joins the Jobsons who are waiting for her, +and stoops and kisses Brigham Jobson—who appears to be +considered too young for the purpose, by several Mormons rising +twenty, who are looking on. Before her extensive skirts +have departed from the casks, a decent widow stands there with +four children, and so the roll goes.</p> +<p>The faces of some of the Welsh people, among whom there were +many old persons, were certainly the least intelligent. +Some of these emigrants would have bungled sorely, but for the +directing hand that was always ready. The intelligence here +was unquestionably of a low order, and the heads were of a poor +type. Generally the case was the reverse. There were +many worn faces bearing traces of patient poverty and hard work, +and there was great steadiness of purpose and much +undemonstrative self-respect among this class. A few young +men were going singly. Several girls were going, two or +three together. These latter I found it very difficult to +refer back, in my mind, to their relinquished homes and +pursuits. Perhaps they were more like country milliners, +and pupil teachers rather tawdrily dressed, than any other +classes of young women. I noticed, among many little +ornaments worn, more than one photograph-brooch of the Princess +of Wales, and also of the late Prince Consort. Some single +women of from thirty to forty, whom one might suppose to be +embroiderers, or straw-bonnet-makers, were obviously going out in +quest of husbands, as finer ladies go to India. That they +had any distinct notions of a plurality of husbands or wives, I +do not believe. To suppose the family groups of whom the +majority of emigrants were composed, polygamically possessed, +would be to suppose an absurdity, manifest to any one who saw the +fathers and mothers.</p> +<p>I should say (I had no means of ascertaining the fact) that +most familiar kinds of handicraft trades were represented +here. Farm-labourers, shepherds, and the like, had their +full share of representation, but I doubt if they +preponderated. It was interesting to see how the leading +spirit in the family circle never failed to show itself, even in +the simple process of answering to the names as they were called, +and checking off the owners of the names. Sometimes it was +the father, much oftener the mother, sometimes a quick little +girl second or third in order of seniority. It seemed to +occur for the first time to some heavy fathers, what large +families they had; and their eyes rolled about, during the +calling of the list, as if they half misdoubted some other family +to have been smuggled into their own. Among all the fine +handsome children, I observed but two with marks upon their necks +that were probably scrofulous. Out of the whole number of +emigrants, but one old woman was temporarily set aside by the +doctor, on suspicion of fever; but even she afterwards obtained a +clean bill of health.</p> +<p>When all had ‘passed,’ and the afternoon began to +wear on, a black box became visible on deck, which box was in +charge of certain personages also in black, of whom only one had +the conventional air of an itinerant preacher. This box +contained a supply of hymn-books, neatly printed and got up, +published at Liverpool, and also in London at the +‘Latter-Day Saints’ Book Depôt, 30, +Florence-street.’ Some copies were handsomely bound; +the plainer were the more in request, and many were bought. +The title ran: ‘Sacred Hymns and Spiritual Songs for the +Church of Jesus Church of Latter-Day Saints.’ The +Preface, dated Manchester, 1840, ran thus:—‘The +Saints in this country have been very desirous for a Hymn Book +adapted to their faith and worship, that they might sing the +truth with an understanding heart, and express their praise, joy, +and gratitude in songs adapted to the New and Everlasting +Covenant. In accordance with their wishes, we have selected +the following volume, which we hope will prove acceptable until a +greater variety can be added. With sentiments of high +consideration and esteem, we subscribe ourselves your brethren in +the New and Everlasting Covenant, <span class="smcap">Brigham +Young</span>, <span class="smcap">Parley</span> P. <span +class="smcap">Pratt</span>, <span class="smcap">John +Taylor</span>.’ From this book—by no means +explanatory to myself of the New and Everlasting Covenant, and +not at all making my heart an understanding one on the subject of +that mystery—a hymn was sung, which did not attract any +great amount of attention, and was supported by a rather select +circle. But the choir in the boat was very popular and +pleasant; and there was to have been a Band, only the Cornet was +late in coming on board. In the course of the afternoon, a +mother appeared from shore, in search of her daughter, ‘who +had run away with the Mormons.’ She received every +assistance from the Inspector, but her daughter was not found to +be on board. The saints did not seem to me, particularly +interested in finding her.</p> +<p>Towards five o’clock, the galley became full of +tea-kettles, and an agreeable fragrance of tea pervaded the +ship. There was no scrambling or jostling for the hot +water, no ill humour, no quarrelling. As the Amazon was to +sail with the next tide, and as it would not be high water before +two o’clock in the morning, I left her with her tea in full +action, and her idle Steam Tug lying by, deputing steam and smoke +for the time being to the Tea-kettles.</p> +<p>I afterwards learned that a Despatch was sent home by the +captain before he struck out into the wide Atlantic, highly +extolling the behaviour of these Emigrants, and the perfect order +and propriety of all their social arrangements. What is in +store for the poor people on the shores of the Great Salt Lake, +what happy delusions they are labouring under now, on what +miserable blindness their eyes may be opened then, I do not +pretend to say. But I went on board their ship to bear +testimony against them if they deserved it, as I fully believed +they would; to my great astonishment they did not deserve it; and +my predispositions and tendencies must not affect me as an honest +witness. I went over the Amazon’s side, feeling it +impossible to deny that, so far, some remarkable influence had +produced a remarkable result, which better known influences have +often missed. <a name="citation188"></a><a href="#footnote188" +class="citation">[188]</a></p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>XXIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE CITY OF THE ABSENT</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> I think I deserve particularly +well of myself, and have earned the right to enjoy a little +treat, I stroll from Covent-garden into the City of London, after +business-hours there, on a Saturday, or—better yet—on +a Sunday, and roam about its deserted nooks and corners. It +is necessary to the full enjoyment of these journeys that they +should be made in summer-time, for then the retired spots that I +love to haunt, are at their idlest and dullest. A gentle +fall of rain is not objectionable, and a warm mist sets off my +favourite retreats to decided advantage.</p> +<p>Among these, City Churchyards hold a high place. Such +strange churchyards hide in the City of London; churchyards +sometimes so entirely detached from churches, always so pressed +upon by houses; so small, so rank, so silent, so forgotten, +except by the few people who ever look down into them from their +smoky windows. As I stand peeping in through the iron gates +and rails, I can peel the rusty metal off, like bark from an old +tree. The illegible tombstones are all lop-sided, the +grave-mounds lost their shape in the rains of a hundred years +ago, the Lombardy Poplar or Plane-Tree that was once a +drysalter’s daughter and several common-councilmen, has +withered like those worthies, and its departed leaves are dust +beneath it. Contagion of slow ruin overhangs the +place. The discoloured tiled roofs of the environing +buildings stand so awry, that they can hardly be proof against +any stress of weather. Old crazy stacks of chimneys seem to +look down as they overhang, dubiously calculating how far they +will have to fall. In an angle of the walls, what was once +the tool-house of the grave-digger rots away, encrusted with +toadstools. Pipes and spouts for carrying off the rain from +the encompassing gables, broken or feloniously cut for old lead +long ago, now let the rain drip and splash as it list, upon the +weedy earth. Sometimes there is a rusty pump somewhere +near, and, as I look in at the rails and meditate, I hear it +working under an unknown hand with a creaking protest: as though +the departed in the churchyard urged, ‘Let us lie here in +peace; don’t suck us up and drink us!’</p> +<p>One of my best beloved churchyards, I call the churchyard of +Saint Ghastly Grim; touching what men in general call it, I have +no information. It lies at the heart of the City, and the +Blackwall Railway shrieks at it daily. It is a small small +churchyard, with a ferocious, strong, spiked iron gate, like a +jail. This gate is ornamented with skulls and cross-bones, +larger than the life, wrought in stone; but it likewise came into +the mind of Saint Ghastly Grim, that to stick iron spikes a-top +of the stone skulls, as though they were impaled, would be a +pleasant device. Therefore the skulls grin aloft horribly, +thrust through and through with iron spears. Hence, there +is attraction of repulsion for me in Saint Ghastly Grim, and, +having often contemplated it in the daylight and the dark, I once +felt drawn towards it in a thunderstorm at midnight. +‘Why not?’ I said, in self-excuse. ‘I +have been to see the Colosseum by the light of the moon; is it +worse to go to see Saint Ghastly Grim by the light of the +lightning?’ I repaired to the Saint in a hackney cab, +and found the skulls most effective, having the air of a public +execution, and seeming, as the lightning flashed, to wink and +grin with the pain of the spikes. Having no other person to +whom to impart my satisfaction, I communicated it to the +driver. So far from being responsive, he surveyed +me—he was naturally a bottled-nosed, red-faced +man—with a blanched countenance. And as he drove me +back, he ever and again glanced in over his shoulder through the +little front window of his carriage, as mistrusting that I was a +fare originally from a grave in the churchyard of Saint Ghastly +Grim, who might have flitted home again without paying.</p> +<p>Sometimes, the queer Hall of some queer Company gives upon a +churchyard such as this, and, when the Livery dine, you may hear +them (if you are looking in through the iron rails, which you +never are when I am) toasting their own Worshipful +prosperity. Sometimes, a wholesale house of business, +requiring much room for stowage, will occupy one or two or even +all three sides of the enclosing space, and the backs of bales of +goods will lumber up the windows, as if they were holding some +crowded trade-meeting of themselves within. Sometimes, the +commanding windows are all blank, and show no more sign of life +than the graves below—not so much, for <i>they</i> tell of +what once upon a time was life undoubtedly. Such was the +surrounding of one City churchyard that I saw last summer, on a +Volunteering Saturday evening towards eight of the clock, when +with astonishment I beheld an old old man and an old old woman in +it, making hay. Yes, of all occupations in this world, +making hay! It was a very confined patch of churchyard +lying between Gracechurch-street and the Tower, capable of +yielding, say an apronful of hay. By what means the old old +man and woman had got into it, with an almost toothless +hay-making rake, I could not fathom. No open window was +within view; no window at all was within view, sufficiently near +the ground to have enabled their old legs to descend from it; the +rusty churchyard-gate was locked, the mouldy church was +locked. Gravely among the graves, they made hay, all alone +by themselves. They looked like Time and his wife. +There was but the one rake between them, and they both had hold +of it in a pastorally-loving manner, and there was hay on the old +woman’s black bonnet, as if the old man had recently been +playful. The old man was quite an obsolete old man, in +knee-breeches and coarse grey stockings, and the old woman wore +mittens like unto his stockings in texture and in colour. +They took no heed of me as I looked on, unable to account for +them. The old woman was much too bright for a pew-opener, +the old man much too meek for a beadle. On an old tombstone +in the foreground between me and them, were two cherubim; but for +those celestial embellishments being represented as having no +possible use for knee-breeches, stockings, or mittens, I should +have compared them with the hay-makers, and sought a +likeness. I coughed and awoke the echoes, but the +hay-makers never looked at me. They used the rake with a +measured action, drawing the scanty crop towards them; and so I +was fain to leave them under three yards and a half of darkening +sky, gravely making hay among the graves, all alone by +themselves. Perhaps they were Spectres, and I wanted a +Medium.</p> +<p>In another City churchyard of similar cramped dimensions, I +saw, that selfsame summer, two comfortable charity +children. They were making love—tremendous proof of +the vigour of that immortal article, for they were in the +graceful uniform under which English Charity delights to hide +herself—and they were overgrown, and their legs (his legs +at least, for I am modestly incompetent to speak of hers) were as +much in the wrong as mere passive weakness of character can +render legs. O it was a leaden churchyard, but no doubt a +golden ground to those young persons! I first saw them on a +Saturday evening, and, perceiving from their occupation that +Saturday evening was their trysting-time, I returned that evening +se’nnight, and renewed the contemplation of them. +They came there to shake the bits of matting which were spread in +the church aisles, and they afterwards rolled them up, he rolling +his end, she rolling hers, until they met, and over the two once +divided now united rolls—sweet emblem!—gave and +received a chaste salute. It was so refreshing to find one +of my faded churchyards blooming into flower thus, that I +returned a second time, and a third, and ultimately this +befell:—They had left the church door open, in their +dusting and arranging. Walking in to look at the church, I +became aware, by the dim light, of him in the pulpit, of her in +the reading-desk, of him looking down, of her looking up, +exchanging tender discourse. Immediately both dived, and +became as it were non-existent on this sphere. With an +assumption of innocence I turned to leave the sacred edifice, +when an obese form stood in the portal, puffily demanding Joseph, +or in default of Joseph, Celia. Taking this monster by the +sleeve, and luring him forth on pretence of showing him whom he +sought, I gave time for the emergence of Joseph and Celia, who +presently came towards us in the churchyard, bending under dusty +matting, a picture of thriving and unconscious industry. It +would be superfluous to hint that I have ever since deemed this +the proudest passage in my life.</p> +<p>But such instances, or any tokens of vitality, are rare indeed +in my City churchyards. A few sparrows occasionally try to +raise a lively chirrup in their solitary tree—perhaps, as +taking a different view of worms from that entertained by +humanity—but they are flat and hoarse of voice, like the +clerk, the organ, the bell, the clergyman, and all the rest of +the Church-works when they are wound up for Sunday. Caged +larks, thrushes, or blackbirds, hanging in neighbouring courts, +pour forth their strains passionately, as scenting the tree, +trying to break out, and see leaves again before they die, but +their song is Willow, Willow—of a churchyard cast. So +little light lives inside the churches of my churchyards, when +the two are co-existent, that it is often only by an accident and +after long acquaintance that I discover their having stained +glass in some odd window. The westering sun slants into the +churchyard by some unwonted entry, a few prismatic tears drop on +an old tombstone, and a window that I thought was only dirty, is +for the moment all bejewelled. Then the light passes and +the colours die. Though even then, if there be room enough +for me to fall back so far as that I can gaze up to the top of +the Church Tower, I see the rusty vane new burnished, and seeming +to look out with a joyful flash over the sea of smoke at the +distant shore of country.</p> +<p>Blinking old men who are let out of workhouses by the hour, +have a tendency to sit on bits of coping stone in these +churchyards, leaning with both hands on their sticks and +asthmatically gasping. The more depressed class of beggars +too, bring hither broken meats, and munch. I am on nodding +terms with a meditative turncock who lingers in one of them, and +whom I suspect of a turn for poetry; the rather, as he looks out +of temper when he gives the fire-plug a disparaging wrench with +that large tuning-fork of his which would wear out the shoulder +of his coat, but for a precautionary piece of inlaid +leather. Fire-ladders, which I am satisfied nobody knows +anything about, and the keys of which were lost in ancient times, +moulder away in the larger churchyards, under eaves like wooden +eyebrows; and so removed are those corners from the haunts of men +and boys, that once on a fifth of November I found a +‘Guy’ trusted to take care of himself there, while +his proprietors had gone to dinner. Of the expression of +his face I cannot report, because it was turned to the wall; but +his shrugged shoulders and his ten extended fingers, appeared to +denote that he had moralised in his little straw chair on the +mystery of mortality until he gave it up as a bad job.</p> +<p>You do not come upon these churchyards violently; there are +shapes of transition in the neighbourhood. An antiquated +news shop, or barber’s shop, apparently bereft of customers +in the earlier days of George the Third, would warn me to look +out for one, if any discoveries in this respect were left for me +to make. A very quiet court, in combination with an +unaccountable dyer’s and scourer’s, would prepare me +for a churchyard. An exceedingly retiring public-house, +with a bagatelle-board shadily visible in a sawdusty parlour +shaped like an omnibus, and with a shelf of punch-bowls in the +bar, would apprise me that I stood near consecrated ground. +A ‘Dairy,’ exhibiting in its modest window one very +little milk-can and three eggs, would suggest to me the certainty +of finding the poultry hard by, pecking at my forefathers. +I first inferred the vicinity of Saint Ghastly Grim, from a +certain air of extra repose and gloom pervading a vast stack of +warehouses.</p> +<p>From the hush of these places, it is congenial to pass into +the hushed resorts of business. Down the lanes I like to +see the carts and waggons huddled together in repose, the cranes +idle, and the warehouses shut. Pausing in the alleys behind +the closed Banks of mighty Lombard-street, it gives one as good +as a rich feeling to think of the broad counters with a rim along +the edge, made for telling money out on, the scales for weighing +precious metals, the ponderous ledgers, and, above all, the +bright copper shovels for shovelling gold. When I draw +money, it never seems so much money as when it is shovelled at me +out of a bright copper shovel. I like to say, ‘In +gold,’ and to see seven pounds musically pouring out of the +shovel, like seventy; the Bank appearing to remark to me—I +italicise <i>appearing</i>—‘if you want more of this +yellow earth, we keep it in barrows at your service.’ +To think of the banker’s clerk with his deft finger turning +the crisp edges of the Hundred-Pound Notes he has taken in a fat +roll out of a drawer, is again to hear the rustling of that +delicious south-cash wind. ‘How will you have +it?’ I once heard this usual question asked at a Bank +Counter of an elderly female, habited in mourning and steeped in +simplicity, who answered, open-eyed, crook-fingered, laughing +with expectation, ‘Anyhow!’ Calling these +things to mind as I stroll among the Banks, I wonder whether the +other solitary Sunday man I pass, has designs upon the +Banks. For the interest and mystery of the matter, I almost +hope he may have, and that his confederate may be at this moment +taking impressions of the keys of the iron closets in wax, and +that a delightful robbery may be in course of transaction. +About College-hill, Mark-lane, and so on towards the Tower, and +Dockward, the deserted wine-merchants’ cellars are fine +subjects for consideration; but the deserted money-cellars of the +Bankers, and their plate-cellars, and their jewel-cellars, what +subterranean regions of the Wonderful Lamp are these! And +again: possibly some shoeless boy in rags, passed through this +street yesterday, for whom it is reserved to be a Banker in the +fulness of time, and to be surpassing rich. Such reverses +have been, since the days of Whittington; and were, long +before. I want to know whether the boy has any +foreglittering of that glittering fortune now, when he treads +these stones, hungry. Much as I also want to know whether +the next man to be hanged at Newgate yonder, had any suspicion +upon him that he was moving steadily towards that fate, when he +talked so much about the last man who paid the same great debt at +the same small Debtors’ Door.</p> +<p>Where are all the people who on busy working-days pervade +these scenes? The locomotive banker’s clerk, who +carries a black portfolio chained to him by a chain of steel, +where is he? Does he go to bed with his chain on—to +church with his chain on—or does he lay it by? And if +he lays it by, what becomes of his portfolio when he is unchained +for a holiday? The wastepaper baskets of these closed +counting-houses would let me into many hints of business matters +if I had the exploration of them; and what secrets of the heart +should I discover on the ‘pads’ of the young +clerks—the sheets of cartridge-paper and blotting-paper +interposed between their writing and their desks! Pads are +taken into confidence on the tenderest occasions, and oftentimes +when I have made a business visit, and have sent in my name from +the outer office, have I had it forced on my discursive notice +that the officiating young gentleman has over and over again +inscribed <span class="smcap">Amelia</span>, in ink of various +dates, on corners of his pad. Indeed, the pad may be +regarded as the legitimate modern successor of the old +forest-tree: whereon these young knights (having no attainable +forest nearer than Epping) engrave the names of their +mistresses. After all, it is a more satisfactory process +than carving, and can be oftener repeated. So these courts +in their Sunday rest are courts of Love Omnipotent (I rejoice to +bethink myself), dry as they look. And here is +Garraway’s, bolted and shuttered hard and fast! It is +possible to imagine the man who cuts the sandwiches, on his back +in a hayfield; it is possible to imagine his desk, like the desk +of a clerk at church, without him; but imagination is unable to +pursue the men who wait at Garraway’s all the week for the +men who never come. When they are forcibly put out of +Garraway’s on Saturday night—which they must be, for +they never would go out of their own accord—where do they +vanish until Monday morning? On the first Sunday that I +ever strayed here, I expected to find them hovering about these +lanes, like restless ghosts, and trying to peep into +Garraway’s through chinks in the shutters, if not +endeavouring to turn the lock of the door with false keys, picks, +and screw-drivers. But the wonder is, that they go clean +away! And now I think of it, the wonder is, that every +working-day pervader of these scenes goes clean away. The +man who sells the dogs’ collars and the little toy +coal-scuttles, feels under as great an obligation to go afar off, +as Glyn and Co., or Smith, Payne, and Smith. There is an +old monastery-crypt under Garraway’s (I have been in it +among the port wine), and perhaps Garraway’s, taking pity +on the mouldy men who wait in its public-room all their lives, +gives them cool house-room down there over Sundays; but the +catacombs of Paris would not be large enough to hold the rest of +the missing. This characteristic of London City greatly +helps its being the quaint place it is in the weekly pause of +business, and greatly helps my Sunday sensation in it of being +the Last Man. In my solitude, the ticket-porters being all +gone with the rest, I venture to breathe to the quiet bricks and +stones my confidential wonderment why a ticket-porter, who never +does any work with his hands, is bound to wear a white apron, and +why a great Ecclesiastical Dignitary, who never does any work +with his hands either, is equally bound to wear a black one.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>XXIV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AN OLD STAGE-COACHING HOUSE</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Before</span> the waitress had shut the +door, I had forgotten how many stage-coaches she said used to +change horses in the town every day. But it was of little +moment; any high number would do as well as another. It had +been a great stage-coaching town in the great stage-coaching +times, and the ruthless railways had killed and buried it.</p> +<p>The sign of the house was the Dolphin’s Head. Why +only head, I don’t know; for the Dolphin’s effigy at +full length, and upside down—as a Dolphin is always bound +to be when artistically treated, though I suppose he is sometimes +right side upward in his natural condition—graced the +sign-board. The sign-board chafed its rusty hooks outside +the bow-window of my room, and was a shabby work. No +visitor could have denied that the Dolphin was dying by inches, +but he showed no bright colours. He had once served another +master; there was a newer streak of paint below him, displaying +with inconsistent freshness the legend, By J. <span +class="smcap">Mellows</span>.</p> +<p>My door opened again, and J. Mellows’s representative +came back. I had asked her what I could have for dinner, +and she now returned with the counter question, what would I +like? As the Dolphin stood possessed of nothing that I do +like, I was fain to yield to the suggestion of a duck, which I +don’t like. J. Mellows’s representative was a +mournful young woman with eye susceptible of guidance, and one +uncontrollable eye; which latter, seeming to wander in quest of +stage-coaches, deepened the melancholy in which the Dolphin was +steeped.</p> +<p>This young woman had but shut the door on retiring again when +I bethought me of adding to my order, the words, ‘with nice +vegetables.’ Looking out at the door to give them +emphatic utterance, I found her already in a state of pensive +catalepsy in the deserted gallery, picking her teeth with a +pin.</p> +<p>At the Railway Station seven miles off, I had been the subject +of wonder when I ordered a fly in which to come here. And +when I gave the direction ‘To the Dolphin’s +Head,’ I had observed an ominous stare on the countenance +of the strong young man in velveteen, who was the platform +servant of the Company. He had also called to my driver at +parting, ‘All ri-ight! Don’t hang yourself when +you get there, Geo-o-rge!’ in a sarcastic tone, for which I +had entertained some transitory thoughts of reporting him to the +General Manager.</p> +<p>I had no business in the town—I never have any business +in any town—but I had been caught by the fancy that I would +come and look at it in its degeneracy. My purpose was fitly +inaugurated by the Dolphin’s Head, which everywhere +expressed past coachfulness and present coachlessness. +Coloured prints of coaches, starting, arriving, changing horses, +coaches in the sunshine, coaches in the snow, coaches in the +wind, coaches in the mist and rain, coaches on the King’s +birthday, coaches in all circumstances compatible with their +triumph and victory, but never in the act of breaking down or +overturning, pervaded the house. Of these works of art, +some, framed and not glazed, had holes in them; the varnish of +others had become so brown and cracked, that they looked like +overdone pie-crust; the designs of others were almost obliterated +by the flies of many summers. Broken glasses, damaged +frames, lop-sided hanging, and consignment of incurable cripples +to places of refuge in dark corners, attested the desolation of +the rest. The old room on the ground floor where the +passengers of the Highflyer used to dine, had nothing in it but a +wretched show of twigs and flower-pots in the broad window to +hide the nakedness of the land, and in a corner little +Mellows’s perambulator, with even its parasol-head turned +despondently to the wall. The other room, where post-horse +company used to wait while relays were getting ready down the +yard, still held its ground, but was as airless as I conceive a +hearse to be: insomuch that Mr. Pitt, hanging high against the +partition (with spots on him like port wine, though it is +mysterious how port wine ever got squirted up there), had good +reason for perking his nose and sniffing. The stopperless +cruets on the spindle-shanked sideboard were in a miserably +dejected state: the anchovy sauce having turned blue some years +ago, and the cayenne pepper (with a scoop in it like a small +model of a wooden leg) having turned solid. The old +fraudulent candles which were always being paid for and never +used, were burnt out at last; but their tall stilts of +candlesticks still lingered, and still outraged the human +intellect by pretending to be silver. The mouldy old +unreformed Borough Member, with his right hand buttoned up in the +breast of his coat, and his back characteristically turned on +bales of petitions from his constituents, was there too; and the +poker which never had been among the fire-irons, lest post-horse +company should overstir the fire, was <i>not</i> there, as of +old.</p> +<p>Pursuing my researches in the Dolphin’s Head, I found it +sorely shrunken. When J. Mellows came into possession, he +had walled off half the bar, which was now a tobacco-shop with +its own entrance in the yard—the once glorious yard where +the postboys, whip in hand and always buttoning their waistcoats +at the last moment, used to come running forth to mount and +away. A ‘Scientific Shoeing—Smith and +Veterinary Surgeon,’ had further encroached upon the yard; +and a grimly satirical jobber, who announced himself as having to +Let ‘A neat one-horse fly, and a one-horse cart,’ had +established his business, himself, and his family, in a part of +the extensive stables. Another part was lopped clean off +from the Dolphin’s Head, and now comprised a chapel, a +wheelwright’s, and a Young Men’s Mutual Improvement +and Discussion Society (in a loft): the whole forming a back +lane. No audacious hand had plucked down the vane from the +central cupola of the stables, but it had grown rusty and stuck +at N-Nil: while the score or two of pigeons that remained true to +their ancestral traditions and the place, had collected in a row +on the roof-ridge of the only outhouse retained by the Dolphin, +where all the inside pigeons tried to push the outside pigeon +off. This I accepted as emblematical of the struggle for +post and place in railway times.</p> +<p>Sauntering forth into the town, by way of the covered and +pillared entrance to the Dolphin’s Yard, once redolent of +soup and stable-litter, now redolent of musty disuse, I paced the +street. It was a hot day, and the little sun-blinds of the +shops were all drawn down, and the more enterprising tradesmen +had caused their ’Prentices to trickle water on the +pavement appertaining to their frontage. It looked as if +they had been shedding tears for the stage-coaches, and drying +their ineffectual pocket-handkerchiefs. Such weakness would +have been excusable; for business was—as one dejected +porkman who kept a shop which refused to reciprocate the +compliment by keeping him, informed me—‘bitter +bad.’ Most of the harness-makers and corn-dealers +were gone the way of the coaches, but it was a pleasant +recognition of the eternal procession of Children down that old +original steep Incline, the Valley of the Shadow, that those +tradesmen were mostly succeeded by vendors of sweetmeats and +cheap toys. The opposition house to the Dolphin, once +famous as the New White Hart, had long collapsed. In a fit +of abject depression, it had cast whitewash on its windows, and +boarded up its front door, and reduced itself to a side entrance; +but even that had proved a world too wide for the Literary +Institution which had been its last phase; for the Institution +had collapsed too, and of the ambitious letters of its +inscription on the White Hart’s front, all had fallen off +but these:</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: +center">L Y +INS T</p> +</blockquote> +<p>—suggestive of Lamentably Insolvent. As to the +neighbouring market-place, it seemed to have wholly relinquished +marketing, to the dealer in crockery whose pots and pans +straggled half across it, and to the Cheap Jack who sat with +folded arms on the shafts of his cart, superciliously gazing +around; his velveteen waistcoat, evidently harbouring grave +doubts whether it was worth his while to stay a night in such a +place.</p> +<p>The church bells began to ring as I left this spot, but they +by no means improved the case, for they said, in a petulant way, +and speaking with some difficulty in their irritation, <span +class="smcap">What’s</span>-be-come-of-<span +class="GutSmall">THE</span>-coach-<span +class="GutSmall">ES</span>!’ Nor would they (I found +on listening) ever vary their emphasis, save in respect of +growing more sharp and vexed, but invariably went on, +‘<span class="smcap">What’s</span>-be-come-of-<span +class="GutSmall">THE</span>-coach-<span +class="GutSmall">ES</span>!’—always beginning the +inquiry with an unpolite abruptness. Perhaps from their +elevation they saw the railway, and it aggravated them.</p> +<p>Coming upon a coachmaker’s workshop, I began to look +about me with a revived spirit, thinking that perchance I might +behold there some remains of the old times of the town’s +greatness. There was only one man at work—a dry man, +grizzled, and far advanced in years, but tall and upright, who, +becoming aware of me looking on, straightened his back, pushed up +his spectacles against his brown-paper cap, and appeared inclined +to defy me. To whom I pacifically said:</p> +<p>‘Good day, sir!’</p> +<p>‘What?’ said he.</p> +<p>‘Good day, sir.’</p> +<p>He seemed to consider about that, and not to agree with +me.—‘Was you a looking for anything?’ he then +asked, in a pointed manner.</p> +<p>‘I was wondering whether there happened to be any +fragment of an old stage-coach here.’</p> +<p>‘Is that all?’</p> +<p>‘That’s all.’</p> +<p>‘No, there ain’t.’</p> +<p>It was now my turn to say ‘Oh!’ and I said +it. Not another word did the dry and grizzled man say, but +bent to his work again. In the coach-making days, the +coach-painters had tried their brushes on a post beside him; and +quite a Calendar of departed glories was to be read upon it, in +blue and yellow and red and green, some inches thick. +Presently he looked up again.</p> +<p>‘You seem to have a deal of time on your hands,’ +was his querulous remark.</p> +<p>I admitted the fact.</p> +<p>‘I think it’s a pity you was not brought up to +something,’ said he.</p> +<p>I said I thought so too.</p> +<p>Appearing to be informed with an idea, he laid down his plane +(for it was a plane he was at work with), pushed up his +spectacles again, and came to the door.</p> +<p>‘Would a po-shay do for you?’ he asked.</p> +<p>‘I am not sure that I understand what you +mean.’</p> +<p>‘Would a po-shay,’ said the coachmaker, standing +close before me, and folding his arms in the manner of a +cross-examining counsel—‘would a po-shay meet the +views you have expressed? Yes, or no?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘Then you keep straight along down there till you see +one. <i>You’ll</i> see one if you go fur +enough.’</p> +<p>With that, he turned me by the shoulder in the direction I was +to take, and went in and resumed his work against a background of +leaves and grapes. For, although he was a soured man and a +discontented, his workshop was that agreeable mixture of town and +country, street and garden, which is often to be seen in a small +English town.</p> +<p>I went the way he had turned me, and I came to the Beer-shop +with the sign of The First and Last, and was out of the town on +the old London road. I came to the Turnpike, and I found +it, in its silent way, eloquent respecting the change that had +fallen on the road. The Turnpike-house was all overgrown +with ivy; and the Turnpike-keeper, unable to get a living out of +the tolls, plied the trade of a cobbler. Not only that, but +his wife sold ginger-beer, and, in the very window of espial +through which the Toll-takers of old times used with awe to +behold the grand London coaches coming on at a gallop, exhibited +for sale little barber’s-poles of sweetstuff in a sticky +lantern.</p> +<p>The political economy of the master of the turnpike thus +expressed itself.</p> +<p>‘How goes turnpike business, master?’ said I to +him, as he sat in his little porch, repairing a shoe.</p> +<p>‘It don’t go at all, master,’ said he to +me. ‘It’s stopped.’</p> +<p>‘That’s bad,’ said I.</p> +<p>‘Bad?’ he repeated. And he pointed to one of +his sunburnt dusty children who was climbing the turnpike-gate, +and said, extending his open right hand in remonstrance with +Universal Nature. ‘Five on ’em!’</p> +<p>‘But how to improve Turnpike business?’ said +I.</p> +<p>‘There’s a way, master,’ said he, with the +air of one who had thought deeply on the subject.</p> +<p>‘I should like to know it.’</p> +<p>‘Lay a toll on everything as comes through; lay a toll +on walkers. Lay another toll on everything as don’t +come through; lay a toll on them as stops at home.’</p> +<p>‘Would the last remedy be fair?’</p> +<p>‘Fair? Them as stops at home, could come through +if they liked; couldn’t they?’</p> +<p>‘Say they could.’</p> +<p>‘Toll ’em. If they don’t come through, +it’s <i>their</i> look out. Anyways,—Toll +’em!’</p> +<p>Finding it was as impossible to argue with this financial +genius as if he had been Chancellor of the Exchequer, and +consequently the right man in the right place, I passed on +meekly.</p> +<p>My mind now began to misgive me that the disappointed +coach-maker had sent me on a wild-goose errand, and that there +was no post-chaise in those parts. But coming within view +of certain allotment-gardens by the roadside, I retracted the +suspicion, and confessed that I had done him an injustice. +For, there I saw, surely, the poorest superannuated post-chaise +left on earth.</p> +<p>It was a post-chaise taken off its axletree and wheels, and +plumped down on the clayey soil among a ragged growth of +vegetables. It was a post-chaise not even set straight upon +the ground, but tilted over, as if it had fallen out of a +balloon. It was a post-chaise that had been a long time in +those decayed circumstances, and against which scarlet beans were +trained. It was a post-chaise patched and mended with old +tea-trays, or with scraps of iron that looked like them, and +boarded up as to the windows, but having A <span +class="GutSmall">KNOCKER</span> on the off-side door. +Whether it was a post-chaise used as tool-house, summer-house, or +dwelling-house, I could not discover, for there was nobody at +home at the post-chaise when I knocked, but it was certainly used +for something, and locked up. In the wonder of this +discovery, I walked round and round the post-chaise many times, +and sat down by the post-chaise, waiting for further +elucidation. None came. At last, I made my way back +to the old London road by the further end of the +allotment-gardens, and consequently at a point beyond that from +which I had diverged. I had to scramble through a hedge and +down a steep bank, and I nearly came down a-top of a little spare +man who sat breaking stones by the roadside.</p> +<p>He stayed his hammer, and said, regarding me mysteriously +through his dark goggles of wire:</p> +<p>‘Are you aware, sir, that you’ve been +trespassing?’</p> +<p>‘I turned out of the way,’ said I, in explanation, +‘to look at that odd post-chaise. Do you happen to +know anything about it?’</p> +<p>‘I know it was many a year upon the road,’ said +he.</p> +<p>‘So I supposed. Do you know to whom it +belongs?’</p> +<p>The stone-breaker bent his brows and goggles over his heap of +stones, as if he were considering whether he should answer the +question or not. Then, raising his barred eyes to my +features as before, he said:</p> +<p>‘To me.’</p> +<p>Being quite unprepared for the reply, I received it with a +sufficiently awkward ‘Indeed! Dear me!’ +Presently I added, ‘Do you—’ I was going to say +‘live there,’ but it seemed so absurd a question, +that I substituted ‘live near here?’</p> +<p>The stone-breaker, who had not broken a fragment since we +began to converse, then did as follows. He raised himself +by poising his finger on his hammer, and took his coat, on which +he had been seated, over his arm. He then backed to an +easier part of the bank than that by which I had come down, +keeping his dark goggles silently upon me all the time, and then +shouldered his hammer, suddenly turned, ascended, and was +gone. His face was so small, and his goggles were so large, +that he left me wholly uninformed as to his countenance; but he +left me a profound impression that the curved legs I had seen +from behind as he vanished, were the legs of an old +postboy. It was not until then that I noticed he had been +working by a grass-grown milestone, which looked like a tombstone +erected over the grave of the London road.</p> +<p>My dinner-hour being close at hand, I had no leisure to pursue +the goggles or the subject then, but made my way back to the +Dolphin’s Head. In the gateway I found J. Mellows, +looking at nothing, and apparently experiencing that it failed to +raise his spirits.</p> +<p>‘<i>I</i> don’t care for the town,’ said J. +Mellows, when I complimented him on the sanitary advantages it +may or may not possess; ‘I wish I had never seen the +town!’</p> +<p>‘You don’t belong to it, Mr. Mellows?’</p> +<p>‘Belong to it!’ repeated Mellows. ‘If +I didn’t belong to a better style of town than this, +I’d take and drown myself in a pail.’ It then +occurred to me that Mellows, having so little to do, was +habitually thrown back on his internal resources—by which I +mean the Dolphin’s cellar.</p> +<p>‘What we want,’ said Mellows, pulling off his hat, +and making as if he emptied it of the last load of Disgust that +had exuded from his brain, before he put it on again for another +load; ‘what we want, is a Branch. The Petition for +the Branch Bill is in the coffee-room. Would you put your +name to it? Every little helps.’</p> +<p>I found the document in question stretched out flat on the +coffee-room table by the aid of certain weights from the kitchen, +and I gave it the additional weight of my uncommercial +signature. To the best of my belief, I bound myself to the +modest statement that universal traffic, happiness, prosperity, +and civilisation, together with unbounded national triumph in +competition with the foreigner, would infallibly flow from the +Branch.</p> +<p>Having achieved this constitutional feat, I asked Mr. Mellows +if he could grace my dinner with a pint of good wine? Mr. +Mellows thus replied.</p> +<p>‘If I couldn’t give you a pint of good wine, +I’d—there!—I’d take and drown myself in a +pail. But I was deceived when I bought this business, and +the stock was higgledy-piggledy, and I haven’t yet tasted +my way quite through it with a view to sorting it. +Therefore, if you order one kind and get another, change till it +comes right. For what,’ said Mellows, unloading his +hat as before, ‘what would you or any gentleman do, if you +ordered one kind of wine and was required to drink another? +Why, you’d (and naturally and properly, having the feelings +of a gentleman), you’d take and drown yourself in a +pail!’</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>XXV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE BOILED BEEF OF NEW ENGLAND</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> shabbiness of our English +capital, as compared with Paris, Bordeaux, Frankfort, Milan, +Geneva—almost any important town on the continent of +Europe—I find very striking after an absence of any +duration in foreign parts. London is shabby in contrast +with Edinburgh, with Aberdeen, with Exeter, with Liverpool, with +a bright little town like Bury St. Edmunds. London is +shabby in contrast with New York, with Boston, with +Philadelphia. In detail, one would say it can rarely fail +to be a disappointing piece of shabbiness, to a stranger from any +of those places. There is nothing shabbier than Drury-lane, +in Rome itself. The meanness of Regent-street, set against +the great line of Boulevards in Paris, is as striking as the +abortive ugliness of Trafalgar-square, set against the gallant +beauty of the Place de la Concorde. London is shabby by +daylight, and shabbier by gaslight. No Englishman knows +what gaslight is, until he sees the Rue de Rivoli and the Palais +Royal after dark.</p> +<p>The mass of London people are shabby. The absence of +distinctive dress has, no doubt, something to do with it. +The porters of the Vintners’ Company, the draymen, and the +butchers, are about the only people who wear distinctive dresses; +and even these do not wear them on holidays. We have +nothing which for cheapness, cleanliness, convenience, or +picturesqueness, can compare with the belted blouse. As to +our women;—next Easter or Whitsuntide, look at the bonnets +at the British Museum or the National Gallery, and think of the +pretty white French cap, the Spanish mantilla, or the Genoese +mezzero.</p> +<p>Probably there are not more second-hand clothes sold in London +than in Paris, and yet the mass of the London population have a +second-hand look which is not to be detected on the mass of the +Parisian population. I think this is mainly because a +Parisian workman does not in the least trouble himself about what +is worn by a Parisian idler, but dresses in the way of his own +class, and for his own comfort. In London, on the contrary, +the fashions descend; and you never fully know how inconvenient +or ridiculous a fashion is, until you see it in its last +descent. It was but the other day, on a race-course, that I +observed four people in a barouche deriving great entertainment +from the contemplation of four people on foot. The four +people on foot were two young men and two young women; the four +people in the barouche were two young men and two young +women. The four young women were dressed in exactly the +same style; the four young men were dressed in exactly the same +style. Yet the two couples on wheels were as much amused by +the two couples on foot, as if they were quite unconscious of +having themselves set those fashions, or of being at that very +moment engaged in the display of them.</p> +<p>Is it only in the matter of clothes that fashion descends here +in London—and consequently in England—and thence +shabbiness arises? Let us think a little, and be +just. The ‘Black Country’ round about +Birmingham, is a very black country; but is it quite as black as +it has been lately painted? An appalling accident happened +at the People’s Park near Birmingham, this last July, when +it was crowded with people from the Black Country—an +appalling accident consequent on a shamefully dangerous +exhibition. Did the shamefully dangerous exhibition +originate in the moral blackness of the Black Country, and in the +Black People’s peculiar love of the excitement attendant on +great personal hazard, which they looked on at, but in which they +did not participate? Light is much wanted in the Black +Country. O we are all agreed on that. But, we must +not quite forget the crowds of gentlefolks who set the shamefully +dangerous fashion, either. We must not quite forget the +enterprising Directors of an Institution vaunting mighty +educational pretences, who made the low sensation as strong as +they possibly could make it, by hanging the Blondin rope as high +as they possibly could hang it. All this must not be +eclipsed in the Blackness of the Black Country. The +reserved seats high up by the rope, the cleared space below it, +so that no one should be smashed but the performer, the pretence +of slipping and falling off, the baskets for the feet and the +sack for the head, the photographs everywhere, and the virtuous +indignation nowhere—all this must not be wholly swallowed +up in the blackness of the jet-black country.</p> +<p>Whatsoever fashion is set in England, is certain to +descend. This is a text for a perpetual sermon on care in +setting fashions. When you find a fashion low down, look +back for the time (it will never be far off) when it was the +fashion high up. This is the text for a perpetual sermon on +social justice. From imitations of Ethiopian Serenaders, to +imitations of Prince’s coats and waistcoats, you will find +the original model in St. James’s Parish. When the +Serenaders become tiresome, trace them beyond the Black Country; +when the coats and waistcoats become insupportable, refer them to +their source in the Upper Toady Regions.</p> +<p>Gentlemen’s clubs were once maintained for purposes of +savage party warfare; working men’s clubs of the same day +assumed the same character. Gentlemen’s clubs became +places of quiet inoffensive recreation; working men’s clubs +began to follow suit. If working men have seemed rather +slow to appreciate advantages of combination which have saved the +pockets of gentlemen, and enhanced their comforts, it is because +working men could scarcely, for want of capital, originate such +combinations without help; and because help has not been +separable from that great impertinence, Patronage. The +instinctive revolt of his spirit against patronage, is a quality +much to be respected in the English working man. It is the +base of the base of his best qualities. Nor is it +surprising that he should be unduly suspicious of patronage, and +sometimes resentful of it even where it is not, seeing what a +flood of washy talk has been let loose on his devoted head, or +with what complacent condescension the same devoted head has been +smoothed and patted. It is a proof to me of his +self-control that he never strikes out pugilistically, right and +left, when addressed as one of ‘My friends,’ or +‘My assembled friends;’ that he does not become +inappeasable, and run amuck like a Malay, whenever he sees a +biped in broadcloth getting on a platform to talk to him; that +any pretence of improving his mind, does not instantly drive him +out of his mind, and cause him to toss his obliging patron like a +mad bull.</p> +<p>For, how often have I heard the unfortunate working man +lectured, as if he were a little charity-child, humid as to his +nasal development, strictly literal as to his Catechism, and +called by Providence to walk all his days in a station in life +represented on festive occasions by a mug of warm milk-and-water +and a bun! What popguns of jokes have these ears tingled to +hear let off at him, what asinine sentiments, what impotent +conclusions, what spelling-book moralities, what adaptations of +the orator’s insufferable tediousness to the assumed level +of his understanding! If his sledge-hammers, his spades and +pick-axes, his saws and chisels, his paint-pots and brushes, his +forges, furnaces, and engines, the horses that he drove at his +work, and the machines that drove him at his work, were all toys +in one little paper box, and he the baby who played with them, he +could not have been discoursed to, more impertinently and +absurdly than I have heard him discoursed to times +innumerable. Consequently, not being a fool or a fawner, he +has come to acknowledge his patronage by virtually saying: +‘Let me alone. If you understand me no better than +<i>that</i>, sir and madam, let me alone. You mean very +well, I dare say, but I don’t like it, and I won’t +come here again to have any more of it.’</p> +<p>Whatever is done for the comfort and advancement of the +working man must be so far done by himself as that it is +maintained by himself. And there must be in it no touch of +condescension, no shadow of patronage. In the great working +districts, this truth is studied and understood. When the +American civil war rendered it necessary, first in Glasgow, and +afterwards in Manchester, that the working people should be shown +how to avail themselves of the advantages derivable from system, +and from the combination of numbers, in the purchase and the +cooking of their food, this truth was above all things borne in +mind. The quick consequence was, that suspicion and +reluctance were vanquished, and that the effort resulted in an +astonishing and a complete success.</p> +<p>Such thoughts passed through my mind on a July morning of this +summer, as I walked towards Commercial Street (not Uncommercial +Street), Whitechapel. The Glasgow and Manchester system had +been lately set a-going there, by certain gentlemen who felt an +interest in its diffusion, and I had been attracted by the +following hand-bill printed on rose-coloured paper:</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">SELF-SUPPORTING</span><br /> +COOKING DEPÔT<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">FOR THE WORKING CLASSES</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">Commercial-street, Whitechapel,</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Where Accommodation is provided for +Dining comfortably<br /> +300 Persons at a time.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Open from 7 <span +class="GutSmall">A.M.</span> till 7 <span +class="GutSmall">P.M.</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">PRICES.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">All Articles of the <span +class="smcap">Best Quality</span>.</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>Cup of Tea or Coffee</p> +</td> +<td><p>One Penny</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bread and Butter</p> +</td> +<td><p>One Penny</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bread and Cheese</p> +</td> +<td><p>One Penny</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Slice of bread One half-penny or</p> +</td> +<td><p>One Penny</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Boiled Egg</p> +</td> +<td><p>One Penny</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Ginger Beer</p> +</td> +<td><p>One Penny</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">The above Articles +always ready.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p>Besides the above may be had, from 12 to 3 +o’clock,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bowl of Scotch Broth</p> +</td> +<td><p>One Penny</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bowl of Soup</p> +</td> +<td><p>One Penny</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Plate of Potatoes</p> +</td> +<td><p>One Penny</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Plate of Minced Beef</p> +</td> +<td><p>Twopence</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Plate of Cold Beef</p> +</td> +<td><p>Twopence</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Plate of Cold Ham</p> +</td> +<td><p>Twopence</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Plate of Plum Pudding or Rice</p> +</td> +<td><p>One Penny</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>As the Economy of Cooking depends greatly upon the simplicity +of the arrangements with which a great number of persons can be +served at one time, the Upper Room of this Establishment will be +especially set apart for a</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Public</span> +DINNER <span class="smcap">every Day</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">From 12 till 3 o’clock,</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Consisting of the following +Dishes</i>:</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Bowl of Broth, or Soup,<br /> +Plate of Cold Beef or Ham,<br /> +Plate of Potatoes,<br /> +Plum Pudding, or Rice.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">FIXED CHARGE 4½<i>d.</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">THE DAILY +PAPERS PROVIDED.</span></p> +<p>N.B.—This Establishment is conducted on the strictest +business principles, with the full intention of making it +self-supporting, so that every one may frequent it with a feeling +of perfect independence.</p> +<p>The assistance of all frequenting the Depôt is +confidently expected in checking anything interfering with the +comfort, quiet, and regularity of the establishment.</p> +<p>Please do not destroy this Hand Bill, but hand it to some +other person whom it may interest.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>The Self-Supporting Cooking Depôt (not a very good name, +and one would rather give it an English one) had hired a +newly-built warehouse that it found to let; therefore it was not +established in premises specially designed for the purpose. +But, at a small cost they were exceedingly well adapted to the +purpose: being light, well ventilated, clean, and cheerful. +They consisted of three large rooms. That on the basement +story was the kitchen; that on the ground floor was the general +dining-room; that on the floor above was the Upper Room referred +to in the hand-bill, where the Public Dinner at +fourpence-halfpenny a head was provided every day. The +cooking was done, with much economy of space and fuel, by +American cooking-stoves, and by young women not previously, +brought up as cooks; the walls and pillars of the two +dining-rooms were agreeably brightened with ornamental colours; +the tables were capable of accommodating six or eight persons +each; the attendants were all young women, becomingly and neatly +dressed, and dressed alike. I think the whole staff was +female, with the exception of the steward or manager.</p> +<p>My first inquiries were directed to the wages of this staff; +because, if any establishment claiming to be self-supporting, +live upon the spoliation of anybody or anything, or eke out a +feeble existence by poor mouths and beggarly resources (as too +many so-called Mechanics’ Institutions do), I make bold to +express my Uncommercial opinion that it has no business to live, +and had better die. It was made clear to me by the account +books, that every person employed was properly paid. My +next inquiries were directed to the quality of the provisions +purchased, and to the terms on which they were bought. It +was made equally clear to me that the quality was the very best, +and that all bills were paid weekly. My next inquiries were +directed to the balance-sheet for the last two weeks—only +the third and fourth of the establishment’s career. +It was made equally clear to me, that after everything bought was +paid for, and after each week was charged with its full share of +wages, rent and taxes, depreciation of plant in use, and interest +on capital at the rate of four per cent. per annum, the last week +had yielded a profit of (in round numbers) one pound ten; and the +previous week a profit of six pounds ten. By this time I +felt that I had a healthy appetite for the dinners.</p> +<p>It had just struck twelve, and a quick succession of faces had +already begun to appear at a little window in the wall of the +partitioned space where I sat looking over the books. +Within this little window, like a pay-box at a theatre, a neat +and brisk young woman presided to take money and issue +tickets. Every one coming in must take a ticket. +Either the fourpence-halfpenny ticket for the upper room (the +most popular ticket, I think), or a penny ticket for a bowl of +soup, or as many penny tickets as he or she choose to buy. +For three penny tickets one had quite a wide range of +choice. A plate of cold boiled beef and potatoes; or a +plate of cold ham and potatoes; or a plate of hot minced beef and +potatoes; or a bowl of soup, bread and cheese, and a plate of +plum-pudding. Touching what they should have, some +customers on taking their seats fell into a reverie—became +mildly distracted—postponed decision, and said in +bewilderment, they would think of it. One old man I noticed +when I sat among the tables in the lower room, who was startled +by the bill of fare, and sat contemplating it as if it were +something of a ghostly nature. The decision of the boys was +as rapid as their execution, and always included pudding.</p> +<p>There were several women among the diners, and several clerks +and shopmen. There were carpenters and painters from the +neighbouring buildings under repair, and there were nautical men, +and there were, as one diner observed to me, ‘some of most +sorts.’ Some were solitary, some came two together, +some dined in parties of three or four, or six. The latter +talked together, but assuredly no one was louder than at my club +in Pall-Mall. One young fellow whistled in rather a shrill +manner while he waited for his dinner, but I was gratified to +observe that he did so in evident defiance of my Uncommercial +individuality. Quite agreeing with him, on consideration, +that I had no business to be there, unless I dined like the rest, +‘I went in,’ as the phrase is, for +fourpence-halfpenny.</p> +<p>The room of the fourpence-halfpenny banquet had, like the +lower room, a counter in it, on which were ranged a great number +of cold portions ready for distribution. Behind this +counter, the fragrant soup was steaming in deep cans, and the +best-cooked of potatoes were fished out of similar +receptacles. Nothing to eat was touched with his +hand. Every waitress had her own tables to attend to. +As soon as she saw a new customer seat himself at one of her +tables, she took from the counter all his dinner—his soup, +potatoes, meat, and pudding—piled it up dexterously in her +two hands, set it before him, and took his ticket. This +serving of the whole dinner at once, had been found greatly to +simplify the business of attendance, and was also popular with +the customers: who were thus enabled to vary the meal by varying +the routine of dishes: beginning with soup-to-day, putting soup +in the middle to-morrow, putting soup at the end the day after +to-morrow, and ringing similar changes on meat and pudding. +The rapidity with which every new-comer got served, was +remarkable; and the dexterity with which the waitresses (quite +new to the art a month before) discharged their duty, was as +agreeable to see, as the neat smartness with which they wore +their dress and had dressed their hair.</p> +<p>If I seldom saw better waiting, so I certainly never ate +better meat, potatoes, or pudding. And the soup was an +honest and stout soup, with rice and barley in it, and +‘little matters for the teeth to touch,’ as had been +observed to me by my friend below stairs already quoted. +The dinner-service, too, was neither conspicuously hideous for +High Art nor for Low Art, but was of a pleasant and pure +appearance. Concerning the viands and their cookery, one +last remark. I dined at my club in Pall-Mall aforesaid, a +few days afterwards, for exactly twelve times the money, and not +half as well.</p> +<p>The company thickened after one o’clock struck, and +changed pretty quickly. Although experience of the place +had been so recently attainable, and although there was still +considerable curiosity out in the street and about the entrance, +the general tone was as good as could be, and the customers fell +easily into the ways of the place. It was clear to me, +however, that they were there to have what they paid for, and to +be on an independent footing. To the best of my judgment, +they might be patronised out of the building in a month. +With judicious visiting, and by dint of being questioned, read +to, and talked at, they might even be got rid of (for the next +quarter of a century) in half the time.</p> +<p>This disinterested and wise movement is fraught with so many +wholesome changes in the lives of the working people, and with so +much good in the way of overcoming that suspicion which our own +unconscious impertinence has engendered, that it is scarcely +gracious to criticise details as yet; the rather, because it is +indisputable that the managers of the Whitechapel establishment +most thoroughly feel that they are upon their honour with the +customers, as to the minutest points of administration. +But, although the American stoves cannot roast, they can surely +boil one kind of meat as well as another, and need not always +circumscribe their boiling talents within the limits of ham and +beef. The most enthusiastic admirer of those substantials, +would probably not object to occasional inconstancy in respect of +pork and mutton: or, especially in cold weather, to a little +innocent trifling with Irish stews, meat pies, and toads in +holes. Another drawback on the Whitechapel establishment, +is the absence of beer. Regarded merely as a question of +policy, it is very impolitic, as having a tendency to send the +working men to the public-house, where gin is reported to be +sold. But, there is a much higher ground on which this +absence of beer is objectionable. It expresses distrust of +the working man. It is a fragment of that old mantle of +patronage in which so many estimable Thugs, so darkly wandering +up and down the moral world, are sworn to muffle him. Good +beer is a good thing for him, he says, and he likes it; the +Depôt could give it him good, and he now gets it bad. +Why does the Depôt not give it him good? Because he +would get drunk. Why does the Depôt not let him have +a pint with his dinner, which would not make him drunk? +Because he might have had another pint, or another two pints, +before he came. Now, this distrust is an affront, is +exceedingly inconsistent with the confidence the managers express +in their hand-bills, and is a timid stopping-short upon the +straight highway. It is unjust and unreasonable, +also. It is unjust, because it punishes the sober man for +the vice of the drunken man. It is unreasonable, because +any one at all experienced in such things knows that the drunken +workman does not get drunk where he goes to eat and drink, but +where he goes to drink—expressly to drink. To suppose +that the working man cannot state this question to himself quite +as plainly as I state it here, is to suppose that he is a baby, +and is again to tell him in the old wearisome, condescending, +patronising way that he must be goody-poody, and do as he is +toldy-poldy, and not be a manny-panny or a voter-poter, but fold +his handy-pandys, and be a childy-pildy.</p> +<p>I found from the accounts of the Whitechapel Self-Supporting +Cooking Depôt, that every article sold in it, even at the +prices I have quoted, yields a certain small profit! +Individual speculators are of course already in the field, and +are of course already appropriating the name. The classes +for whose benefit the real depôts are designed, will +distinguish between the two kinds of enterprise.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a>XXVI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CHATHAM DOCKYARD</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are some small out-of-the-way +landing places on the Thames and the Medway, where I do much of +my summer idling. Running water is favourable to +day-dreams, and a strong tidal river is the best of running water +for mine. I like to watch the great ships standing out to +sea or coming home richly laden, the active little steam-tugs +confidently puffing with them to and from the sea-horizon, the +fleet of barges that seem to have plucked their brown and russet +sails from the ripe trees in the landscape, the heavy old +colliers, light in ballast, floundering down before the tide, the +light screw barks and schooners imperiously holding a straight +course while the others patiently tack and go about, the yachts +with their tiny hulls and great white sheets of canvas, the +little sailing-boats bobbing to and fro on their errands of +pleasure or business, and—as it is the nature of little +people to do—making a prodigious fuss about their small +affairs. Watching these objects, I still am under no +obligation to think about them, or even so much as to see them, +unless it perfectly suits my humour. As little am I obliged +to hear the plash and flop of the tide, the ripple at my feet, +the clinking windlass afar off, or the humming steam-ship paddles +further away yet. These, with the creaking little jetty on +which I sit, and the gaunt high-water marks and low-water marks +in the mud, and the broken causeway, and the broken bank, and the +broken stakes and piles leaning forward as if they were vain of +their personal appearance and looking for their reflection in the +water, will melt into any train of fancy. Equally adaptable +to any purpose or to none, are the posturing sheep and kine upon +the marshes, the gulls that wheel and dip around me, the crows +(well out of gunshot) going home from the rich harvest-fields, +the heron that has been out a-fishing and looks as melancholy, up +there in the sky, as if it hadn’t agreed with him. +Everything within the range of the senses will, by the aid of the +running water, lend itself to everything beyond that range, and +work into a drowsy whole, not unlike a kind of tune, but for +which there is no exact definition.</p> +<p>One of these landing-places is near an old fort (I can see the +Nore Light from it with my pocket-glass), from which fort +mysteriously emerges a boy, to whom I am much indebted for +additions to my scanty stock of knowledge. He is a young +boy, with an intelligent face burnt to a dust colour by the +summer sun, and with crisp hair of the same hue. He is a +boy in whom I have perceived nothing incompatible with habits of +studious inquiry and meditation, unless an evanescent black eye +(I was delicate of inquiring how occasioned) should be so +considered. To him am I indebted for ability to identify a +Custom-house boat at any distance, and for acquaintance with all +the forms and ceremonies observed by a homeward-bound Indiaman +coming up the river, when the Custom-house officers go aboard +her. But for him, I might never have heard of ‘the +dumb-ague,’ respecting which malady I am now learned. +Had I never sat at his feet, I might have finished my mortal +career and never known that when I see a white horse on a +barge’s sail, that barge is a lime barge. For +precious secrets in reference to beer, am I likewise beholden to +him, involving warning against the beer of a certain +establishment, by reason of its having turned sour through +failure in point of demand: though my young sage is not of +opinion that similar deterioration has befallen the ale. He +has also enlightened me touching the mushrooms of the marshes, +and has gently reproved my ignorance in having supposed them to +be impregnated with salt. His manner of imparting +information, is thoughtful, and appropriate to the scene. +As he reclines beside me, he pitches into the river, a little +stone or piece of grit, and then delivers himself oracularly, as +though he spoke out of the centre of the spreading circle that it +makes in the water. He never improves my mind without +observing this formula.</p> +<p>With the wise boy—whom I know by no other name than the +Spirit of the Fort—I recently consorted on a breezy day +when the river leaped about us and was full of life. I had +seen the sheaved corn carrying in the golden fields as I came +down to the river; and the rosy farmer, watching his +labouring-men in the saddle on his cob, had told me how he had +reaped his two hundred and sixty acres of long-strawed corn last +week, and how a better week’s work he had never done in all +his days. Peace and abundance were on the country-side in +beautiful forms and beautiful colours, and the harvest seemed +even to be sailing out to grace the never-reaped sea in the +yellow-laden barges that mellowed the distance.</p> +<p>It was on this occasion that the Spirit of the Fort, directing +his remarks to a certain floating iron battery lately lying in +that reach of the river, enriched my mind with his opinions on +naval architecture, and informed me that he would like to be an +engineer. I found him up to everything that is done in the +contracting line by Messrs. Peto and Brassey—cunning in the +article of concrete—mellow in the matter of +iron—great on the subject of gunnery. When he spoke +of pile-driving and sluice-making, he left me not a leg to stand +on, and I can never sufficiently acknowledge his forbearance with +me in my disabled state. While he thus discoursed, he +several times directed his eyes to one distant quarter of the +landscape, and spoke with vague mysterious awe of ‘the +Yard.’ Pondering his lessons after we had parted, I +bethought me that the Yard was one of our large public Dockyards, +and that it lay hidden among the crops down in the dip behind the +windmills, as if it modestly kept itself out of view in peaceful +times, and sought to trouble no man. Taken with this +modesty on the part of the Yard, I resolved to improve the +Yard’s acquaintance.</p> +<p>My good opinion of the Yard’s retiring character was not +dashed by nearer approach. It resounded with the noise of +hammers beating upon iron; and the great sheds or slips under +which the mighty men-of-war are built, loomed business-like when +contemplated from the opposite side of the river. For all +that, however, the Yard made no display, but kept itself snug +under hill-sides of corn-fields, hop-gardens, and orchards; its +great chimneys smoking with a quiet—almost a +lazy—air, like giants smoking tobacco; and the great Shears +moored off it, looking meekly and inoffensively out of +proportion, like the Giraffe of the machinery creation. The +store of cannon on the neighbouring gun-wharf, had an innocent +toy-like appearance, and the one red-coated sentry on duty over +them was a mere toy figure, with a clock-work movement. As +the hot sunlight sparkled on him he might have passed for the +identical little man who had the little gun, and whose bullets +they were made of lead, lead, lead.</p> +<p>Crossing the river and landing at the Stairs, where a drift of +chips and weed had been trying to land before me and had not +succeeded, but had got into a corner instead, I found the very +street posts to be cannon, and the architectural ornaments to be +shells. And so I came to the Yard, which was shut up tight +and strong with great folded gates, like an enormous patent +safe. These gates devouring me, I became digested into the +Yard; and it had, at first, a clean-swept holiday air, as if it +had given over work until next war-time. Though indeed a +quantity of hemp for rope was tumbling out of store-houses, even +there, which would hardly be lying like so much hay on the white +stones if the Yard were as placid as it pretended.</p> +<p>Ding, Clash, Dong, <span class="smcap">Bang</span>, Boom, +Rattle, Clash, <span class="smcap">Bang</span>, Clink, <span +class="smcap">Bang</span>, Dong, <span class="smcap">Bang</span>, +Clatter, <span class="GutSmall">BANG BANG</span> BANG! What +on earth is this! This is, or soon will be, the Achilles, +iron armour-plated ship. Twelve hundred men are working at +her now; twelve hundred men working on stages over her sides, +over her bows, over her stern, under her keel, between her decks, +down in her hold, within her and without, crawling and creeping +into the finest curves of her lines wherever it is possible for +men to twist. Twelve hundred hammerers, measurers, +caulkers, armourers, forgers, smiths, shipwrights; twelve hundred +dingers, clashers, dongers, rattlers, clinkers, bangers bangers +bangers! Yet all this stupendous uproar around the rising +Achilles is as nothing to the reverberations with which the +perfected Achilles shall resound upon the dreadful day when the +full work is in hand for which this is but note of +preparation—the day when the scuppers that are now fitting +like great, dry, thirsty conduit-pipes, shall run red. All +these busy figures between decks, dimly seen bending at their +work in smoke and fire, are as nothing to the figures that shall +do work here of another kind in smoke and fire, that day. +These steam-worked engines alongside, helping the ship by +travelling to and fro, and wafting tons of iron plates about, as +though they were so many leaves of trees, would be rent limb from +limb if they stood by her for a minute then. To think that +this Achilles, monstrous compound of iron tank and oaken chest, +can ever swim or roll! To think that any force of wind and +wave could ever break her! To think that wherever I see a +glowing red-hot iron point thrust out of her side from +within—as I do now, there, and there, and there!—and +two watching men on a stage without, with bared arms and +sledge-hammers, strike at it fiercely, and repeat their blows +until it is black and flat, I see a rivet being driven home, of +which there are many in every iron plate, and thousands upon +thousands in the ship! To think that the difficulty I +experience in appreciating the ship’s size when I am on +board, arises from her being a series of iron tanks and oaken +chests, so that internally she is ever finishing and ever +beginning, and half of her might be smashed, and yet the +remaining half suffice and be sound. Then, to go over the +side again and down among the ooze and wet to the bottom of the +dock, in the depths of the subterranean forest of dog-shores and +stays that hold her up, and to see the immense mass bulging out +against the upper light, and tapering down towards me, is, with +great pains and much clambering, to arrive at an impossibility of +realising that this is a ship at all, and to become possessed by +the fancy that it is an enormous immovable edifice set up in an +ancient amphitheatre (say, that at Verona), and almost filling +it! Yet what would even these things be, without the tributary +workshops and the mechanical powers for piercing the iron +plates—four inches and a half thick—for rivets, +shaping them under hydraulic pressure to the finest tapering +turns of the ship’s lines, and paring them away, with +knives shaped like the beaks of strong and cruel birds, to the +nicest requirements of the design! These machines of +tremendous force, so easily directed by one attentive face and +presiding hand, seem to me to have in them something of the +retiring character of the Yard. ‘Obedient monster, +please to bite this mass of iron through and through, at equal +distances, where these regular chalk-marks are, all +round.’ Monster looks at its work, and lifting its +ponderous head, replies, ‘I don’t particularly want +to do it; but if it must be done—!’ The solid +metal wriggles out, hot from the monster’s crunching tooth, +and it <i>is</i> done. ‘Dutiful monster, observe this +other mass of iron. It is required to be pared away, +according to this delicately lessening and arbitrary line, which +please to look at.’ Monster (who has been in a +reverie) brings down its blunt head, and, much in the manner of +Doctor Johnson, closely looks along the line—very closely, +being somewhat near-sighted. ‘I don’t +particularly want to do it; but if it must be +done—!’ Monster takes another near-sighted +look, takes aim, and the tortured piece writhes off, and falls, a +hot, tight-twisted snake, among the ashes. The making of +the rivets is merely a pretty round game, played by a man and a +boy, who put red-hot barley sugar in a Pope Joan board, and +immediately rivets fall out of window; but the tone of the great +machines is the tone of the great Yard and the great country: +‘We don’t particularly want to do it; but if it must +be done—!’</p> +<p>How such a prodigious mass as the Achilles can ever be held by +such comparatively little anchors as those intended for her and +lying near her here, is a mystery of seamanship which I will +refer to the wise boy. For my own part, I should as soon +have thought of tethering an elephant to a tent-peg, or the +larger hippopotamus in the Zoological Gardens to my +shirt-pin. Yonder in the river, alongside a hulk, lie two +of this ship’s hollow iron masts. <i>They</i> are +large enough for the eye, I find, and so are all her other +appliances. I wonder why only her anchors look small.</p> +<p>I have no present time to think about it, for I am going to +see the workshops where they make all the oars used in the +British Navy. A pretty large pile of building, I opine, and +a pretty long job! As to the building, I am soon +disappointed, because the work is all done in one loft. And +as to a long job—what is this? Two rather large +mangles with a swarm of butterflies hovering over them? +What can there be in the mangles that attracts butterflies?</p> +<p>Drawing nearer, I discern that these are not mangles, but +intricate machines, set with knives and saws and planes, which +cut smooth and straight here, and slantwise there, and now cut +such a depth, and now miss cutting altogether, according to the +predestined requirements of the pieces of wood that are pushed on +below them: each of which pieces is to be an oar, and is roughly +adapted to that purpose before it takes its final leave of +far-off forests, and sails for England. Likewise I discern +that the butterflies are not true butterflies, but wooden +shavings, which, being spirted up from the wood by the violence +of the machinery, and kept in rapid and not equal movement by the +impulse of its rotation on the air, flutter and play, and rise +and fall, and conduct themselves as like butterflies as heart +could wish. Suddenly the noise and motion cease, and the +butterflies drop dead. An oar has been made since I came +in, wanting the shaped handle. As quickly as I can follow +it with my eye and thought, the same oar is carried to a turning +lathe. A whirl and a Nick! Handle made. Oar +finished.</p> +<p>The exquisite beauty and efficiency of this machinery need no +illustration, but happen to have a pointed illustration +to-day. A pair of oars of unusual size chance to be wanted +for a special purpose, and they have to be made by hand. +Side by side with the subtle and facile machine, and side by side +with the fast-growing pile of oars on the floor, a man shapes out +these special oars with an axe. Attended by no butterflies, +and chipping and dinting, by comparison as leisurely as if he +were a labouring Pagan getting them ready against his decease at +threescore and ten, to take with him as a present to Charon for +his boat, the man (aged about thirty) plies his task. The +machine would make a regulation oar while the man wipes his +forehead. The man might be buried in a mound made of the +strips of thin, broad, wooden ribbon torn from the wood whirled +into oars as the minutes fall from the clock, before he had done +a forenoon’s work with his axe.</p> +<p>Passing from this wonderful sight to the Ships again—for +my heart, as to the Yard, is where the ships are—I notice +certain unfinished wooden walls left seasoning on the stocks, +pending the solution of the merits of the wood and iron question, +and having an air of biding their time with surly +confidence. The names of these worthies are set up beside +them, together with their capacity in guns—a custom highly +conducive to ease and satisfaction in social intercourse, if it +could be adapted to mankind. By a plank more gracefully +pendulous than substantial, I make bold to go aboard a transport +ship (iron screw) just sent in from the contractor’s yard +to be inspected and passed. She is a very gratifying +experience, in the simplicity and humanity of her arrangements +for troops, in her provision for light and air and cleanliness, +and in her care for women and children. It occurs to me, as +I explore her, that I would require a handsome sum of money to go +aboard her, at midnight by the Dockyard bell, and stay aboard +alone till morning; for surely she must be haunted by a crowd of +ghosts of obstinate old martinets, mournfully flapping their +cherubic epaulettes over the changed times. Though still we +may learn from the astounding ways and means in our Yards now, +more highly than ever to respect the forefathers who got to sea, +and fought the sea, and held the sea, without them. This +remembrance putting me in the best of tempers with an old hulk, +very green as to her copper, and generally dim and patched, I +pull off my hat to her. Which salutation a callow and +downy-faced young officer of Engineers, going by at the moment, +perceiving, appropriates—and to which he is most heartily +welcome, I am sure.</p> +<p>Having been torn to pieces (in imagination) by the steam +circular saws, perpendicular saws, horizontal saws, and saws of +eccentric action, I come to the sauntering part of my expedition, +and consequently to the core of my Uncommercial pursuits.</p> +<p>Everywhere, as I saunter up and down the Yard, I meet with +tokens of its quiet and retiring character. There is a +gravity upon its red brick offices and houses, a staid pretence +of having nothing worth mentioning to do, an avoidance of +display, which I never saw out of England. The white stones +of the pavement present no other trace of Achilles and his twelve +hundred banging men (not one of whom strikes an attitude) than a +few occasional echoes. But for a whisper in the air +suggestive of sawdust and shavings, the oar-making and the saws +of many movements might be miles away. Down below here, is +the great reservoir of water where timber is steeped in various +temperatures, as a part of its seasoning process. Above it, +on a tramroad supported by pillars, is a Chinese +Enchanter’s Car, which fishes the logs up, when +sufficiently steeped, and rolls smoothly away with them to stack +them. When I was a child (the Yard being then familiar to +me) I used to think that I should like to play at Chinese +Enchanter, and to have that apparatus placed at my disposal for +the purpose by a beneficent country. I still think that I +should rather like to try the effect of writing a book in +it. Its retirement is complete, and to go gliding to and +fro among the stacks of timber would be a convenient kind of +travelling in foreign countries—among the forests of North +America, the sodden Honduras swamps, the dark pine woods, the +Norwegian frosts, and the tropical heats, rainy seasons, and +thunderstorms. The costly store of timber is stacked and +stowed away in sequestered places, with the pervading avoidance +of flourish or effect. It makes as little of itself as +possible, and calls to no one ‘Come and look at +me!’ And yet it is picked out from the trees of the +world; picked out for length, picked out for breadth, picked out +for straightness, picked out for crookedness, chosen with an eye +to every need of ship and boat. Strangely twisted pieces +lie about, precious in the sight of shipwrights. Sauntering +through these groves, I come upon an open glade where workmen are +examining some timber recently delivered. Quite a pastoral +scene, with a background of river and windmill! and no more like +War than the American States are at present like an Union.</p> +<p>Sauntering among the ropemaking, I am spun into a state of +blissful indolence, wherein my rope of life seems to be so +untwisted by the process as that I can see back to very early +days indeed, when my bad dreams—they were frightful, though +my more mature understanding has never made out why—were of +an interminable sort of ropemaking, with long minute filaments +for strands, which, when they were spun home together close to my +eyes, occasioned screaming. Next, I walk among the quiet +lofts of stores—of sails, spars, rigging, ships’ +boats—determined to believe that somebody in authority +wears a girdle and bends beneath the weight of a massive bunch of +keys, and that, when such a thing is wanted, he comes telling his +keys like Blue Beard, and opens such a door. Impassive as +the long lofts look, let the electric battery send down the word, +and the shutters and doors shall fly open, and such a fleet of +armed ships, under steam and under sail, shall burst forth as +will charge the old Medway—where the merry Stuart let the +Dutch come, while his not so merry sailors starved in the +streets—with something worth looking at to carry to the +sea. Thus I idle round to the Medway again, where it is now +flood tide; and I find the river evincing a strong solicitude to +force a way into the dry dock where Achilles is waited on by the +twelve hundred bangers, with intent to bear the whole away before +they are ready.</p> +<p>To the last, the Yard puts a quiet face upon it; for I make my +way to the gates through a little quiet grove of trees, shading +the quaintest of Dutch landing-places, where the leaf-speckled +shadow of a shipwright just passing away at the further end might +be the shadow of Russian Peter himself. So, the doors of +the great patent safe at last close upon me, and I take boat +again: somehow, thinking as the oars dip, of braggart Pistol and +his brood, and of the quiet monsters of the Yard, with their +‘We don’t particularly want to do it; but if it must +be done—!’ Scrunch.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a>XXVII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">IN THE FRENCH-FLEMISH COUNTRY</span></h2> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">It</span> is neither a bold nor a +diversified country,’ said I to myself, ‘this country +which is three-quarters Flemish, and a quarter French; yet it has +its attractions too. Though great lines of railway traverse +it, the trains leave it behind, and go puffing off to Paris and +the South, to Belgium and Germany, to the Northern Sea-Coast of +France, and to England, and merely smoke it a little in +passing. Then I don’t know it, and that is a good +reason for being here; and I can’t pronounce half the long +queer names I see inscribed over the shops, and that is another +good reason for being here, since I surely ought to learn +how.’ In short, I was ‘here,’ and I +wanted an excuse for not going away from here, and I made it to +my satisfaction, and stayed here.</p> +<p>What part in my decision was borne by Monsieur P. Salcy, is of +no moment, though I own to encountering that gentleman’s +name on a red bill on the wall, before I made up my mind. +Monsieur P. Salcy, ‘par permission de M. le Maire,’ +had established his theatre in the whitewashed Hôtel de +Ville, on the steps of which illustrious edifice I stood. +And Monsieur P. Salcy, privileged director of such theatre, +situate in ‘the first theatrical arrondissement of the +department of the North,’ invited French-Flemish mankind to +come and partake of the intellectual banquet provided by his +family of dramatic artists, fifteen subjects in number. +‘La Famille P. <span class="smcap">Salcy</span>, +composée d’artistes dramatiques, au nombre de 15 +sujets.’</p> +<p>Neither a bold nor a diversified country, I say again, and +withal an untidy country, but pleasant enough to ride in, when +the paved roads over the flats and through the hollows, are not +too deep in black mud. A country so sparely inhabited, that +I wonder where the peasants who till and sow and reap the ground, +can possibly dwell, and also by what invisible balloons they are +conveyed from their distant homes into the fields at sunrise and +back again at sunset. The occasional few poor cottages and +farms in this region, surely cannot afford shelter to the numbers +necessary to the cultivation, albeit the work is done so very +deliberately, that on one long harvest day I have seen, in twelve +miles, about twice as many men and women (all told) reaping and +binding. Yet have I seen more cattle, more sheep, more +pigs, and all in better case, than where there is purer French +spoken, and also better ricks—round swelling peg-top ricks, +well thatched; not a shapeless brown heap, like the toast of a +Giant’s toast-and-water, pinned to the earth with one of +the skewers out of his kitchen. A good custom they have +about here, likewise, of prolonging the sloping tiled roof of +farm or cottage, so that it overhangs three or four feet, +carrying off the wet, and making a good drying-place wherein to +hang up herbs, or implements, or what not. A better custom +than the popular one of keeping the refuse-heap and puddle close +before the house door: which, although I paint my dwelling never +so brightly blue (and it cannot be too blue for me, hereabouts), +will bring fever inside my door. Wonderful poultry of the +French-Flemish country, why take the trouble to <i>be</i> +poultry? Why not stop short at eggs in the rising +generation, and die out and have done with it? Parents of +chickens have I seen this day, followed by their wretched young +families, scratching nothing out of the mud with an +air—tottering about on legs so scraggy and weak, that the +valiant word drumsticks becomes a mockery when applied to them, +and the crow of the lord and master has been a mere dejected case +of croup. Carts have I seen, and other agricultural +instruments, unwieldy, dislocated, monstrous. Poplar-trees +by the thousand fringe the fields and fringe the end of the flat +landscape, so that I feel, looking straight on before me, as if, +when I pass the extremest fringe on the low horizon, I shall +tumble over into space. Little whitewashed black holes of +chapels, with barred doors and Flemish inscriptions, abound at +roadside corners, and often they are garnished with a sheaf of +wooden crosses, like children’s swords; or, in their +default, some hollow old tree with a saint roosting in it, is +similarly decorated, or a pole with a very diminutive saint +enshrined aloft in a sort of sacred pigeon-house. Not that +we are deficient in such decoration in the town here, for, over +at the church yonder, outside the building, is a scenic +representation of the Crucifixion, built up with old bricks and +stones, and made out with painted canvas and wooden figures: the +whole surmounting the dusty skull of some holy personage +(perhaps), shut up behind a little ashy iron grate, as if it were +originally put there to be cooked, and the fire had long gone +out. A windmilly country this, though the windmills are so +damp and rickety, that they nearly knock themselves off their +legs at every turn of their sails, and creak in loud +complaint. A weaving country, too, for in the wayside +cottages the loom goes wearily—rattle and click, rattle and +click—and, looking in, I see the poor weaving peasant, man +or woman, bending at the work, while the child, working too, +turns a little hand-wheel put upon the ground to suit its +height. An unconscionable monster, the loom in a small +dwelling, asserting himself ungenerously as the bread-winner, +straddling over the children’s straw beds, cramping the +family in space and air, and making himself generally +objectionable and tyrannical. He is tributary, too, to ugly +mills and factories and bleaching-grounds, rising out of the +sluiced fields in an abrupt bare way, disdaining, like himself, +to be ornamental or accommodating. Surrounded by these +things, here I stood on the steps of the Hôtel de Ville, +persuaded to remain by the P. Salcy family, fifteen dramatic +subjects strong.</p> +<p>There was a Fair besides. The double persuasion being +irresistible, and my sponge being left behind at the last Hotel, +I made the tour of the little town to buy another. In the +small sunny shops—mercers, opticians, and druggist-grocers, +with here and there an emporium of religious images—the +gravest of old spectacled Flemish husbands and wives sat +contemplating one another across bare counters, while the wasps, +who seemed to have taken military possession of the town, and to +have placed it under wasp-martial law, executed warlike +manœuvres in the windows. Other shops the wasps had +entirely to themselves, and nobody cared and nobody came when I +beat with a five-franc piece upon the board of custom. What +I sought was no more to be found than if I had sought a nugget of +Californian gold: so I went, spongeless, to pass the evening with +the Family P. Salcy.</p> +<p>The members of the Family P. Salcy were so fat and so like one +another—fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, uncles, and +aunts—that I think the local audience were much confused +about the plot of the piece under representation, and to the last +expected that everybody must turn out to be the long-lost +relative of everybody else. The Theatre was established on +the top story of the Hôtel de Ville, and was approached by +a long bare staircase, whereon, in an airy situation, one of the +P. Salcy Family—a stout gentleman imperfectly repressed by +a belt—took the money. This occasioned the greatest +excitement of the evening; for, no sooner did the curtain rise on +the introductory Vaudeville, and reveal in the person of the +young lover (singing a very short song with his eyebrows) +apparently the very same identical stout gentleman imperfectly +repressed by a belt, than everybody rushed out to the +paying-place, to ascertain whether he could possibly have put on +that dress-coat, that clear complexion, and those arched black +vocal eyebrows, in so short a space of time. It then became +manifest that this was another stout gentleman imperfectly +repressed by a belt: to whom, before the spectators had recovered +their presence of mind, entered a third stout gentleman +imperfectly repressed by a belt, exactly like him. These +two ‘subjects,’ making with the money-taker three of +the announced fifteen, fell into conversation touching a charming +young widow: who, presently appearing, proved to be a stout lady +altogether irrepressible by any means—quite a parallel case +to the American Negro—fourth of the fifteen subjects, and +sister of the fifth who presided over the check-department. +In good time the whole of the fifteen subjects were dramatically +presented, and we had the inevitable Ma Mère, Ma +Mère! and also the inevitable malédiction +d’un père, and likewise the inevitable Marquis, and +also the inevitable provincial young man, weak-minded but +faithful, who followed Julie to Paris, and cried and laughed and +choked all at once. The story was wrought out with the help +of a virtuous spinning-wheel in the beginning, a vicious set of +diamonds in the middle, and a rheumatic blessing (which arrived +by post) from Ma Mère towards the end; the whole resulting +in a small sword in the body of one of the stout gentlemen +imperfectly repressed by a belt, fifty thousand francs per annum +and a decoration to the other stout gentleman imperfectly +repressed by a belt, and an assurance from everybody to the +provincial young man that if he were not supremely +happy—which he seemed to have no reason whatever for +being—he ought to be. This afforded him a final +opportunity of crying and laughing and choking all at once, and +sent the audience home sentimentally delighted. Audience +more attentive or better behaved there could not possibly be, +though the places of second rank in the Theatre of the Family P. +Salcy were sixpence each in English money, and the places of +first rank a shilling. How the fifteen subjects ever got so +fat upon it, the kind Heavens know.</p> +<p>What gorgeous china figures of knights and ladies, gilded till +they gleamed again, I might have bought at the Fair for the +garniture of my home, if I had been a French-Flemish peasant, and +had had the money! What shining coffee-cups and saucers I +might have won at the turntables, if I had had the luck! +Ravishing perfumery also, and sweetmeats, I might have speculated +in, or I might have fired for prizes at a multitude of little +dolls in niches, and might have hit the doll of dolls, and won +francs and fame. Or, being a French-Flemish youth, I might +have been drawn in a hand-cart by my compeers, to tilt for +municipal rewards at the water-quintain; which, unless I sent my +lance clean through the ring, emptied a full bucket over me; to +fend off which, the competitors wore grotesque old scarecrow +hats. Or, being French-Flemish man or woman, boy or girl, I +might have circled all night on my hobby-horse in a stately +cavalcade of hobby-horses four abreast, interspersed with +triumphal cars, going round and round and round and round, we the +goodly company singing a ceaseless chorus to the music of the +barrel-organ, drum, and cymbals. On the whole, not more +monotonous than the Ring in Hyde Park, London, and much merrier; +for when do the circling company sing chorus, <i>there</i>, to +the barrel-organ, when do the ladies embrace their horses round +the neck with both arms, when do the gentlemen fan the ladies +with the tails of their gallant steeds? On all these +revolving delights, and on their own especial lamps and Chinese +lanterns revolving with them, the thoughtful weaver-face +brightens, and the Hôtel de Ville sheds an illuminated line +of gaslight: while above it, the Eagle of France, gas-outlined +and apparently afflicted with the prevailing infirmities that +have lighted on the poultry, is in a very undecided state of +policy, and as a bird moulting. Flags flutter all +around. Such is the prevailing gaiety that the keeper of +the prison sits on the stone steps outside the prison-door, to +have a look at the world that is not locked up; while that +agreeable retreat, the wine-shop opposite to the prison in the +prison-alley (its sign La Tranquillité, because of its +charming situation), resounds with the voices of the shepherds +and shepherdesses who resort there this festive night. And +it reminds me that only this afternoon, I saw a shepherd in +trouble, tending this way, over the jagged stones of a +neighbouring street. A magnificent sight it was, to behold +him in his blouse, a feeble little jog-trot rustic, swept along +by the wind of two immense gendarmes, in cocked-hats for which +the street was hardly wide enough, each carrying a bundle of +stolen property that would not have held his shoulder-knot, and +clanking a sabre that dwarfed the prisoner.</p> +<p>‘Messieurs et Mesdames, I present to you at this Fair, +as a mark of my confidence in the people of this so-renowned +town, and as an act of homage to their good sense and fine taste, +the Ventriloquist, the Ventriloquist! Further, Messieurs et +Mesdames, I present to you the Face-Maker, the Physiognomist, the +great Changer of Countenances, who transforms the features that +Heaven has bestowed upon him into an endless succession of +surprising and extraordinary visages, comprehending, Messieurs et +Mesdames, all the contortions, energetic and expressive, of which +the human face is capable, and all the passions of the human +heart, as Love, Jealousy, Revenge, Hatred, Avarice, +Despair! Hi hi! Ho ho! Lu lu! Come +in!’ To this effect, with an occasional smite upon a +sonorous kind of tambourine—bestowed with a will, as if it +represented the people who won’t come in—holds forth +a man of lofty and severe demeanour; a man in stately uniform, +gloomy with the knowledge he possesses of the inner secrets of +the booth. ‘Come in, come in! Your opportunity +presents itself to-night; to-morrow it will be gone for +ever. To-morrow morning by the Express Train the railroad +will reclaim the Ventriloquist and the Face-Maker! Algeria +will reclaim the Ventriloquist and the Face-Maker! +Yes! For the honour of their country they have accepted +propositions of a magnitude incredible, to appear in +Algeria. See them for the last time before their +departure! We go to commence on the instant. Hi +hi! Ho ho! Lu lu! Come in! Take the money +that now ascends, Madame; but after that, no more, for we +commence! Come in!’</p> +<p>Nevertheless, the eyes both of the gloomy Speaker and of +Madame receiving sous in a muslin bower, survey the crowd pretty +sharply after the ascending money has ascended, to detect any +lingering sous at the turning-point. ‘Come in, come +in! Is there any more money, Madame, on the point of +ascending? If so, we wait for it. If not, we +commence!’ The orator looks back over his shoulder to +say it, lashing the spectators with the conviction that he +beholds through the folds of the drapery into which he is about +to plunge, the Ventriloquist and the Face-Maker. Several +sous burst out of pockets, and ascend. ‘Come up, +then, Messieurs!’ exclaims Madame in a shrill voice, and +beckoning with a bejewelled finger. ‘Come up! +This presses. Monsieur has commanded that they +commence!’ Monsieur dives into his Interior, and the +last half-dozen of us follow. His Interior is comparatively +severe; his Exterior also. A true Temple of Art needs +nothing but seats, drapery, a small table with two moderator +lamps hanging over it, and an ornamental looking-glass let into +the wall. Monsieur in uniform gets behind the table and +surveys us with disdain, his forehead becoming diabolically +intellectual under the moderators. ‘Messieurs et +Mesdames, I present to you the Ventriloquist. He will +commence with the celebrated Experience of the bee in the +window. The bee, apparently the veritable bee of Nature, +will hover in the window, and about the room. He will be +with difficulty caught in the hand of Monsieur the +Ventriloquist—he will escape—he will again +hover—at length he will be recaptured by Monsieur the +Ventriloquist, and will be with difficulty put into a +bottle. Achieve then, Monsieur!’ Here the +proprietor is replaced behind the table by the Ventriloquist, who +is thin and sallow, and of a weakly aspect. While the bee +is in progress, Monsieur the Proprietor sits apart on a stool, +immersed in dark and remote thought. The moment the bee is +bottled, he stalks forward, eyes us gloomily as we applaud, and +then announces, sternly waving his hand: ‘The magnificent +Experience of the child with the whooping-cough!’ The +child disposed of, he starts up as before. ‘The +superb and extraordinary Experience of the dialogue between +Monsieur Tatambour in his dining-room, and his domestic, Jerome, +in the cellar; concluding with the songsters of the grove, and +the Concert of domestic Farm-yard animals.’ All this +done, and well done, Monsieur the Ventriloquist withdraws, and +Monsieur the Face-Maker bursts in, as if his retiring-room were a +mile long instead of a yard. A corpulent little man in a +large white waistcoat, with a comic countenance, and with a wig +in his hand. Irreverent disposition to laugh, instantly +checked by the tremendous gravity of the Face-Maker, who +intimates in his bow that if we expect that sort of thing we are +mistaken. A very little shaving-glass with a leg behind it +is handed in, and placed on the table before the +Face-Maker. ‘Messieurs et Mesdames, with no other +assistance than this mirror and this wig, I shall have the honour +of showing you a thousand characters.’ As a +preparation, the Face-Maker with both hands gouges himself, and +turns his mouth inside out. He then becomes frightfully +grave again, and says to the Proprietor, ‘I am +ready!’ Proprietor stalks forth from baleful reverie, +and announces ‘The Young Conscript!’ Face-Maker +claps his wig on, hind side before, looks in the glass, and +appears above it as a conscript so very imbecile, and squinting +so extremely hard, that I should think the State would never get +any good of him. Thunders of applause. Face-Maker +dips behind the looking-glass, brings his own hair forward, is +himself again, is awfully grave. ‘A distinguished +inhabitant of the Faubourg St. Germain.’ Face-Maker +dips, rises, is supposed to be aged, blear-eyed, toothless, +slightly palsied, supernaturally polite, evidently of noble +birth. ‘The oldest member of the Corps of Invalides +on the fête-day of his master.’ Face-Maker +dips, rises, wears the wig on one side, has become the feeblest +military bore in existence, and (it is clear) would lie +frightfully about his past achievements, if he were not confined +to pantomime. ‘The Miser!’ Face-Maker +dips, rises, clutches a bag, and every hair of the wig is on end +to express that he lives in continual dread of thieves. +‘The Genius of France!’ Face-Maker dips, rises, +wig pushed back and smoothed flat, little cocked-hat (artfully +concealed till now) put a-top of it, Face-Maker’s white +waistcoat much advanced, Face-Maker’s left hand in bosom of +white waistcoat, Face-Maker’s right hand behind his +back. Thunders. This is the first of three positions +of the Genius of France. In the second position, the +Face-Maker takes snuff; in the third, rolls up his fight hand, +and surveys illimitable armies through that pocket-glass. +The Face-Maker then, by putting out his tongue, and wearing the +wig nohow in particular, becomes the Village Idiot. The +most remarkable feature in the whole of his ingenious +performance, is, that whatever he does to disguise himself, has +the effect of rendering him rather more like himself than he was +at first.</p> +<p>There were peep-shows in this Fair, and I had the pleasure of +recognising several fields of glory with which I became well +acquainted a year or two ago as Crimean battles, now doing duty +as Mexican victories. The change was neatly effected by +some extra smoking of the Russians, and by permitting the camp +followers free range in the foreground to despoil the enemy of +their uniforms. As no British troops had ever happened to +be within sight when the artist took his original sketches, it +followed fortunately that none were in the way now.</p> +<p>The Fair wound up with a ball. Respecting the particular +night of the week on which the ball took place, I decline to +commit myself; merely mentioning that it was held in a +stable-yard so very close to the railway, that it was a mercy the +locomotive did not set fire to it. (In Scotland, I suppose, +it would have done so.) There, in a tent prettily decorated +with looking-glasses and a myriad of toy flags, the people danced +all night. It was not an expensive recreation, the price of a +double ticket for a cavalier and lady being one and threepence in +English money, and even of that small sum fivepence was +reclaimable for ‘consommation:’ which word I venture +to translate into refreshments of no greater strength, at the +strongest, than ordinary wine made hot, with sugar and lemon in +it. It was a ball of great good humour and of great +enjoyment, though very many of the dancers must have been as poor +as the fifteen subjects of the P. Salcy Family.</p> +<p>In short, not having taken my own pet national pint pot with +me to this Fair, I was very well satisfied with the measure of +simple enjoyment that it poured into the dull French-Flemish +country life. How dull that is, I had an opportunity of +considering—when the Fair was over—when the +tri-coloured flags were withdrawn from the windows of the houses +on the Place where the Fair was held—when the windows were +close shut, apparently until next Fair-time—when the +Hôtel de Ville had cut off its gas and put away its +eagle—when the two paviours, whom I take to form the entire +paving population of the town, were ramming down the stones which +had been pulled up for the erection of decorative +poles—when the jailer had slammed his gate, and sulkily +locked himself in with his charges. But then, as I paced +the ring which marked the track of the departed hobby-horses on +the market-place, pondering in my mind how long some hobby-horses +do leave their tracks in public ways, and how difficult they are +to erase, my eyes were greeted with a goodly sight. I +beheld four male personages thoughtfully pacing the Place +together, in the sunlight, evidently not belonging to the town, +and having upon them a certain loose cosmopolitan air of not +belonging to any town. One was clad in a suit of white +canvas, another in a cap and blouse, the third in an old military +frock, the fourth in a shapeless dress that looked as if it had +been made out of old umbrellas. All wore dust-coloured +shoes. My heart beat high; for, in those four male +personages, although complexionless and eyebrowless, I beheld +four subjects of the Family P. Salcy. Blue-bearded though +they were, and bereft of the youthful smoothness of cheek which +is imparted by what is termed in Albion a ‘Whitechapel +shave’ (and which is, in fact, whitening, judiciously +applied to the jaws with the palm of the hand), I recognised +them. As I stood admiring, there emerged from the yard of a +lowly Cabaret, the excellent Ma Mère, Ma Mère, with +the words, ‘The soup is served;’ words which so +elated the subject in the canvas suit, that when they all ran in +to partake, he went last, dancing with his hands stuck angularly +into the pockets of his canvas trousers, after the Pierrot +manner. Glancing down the Yard, the last I saw of him was, +that he looked in through a window (at the soup, no doubt) on one +leg.</p> +<p>Full of this pleasure, I shortly afterwards departed from the +town, little dreaming of an addition to my good fortune. +But more was in reserve. I went by a train which was heavy +with third-class carriages, full of young fellows (well guarded) +who had drawn unlucky numbers in the last conscription, and were +on their way to a famous French garrison town where much of the +raw military material is worked up into soldiery. At the +station they had been sitting about, in their threadbare homespun +blue garments, with their poor little bundles under their arms, +covered with dust and clay, and the various soils of France; sad +enough at heart, most of them, but putting a good face upon it, +and slapping their breasts and singing choruses on the smallest +provocation; the gayest spirits shouldering half loaves of black +bread speared upon their walking-sticks. As we went along, +they were audible at every station, chorusing wildly out of tune, +and feigning the highest hilarity. After a while, however, +they began to leave off singing, and to laugh naturally, while at +intervals there mingled with their laughter the barking of a +dog. Now, I had to alight short of their destination, and, +as that stoppage of the train was attended with a quantity of +horn blowing, bell ringing, and proclamation of what Messieurs +les Voyageurs were to do, and were not to do, in order to reach +their respective destinations, I had ample leisure to go forward +on the platform to take a parting look at my recruits, whose +heads were all out at window, and who were laughing like +delighted children. Then I perceived that a large poodle +with a pink nose, who had been their travelling companion and the +cause of their mirth, stood on his hind-legs presenting arms on +the extreme verge of the platform, ready to salute them as the +train went off. This poodle wore a military shako (it is +unnecessary to add, very much on one side over one eye), a little +military coat, and the regulation white gaiters. He was +armed with a little musket and a little sword-bayonet, and he +stood presenting arms in perfect attitude, with his unobscured +eye on his master or superior officer, who stood by him. So +admirable was his discipline, that, when the train moved, and he +was greeted with the parting cheers of the recruits, and also +with a shower of centimes, several of which struck his shako, and +had a tendency to discompose him, he remained staunch on his +post, until the train was gone. He then resigned his arms +to his officer, took off his shako by rubbing his paw over it, +dropped on four legs, bringing his uniform coat into the +absurdest relations with the overarching skies, and ran about the +platform in his white gaiters, waging his tail to an exceeding +great extent. It struck me that there was more waggery than +this in the poodle, and that he knew that the recruits would +neither get through their exercises, nor get rid of their +uniforms, as easily as he; revolving which in my thoughts, and +seeking in my pockets some small money to bestow upon him, I +casually directed my eyes to the face of his superior officer, +and in him beheld the Face-Maker! Though it was not the way +to Algeria, but quite the reverse, the military poodle’s +Colonel was the Face-Maker in a dark blouse, with a small bundle +dangling over his shoulder at the end of an umbrella, and taking +a pipe from his breast to smoke as he and the poodle went their +mysterious way.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap28"></a>XXVIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">MEDICINE MEN OF CIVILISATION</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> voyages (in paper boats) among +savages often yield me matter for reflection at home. It is +curious to trace the savage in the civilised man, and to detect +the hold of some savage customs on conditions of society rather +boastful of being high above them.</p> +<p>I wonder, is the Medicine Man of the North American Indians +never to be got rid of, out of the North American country? +He comes into my Wigwam on all manner of occasions, and with the +absurdest ‘Medicine.’ I always find it +extremely difficult, and I often find it simply impossible, to +keep him out of my Wigwam. For his legal +‘Medicine’ he sticks upon his head the hair of +quadrupeds, and plasters the same with fat, and dirty white +powder, and talks a gibberish quite unknown to the men and squaws +of his tribe. For his religious ‘Medicine’ he +puts on puffy white sleeves, little black aprons, large black +waistcoats of a peculiar cut, collarless coats with Medicine +button-holes, Medicine stockings and gaiters and shoes, and tops +the whole with a highly grotesque Medicinal hat. In one +respect, to be sure, I am quite free from him. On occasions +when the Medicine Men in general, together with a large number of +the miscellaneous inhabitants of his village, both male and +female, are presented to the principal Chief, his native +‘Medicine’ is a comical mixture of old odds and ends +(hired of traders) and new things in antiquated shapes, and +pieces of red cloth (of which he is particularly fond), and white +and red and blue paint for the face. The irrationality of +this particular Medicine culminates in a mock battle-rush, from +which many of the squaws are borne out, much dilapidated. I +need not observe how unlike this is to a Drawing Room at St. +James’s Palace.</p> +<p>The African magician I find it very difficult to exclude from +my Wigwam too. This creature takes cases of death and +mourning under his supervision, and will frequently impoverish a +whole family by his preposterous enchantments. He is a +great eater and drinker, and always conceals a rejoicing stomach +under a grieving exterior. His charms consist of an +infinite quantity of worthless scraps, for which he charges very +high. He impresses on the poor bereaved natives, that the +more of his followers they pay to exhibit such scraps on their +persons for an hour or two (though they never saw the deceased in +their lives, and are put in high spirits by his decease), the +more honourably and piously they grieve for the dead. The +poor people submitting themselves to this conjurer, an expensive +procession is formed, in which bits of stick, feathers of birds, +and a quantity of other unmeaning objects besmeared with black +paint, are carried in a certain ghastly order of which no one +understands the meaning, if it ever had any, to the brink of the +grave, and are then brought back again.</p> +<p>In the Tonga Islands everything is supposed to have a soul, so +that when a hatchet is irreparably broken, they say, ‘His +immortal part has departed; he is gone to the happy +hunting-plains.’ This belief leads to the logical +sequence that when a man is buried, some of his eating and +drinking vessels, and some of his warlike implements, must be +broken and buried with him. Superstitious and wrong, but +surely a more respectable superstition than the hire of antic +scraps for a show that has no meaning based on any sincere +belief.</p> +<p>Let me halt on my Uncommercial road, to throw a passing glance +on some funeral solemnities that I have seen where North American +Indians, African Magicians, and Tonga Islanders, are supposed not +to be.</p> +<p>Once, I dwelt in an Italian city, where there dwelt with me +for a while, an Englishman of an amiable nature, great +enthusiasm, and no discretion. This friend discovered a +desolate stranger, mourning over the unexpected death of one very +dear to him, in a solitary cottage among the vineyards of an +outlying village. The circumstances of the bereavement were +unusually distressing; and the survivor, new to the peasants and +the country, sorely needed help, being alone with the +remains. With some difficulty, but with the strong +influence of a purpose at once gentle, disinterested, and +determined, my friend—Mr. Kindheart—obtained access +to the mourner, and undertook to arrange the burial.</p> +<p>There was a small Protestant cemetery near the city walls, and +as Mr. Kindheart came back to me, he turned into it and chose the +spot. He was always highly flushed when rendering a service +unaided, and I knew that to make him happy I must keep aloof from +his ministration. But when at dinner he warmed with the +good action of the day, and conceived the brilliant idea of +comforting the mourner with ‘an English funeral,’ I +ventured to intimate that I thought that institution, which was +not absolutely sublime at home, might prove a failure in Italian +hands. However, Mr. Kindheart was so enraptured with his +conception, that he presently wrote down into the town requesting +the attendance with to-morrow’s earliest light of a certain +little upholsterer. This upholsterer was famous for +speaking the unintelligible local dialect (his own) in a far more +unintelligible manner than any other man alive.</p> +<p>When from my bath next morning I overheard Mr. Kindheart and +the upholsterer in conference on the top of an echoing staircase; +and when I overheard Mr. Kindheart rendering English Undertaking +phrases into very choice Italian, and the upholsterer replying in +the unknown Tongues; and when I furthermore remembered that the +local funerals had no resemblance to English funerals; I became +in my secret bosom apprehensive. But Mr. Kindheart informed +me at breakfast that measures had been taken to ensure a signal +success.</p> +<p>As the funeral was to take place at sunset, and as I knew to +which of the city gates it must tend, I went out at that gate as +the sun descended, and walked along the dusty, dusty road. +I had not walked far, when I encountered this procession:</p> +<p>1. Mr. Kindheart, much abashed, on an immense grey +horse.</p> +<p>2. A bright yellow coach and pair, driven by a coachman +in bright red velvet knee-breeches and waistcoat. (This was +the established local idea of State.) Both coach doors kept +open by the coffin, which was on its side within, and sticking +out at each.</p> +<p>3. Behind the coach, the mourner, for whom the coach was +intended, walking in the dust.</p> +<p>4. Concealed behind a roadside well for the irrigation of a +garden, the unintelligible Upholsterer, admiring.</p> +<p>It matters little now. Coaches of all colours are alike +to poor Kindheart, and he rests far North of the little cemetery +with the cypress-trees, by the city walls where the Mediterranean +is so beautiful.</p> +<p>My first funeral, a fair representative funeral after its +kind, was that of the husband of a married servant, once my +nurse. She married for money. Sally Flanders, after a +year or two of matrimony, became the relict of Flanders, a small +master builder; and either she or Flanders had done me the honour +to express a desire that I should ‘follow.’ I +may have been seven or eight years old;—young enough, +certainly, to feel rather alarmed by the expression, as not +knowing where the invitation was held to terminate, and how far I +was expected to follow the deceased Flanders. Consent being +given by the heads of houses, I was jobbed up into what was +pronounced at home decent mourning (comprehending somebody +else’s shirt, unless my memory deceives me), and was +admonished that if, when the funeral was in action, I put my +hands in my pockets, or took my eyes out of my +pocket-handkerchief, I was personally lost, and my family +disgraced. On the eventful day, having tried to get myself +into a disastrous frame of mind, and having formed a very poor +opinion of myself because I couldn’t cry, I repaired to +Sally’s. Sally was an excellent creature, and had +been a good wife to old Flanders, but the moment I saw her I knew +that she was not in her own real natural state. She formed +a sort of Coat of Arms, grouped with a smelling-bottle, a +handkerchief, an orange, a bottle of vinegar, Flanders’s +sister, her own sister, Flanders’s brother’s wife, +and two neighbouring gossips—all in mourning, and all ready +to hold her whenever she fainted. At sight of poor little +me she became much agitated (agitating me much more), and having +exclaimed, ‘O here’s dear Master Uncommercial!’ +became hysterical, and swooned as if I had been the death of +her. An affecting scene followed, during which I was handed +about and poked at her by various people, as if I were the bottle +of salts. Reviving a little, she embraced me, said, +‘You knew him well, dear Master Uncommercial, and he knew +you!’ and fainted again: which, as the rest of the Coat of +Arms soothingly said, ‘done her credit.’ Now, I +knew that she needn’t have fainted unless she liked, and +that she wouldn’t have fainted unless it had been expected +of her, quite as well as I know it at this day. It made me +feel uncomfortable and hypocritical besides. I was not sure +but that it might be manners in <i>me</i> to faint next, and I +resolved to keep my eye on Flanders’s uncle, and if I saw +any signs of his going in that direction, to go too, +politely. But Flanders’s uncle (who was a weak little +old retail grocer) had only one idea, which was that we all +wanted tea; and he handed us cups of tea all round, incessantly, +whether we refused or not. There was a young nephew of +Flanders’s present, to whom Flanders, it was rumoured, had +left nineteen guineas. He drank all the tea that was +offered him, this nephew—amounting, I should say, to +several quarts—and ate as much plum-cake as he could +possibly come by; but he felt it to be decent mourning that he +should now and then stop in the midst of a lump of cake, and +appear to forget that his mouth was full, in the contemplation of +his uncle’s memory. I felt all this to be the fault +of the undertaker, who was handing us gloves on a tea-tray as if +they were muffins, and tying us into cloaks (mine had to be +pinned up all round, it was so long for me), because I knew that +he was making game. So, when we got out into the streets, +and I constantly disarranged the procession by tumbling on the +people before me because my handkerchief blinded my eyes, and +tripping up the people behind me because my cloak was so long, I +felt that we were all making game. I was truly sorry for +Flanders, but I knew that it was no reason why we should be +trying (the women with their heads in hoods like coal-scuttles +with the black side outward) to keep step with a man in a scarf, +carrying a thing like a mourning spy-glass, which he was going to +open presently and sweep the horizon with. I knew that we +should not all have been speaking in one particular key-note +struck by the undertaker, if we had not been making game. +Even in our faces we were every one of us as like the undertaker +as if we had been his own family, and I perceived that this could +not have happened unless we had been making game. When we +returned to Sally’s, it was all of a piece. The +continued impossibility of getting on without plum-cake; the +ceremonious apparition of a pair of decanters containing port and +sherry and cork; Sally’s sister at the tea-table, clinking +the best crockery and shaking her head mournfully every time she +looked down into the teapot, as if it were the tomb; the Coat of +Arms again, and Sally as before; lastly, the words of consolation +administered to Sally when it was considered right that she +should ‘come round nicely:’ which were, that the +deceased had had ‘as com-for-ta-ble a fu-ne-ral as +comfortable could be!’</p> +<p>Other funerals have I seen with grown-up eyes, since that day, +of which the burden has been the same childish burden. +Making game. Real affliction, real grief and solemnity, +have been outraged, and the funeral has been +‘performed.’ The waste for which the funeral +customs of many tribes of savages are conspicuous, has attended +these civilised obsequies; and once, and twice, have I wished in +my soul that if the waste must be, they would let the undertaker +bury the money, and let me bury the friend.</p> +<p>In France, upon the whole, these ceremonies are more sensibly +regulated, because they are upon the whole less expensively +regulated. I cannot say that I have ever been much edified +by the custom of tying a bib and apron on the front of the house +of mourning, or that I would myself particularly care to be +driven to my grave in a nodding and bobbing car, like an infirm +four-post bedstead, by an inky fellow-creature in a +cocked-hat. But it may be that I am constitutionally +insensible to the virtues of a cocked-hat. In provincial +France, the solemnities are sufficiently hideous, but are few and +cheap. The friends and townsmen of the departed, in their +own dresses and not masquerading under the auspices of the +African Conjurer, surround the hand-bier, and often carry +it. It is not considered indispensable to stifle the +bearers, or even to elevate the burden on their shoulders; +consequently it is easily taken up, and easily set down, and is +carried through the streets without the distressing floundering +and shuffling that we see at home. A dirty priest or two, +and a dirtier acolyte or two, do not lend any especial grace to +the proceedings; and I regard with personal animosity the +bassoon, which is blown at intervals by the big-legged priest (it +is always a big-legged priest who blows the bassoon), when his +fellows combine in a lugubrious stalwart drawl. But there +is far less of the Conjurer and the Medicine Man in the business +than under like circumstances here. The grim coaches that +we reserve expressly for such shows, are non-existent; if the +cemetery be far out of the town, the coaches that are hired for +other purposes of life are hired for this purpose; and although +the honest vehicles make no pretence of being overcome, I have +never noticed that the people in them were the worse for +it. In Italy, the hooded Members of Confraternities who +attend on funerals, are dismal and ugly to look upon; but the +services they render are at least voluntarily rendered, and +impoverish no one, and cost nothing. Why should high +civilisation and low savagery ever come together on the point of +making them a wantonly wasteful and contemptible set of +forms?</p> +<p>Once I lost a friend by death, who had been troubled in his +time by the Medicine Man and the Conjurer, and upon whose limited +resources there were abundant claims. The Conjurer assured +me that I must positively ‘follow,’ and both he and +the Medicine Man entertained no doubt that I must go in a black +carriage, and must wear ‘fittings.’ I objected +to fittings as having nothing to do with my friendship, and I +objected to the black carriage as being in more senses than one a +job. So, it came into my mind to try what would happen if I +quietly walked, in my own way, from my own house to my +friend’s burial-place, and stood beside his open grave in +my own dress and person, reverently listening to the best of +Services. It satisfied my mind, I found, quite as well as +if I had been disguised in a hired hatband and scarf both +trailing to my very heels, and as if I had cost the orphan +children, in their greatest need, ten guineas.</p> +<p>Can any one who ever beheld the stupendous absurdities +attendant on ‘A message from the Lords’ in the House +of Commons, turn upon the Medicine Man of the poor Indians? +Has he any ‘Medicine’ in that dried skin pouch of +his, so supremely ludicrous as the two Masters in Chancery +holding up their black petticoats and butting their ridiculous +wigs at Mr. Speaker? Yet there are authorities innumerable +to tell me—as there are authorities innumerable among the +Indians to tell them—that the nonsense is indispensable, +and that its abrogation would involve most awful +consequences. What would any rational creature who had +never heard of judicial and forensic ‘fittings,’ +think of the Court of Common Pleas on the first day of +Term? Or with what an awakened sense of humour would <span +class="smcap">Livingstone’s</span> account of a similar +scene be perused, if the fur and red cloth and goats’ hair +and horse hair and powdered chalk and black patches on the top of +the head, were all at Tala Mungongo instead of Westminster? +That model missionary and good brave man found at least one tribe +of blacks with a very strong sense of the ridiculous, insomuch +that although an amiable and docile people, they never could see +the Missionaries dispose of their legs in the attitude of +kneeling, or hear them begin a hymn in chorus, without bursting +into roars of irrepressible laughter. It is much to be +hoped that no member of this facetious tribe may ever find his +way to England and get committed for contempt of Court.</p> +<p>In the Tonga Island already mentioned, there are a set of +personages called Mataboos—or some such name—who are +the masters of all the public ceremonies, and who know the exact +place in which every chief must sit down when a solemn public +meeting takes place: a meeting which bears a family resemblance +to our own Public Dinner, in respect of its being a main part of +the proceedings that every gentleman present is required to drink +something nasty. These Mataboos are a privileged order, so +important is their avocation, and they make the most of their +high functions. A long way out of the Tonga Islands, +indeed, rather near the British Islands, was there no calling in +of the Mataboos the other day to settle an earth-convulsing +question of precedence; and was there no weighty opinion +delivered on the part of the Mataboos which, being interpreted to +that unlucky tribe of blacks with the sense of the ridiculous, +would infallibly set the whole population screaming with +laughter?</p> +<p>My sense of justice demands the admission, however, that this +is not quite a one-sided question. If we submit ourselves +meekly to the Medicine Man and the Conjurer, and are not exalted +by it, the savages may retort upon us that we act more unwisely +than they in other matters wherein we fail to imitate them. +It is a widely diffused custom among savage tribes, when they +meet to discuss any affair of public importance, to sit up all +night making a horrible noise, dancing, blowing shells, and (in +cases where they are familiar with fire-arms) flying out into +open places and letting off guns. It is questionable +whether our legislative assemblies might not take a hint from +this. A shell is not a melodious wind-instrument, and it is +monotonous; but it is as musical as, and not more monotonous +than, my Honourable friend’s own trumpet, or the trumpet +that he blows so hard for the Minister. The uselessness of +arguing with any supporter of a Government or of an Opposition, +is well known. Try dancing. It is a better exercise, +and has the unspeakable recommendation that it couldn’t be +reported. The honourable and savage member who has a loaded +gun, and has grown impatient of debate, plunges out of doors, +fires in the air, and returns calm and silent to the +Palaver. Let the honourable and civilised member similarly +charged with a speech, dart into the cloisters of Westminster +Abbey in the silence of night, let his speech off, and come back +harmless. It is not at first sight a very rational custom +to paint a broad blue stripe across one’s nose and both +cheeks, and a broad red stripe from the forehead to the chin, to +attach a few pounds of wood to one’s under lip, to stick +fish-bones in one’s ears and a brass curtain-ring in +one’s nose, and to rub one’s body all over with +rancid oil, as a preliminary to entering on business. But +this is a question of taste and ceremony, and so is the Windsor +Uniform. The manner of entering on the business itself is +another question. A council of six hundred savage gentlemen +entirely independent of tailors, sitting on their hams in a ring, +smoking, and occasionally grunting, seem to me, according to the +experience I have gathered in my voyages and travels, somehow to +do what they come together for; whereas that is not at all the +general experience of a council of six hundred civilised +gentlemen very dependent on tailors and sitting on mechanical +contrivances. It is better that an Assembly should do its +utmost to envelop itself in smoke, than that it should direct its +endeavours to enveloping the public in smoke; and I would rather +it buried half a hundred hatchets than buried one subject +demanding attention.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap29"></a>XXIX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">TITBULL’S ALMS-HOUSES</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">By</span> the side of most railways out of +London, one may see Alms-Houses and Retreats (generally with a +Wing or a Centre wanting, and ambitious of being much bigger than +they are), some of which are newly-founded Institutions, and some +old establishments transplanted. There is a tendency in +these pieces of architecture to shoot upward unexpectedly, like +Jack’s bean-stalk, and to be ornate in spires of Chapels +and lanterns of Halls, which might lead to the embellishment of +the air with many castles of questionable beauty but for the +restraining consideration of expense. However, the manners, +being always of a sanguine temperament, comfort themselves with +plans and elevations of Loomings in the future, and are +influenced in the present by philanthropy towards the railway +passengers. For, the question how prosperous and promising +the buildings can be made to look in their eyes, usually +supersedes the lesser question how they can be turned to the best +account for the inmates.</p> +<p>Why none of the people who reside in these places ever look +out of window, or take an airing in the piece of ground which is +going to be a garden by-and-by, is one of the wonders I have +added to my always-lengthening list of the wonders of the +world. I have got it into my mind that they live in a state +of chronic injury and resentment, and on that account refuse to +decorate the building with a human interest. As I have +known legatees deeply injured by a bequest of five hundred pounds +because it was not five thousand, and as I was once acquainted +with a pensioner on the Public to the extent of two hundred a +year, who perpetually anathematised his Country because he was +not in the receipt of four, having no claim whatever to sixpence: +so perhaps it usually happens, within certain limits, that to get +a little help is to get a notion of being defrauded of +more. ‘How do they pass their lives in this beautiful +and peaceful place!’ was the subject of my speculation with +a visitor who once accompanied me to a charming rustic retreat +for old men and women: a quaint ancient foundation in a pleasant +English country, behind a picturesque church and among rich old +convent gardens. There were but some dozen or so of houses, +and we agreed that we would talk with the inhabitants, as they +sat in their groined rooms between the light of their fires and +the light shining in at their latticed windows, and would find +out. They passed their lives in considering themselves +mulcted of certain ounces of tea by a deaf old steward who lived +among them in the quadrangle. There was no reason to +suppose that any such ounces of tea had ever been in existence, +or that the old steward so much as knew what was the +matter;—he passed <i>his</i> life in considering himself +periodically defrauded of a birch-broom by the beadle.</p> +<p>But it is neither to old Alms-Houses in the country, nor to +new Alms-Houses by the railroad, that these present Uncommercial +notes relate. They refer back to journeys made among those +common-place, smoky-fronted London Alms-Houses, with a little +paved court-yard in front enclosed by iron railings, which have +got snowed up, as it were, by bricks and mortar; which were once +in a suburb, but are now in the densely populated town; gaps in +the busy life around them, parentheses in the close and blotted +texts of the streets.</p> +<p>Sometimes, these Alms-Houses belong to a Company or +Society. Sometimes, they were established by individuals, +and are maintained out of private funds bequeathed in perpetuity +long ago. My favourite among them is Titbull’s, which +establishment is a picture of many. Of Titbull I know no +more than that he deceased in 1723, that his Christian name was +Sampson, and his social designation Esquire, and that he founded +these Alms-Houses as Dwellings for Nine Poor Women and Six Poor +Men by his Will and Testament. I should not know even this +much, but for its being inscribed on a grim stone very difficult +to read, let into the front of the centre house of +Titbull’s Alms-Houses, and which stone is ornamented a-top +with a piece of sculptured drapery resembling the effigy of +Titbull’s bath-towel.</p> +<p>Titbull’s Alms-Houses are in the east of London, in a +great highway, in a poor, busy, and thronged neighbourhood. +Old iron and fried fish, cough drops and artificial flowers, +boiled pigs’-feet and household furniture that looks as if +it were polished up with lip-salve, umbrellas full of vocal +literature and saucers full of shell-fish in a green juice which +I hope is natural to them when their health is good, garnish the +paved sideways as you go to Titbull’s. I take the +ground to have risen in those parts since Titbull’s time, +and you drop into his domain by three stone steps. So did I +first drop into it, very nearly striking my brows against +Titbull’s pump, which stands with its back to the +thoroughfare just inside the gate, and has a conceited air of +reviewing Titbull’s pensioners.</p> +<p>‘And a worse one,’ said a virulent old man with a +pitcher, ‘there isn’t nowhere. A harder one to +work, nor a grudginer one to yield, there isn’t +nowhere!’ This old man wore a long coat, such as we +see Hogarth’s Chairmen represented with, and it was of that +peculiar green-pea hue without the green, which seems to come of +poverty. It had also that peculiar smell of cupboard which +seems to come of poverty.</p> +<p>‘The pump is rusty, perhaps,’ said I.</p> +<p>‘Not <i>it</i>,’ said the old man, regarding it +with undiluted virulence in his watery eye. ‘It never +were fit to be termed a pump. That’s what’s the +matter with <i>it</i>.’</p> +<p>‘Whose fault is that?’ said I.</p> +<p>The old man, who had a working mouth which seemed to be trying +to masticate his anger and to find that it was too hard and there +was too much of it, replied, ‘Them gentlemen.’</p> +<p>‘What gentlemen?’</p> +<p>‘Maybe you’re one of ’em?’ said the +old man, suspiciously.</p> +<p>‘The trustees?’</p> +<p>‘I wouldn’t trust ’em myself,’ said +the virulent old man.</p> +<p>‘If you mean the gentlemen who administer this place, +no, I am not one of them; nor have I ever so much as heard of +them.’</p> +<p>‘I wish <i>I</i> never heard of them,’ gasped the +old man: ‘at my time of life—with the +rheumatics—drawing water-from that thing!’ Not +to be deluded into calling it a Pump, the old man gave it another +virulent look, took up his pitcher, and carried it into a corner +dwelling-house, shutting the door after him.</p> +<p>Looking around and seeing that each little house was a house +of two little rooms; and seeing that the little oblong court-yard +in front was like a graveyard for the inhabitants, saving that no +word was engraven on its flat dry stones; and seeing that the +currents of life and noise ran to and fro outside, having no more +to do with the place than if it were a sort of low-water mark on +a lively beach; I say, seeing this and nothing else, I was going +out at the gate when one of the doors opened.</p> +<p>‘Was you looking for anything, sir?’ asked a tidy, +well-favoured woman.</p> +<p>Really, no; I couldn’t say I was.</p> +<p>‘Not wanting any one, sir?’</p> +<p>‘No—at least I—pray what is the name of the +elderly gentleman who lives in the corner there?’</p> +<p>The tidy woman stepped out to be sure of the door I indicated, +and she and the pump and I stood all three in a row with our +backs to the thoroughfare.</p> +<p>‘Oh! <i>His</i> name is Mr. Battens,’ said +the tidy woman, dropping her voice.</p> +<p>‘I have just been talking with him.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed?’ said the tidy woman. +‘Ho! I wonder Mr. Battens talked!’</p> +<p>‘Is he usually so silent?’</p> +<p>‘Well, Mr. Battens is the oldest here—that is to +say, the oldest of the old gentlemen—in point of +residence.’</p> +<p>She had a way of passing her hands over and under one another +as she spoke, that was not only tidy but propitiatory; so I asked +her if I might look at her little sitting-room? She +willingly replied Yes, and we went into it together: she leaving +the door open, with an eye as I understood to the social +proprieties. The door opening at once into the room without +any intervening entry, even scandal must have been silenced by +the precaution.</p> +<p>It was a gloomy little chamber, but clean, and with a mug of +wallflower in the window. On the chimney-piece were two +peacock’s feathers, a carved ship, a few shells, and a +black profile with one eyelash; whether this portrait purported +to be male or female passed my comprehension, until my hostess +informed me that it was her only son, and ‘quite a speaking +one.’</p> +<p>‘He is alive, I hope?’</p> +<p>‘No, sir,’ said the widow, ‘he were cast +away in China.’ This was said with a modest sense of +its reflecting a certain geographical distinction on his +mother.</p> +<p>‘If the old gentlemen here are not given to +talking,’ said I, ‘I hope the old ladies +are?—not that you are one.’</p> +<p>She shook her head. ‘You see they get so +cross.’</p> +<p>‘How is that?’</p> +<p>‘Well, whether the gentlemen really do deprive us of any +little matters which ought to be ours by rights, I cannot say for +certain; but the opinion of the old ones is they do. And +Mr. Battens he do even go so far as to doubt whether credit is +due to the Founder. For Mr. Battens he do say, anyhow he +got his name up by it and he done it cheap.’</p> +<p>‘I am afraid the pump has soured Mr. Battens.’</p> +<p>‘It may be so,’ returned the tidy widow, +‘but the handle does go very hard. Still, what I say +to myself is, the gentlemen <i>may</i> not pocket the difference +between a good pump and a bad one, and I would wish to think well +of them. And the dwellings,’ said my hostess, +glancing round her room; ‘perhaps they were convenient +dwellings in the Founder’s time, considered <i>as</i> his +time, and therefore he should not be blamed. But Mrs. +Saggers is very hard upon them.’</p> +<p>‘Mrs. Saggers is the oldest here?’</p> +<p>‘The oldest but one. Mrs. Quinch being the oldest, +and have totally lost her head.’</p> +<p>‘And you?’</p> +<p>‘I am the youngest in residence, and consequently am not +looked up to. But when Mrs. Quinch makes a happy release, +there will be one below me. Nor is it to be expected that +Mrs. Saggers will prove herself immortal.’</p> +<p>‘True. Nor Mr. Battens.’</p> +<p>‘Regarding the old gentlemen,’ said my widow +slightingly, ‘they count among themselves. They do +not count among us. Mr. Battens is that exceptional that he +have written to the gentlemen many times and have worked the case +against them. Therefore he have took a higher ground. +But we do not, as a rule, greatly reckon the old +gentlemen.’</p> +<p>Pursuing the subject, I found it to be traditionally settled +among the poor ladies that the poor gentlemen, whatever their +ages, were all very old indeed, and in a state of dotage. I +also discovered that the juniors and newcomers preserved, for a +time, a waning disposition to believe in Titbull and his +trustees, but that as they gained social standing they lost this +faith, and disparaged Titbull and all his works.</p> +<p>Improving my acquaintance subsequently with this respected +lady, whose name was Mrs. Mitts, and occasionally dropping in +upon her with a little offering of sound Family Hyson in my +pocket, I gradually became familiar with the inner politics and +ways of Titbull’s Alms-Houses. But I never could find +out who the trustees were, or where they were: it being one of +the fixed ideas of the place that those authorities must be +vaguely and mysteriously mentioned as ‘the gentlemen’ +only. The secretary of ‘the gentlemen’ was once +pointed out to me, evidently engaged in championing the obnoxious +pump against the attacks of the discontented Mr. Battens; but I +am not in a condition to report further of him than that he had +the sprightly bearing of a lawyer’s clerk. I had it +from Mrs. Mitts’s lips in a very confidential moment, that +Mr. Battens was once ‘had up before the gentlemen’ to +stand or fall by his accusations, and that an old shoe was thrown +after him on his departure from the building on this dread +errand;—not ineffectually, for, the interview resulting in +a plumber, was considered to have encircled the temples of Mr. +Battens with the wreath of victory.</p> +<p>In Titbull’s Alms-Houses, the local society is not +regarded as good society. A gentleman or lady receiving +visitors from without, or going out to tea, counts, as it were, +accordingly; but visitings or tea-drinkings interchanged among +Titbullians do not score. Such interchanges, however, are +rare, in consequence of internal dissensions occasioned by Mrs. +Saggers’s pail: which household article has split +Titbull’s into almost as many parties as there are +dwellings in that precinct. The extremely complicated +nature of the conflicting articles of belief on the subject +prevents my stating them here with my usual perspicuity, but I +think they have all branched off from the root-and-trunk +question, Has Mrs. Saggers any right to stand her pail outside +her dwelling? The question has been much refined upon, but +roughly stated may be stated in those terms.</p> +<p>There are two old men in Titbull’s Alms-Houses who, I +have been given to understand, knew each other in the world +beyond its pump and iron railings, when they were both ‘in +trade.’ They make the best of their reverses, and are +looked upon with great contempt. They are little, stooping, +blear-eyed old men of cheerful countenance, and they hobble up +and down the court-yard wagging their chins and talking together +quite gaily. This has given offence, and has, moreover, +raised the question whether they are justified in passing any +other windows than their own. Mr. Battens, however, +permitting them to pass <i>his</i> windows, on the disdainful +ground that their imbecility almost amounts to irresponsibility, +they are allowed to take their walk in peace. They live +next door to one another, and take it by turns to read the +newspaper aloud (that is to say, the newest newspaper they can +get), and they play cribbage at night. On warm and sunny +days they have been known to go so far as to bring out two chairs +and sit by the iron railings, looking forth; but this low +conduct, being much remarked upon throughout Titbull’s, +they were deterred by an outraged public opinion from repeating +it. There is a rumour—but it may be +malicious—that they hold the memory of Titbull in some weak +sort of veneration, and that they once set off together on a +pilgrimage to the parish churchyard to find his tomb. To +this, perhaps, might be traced a general suspicion that they are +spies of ‘the gentlemen:’ to which they were supposed +to have given colour in my own presence on the occasion of the +weak attempt at justification of the pump by the +gentlemen’s clerk; when they emerged bare-headed from the +doors of their dwellings, as if their dwellings and themselves +constituted an old-fashioned weather-glass of double action with +two figures of old ladies inside, and deferentially bowed to him +at intervals until he took his departure. They are +understood to be perfectly friendless and relationless. +Unquestionably the two poor fellows make the very best of their +lives in Titbull’s Alms-Houses, and unquestionably they are +(as before mentioned) the subjects of unmitigated contempt +there.</p> +<p>On Saturday nights, when there is a greater stir than usual +outside, and when itinerant vendors of miscellaneous wares even +take their stations and light up their smoky lamps before the +iron railings, Titbull’s becomes flurried. Mrs. +Saggers has her celebrated palpitations of the heart, for the +most part, on Saturday nights. But Titbull’s is unfit +to strive with the uproar of the streets in any of its +phases. It is religiously believed at Titbull’s that +people push more than they used, and likewise that the foremost +object of the population of England and Wales is to get you down +and trample on you. Even of railroads they know, at +Titbull’s, little more than the shriek (which Mrs. Saggers +says goes through her, and ought to be taken up by Government); +and the penny postage may even yet be unknown there, for I have +never seen a letter delivered to any inhabitant. But there +is a tall, straight, sallow lady resident in Number Seven, +Titbull’s, who never speaks to anybody, who is surrounded +by a superstitious halo of lost wealth, who does her household +work in housemaid’s gloves, and who is secretly much +deferred to, though openly cavilled at; and it has obscurely +leaked out that this old lady has a son, grandson, nephew, or +other relative, who is ‘a Contractor,’ and who would +think it nothing of a job to knock down Titbull’s, pack it +off into Cornwall, and knock it together again. An immense +sensation was made by a gipsy-party calling in a spring-van, to +take this old lady up to go for a day’s pleasure into +Epping Forest, and notes were compared as to which of the company +was the son, grandson, nephew, or other relative, the +Contractor. A thick-set personage with a white hat and a +cigar in his mouth, was the favourite: though as Titbull’s +had no other reason to believe that the Contractor was there at +all, than that this man was supposed to eye the chimney stacks as +if he would like to knock them down and cart them off, the +general mind was much unsettled in arriving at a +conclusion. As a way out of this difficulty, it +concentrated itself on the acknowledged Beauty of the party, +every stitch in whose dress was verbally unripped by the old +ladies then and there, and whose ‘goings on’ with +another and a thinner personage in a white hat might have +suffused the pump (where they were principally discussed) with +blushes, for months afterwards. Herein Titbull’s was +to Titbull’s true, for it has a constitutional dislike of +all strangers. As concerning innovations and improvements, +it is always of opinion that what it doesn’t want itself, +nobody ought to want. But I think I have met with this +opinion outside Titbull’s.</p> +<p>Of the humble treasures of furniture brought into +Titbull’s by the inmates when they establish themselves in +that place of contemplation for the rest of their days, by far +the greater and more valuable part belongs to the ladies. I +may claim the honour of having either crossed the threshold, or +looked in at the door, of every one of the nine ladies, and I +have noticed that they are all particular in the article of +bedsteads, and maintain favourite and long-established bedsteads +and bedding as a regular part of their rest. Generally an +antiquated chest of drawers is among their cherished possessions; +a tea-tray always is. I know of at least two rooms in which +a little tea-kettle of genuine burnished copper, vies with the +cat in winking at the fire; and one old lady has a tea-urn set +forth in state on the top of her chest of drawers, which urn is +used as her library, and contains four duodecimo volumes, and a +black-bordered newspaper giving an account of the funeral of Her +Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte. Among the poor old +gentlemen there are no such niceties. Their furniture has +the air of being contributed, like some obsolete Literary +Miscellany, ‘by several hands;’ their few chairs +never match; old patchwork coverlets linger among them; and they +have an untidy habit of keeping their wardrobes in +hat-boxes. When I recall one old gentleman who is rather +choice in his shoe-brushes and blacking-bottle, I have summed up +the domestic elegances of that side of the building.</p> +<p>On the occurrence of a death in Titbull’s, it is +invariably agreed among the survivors—and it is the only +subject on which they do agree—that the departed did +something ‘to bring it on.’ Judging by +Titbull’s, I should say the human race need never die, if +they took care. But they don’t take care, and they do +die, and when they die in Titbull’s they are buried at the +cost of the Foundation. Some provision has been made for +the purpose, in virtue of which (I record this on the strength of +having seen the funeral of Mrs. Quinch) a lively neighbouring +undertaker dresses up four of the old men, and four of the old +women, hustles them into a procession of four couples, and leads +off with a large black bow at the back of his hat, looking over +his shoulder at them airily from time to time to see that no +member of the party has got lost, or has tumbled down; as if they +were a company of dim old dolls.</p> +<p>Resignation of a dwelling is of very rare occurrence in +Titbull’s. A story does obtain there, how an old +lady’s son once drew a prize of Thirty Thousand Pounds in +the Lottery, and presently drove to the gate in his own carriage, +with French Horns playing up behind, and whisked his mother away, +and left ten guineas for a Feast. But I have been unable to +substantiate it by any evidence, and regard it as an Alms-House +Fairy Tale. It is curious that the only proved case of +resignation happened within my knowledge.</p> +<p>It happened on this wise. There is a sharp competition +among the ladies respecting the gentility of their visitors, and +I have so often observed visitors to be dressed as for a holiday +occasion, that I suppose the ladies to have besought them to make +all possible display when they come. In these circumstances +much excitement was one day occasioned by Mrs. Mitts receiving a +visit from a Greenwich Pensioner. He was a Pensioner of a +bluff and warlike appearance, with an empty coat-sleeve, and he +was got up with unusual care; his coat-buttons were extremely +bright, he wore his empty coat-sleeve in a graceful festoon, and +he had a walking-stick in his hand that must have cost +money. When, with the head of his walking-stick, he knocked +at Mrs. Mitts’s door—there are no knockers in +Titbull’s—Mrs. Mitts was overheard by a next-door +neighbour to utter a cry of surprise expressing much agitation; +and the same neighbour did afterwards solemnly affirm that when +he was admitted into Mrs. Mitts’s room, she heard a +smack. Heard a smack which was not a blow.</p> +<p>There was an air about this Greenwich Pensioner when he took +his departure, which imbued all Titbull’s with the +conviction that he was coming again. He was eagerly looked +for, and Mrs. Mitts was closely watched. In the meantime, +if anything could have placed the unfortunate six old gentlemen +at a greater disadvantage than that at which they chronically +stood, it would have been the apparition of this Greenwich +Pensioner. They were well shrunken already, but they shrunk +to nothing in comparison with the Pensioner. Even the poor +old gentlemen themselves seemed conscious of their inferiority, +and to know submissively that they could never hope to hold their +own against the Pensioner with his warlike and maritime +experience in the past, and his tobacco money in the present: his +chequered career of blue water, black gunpowder, and red +bloodshed for England, home, and beauty.</p> +<p>Before three weeks were out, the Pensioner reappeared. +Again he knocked at Mrs. Mitts’s door with the handle of +his stick, and again was he admitted. But not again did he +depart alone; for Mrs. Mitts, in a bonnet identified as having +been re-embellished, went out walking with him, and stayed out +till the ten o’clock beer, Greenwich time.</p> +<p>There was now a truce, even as to the troubled waters of Mrs. +Saggers’s pail; nothing was spoken of among the ladies but +the conduct of Mrs. Mitts and its blighting influence on the +reputation of Titbull’s. It was agreed that Mr. +Battens ‘ought to take it up,’ and Mr. Battens was +communicated with on the subject. That unsatisfactory +individual replied ‘that he didn’t see his way +yet,’ and it was unanimously voted by the ladies that +aggravation was in his nature.</p> +<p>How it came to pass, with some appearance of inconsistency, +that Mrs. Mitts was cut by all the ladies and the Pensioner +admired by all the ladies, matters not. Before another week +was out, Titbull’s was startled by another +phenomenon. At ten o’clock in the forenoon appeared a +cab, containing not only the Greenwich Pensioner with one arm, +but, to boot, a Chelsea Pensioner with one leg. Both +dismounting to assist Mrs. Mitts into the cab, the Greenwich +Pensioner bore her company inside, and the Chelsea Pensioner +mounted the box by the driver: his wooden leg sticking out after +the manner of a bowsprit, as if in jocular homage to his +friend’s sea-going career. Thus the equipage drove +away. No Mrs. Mitts returned that night.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image242" href="images/p242b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Titbull’s Alms-Houses" +title= +"Titbull’s Alms-Houses" + src="images/p242s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>What Mr. Battens might have done in the matter of taking it +up, goaded by the infuriated state of public feeling next +morning, was anticipated by another phenomenon. A Truck, +propelled by the Greenwich Pensioner and the Chelsea Pensioner, +each placidly smoking a pipe, and pushing his warrior breast +against the handle.</p> +<p>The display on the part of the Greenwich Pensioner of his +‘marriage-lines,’ and his announcement that himself +and friend had looked in for the furniture of Mrs. G. Pensioner, +late Mitts, by no means reconciled the ladies to the conduct of +their sister; on the contrary, it is said that they appeared more +than ever exasperated. Nevertheless, my stray visits to +Titbull’s since the date of this occurrence, have confirmed +me in an impression that it was a wholesome fillip. The +nine ladies are smarter, both in mind and dress, than they used +to be, though it must be admitted that they despise the six +gentlemen to the last extent. They have a much greater +interest in the external thoroughfare too, than they had when I +first knew Titbull’s. And whenever I chance to be +leaning my back against the pump or the iron railings, and to be +talking to one of the junior ladies, and to see that a flush has +passed over her face, I immediately know without looking round +that a Greenwich Pensioner has gone past.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap30"></a>XXX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE RUFFIAN</span></h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">entertain</span> so strong an objection +to the euphonious softening of Ruffian into Rough, which has +lately become popular, that I restore the right word to the +heading of this paper; the rather, as my object is to dwell upon +the fact that the Ruffian is tolerated among us to an extent that +goes beyond all unruffianly endurance. I take the liberty +to believe that if the Ruffian besets my life, a professional +Ruffian at large in the open streets of a great city, notoriously +having no other calling than that of Ruffian, and of disquieting +and despoiling me as I go peacefully about my lawful business, +interfering with no one, then the Government under which I have +the great constitutional privilege, supreme honour and happiness, +and all the rest of it, to exist, breaks down in the discharge of +any Government’s most simple elementary duty.</p> +<p>What did I read in the London daily papers, in the early days +of this last September? That the Police had ‘<span +class="smcap">At length succeeded in capturing Two of the +notorious gang that have so long invested the Waterloo +Road</span>.’ Is it possible? What a wonderful +Police! Here is a straight, broad, public thoroughfare of +immense resort; half a mile long; gas-lighted by night; with a +great gas-lighted railway station in it, extra the street lamps; +full of shops; traversed by two popular cross thoroughfares of +considerable traffic; itself the main road to the South of +London; and the admirable Police have, after long infestment of +this dark and lonely spot by a gang of Ruffians, actually got +hold of two of them. Why, can it be doubted that any man of +fair London knowledge and common resolution, armed with the +powers of the Law, could have captured the whole confederacy in a +week?</p> +<p>It is to the saving up of the Ruffian class by the Magistracy +and Police—to the conventional preserving of them, as if +they were Partridges—that their number and audacity must be +in great part referred. Why is a notorious Thief and +Ruffian ever left at large? He never turns his liberty to +any account but violence and plunder, he never did a day’s +work out of gaol, he never will do a day’s work out of +gaol. As a proved notorious Thief he is always consignable +to prison for three months. When he comes out, he is surely +as notorious a Thief as he was when he went in. Then send +him back again. ‘Just Heaven!’ cries the +Society for the protection of remonstrant Ruffians. +‘This is equivalent to a sentence of perpetual +imprisonment!’ Precisely for that reason it has my +advocacy. I demand to have the Ruffian kept out of my way, +and out of the way of all decent people. I demand to have +the Ruffian employed, perforce, in hewing wood and drawing water +somewhere for the general service, instead of hewing at her +Majesty’s subjects and drawing their watches out of their +pockets. If this be termed an unreasonable demand, then the +tax-gatherer’s demand on me must be far more unreasonable, +and cannot be otherwise than extortionate and unjust.</p> +<p>It will be seen that I treat of the Thief and Ruffian as +one. I do so, because I know the two characters to be one, +in the vast majority of cases, just as well as the Police know +it. (As to the Magistracy, with a few exceptions, they know +nothing about it but what the Police choose to tell them.) +There are disorderly classes of men who are not thieves; as +railway-navigators, brickmakers, wood-sawyers, +costermongers. These classes are often disorderly and +troublesome; but it is mostly among themselves, and at any rate +they have their industrious avocations, they work early and late, +and work hard. The generic Ruffian—honourable member +for what is tenderly called the Rough Element—is either a +Thief, or the companion of Thieves. When he infamously +molests women coming out of chapel on Sunday evenings (for which +I would have his back scarified often and deep) it is not only +for the gratification of his pleasant instincts, but that there +may be a confusion raised by which either he or his friends may +profit, in the commission of highway robberies or in picking +pockets. When he gets a police-constable down and kicks him +helpless for life, it is because that constable once did his duty +in bringing him to justice. When he rushes into the bar of +a public-house and scoops an eye out of one of the company there, +or bites his ear off, it is because the man he maims gave +evidence against him. When he and a line of comrades +extending across the footway—say of that solitary +mountain-spur of the Abruzzi, the Waterloo Road—advance +towards me ‘skylarking’ among themselves, my purse or +shirt-pin is in predestined peril from his playfulness. +Always a Ruffian, always a Thief. Always a Thief, always a +Ruffian.</p> +<p>Now, when I, who am not paid to know these things, know them +daily on the evidence of my senses and experience; when I know +that the Ruffian never jostles a lady in the streets, or knocks a +hat off, but in order that the Thief may profit, is it surprising +that I should require from those who <i>are</i> paid to know +these things, prevention of them?</p> +<p>Look at this group at a street corner. Number one is a +shirking fellow of five-and-twenty, in an ill-favoured and +ill-savoured suit, his trousers of corduroy, his coat of some +indiscernible groundwork for the deposition of grease, his +neckerchief like an eel, his complexion like dirty dough, his +mangy fur cap pulled low upon his beetle brows to hide the prison +cut of his hair. His hands are in his pockets. He +puts them there when they are idle, as naturally as in other +people’s pockets when they are busy, for he knows that they +are not roughened by work, and that they tell a tale. +Hence, whenever he takes one out to draw a sleeve across his +nose—which is often, for he has weak eyes and a +constitutional cold in his head—he restores it to its +pocket immediately afterwards. Number two is a burly brute +of five-and-thirty, in a tall stiff hat; is a composite as to his +clothes of betting-man and fighting-man; is whiskered; has a +staring pin in his breast, along with his right hand; has +insolent and cruel eyes: large shoulders; strong legs booted and +tipped for kicking. Number three is forty years of age; is +short, thick-set, strong, and bow-legged; wears knee cords and +white stockings, a very long-sleeved waistcoat, a very large +neckerchief doubled or trebled round his throat, and a crumpled +white hat crowns his ghastly parchment face. This fellow +looks like an executed postboy of other days, cut down from the +gallows too soon, and restored and preserved by express +diabolical agency. Numbers five, six, and seven, are +hulking, idle, slouching young men, patched and shabby, too short +in the sleeves and too tight in the legs, slimily clothed, +foul-spoken, repulsive wretches inside and out. In all the +party there obtains a certain twitching character of mouth and +furtiveness of eye, that hint how the coward is lurking under the +bully. The hint is quite correct, for they are a slinking +sneaking set, far more prone to lie down on their backs and kick +out, when in difficulty, than to make a stand for it. (This +may account for the street mud on the backs of Numbers five, six, +and seven, being much fresher than the stale splashes on their +legs.)</p> +<p>These engaging gentry a Police-constable stands +contemplating. His Station, with a Reserve of assistance, +is very near at hand. They cannot pretend to any trade, not +even to be porters or messengers. It would be idle if they +did, for he knows them, and they know that he knows them, to be +nothing but professed Thieves and Ruffians. He knows where +they resort, knows by what slang names they call one another, +knows how often they have been in prison, and how long, and for +what. All this is known at his Station, too, and is (or +ought to be) known at Scotland Yard, too. But does he know, +or does his Station know, or does Scotland Yard know, or does +anybody know, why these fellows should be here at liberty, when, +as reputed Thieves to whom a whole Division of Police could +swear, they might all be under lock and key at hard labour? +Not he; truly he would be a wise man if he did! He only +knows that these are members of the ‘notorious gang,’ +which, according to the newspaper Police-office reports of this +last past September, ‘have so long infested’ the +awful solitudes of the Waterloo Road, and out of which almost +impregnable fastnesses the Police have at length dragged Two, to +the unspeakable admiration of all good civilians.</p> +<p>The consequences of this contemplative habit on the part of +the Executive—a habit to be looked for in a hermit, but not +in a Police System—are familiar to us all. The +Ruffian becomes one of the established orders of the body +politic. Under the playful name of Rough (as if he were +merely a practical joker) his movements and successes are +recorded on public occasions. Whether he mustered in large +numbers, or small; whether he was in good spirits, or depressed; +whether he turned his generous exertions to very prosperous +account, or Fortune was against him; whether he was in a +sanguinary mood, or robbed with amiable horse-play and a gracious +consideration for life and limb; all this is chronicled as if he +were an Institution. Is there any city in Europe, out of +England, in which these terms are held with the pests of +Society? Or in which, at this day, such violent robberies +from the person are constantly committed as in London?</p> +<p>The Preparatory Schools of Ruffianism are similarly borne +with. The young Ruffians of London—not Thieves yet, +but training for scholarships and fellowships in the Criminal +Court Universities—molest quiet people and their property, +to an extent that is hardly credible. The throwing of +stones in the streets has become a dangerous and destructive +offence, which surely could have got to no greater height though +we had had no Police but our own riding-whips and +walking-sticks—the Police to which I myself appeal on these +occasions. The throwing of stones at the windows of railway +carriages in motion—an act of wanton wickedness with the +very Arch-Fiend’s hand in it—had become a crying +evil, when the railway companies forced it on Police +notice. Constabular contemplation had until then been the +order of the day.</p> +<p>Within these twelve months, there arose among the young +gentlemen of London aspiring to Ruffianism, and cultivating that +much-encouraged social art, a facetious cry of ‘I’ll +have this!’ accompanied with a clutch at some article of a +passing lady’s dress. I have known a lady’s +veil to be thus humorously torn from her face and carried off in +the open streets at noon; and I have had the honour of myself +giving chase, on Westminster Bridge, to another young Ruffian, +who, in full daylight early on a summer evening, had nearly +thrown a modest young woman into a swoon of indignation and +confusion, by his shameful manner of attacking her with this cry +as she harmlessly passed along before me. Mr. <span +class="smcap">Carlyle</span>, some time since, awakened a little +pleasantry by writing of his own experience of the Ruffian of the +streets. I have seen the Ruffian act in exact accordance +with Mr. Carlyle’s description, innumerable times, and I +never saw him checked.</p> +<p>The blaring use of the very worst language possible, in our +public thoroughfares—especially in those set apart for +recreation—is another disgrace to us, and another result of +constabular contemplation, the like of which I have never heard +in any other country to which my uncommercial travels have +extended. Years ago, when I had a near interest in certain +children who were sent with their nurses, for air and exercise, +into the Regent’s Park, I found this evil to be so +abhorrent and horrible there, that I called public attention to +it, and also to its contemplative reception by the Police. +Looking afterwards into the newest Police Act, and finding that +the offence was punishable under it, I resolved, when striking +occasion should arise, to try my hand as prosecutor. The +occasion arose soon enough, and I ran the following gauntlet.</p> +<p>The utterer of the base coin in question was a girl of +seventeen or eighteen, who, with a suitable attendance of +blackguards, youths, and boys, was flaunting along the streets, +returning from an Irish funeral, in a Progress interspersed with +singing and dancing. She had turned round to me and +expressed herself in the most audible manner, to the great +delight of that select circle. I attended the party, on the +opposite side of the way, for a mile further, and then +encountered a Police-constable. The party had made +themselves merry at my expense until now, but seeing me speak to +the constable, its male members instantly took to their heels, +leaving the girl alone. I asked the constable did he know +my name? Yes, he did. ‘Take that girl into +custody, on my charge, for using bad language in the +streets.’ He had never heard of such a charge. +I had. Would he take my word that he should get into no +trouble? Yes, sir, he would do that. So he took the +girl, and I went home for my Police Act.</p> +<p>With this potent instrument in my pocket, I literally as well +as figuratively ‘returned to the charge,’ and +presented myself at the Police Station of the district. +There, I found on duty a very intelligent Inspector (they are all +intelligent men), who, likewise, had never heard of such a +charge. I showed him my clause, and we went over it +together twice or thrice. It was plain, and I engaged to +wait upon the suburban Magistrate to-morrow morning at ten +o’clock.</p> +<p>In the morning I put my Police Act in my pocket again, and +waited on the suburban Magistrate. I was not quite so +courteously received by him as I should have been by The Lord +Chancellor or The Lord Chief Justice, but that was a question of +good breeding on the suburban Magistrate’s part, and I had +my clause ready with its leaf turned down. Which was enough +for <i>me</i>.</p> +<p>Conference took place between the Magistrate and clerk +respecting the charge. During conference I was evidently +regarded as a much more objectionable person than the +prisoner;—one giving trouble by coming there voluntarily, +which the prisoner could not be accused of doing. The +prisoner had been got up, since I last had the pleasure of seeing +her, with a great effect of white apron and straw bonnet. +She reminded me of an elder sister of Red Riding Hood, and I +seemed to remind the sympathising Chimney Sweep by whom she was +attended, of the Wolf.</p> +<p>The Magistrate was doubtful, Mr. Uncommercial Traveller, +whether this charge could be entertained. It was not +known. Mr. Uncommercial Traveller replied that he wished it +were better known, and that, if he could afford the leisure, he +would use his endeavours to make it so. There was no +question about it, however, he contended. Here was the +clause.</p> +<p>The clause was handed in, and more conference resulted. +After which I was asked the extraordinary question: ‘Mr. +Uncommercial, do you really wish this girl to be sent to +prison?’ To which I grimly answered, staring: +‘If I didn’t, why should I take the trouble to come +here?’ Finally, I was sworn, and gave my agreeable +evidence in detail, and White Riding Hood was fined ten +shillings, under the clause, or sent to prison for so many +days. ‘Why, Lord bless you, sir,’ said the +Police-officer, who showed me out, with a great enjoyment of the +jest of her having been got up so effectively, and caused so much +hesitation: ‘if she goes to prison, that will be nothing +new to <i>her</i>. She comes from Charles Street, Drury +Lane!’</p> +<p>The Police, all things considered, are an excellent force, and +I have borne my small testimony to their merits. +Constabular contemplation is the result of a bad system; a system +which is administered, not invented, by the man in +constable’s uniform, employed at twenty shillings a +week. He has his orders, and would be marked for +discouragement if he overstepped them. That the system is +bad, there needs no lengthened argument to prove, because the +fact is self-evident. If it were anything else, the results +that have attended it could not possibly have come to pass. +Who will say that under a good system, our streets could have got +into their present state?</p> +<p>The objection to the whole Police system, as concerning the +Ruffian, may be stated, and its failure exemplified, as +follows. It is well known that on all great occasions, when +they come together in numbers, the mass of the English people are +their own trustworthy Police. It is well known that +wheresoever there is collected together any fair general +representation of the people, a respect for law and order, and a +determination to discountenance lawlessness and disorder, may be +relied upon. As to one another, the people are a very good +Police, and yet are quite willing in their good-nature that the +stipendiary Police should have the credit of the people’s +moderation. But we are all of us powerless against the +Ruffian, because we submit to the law, and it is his only trade, +by superior force and by violence, to defy it. Moreover, we +are constantly admonished from high places (like so many +Sunday-school children out for a holiday of buns and +milk-and-water) that we are not to take the law into our own +hands, but are to hand our defence over to it. It is clear +that the common enemy to be punished and exterminated first of +all is the Ruffian. It is clear that he is, of all others, +<i>the</i> offender for whose repressal we maintain a costly +system of Police. Him, therefore, we expressly present to +the Police to deal with, conscious that, on the whole, we can, +and do, deal reasonably well with one another. Him the +Police deal with so inefficiently and absurdly that he +flourishes, and multiplies, and, with all his evil deeds upon his +head as notoriously as his hat is, pervades the streets with no +more let or hindrance than ourselves.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap31"></a>XXXI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ABOARD SHIP</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> journeys as Uncommercial +Traveller for the firm of Human-Interest Brothers have not +slackened since I last reported of them, but have kept me +continually on the move. I remain in the same idle +employment. I never solicit an order, I never get any +commission, I am the rolling stone that gathers no +moss,—unless any should by chance be found among these +samples.</p> +<p>Some half a year ago, I found myself in my idlest, dreamiest, +and least accountable condition altogether, on board ship, in the +harbour of the city of New York, in the United States of +America. Of all the good ships afloat, mine was the good +steamship ‘<span class="smcap">Russia</span>,’ <span +class="smcap">Capt. Cook</span>, Cunard Line, bound for +Liverpool. What more could I wish for?</p> +<p>I had nothing to wish for but a prosperous passage. My +salad-days, when I was green of visage and sea-sick, being gone +with better things (and no worse), no coming event cast its +shadow before.</p> +<p>I might but a few moments previously have imitated Sterne, and +said, ‘“And yet, methinks, +Eugenius,”—laying my forefinger wistfully on his +coat-sleeve, thus,—“and yet, methinks, Eugenius, +’tis but sorry work to part with thee, for what fresh +fields, . . . my dear Eugenius, . . . can be fresher than thou +art, and in what pastures new shall I find Eliza, or call her, +Eugenius, if thou wilt, Annie?”’—I say I might +have done this; but Eugenius was gone, and I hadn’t done +it.</p> +<p>I was resting on a skylight on the hurricane-deck, watching +the working of the ship very slowly about, that she might head +for England. It was high noon on a most brilliant day in +April, and the beautiful bay was glorious and glowing. Full +many a time, on shore there, had I seen the snow come down, down, +down (itself like down), until it lay deep in all the ways of +men, and particularly, as it seemed, in my way, for I had not +gone dry-shod many hours for months. Within two or three +days last past had I watched the feathery fall setting in with +the ardour of a new idea, instead of dragging at the skirts of a +worn-out winter, and permitting glimpses of a fresh young +spring. But a bright sun and a clear sky had melted the +snow in the great crucible of nature; and it had been poured out +again that morning over sea and land, transformed into myriads of +gold and silver sparkles.</p> +<p>The ship was fragrant with flowers. Something of the old +Mexican passion for flowers may have gradually passed into North +America, where flowers are luxuriously grown, and tastefully +combined in the richest profusion; but, be that as it may, such +gorgeous farewells in flowers had come on board, that the small +officer’s cabin on deck, which I tenanted, bloomed over +into the adjacent scuppers, and banks of other flowers that it +couldn’t hold made a garden of the unoccupied tables in the +passengers’ saloon. These delicious scents of the +shore, mingling with the fresh airs of the sea, made the +atmosphere a dreamy, an enchanting one. And so, with the +watch aloft setting all the sails, and with the screw below +revolving at a mighty rate, and occasionally giving the ship an +angry shake for resisting, I fell into my idlest ways, and lost +myself.</p> +<p>As, for instance, whether it was I lying there, or some other +entity even more mysterious, was a matter I was far too lazy to +look into. What did it signify to me if it were I? or to +the more mysterious entity, if it were he? Equally as to +the remembrances that drowsily floated by me, or by him, why ask +when or where the things happened? Was it not enough that +they befell at some time, somewhere?</p> +<p>There was that assisting at the church service on board +another steamship, one Sunday, in a stiff breeze. Perhaps +on the passage out. No matter. Pleasant to hear the +ship’s bells go as like church-bells as they could; +pleasant to see the watch off duty mustered and come in: best +hats, best Guernseys, washed hands and faces, smoothed +heads. But then arose a set of circumstances so rampantly +comical, that no check which the gravest intentions could put +upon them would hold them in hand. Thus the scene. +Some seventy passengers assembled at the saloon tables. +Prayer-books on tables. Ship rolling heavily. +Pause. No minister. Rumour has related that a modest +young clergyman on board has responded to the captain’s +request that he will officiate. Pause again, and very heavy +rolling.</p> +<p>Closed double doors suddenly burst open, and two strong +stewards skate in, supporting minister between them. +General appearance as of somebody picked up drunk and incapable, +and under conveyance to station-house. Stoppage, pause, and +particularly heavy rolling. Stewards watch their +opportunity, and balance themselves, but cannot balance minister; +who, struggling with a drooping head and a backward tendency, +seems determined to return below, while they are as determined +that he shall be got to the reading-desk in mid-saloon. +Desk portable, sliding away down a long table, and aiming itself +at the breasts of various members of the congregation. Here +the double doors, which have been carefully closed by other +stewards, fly open again, and worldly passenger tumbles in, +seemingly with pale-ale designs: who, seeking friend, says +‘Joe!’ Perceiving incongruity, says, +‘Hullo! Beg yer pardon!’ and tumbles out +again. All this time the congregation have been breaking up +into sects,—as the manner of congregations often is, each +sect sliding away by itself, and all pounding the weakest sect +which slid first into the corner. Utmost point of dissent +soon attained in every corner, and violent rolling. +Stewards at length make a dash; conduct minister to the mast in +the centre of the saloon, which he embraces with both arms; skate +out; and leave him in that condition to arrange affairs with +flock.</p> +<p>There was another Sunday, when an officer of the ship read the +service. It was quiet and impressive, until we fell upon +the dangerous and perfectly unnecessary experiment of striking up +a hymn. After it was given out, we all rose, but everybody +left it to somebody else to begin. Silence resulting, the +officer (no singer himself) rather reproachfully gave us the +first line again, upon which a rosy pippin of an old gentleman, +remarkable throughout the passage for his cheerful politeness, +gave a little stamp with his boot (as if he were leading off a +country dance), and blithely warbled us into a show of +joining. At the end of the first verse we became, through +these tactics, so much refreshed and encouraged, that none of us, +howsoever unmelodious, would submit to be left out of the second +verse; while as to the third we lifted up our voices in a sacred +howl that left it doubtful whether we were the more boastful of +the sentiments we united in professing, or of professing them +with a most discordant defiance of time and tune.</p> +<p>‘Lord bless us!’ thought I, when the fresh +remembrance of these things made me laugh heartily alone in the +dead water-gurgling waste of the night, what time I was wedged +into my berth by a wooden bar, or I must have rolled out of it, +‘what errand was I then upon, and to what Abyssinian point +had public events then marched? No matter as to me. +And as to them, if the wonderful popular rage for a plaything +(utterly confounding in its inscrutable unreason) I had not then +lighted on a poor young savage boy, and a poor old screw of a +horse, and hauled the first off by the hair of his princely head +to “inspect” the British volunteers, and hauled the +second off by the hair of his equine tail to the Crystal Palace, +why so much the better for all of us outside Bedlam!’</p> +<p>So, sticking to the ship, I was at the trouble of asking +myself would I like to show the grog distribution in ‘the +fiddle’ at noon to the Grand United Amalgamated Total +Abstinence Society? Yes, I think I should. I think it +would do them good to smell the rum, under the +circumstances. Over the grog, mixed in a bucket, presides +the boatswain’s mate, small tin can in hand. Enter +the crew, the guilty consumers, the grown-up brood of Giant +Despair, in contradistinction to the band of youthful angel +Hope. Some in boots, some in leggings, some in tarpaulin +overalls, some in frocks, some in pea-coats, a very few in +jackets, most with sou’wester hats, all with something +rough and rugged round the throat; all, dripping salt water where +they stand; all pelted by weather, besmeared with grease, and +blackened by the sooty rigging.</p> +<p>Each man’s knife in its sheath in his girdle, loosened +for dinner. As the first man, with a knowingly kindled eye, +watches the filling of the poisoned chalice (truly but a very +small tin mug, to be prosaic), and, tossing back his head, tosses +the contents into himself, and passes the empty chalice and +passes on, so the second man with an anticipatory wipe of his +mouth on sleeve or handkerchief, bides his turn, and drinks and +hands and passes on, in whom, and in each as his turn approaches, +beams a knowingly kindled eye, a brighter temper, and a suddenly +awakened tendency to be jocose with some shipmate. Nor do I +even observe that the man in charge of the ship’s lamps, +who in right of his office has a double allowance of poisoned +chalices, seems thereby vastly degraded, even though he empties +the chalices into himself, one after the other, much as if he +were delivering their contents at some absorbent establishment in +which he had no personal interest. But vastly comforted, I +note them all to be, on deck presently, even to the circulation +of redder blood in their cold blue knuckles; and when I look up +at them lying out on the yards, and holding on for life among the +beating sails, I cannot for <i>my</i> life see the justice of +visiting on them—or on me—the drunken crimes of any +number of criminals arraigned at the heaviest of assizes.</p> +<p>Abetting myself in my idle humour, I closed my eyes, and +recalled life on board of one of those mail-packets, as I lay, +part of that day, in the Bay of New York, O! The regular +life began—mine always did, for I never got to sleep +afterwards—with the rigging of the pump while it was yet +dark, and washing down of decks. Any enormous giant at a +prodigious hydropathic establishment, conscientiously undergoing +the water-cure in all its departments, and extremely particular +about cleaning his teeth, would make those noises. Swash, +splash, scrub, rub, toothbrush, bubble, swash, splash, bubble, +toothbrush, splash, splash, bubble, rub. Then the day would +break, and, descending from my berth by a graceful ladder +composed of half-opened drawers beneath it, I would reopen my +outer dead-light and my inner sliding window (closed by a +watchman during the water-cure), and would look out at the +long-rolling, lead-coloured, white topped waves over which the +dawn, on a cold winter morning, cast a level, lonely glance, and +through which the ship fought her melancholy way at a terrific +rate. And now, lying down again, awaiting the season for +broiled ham and tea, I would be compelled to listen to the voice +of conscience,—the screw.</p> +<p>It might be, in some cases, no more than the voice of stomach; +but I called it in my fancy by the higher name. Because it +seemed to me that we were all of us, all day long, endeavouring +to stifle the voice. Because it was under everybody’s +pillow, everybody’s plate, everybody’s camp-stool, +everybody’s book, everybody’s occupation. +Because we pretended not to hear it, especially at meal-times, +evening whist, and morning conversation on deck; but it was +always among us in an under monotone, not to be drowned in +pea-soup, not to be shuffled with cards, not to be diverted by +books, not to be knitted into any pattern, not to be walked away +from. It was smoked in the weediest cigar, and drunk in the +strongest cocktail; it was conveyed on deck at noon with limp +ladies, who lay there in their wrappers until the stars shone; it +waited at table with the stewards; nobody could put it out with +the lights. It was considered (as on shore) ill-bred to +acknowledge the voice of conscience. It was not polite to +mention it. One squally day an amiable gentleman in love +gave much offence to a surrounding circle, including the object +of his attachment, by saying of it, after it had goaded him over +two easy-chairs and a skylight, ‘Screw!’</p> +<p>Sometimes it would appear subdued. In fleeting moments, +when bubbles of champagne pervaded the nose, or when there was +‘hot pot’ in the bill of fare, or when an old dish we +had had regularly every day was described in that official +document by a new name,—under such excitements, one would +almost believe it hushed. The ceremony of washing plates on +deck, performed after every meal by a circle as of ringers of +crockery triple-bob majors for a prize, would keep it down. +Hauling the reel, taking the sun at noon, posting the twenty-four +hours’ run, altering the ship’s time by the meridian, +casting the waste food overboard, and attracting the eager gulls +that followed in our wake,—these events would suppress it +for a while. But the instant any break or pause took place +in any such diversion, the voice would be at it again, +importuning us to the last extent. A newly married young +pair, who walked the deck affectionately some twenty miles per +day, would, in the full flush of their exercise, suddenly become +stricken by it, and stand trembling, but otherwise immovable, +under its reproaches.</p> +<p>When this terrible monitor was most severe with us was when +the time approached for our retiring to our dens for the night; +when the lighted candles in the saloon grew fewer and fewer; when +the deserted glasses with spoons in them grew more and more +numerous; when waifs of toasted cheese and strays of sardines +fried in batter slid languidly to and fro in the table-racks; +when the man who always read had shut up his book, and blown out +his candle; when the man who always talked had ceased from +troubling; when the man who was always medically reported as +going to have delirium tremens had put it off till to-morrow; +when the man who every night devoted himself to a midnight smoke +on deck two hours in length, and who every night was in bed +within ten minutes afterwards, was buttoning himself up in his +third coat for his hardy vigil: for then, as we fell off one by +one, and, entering our several hutches, came into a peculiar +atmosphere of bilge-water and Windsor soap, the voice would shake +us to the centre. Woe to us when we sat down on our sofa, +watching the swinging candle for ever trying and retrying to +stand upon his head! or our coat upon its peg, imitating us as we +appeared in our gymnastic days by sustaining itself horizontally +from the wall, in emulation of the lighter and more facile +towels! Then would the voice especially claim us for its +prey, and rend us all to pieces.</p> +<p>Lights out, we in our berths, and the wind rising, the voice +grows angrier and deeper. Under the mattress and under the +pillow, under the sofa and under the washing-stand, under the +ship and under the sea, seeming to rise from the foundations +under the earth with every scoop of the great Atlantic (and oh! +why scoop so?), always the voice. Vain to deny its +existence in the night season; impossible to be hard of hearing; +screw, screw, screw! Sometimes it lifts out of the water, +and revolves with a whirr, like a ferocious +firework,—except that it never expends itself, but is +always ready to go off again; sometimes it seems to be in +anguish, and shivers; sometimes it seems to be terrified by its +last plunge, and has a fit which causes it to struggle, quiver, +and for an instant stop. And now the ship sets in rolling, +as only ships so fiercely screwed through time and space, day and +night, fair weather and foul, <i>can</i> roll.</p> +<p>Did she ever take a roll before like that last? Did she +ever take a roll before like this worse one that is coming +now? Here is the partition at my ear down in the deep on +the lee side. Are we ever coming up again together? I +think not; the partition and I are so long about it that I really +do believe we have overdone it this time. Heavens, what a +scoop! What a deep scoop, what a hollow scoop, what a long +scoop! Will it ever end, and can we bear the heavy mass of +water we have taken on board, and which has let loose all the +table furniture in the officers’ mess, and has beaten open +the door of the little passage between the purser and me, and is +swashing about, even there and even here? The purser snores +reassuringly, and the ship’s bells striking, I hear the +cheerful ‘All’s well!’ of the watch musically +given back the length of the deck, as the lately diving +partition, now high in air, tries (unsoftened by what we have +gone through together) to force me out of bed and berth.</p> +<p>‘All’s well!’ Comforting to know, +though surely all might be better. Put aside the rolling +and the rush of water, and think of darting through such darkness +with such velocity. Think of any other similar object +coming in the opposite direction!</p> +<p>Whether there may be an attraction in two such moving bodies +out at sea, which may help accident to bring them into +collision? Thoughts, too, arise (the voice never silent all +the while, but marvellously suggestive) of the gulf below; of the +strange, unfruitful mountain ranges and deep valleys over which +we are passing; of monstrous fish midway; of the ship’s +suddenly altering her course on her own account, and with a wild +plunge settling down, and making <i>that</i> voyage with a crew +of dead discoverers. Now, too, one recalls an almost +universal tendency on the part of passengers to stumble, at some +time or other in the day, on the topic of a certain large steamer +making this same run, which was lost at sea, and never heard of +more. Everybody has seemed under a spell, compelling +approach to the threshold of the grim subject, stoppage, +discomfiture, and pretence of never having been near it. +The boatswain’s whistle sounds! A change in the wind, +hoarse orders issuing, and the watch very busy. Sails come +crashing home overhead, ropes (that seem all knot) ditto; every +man engaged appears to have twenty feet, with twenty times the +average amount of stamping power in each. Gradually the +noise slackens, the hoarse cries die away, the boatswain’s +whistle softens into the soothing and contented notes, which +rather reluctantly admit that the job is done for the time, and +the voice sets in again.</p> +<p>Thus come unintelligible dreams of up hill and down, and +swinging and swaying, until consciousness revives of +atmospherical Windsor soap and bilge-water, and the voice +announces that the giant has come for the water-cure again.</p> +<p>Such were my fanciful reminiscences as I lay, part of that +day, in the Bay of New York, O! Also as we passed clear of +the Narrows, and got out to sea; also in many an idle hour at sea +in sunny weather! At length the observations and +computations showed that we should make the coast of Ireland +to-night. So I stood watch on deck all night to-night, to +see how we made the coast of Ireland.</p> +<p>Very dark, and the sea most brilliantly phosphorescent. +Great way on the ship, and double look-out kept. Vigilant +captain on the bridge, vigilant first officer looking over the +port side, vigilant second officer standing by the quarter-master +at the compass, vigilant third officer posted at the stern rail +with a lantern. No passengers on the quiet decks, but +expectation everywhere nevertheless. The two men at the +wheel very steady, very serious, and very prompt to answer +orders. An order issued sharply now and then, and echoed +back; otherwise the night drags slowly, silently, with no +change.</p> +<p>All of a sudden, at the blank hour of two in the morning, a +vague movement of relief from a long strain expresses itself in +all hands; the third officer’s lantern tinkles, and he +fires a rocket, and another rocket. A sullen solitary light +is pointed out to me in the black sky yonder. A change is +expected in the light, but none takes place. ‘Give +them two more rockets, Mr. Vigilant.’ Two more, and a +blue-light burnt. All eyes watch the light again. At +last a little toy sky-rocket is flashed up from it; and, even as +that small streak in the darkness dies away, we are telegraphed +to Queenstown, Liverpool, and London, and back again under the +ocean to America.</p> +<p>Then up come the half-dozen passengers who are going ashore at +Queenstown and up comes the mail-agent in charge of the bags, and +up come the men who are to carry the bags into the mail-tender +that will come off for them out of the harbour. Lamps and +lanterns gleam here and there about the decks, and impeding bulks +are knocked away with handspikes; and the port-side bulwark, +barren but a moment ago, bursts into a crop of heads of seamen, +stewards, and engineers.</p> +<p>The light begins to be gained upon, begins to be alongside, +begins to be left astern. More rockets, and, between us and +the land, steams beautifully the Inman steamship City of Paris, +for New York, outward bound. We observe with complacency +that the wind is dead against her (it being <i>with</i> us), and +that she rolls and pitches. (The sickest passenger on board +is the most delighted by this circumstance.) Time rushes by +as we rush on; and now we see the light in Queenstown Harbour, +and now the lights of the mail-tender coming out to us. +What vagaries the mail-tender performs on the way, in every point +of the compass, especially in those where she has no business, +and why she performs them, Heaven only knows! At length she +is seen plunging within a cable’s length of our port +broadside, and is being roared at through our speaking-trumpets +to do this thing, and not to do that, and to stand by the other, +as if she were a very demented tender indeed. Then, we +slackening amidst a deafening roar of steam, this much-abused +tender is made fast to us by hawsers, and the men in readiness +carry the bags aboard, and return for more, bending under their +burdens, and looking just like the pasteboard figures of the +miller and his men in the theatre of our boyhood, and comporting +themselves almost as unsteadily. All the while the +unfortunate tender plunges high and low, and is roared at. +Then the Queenstown passengers are put on board of her, with +infinite plunging and roaring, and the tender gets heaved up on +the sea to that surprising extent that she looks within an ace of +washing aboard of us, high and dry. Roared at with +contumely to the last, this wretched tender is at length let go, +with a final plunge of great ignominy, and falls spinning into +our wake.</p> +<p>The voice of conscience resumed its dominion as the day +climbed up the sky, and kept by all of us passengers into port; +kept by us as we passed other lighthouses, and dangerous islands +off the coast, where some of the officers, with whom I stood my +watch, had gone ashore in sailing-ships in fogs (and of which by +that token they seemed to have quite an affectionate +remembrance), and past the Welsh coast, and past the Cheshire +coast, and past everything and everywhere lying between our ship +and her own special dock in the Mersey. Off which, at last, +at nine of the clock, on a fair evening early in May, we stopped, +and the voice ceased. A very curious sensation, not unlike +having my own ears stopped, ensued upon that silence; and it was +with a no less curious sensation that I went over the side of the +good Cunard ship ‘Russia’ (whom prosperity attend +through all her voyages!) and surveyed the outer hull of the +gracious monster that the voice had inhabited. So, perhaps, +shall we all, in the spirit, one day survey the frame that held +the busier voice from which my vagrant fancy derived this +similitude.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap32"></a>XXXII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A SMALL STAR IN THE EAST</span></h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">had</span> been looking, yesternight, +through the famous ‘Dance of Death,’ and to-day the +grim old woodcuts arose in my mind with the new significance of a +ghastly monotony not to be found in the original. The weird +skeleton rattled along the streets before me, and struck +fiercely; but it was never at the pains of assuming a +disguise. It played on no dulcimer here, was crowned with +no flowers, waved no plume, minced in no flowing robe or train, +lifted no wine-cup, sat at no feast, cast no dice, counted no +gold. It was simply a bare, gaunt, famished skeleton, +slaying his way along.</p> +<p>The borders of Ratcliff and Stepney, eastward of London, and +giving on the impure river, were the scene of this uncompromising +dance of death, upon a drizzling November day. A squalid +maze of streets, courts, and alleys of miserable houses let out +in single rooms. A wilderness of dirt, rags, and +hunger. A mud-desert, chiefly inhabited by a tribe from +whom employment has departed, or to whom it comes but fitfully +and rarely. They are not skilled mechanics in any +wise. They are but labourers,—dock-labourers, +water-side labourers, coal-porters, ballast-heavers, such-like +hewers of wood and drawers of water. But they have come +into existence, and they propagate their wretched race.</p> +<p>One grisly joke alone, methought, the skeleton seemed to play +off here. It had stuck election-bills on the walls, which +the wind and rain had deteriorated into suitable rags. It +had even summed up the state of the poll, in chalk, on the +shutters of one ruined house. It adjured the free and +independent starvers to vote for Thisman and vote for Thatman; +not to plump, as they valued the state of parties and the +national prosperity (both of great importance to them, I think); +but, by returning Thisman and Thatman, each naught without the +other, to compound a glorious and immortal whole. Surely +the skeleton is nowhere more cruelly ironical in the original +monkish idea!</p> +<p>Pondering in my mind the far-seeing schemes of Thisman and +Thatman, and of the public blessing called Party, for staying the +degeneracy, physical and moral, of many thousands (who shall say +how many?) of the English race; for devising employment useful to +the community for those who want but to work and live; for +equalising rates, cultivating waste lands, facilitating +emigration, and, above all things, saving and utilising the +oncoming generations, and thereby changing ever-growing national +weakness into strength: pondering in my mind, I say, these +hopeful exertions, I turned down a narrow street to look into a +house or two.</p> +<p>It was a dark street with a dead wall on one side. +Nearly all the outer doors of the houses stood open. I took +the first entry, and knocked at a parlour-door. Might I +come in? I might, if I plased, sur.</p> +<p>The woman of the room (Irish) had picked up some long strips +of wood, about some wharf or barge; and they had just now been +thrust into the otherwise empty grate to make two iron pots +boil. There was some fish in one, and there were some +potatoes in the other. The flare of the burning wood +enabled me to see a table, and a broken chair or so, and some old +cheap crockery ornaments about the chimney-piece. It was +not until I had spoken with the woman a few minutes, that I saw a +horrible brown heap on the floor in a corner, which, but for +previous experience in this dismal wise, I might not have +suspected to be ‘the bed.’ There was something +thrown upon it; and I asked what that was.</p> +<p>‘’Tis the poor craythur that stays here, sur; and +’tis very bad she is, and ’tis very bad she’s +been this long time, and ’tis better she’ll never be, +and ’tis slape she does all day, and ’tis wake she +does all night, and ’tis the lead, sur.’</p> +<p>‘The what?’</p> +<p>‘The lead, sur. Sure ’tis the lead-mills, +where the women gets took on at eighteen-pence a day, sur, when +they makes application early enough, and is lucky and wanted; and +’tis lead-pisoned she is, sur, and some of them gets +lead-pisoned soon, and some of them gets lead-pisoned later, and +some, but not many, niver; and ’tis all according to the +constitooshun, sur, and some constitooshuns is strong, and some +is weak; and her constitooshun is lead-pisoned, bad as can be, +sur; and her brain is coming out at her ear, and it hurts her +dreadful; and that’s what it is, and niver no more, and +niver no less, sur.’</p> +<p>The sick young woman moaning here, the speaker bent over her, +took a bandage from her head, and threw open a back door to let +in the daylight upon it, from the smallest and most miserable +backyard I ever saw.</p> +<p>‘That’s what cooms from her, sur, being +lead-pisoned; and it cooms from her night and day, the poor, sick +craythur; and the pain of it is dreadful; and God he knows that +my husband has walked the sthreets these four days, being a +labourer, and is walking them now, and is ready to work, and no +work for him, and no fire and no food but the bit in the pot, and +no more than ten shillings in a fortnight; God be good to us! and +it is poor we are, and dark it is and could it is +indeed.’</p> +<p>Knowing that I could compensate myself thereafter for my +self-denial, if I saw fit, I had resolved that I would give +nothing in the course of these visits. I did this to try +the people. I may state at once that my closest observation +could not detect any indication whatever of an expectation that I +would give money: they were grateful to be talked to about their +miserable affairs, and sympathy was plainly a comfort to them; +but they neither asked for money in any case, nor showed the +least trace of surprise or disappointment or resentment at my +giving none.</p> +<p>The woman’s married daughter had by this time come down +from her room on the floor above, to join in the +conversation. She herself had been to the lead-mills very +early that morning to be ‘took on,’ but had not +succeeded. She had four children; and her husband, also a +water-side labourer, and then out seeking work, seemed in no +better case as to finding it than her father. She was +English, and by nature, of a buxom figure and cheerful. +Both in her poor dress and in her mother’s there was an +effort to keep up some appearance of neatness. She knew all +about the sufferings of the unfortunate invalid, and all about +the lead-poisoning, and how the symptoms came on, and how they +grew,—having often seen them. The very smell when you +stood inside the door of the works was enough to knock you down, +she said: yet she was going back again to get ‘took +on.’ What could she do? Better be ulcerated and +paralysed for eighteen-pence a day, while it lasted, than see the +children starve.</p> +<p>A dark and squalid cupboard in this room, touching the back +door and all manner of offence, had been for some time the +sleeping-place of the sick young woman. But the nights +being now wintry, and the blankets and coverlets ‘gone to +the leaving shop,’ she lay all night where she lay all day, +and was lying then. The woman of the room, her husband, +this most miserable patient, and two others, lay on the one brown +heap together for warmth.</p> +<p>‘God bless you, sir, and thank you!’ were the +parting words from these people,—gratefully spoken +too,—with which I left this place.</p> +<p>Some streets away, I tapped at another parlour-door on another +ground-floor. Looking in, I found a man, his wife, and four +children, sitting at a washing-stool by way of table, at their +dinner of bread and infused tea-leaves. There was a very +scanty cinderous fire in the grate by which they sat; and there +was a tent bedstead in the room with a bed upon it and a +coverlet. The man did not rise when I went in, nor during +my stay, but civilly inclined his head on my pulling off my hat, +and, in answer to my inquiry whether I might ask him a question +or two, said, ‘Certainly.’ There being a window +at each end of this room, back and front, it might have been +ventilated; but it was shut up tight, to keep the cold out, and +was very sickening.</p> +<p>The wife, an intelligent, quick woman, rose and stood at her +husband’s elbow; and he glanced up at her as if for +help. It soon appeared that he was rather deaf. He +was a slow, simple fellow of about thirty.</p> +<p>‘What was he by trade?’</p> +<p>‘Gentleman asks what are you by trade, John?’</p> +<p>‘I am a boilermaker;’ looking about him with an +exceedingly perplexed air, as if for a boiler that had +unaccountably vanished.</p> +<p>‘He ain’t a mechanic, you understand, sir,’ +the wife put in: ‘he’s only a labourer.’</p> +<p>‘Are you in work?’</p> +<p>He looked up at his wife again. ‘Gentleman says +are you in work, John?’</p> +<p>‘In work!’ cried this forlorn boilermaker, staring +aghast at his wife, and then working his vision’s way very +slowly round to me: ‘Lord, no!’</p> +<p>‘Ah, he ain’t indeed!’ said the poor woman, +shaking her head, as she looked at the four children in +succession, and then at him.</p> +<p>‘Work!’ said the boilermaker, still seeking that +evaporated boiler, first in my countenance, then in the air, and +then in the features of his second son at his knee: ‘I wish +I <i>was</i> in work! I haven’t had more than a +day’s work to do this three weeks.’</p> +<p>‘How have you lived?’</p> +<p>A faint gleam of admiration lighted up the face of the +would-be boilermaker, as he stretched out the short sleeve of his +thread-bare canvas jacket, and replied, pointing her out, +‘On the work of the wife.’</p> +<p>I forget where boilermaking had gone to, or where he supposed +it had gone to; but he added some resigned information on that +head, coupled with an expression of his belief that it was never +coming back.</p> +<p>The cheery helpfulness of the wife was very remarkable. +She did slop-work; made pea-jackets. She produced the +pea-jacket then in hand, and spread it out upon the +bed,—the only piece of furniture in the room on which to +spread it. She showed how much of it she made, and how much +was afterwards finished off by the machine. According to +her calculation at the moment, deducting what her trimming cost +her, she got for making a pea-jacket tenpence half-penny, and she +could make one in something less than two days.</p> +<p>But, you see, it come to her through two hands, and of course +it didn’t come through the second hand for nothing. +Why did it come through the second hand at all? Why, this +way. The second hand took the risk of the given-out work, +you see. If she had money enough to pay the security +deposit,—call it two pound,—she could get the work +from the first hand, and so the second would not have to be +deducted for. But, having no money at all, the second hand +come in and took its profit, and so the whole worked down to +tenpence half-penny. Having explained all this with great +intelligence, even with some little pride, and without a whine or +murmur, she folded her work again, sat down by her +husband’s side at the washing-stool, and resumed her dinner +of dry bread. Mean as the meal was, on the bare board, with +its old gallipots for cups, and what not other sordid makeshifts; +shabby as the woman was in dress, and toning done towards the +Bosjesman colour, with want of nutriment and washing,—there +was positively a dignity in her, as the family anchor just +holding the poor ship-wrecked boilermaker’s bark. +When I left the room, the boiler-maker’s eyes were slowly +turned towards her, as if his last hope of ever again seeing that +vanished boiler lay in her direction.</p> +<p>These people had never applied for parish relief but once; and +that was when the husband met with a disabling accident at his +work.</p> +<p>Not many doors from here, I went into a room on the first +floor. The woman apologised for its being in ‘an +untidy mess.’ The day was Saturday, and she was +boiling the children’s clothes in a saucepan on the +hearth. There was nothing else into which she could have +put them. There was no crockery, or tinware, or tub, or +bucket. There was an old gallipot or two, and there was a +broken bottle or so, and there were some broken boxes for +seats. The last small scraping of coals left was raked +together in a corner of the floor. There were some rags in +an open cupboard, also on the floor. In a corner of the +room was a crazy old French bed-stead, with a man lying on his +back upon it in a ragged pilot jacket, and rough oil-skin fantail +hat. The room was perfectly black. It was difficult +to believe, at first, that it was not purposely coloured black, +the walls were so begrimed.</p> +<p>As I stood opposite the woman boiling the children’s +clothes,—she had not even a piece of soap to wash them +with,—and apologising for her occupation, I could take in +all these things without appearing to notice them, and could even +correct my inventory. I had missed, at the first glance, +some half a pound of bread in the otherwise empty safe, an old +red ragged crinoline hanging on the handle of the door by which I +had entered, and certain fragments of rusty iron scattered on the +floor, which looked like broken tools and a piece of +stove-pipe. A child stood looking on. On the box +nearest to the fire sat two younger children; one a delicate and +pretty little creature, whom the other sometimes kissed.</p> +<p>This woman, like the last, was wofully shabby, and was +degenerating to the Bosjesman complexion. But her figure, +and the ghost of a certain vivacity about her, and the spectre of +a dimple in her cheek, carried my memory strangely back to the +old days of the Adelphi Theatre, London, when Mrs. Fitzwilliam +was the friend of Victorine.</p> +<p>‘May I ask you what your husband is?’</p> +<p>‘He’s a coal-porter, sir,’—with a +glance and a sigh towards the bed.</p> +<p>‘Is he out of work?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, yes, sir! and work’s at all times very, very +scanty with him; and now he’s laid up.’</p> +<p>‘It’s my legs,’ said the man upon the +bed. ‘I’ll unroll ’em.’ And +immediately began.</p> +<p>‘Have you any older children?’</p> +<p>‘I have a daughter that does the needle-work, and I have +a son that does what he can. She’s at her work now, +and he’s trying for work.’</p> +<p>‘Do they live here?’</p> +<p>‘They sleep here. They can’t afford to pay +more rent, and so they come here at night. The rent is very +hard upon us. It’s rose upon us too, +now,—sixpence a week,—on account of these new changes +in the law, about the rates. We are a week behind; the +landlord’s been shaking and rattling at that door +frightfully; he says he’ll turn us out. I don’t +know what’s to come of it.’</p> +<p>The man upon the bed ruefully interposed, ‘Here’s +my legs. The skin’s broke, besides the +swelling. I have had a many kicks, working, one way and +another.’</p> +<p>He looked at his legs (which were much discoloured and +misshapen) for a while, and then appearing to remember that they +were not popular with his family, rolled them up again, as if +they were something in the nature of maps or plans that were not +wanted to be referred to, lay hopelessly down on his back once +more with his fantail hat over his face, and stirred not.</p> +<p>‘Do your eldest son and daughter sleep in that +cupboard?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ replied the woman.</p> +<p>‘With the children?’</p> +<p>‘Yes. We have to get together for warmth. We +have little to cover us.’</p> +<p>‘Have you nothing by you to eat but the piece of bread I +see there?’</p> +<p>‘Nothing. And we had the rest of the loaf for our +breakfast, with water. I don’t know what’s to +come of it.’</p> +<p>‘Have you no prospect of improvement?’</p> +<p>‘If my eldest son earns anything to-day, he’ll +bring it home. Then we shall have something to eat +to-night, and may be able to do something towards the rent. +If not, I don’t know what’s to come of it.’</p> +<p>‘This is a sad state of things.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, sir; it’s a hard, hard life. Take care +of the stairs as you go, sir,—they’re +broken,—and good day, sir!’</p> +<p>These people had a mortal dread of entering the workhouse, and +received no out-of-door relief.</p> +<p>In another room, in still another tenement, I found a very +decent woman with five children,—the last a baby, and she +herself a patient of the parish doctor,—to whom, her +husband being in the hospital, the Union allowed for the support +of herself and family, four shillings a week and five +loaves. I suppose when Thisman, M.P., and Thatman, M.P., +and the Public-blessing Party, lay their heads together in course +of time, and come to an equalization of rating, she may go down +to the dance of death to the tune of sixpence more.</p> +<p>I could enter no other houses for that one while, for I could +not bear the contemplation of the children. Such heart as I +had summoned to sustain me against the miseries of the adults +failed me when I looked at the children. I saw how young +they were, how hungry, how serious and still. I thought of +them, sick and dying in those lairs. I think of them dead +without anguish; but to think of them so suffering and so dying +quite unmanned me.</p> +<p>Down by the river’s bank in Ratcliff, I was turning +upward by a side-street, therefore, to regain the railway, when +my eyes rested on the inscription across the road, ‘East +London Children’s Hospital.’ I could scarcely +have seen an inscription better suited to my frame of mind; and I +went across and went straight in.</p> +<p>I found the children’s hospital established in an old +sail-loft or storehouse, of the roughest nature, and on the +simplest means. There were trap-doors in the floors, where +goods had been hoisted up and down; heavy feet and heavy weights +had started every knot in the well-trodden planking: inconvenient +bulks and beams and awkward staircases perplexed my passage +through the wards. But I found it airy, sweet, and +clean. In its seven and thirty beds I saw but little +beauty; for starvation in the second or third generation takes a +pinched look: but I saw the sufferings both of infancy and +childhood tenderly assuaged; I heard the little patients +answering to pet playful names, the light touch of a delicate +lady laid bare the wasted sticks of arms for me to pity; and the +claw-like little hands, as she did so, twined themselves lovingly +around her wedding-ring.</p> +<p>One baby mite there was as pretty as any of Raphael’s +angels. The tiny head was bandaged for water on the brain; +and it was suffering with acute bronchitis too, and made from +time to time a plaintive, though not impatient or complaining, +little sound. The smooth curve of the cheeks and of the +chin was faultless in its condensation of infantine beauty, and +the large bright eyes were most lovely. It happened as I +stopped at the foot of the bed, that these eyes rested upon mine +with that wistful expression of wondering thoughtfulness which we +all know sometimes in very little children. They remained +fixed on mine, and never turned from me while I stood +there. When the utterance of that plaintive sound shook the +little form, the gaze still remained unchanged. I felt as +though the child implored me to tell the story of the little +hospital in which it was sheltered to any gentle heart I could +address. Laying my world-worn hand upon the little unmarked +clasped hand at the chin, I gave it a silent promise that I would +do so.</p> +<p>A gentleman and lady, a young husband and wife, have bought +and fitted up this building for its present noble use, and have +quietly settled themselves in it as its medical officers and +directors. Both have had considerable practical experience +of medicine and surgery; he as house-surgeon of a great London +hospital; she as a very earnest student, tested by severe +examination, and also as a nurse of the sick poor during the +prevalence of cholera.</p> +<p>With every qualification to lure them away, with youth and +accomplishments and tastes and habits that can have no response +in any breast near them, close begirt by every repulsive +circumstance inseparable from such a neighbourhood, there they +dwell. They live in the hospital itself, and their rooms +are on its first floor. Sitting at their dinner-table, they +could hear the cry of one of the children in pain. The +lady’s piano, drawing-materials, books, and other such +evidences of refinement are as much a part of the rough place as +the iron bedsteads of the little patients. They are put to +shifts for room, like passengers on board ship. The +dispenser of medicines (attracted to them not by self-interest, +but by their own magnetism and that of their cause) sleeps in a +recess in the dining-room, and has his washing apparatus in the +sideboard.</p> +<p>Their contented manner of making the best of the things around +them, I found so pleasantly inseparable from their +usefulness! Their pride in this partition that we put up +ourselves, or in that partition that we took down, or in that +other partition that we moved, or in the stove that was given us +for the waiting-room, or in our nightly conversion of the little +consulting-room into a smoking-room! Their admiration of +the situation, if we could only get rid of its one objectionable +incident, the coal-yard at the back! ‘Our hospital +carriage, presented by a friend, and very useful.’ +That was my presentation to a perambulator, for which a +coach-house had been discovered in a corner down-stairs, just +large enough to hold it. Coloured prints, in all stages of +preparation for being added to those already decorating the +wards, were plentiful; a charming wooden phenomenon of a bird, +with an impossible top-knot, who ducked his head when you set a +counter weight going, had been inaugurated as a public statue +that very morning; and trotting about among the beds, on familiar +terms with all the patients, was a comical mongrel dog, called +Poodles. This comical dog (quite a tonic in himself) was +found characteristically starving at the door of the institution, +and was taken in and fed, and has lived here ever since. An +admirer of his mental endowments has presented him with a collar +bearing the legend, ‘Judge not Poodles by external +appearances.’ He was merrily wagging his tail on a +boy’s pillow when he made this modest appeal to me.</p> +<p>When this hospital was first opened, in January of the present +year, the people could not possibly conceive but that somebody +paid for the services rendered there; and were disposed to claim +them as a right, and to find fault if out of temper. They +soon came to understand the case better, and have much increased +in gratitude. The mothers of the patients avail themselves +very freely of the visiting rules; the fathers often on +Sundays. There is an unreasonable (but still, I think, +touching and intelligible) tendency in the parents to take a +child away to its wretched home, if on the point of death. +One boy who had been thus carried off on a rainy night, when in a +violent state of inflammation, and who had been afterwards +brought back, had been recovered with exceeding difficulty; but +he was a jolly boy, with a specially strong interest in his +dinner, when I saw him.</p> +<p>Insufficient food and unwholesome living are the main causes +of disease among these small patients. So nourishment, +cleanliness, and ventilation are the main remedies. +Discharged patients are looked after, and invited to come and +dine now and then; so are certain famishing creatures who were +never patients. Both the lady and the gentleman are well +acquainted, not only with the histories of the patients and their +families, but with the characters and circumstances of great +numbers of their neighbours—of these they keep a +register. It is their common experience, that people, +sinking down by inches into deeper and deeper poverty, will +conceal it, even from them, if possible, unto the very last +extremity.</p> +<p>The nurses of this hospital are all young,—ranging, say, +from nineteen to four and twenty. They have even within +these narrow limits, what many well-endowed hospitals would not +give them, a comfortable room of their own in which to take their +meals. It is a beautiful truth, that interest in the +children and sympathy with their sorrows bind these young women +to their places far more strongly than any other consideration +could. The best skilled of the nurses came originally from +a kindred neighbourhood, almost as poor; and she knew how much +the work was needed. She is a fair dressmaker. The +hospital cannot pay her as many pounds in the year as there are +months in it; and one day the lady regarded it as a duty to speak +to her about her improving her prospects and following her +trade. ‘No,’ she said: she could never be so +useful or so happy elsewhere any more; she must stay among the +children.</p> +<p>And she stays. One of the nurses, as I passed her, was +washing a baby-boy. Liking her pleasant face, I stopped to +speak to her charge,—a common, bullet-headed, frowning +charge enough, laying hold of his own nose with a slippery grasp, +and staring very solemnly out of a blanket. The melting of +the pleasant face into delighted smiles, as this young gentleman +gave an unexpected kick, and laughed at me, was almost worth my +previous pain.</p> +<p>An affecting play was acted in Paris years ago, called +‘The Children’s Doctor.’ As I parted from +my children’s doctor, now in question, I saw in his easy +black necktie, in his loose buttoned black frock-coat, in his +pensive face, in the flow of his dark hair, in his eyelashes, in +the very turn of his moustache, the exact realisation of the +Paris artist’s ideal as it was presented on the +stage. But no romancer that I know of has had the boldness +to prefigure the life and home of this young husband and young +wife in the Children’s Hospital in the east of London.</p> +<p>I came away from Ratcliff by the Stepney railway station to +the terminus at Fenchurch Street. Any one who will reverse +that route may retrace my steps.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap33"></a>XXXIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A LITTLE DINNER IN AN HOUR</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> fell out on a day in this last +autumn, that I had to go down from London to a place of seaside +resort, on an hour’s business, accompanied by my esteemed +friend Bullfinch. Let the place of seaside resort be, for +the nonce, called Namelesston.</p> +<p>I had been loitering about Paris in very hot weather, +pleasantly breakfasting in the open air in the garden of the +Palais Royal or the Tuileries, pleasantly dining in the open air +in the Elysian Fields, pleasantly taking my cigar and lemonade in +the open air on the Italian Boulevard towards the small hours +after midnight. Bullfinch—an excellent man of +business—has summoned me back across the Channel, to +transact this said hour’s business at Namelesston; and thus +it fell out that Bullfinch and I were in a railway carriage +together on our way to Namelesston, each with his return-ticket +in his waistcoat-pocket.</p> +<p>Says Bullfinch, ‘I have a proposal to make. Let us +dine at the Temeraire.’</p> +<p>I asked Bullfinch, did he recommend the Temeraire? inasmuch as +I had not been rated on the books of the Temeraire for many +years.</p> +<p>Bullfinch declined to accept the responsibility of +recommending the Temeraire, but on the whole was rather sanguine +about it. He ‘seemed to remember,’ Bullfinch +said, that he had dined well there. A plain dinner, but +good. Certainly not like a Parisian dinner (here Bullfinch +obviously became the prey of want of confidence), but of its kind +very fair.</p> +<p>I appeal to Bullfinch’s intimate knowledge of my wants +and ways to decide whether I was usually ready to be pleased with +any dinner, or—for the matter of that—with anything +that was fair of its kind and really what it claimed to be. +Bullfinch doing me the honour to respond in the affirmative, I +agreed to ship myself as an able trencherman on board the +Temeraire.</p> +<p>‘Now, our plan shall be this,’ says Bullfinch, +with his forefinger at his nose. ‘As soon as we get +to Namelesston, we’ll drive straight to the Temeraire, and +order a little dinner in an hour. And as we shall not have +more than enough time in which to dispose of it comfortably, what +do you say to giving the house the best opportunities of serving +it hot and quickly by dining in the coffee-room?’</p> +<p>What I had to say was, Certainly. Bullfinch (who is by +nature of a hopeful constitution) then began to babble of green +geese. But I checked him in that Falstaffian vein, urging +considerations of time and cookery.</p> +<p>In due sequence of events we drove up to the Temeraire, and +alighted. A youth in livery received us on the +door-step. ‘Looks well,’ said Bullfinch +confidentially. And then aloud, +‘Coffee-room!’</p> +<p>The youth in livery (now perceived to be mouldy) conducted us +to the desired haven, and was enjoined by Bullfinch to send the +waiter at once, as we wished to order a little dinner in an +hour. Then Bullfinch and I waited for the waiter, until, +the waiter continuing to wait in some unknown and invisible +sphere of action, we rang for the waiter; which ring produced the +waiter, who announced himself as not the waiter who ought to wait +upon us, and who didn’t wait a moment longer.</p> +<p>So Bullfinch approached the coffee-room door, and melodiously +pitching his voice into a bar where two young ladies were keeping +the books of the Temeraire, apologetically explained that we +wished to order a little dinner in an hour, and that we were +debarred from the execution of our inoffensive purpose by +consignment to solitude.</p> +<p>Hereupon one of the young ladies ran a bell, which +reproduced—at the bar this time—the waiter who was +not the waiter who ought to wait upon us; that extraordinary man, +whose life seemed consumed in waiting upon people to say that he +wouldn’t wait upon them, repeated his former protest with +great indignation, and retired.</p> +<p>Bullfinch, with a fallen countenance, was about to say to me, +‘This won’t do,’ when the waiter who ought to +wait upon us left off keeping us waiting at last. +‘Waiter,’ said Bullfinch piteously, ‘we have +been a long time waiting.’ The waiter who ought to +wait upon us laid the blame upon the waiter who ought not to wait +upon us, and said it was all that waiter’s fault.</p> +<p>‘We wish,’ said Bullfinch, much depressed, +‘to order a little dinner in an hour. What can we +have?’</p> +<p>‘What would you like to have, gentlemen?’</p> +<p>Bullfinch, with extreme mournfulness of speech and action, and +with a forlorn old fly-blown bill of fare in his hand which the +waiter had given him, and which was a sort of general manuscript +index to any cookery-book you please, moved the previous +question.</p> +<p>We could have mock-turtle soup, a sole, curry, and roast +duck. Agreed. At this table by this window. +Punctually in an hour.</p> +<p>I had been feigning to look out of this window; but I had been +taking note of the crumbs on all the tables, the dirty +table-cloths, the stuffy, soupy, airless atmosphere, the stale +leavings everywhere about, the deep gloom of the waiter who ought +to wait upon us, and the stomach-ache with which a lonely +traveller at a distant table in a corner was too evidently +afflicted. I now pointed out to Bullfinch the alarming +circumstance that this traveller had <i>dined</i>. We +hurriedly debated whether, without infringement of good breeding, +we could ask him to disclose if he had partaken of mock-turtle, +sole, curry, or roast duck? We decided that the thing could +not be politely done, and we had set our own stomachs on a cast, +and they must stand the hazard of the die.</p> +<p>I hold phrenology, within certain limits, to be true; I am +much of the same mind as to the subtler expressions of the hand; +I hold physiognomy to be infallible; though all these sciences +demand rare qualities in the student. But I also hold that +there is no more certain index to personal character than the +condition of a set of casters is to the character of any +hotel. Knowing, and having often tested this theory of +mine, Bullfinch resigned himself to the worst, when, laying aside +any remaining veil of disguise, I held up before him in +succession the cloudy oil and furry vinegar, the clogged cayenne, +the dirty salt, the obscene dregs of soy, and the anchovy sauce +in a flannel waistcoat of decomposition.</p> +<p>We went out to transact our business. So inspiriting was +the relief of passing into the clean and windy streets of +Namelesston from the heavy and vapid closeness of the coffee-room +of the Temeraire, that hope began to revive within us. We +began to consider that perhaps the lonely traveller had taken +physic, or done something injudicious to bring his complaint +on. Bullfinch remarked that he thought the waiter who ought +to wait upon us had brightened a little when suggesting curry; +and although I knew him to have been at that moment the express +image of despair, I allowed myself to become elevated in +spirits. As we walked by the softly-lapping sea, all the +notabilities of Namelesston, who are for ever going up and down +with the changelessness of the tides, passed to and fro in +procession. Pretty girls on horseback, and with detested +riding-masters; pretty girls on foot; mature ladies in +hats,—spectacled, strong-minded, and glaring at the +opposite or weaker sex. The Stock Exchange was strongly +represented, Jerusalem was strongly represented, the bores of the +prosier London clubs were strongly represented. +Fortune-hunters of all denominations were there, from hirsute +insolvency, in a curricle, to closely-buttoned swindlery in +doubtful boots, on the sharp look-out for any likely young +gentleman disposed to play a game at billiards round the +corner. Masters of languages, their lessons finished for +the day, were going to their homes out of sight of the sea; +mistresses of accomplishments, carrying small portfolios, +likewise tripped homeward; pairs of scholastic pupils, two and +two, went languidly along the beach, surveying the face of the +waters as if waiting for some Ark to come and take them +off. Spectres of the George the Fourth days flitted +unsteadily among the crowd, bearing the outward semblance of +ancient dandies, of every one of whom it might be said, not that +he had one leg in the grave, or both legs, but that he was +steeped in grave to the summit of his high shirt-collar, and had +nothing real about him but his bones. Alone stationary in +the midst of all the movements, the Namelesston boatmen leaned +against the railings and yawned, and looked out to sea, or looked +at the moored fishing-boats and at nothing. Such is the +unchanging manner of life with this nursery of our hardy seamen; +and very dry nurses they are, and always wanting something to +drink. The only two nautical personages detached from the +railing were the two fortunate possessors of the celebrated +monstrous unknown barking-fish, just caught (frequently just +caught off Namelesston), who carried him about in a hamper, and +pressed the scientific to look in at the lid.</p> +<p>The sands of the hour had all run out when we got back to the +Temeraire. Says Bullfinch, then, to the youth in livery, +with boldness, ‘Lavatory!’</p> +<p>When we arrived at the family vault with a skylight, which the +youth in livery presented as the institution sought, we had +already whisked off our cravats and coats; but finding ourselves +in the presence of an evil smell, and no linen but two crumpled +towels newly damp from the countenances of two somebody elses, we +put on our cravats and coats again, and fled unwashed to the +coffee-room.</p> +<p>There the waiter who ought to wait upon us had set forth our +knives and forks and glasses, on the cloth whose dirty +acquaintance we had already had the pleasure of making, and which +we were pleased to recognise by the familiar expression of its +stains. And now there occurred the truly surprising +phenomenon, that the waiter who ought not to wait upon us swooped +down upon us, clutched our loaf of bread, and vanished with the +same.</p> +<p>Bullfinch, with distracted eyes, was following this +unaccountable figure ‘out at the portal,’ like the +ghost in Hamlet, when the waiter who ought to wait upon us +jostled against it, carrying a tureen.</p> +<p>‘Waiter!’ said a severe diner, lately finished, +perusing his bill fiercely through his eye-glass.</p> +<p>The waiter put down our tureen on a remote side-table, and +went to see what was amiss in this new direction.</p> +<p>‘This is not right, you know, waiter. Look here! +here’s yesterday’s sherry, one and eightpence, and +here we are again, two shillings. And what does sixpence +mean?’</p> +<p>So far from knowing what sixpence meant, the waiter protested +that he didn’t know what anything meant. He wiped the +perspiration from his clammy brow, and said it was impossible to +do it,—not particularising what,—and the kitchen was +so far off.</p> +<p>‘Take the bill to the bar, and get it altered,’ +said Mr. Indignation Cocker, so to call him.</p> +<p>The waiter took it, looked intensely at it, didn’t seem +to like the idea of taking it to the bar, and submitted, as a new +light upon the case, that perhaps sixpence meant sixpence.</p> +<p>‘I tell you again,’ said Mr. Indignation Cocker, +‘here’s yesterday’s sherry—can’t +you see it?—one and eightpence, and here we are again, two +shillings. What do you make of one and eightpence and two +shillings?’</p> +<p>Totally unable to make anything of one and eightpence and two +shillings, the waiter went out to try if anybody else could; +merely casting a helpless backward glance at Bullfinch, in +acknowledgement of his pathetic entreaties for our +soup-tureen. After a pause, during which Mr. Indignation +Cocker read a newspaper and coughed defiant coughs, Bullfinch +arose to get the tureen, when the waiter reappeared and brought +it,—dropping Mr. Indignation Cocker’s altered bill on +Mr. Indignation Cocker’s table as he came along.</p> +<p>‘It’s quite impossible to do it, gentlemen,’ +murmured the waiter; ‘and the kitchen is so far +off.’</p> +<p>‘Well, you don’t keep the house; it’s not +your fault, we suppose. Bring some sherry.’</p> +<p>‘Waiter!’ from Mr. Indignation Cocker, with a new +and burning sense of injury upon him.</p> +<p>The waiter, arrested on his way to our sherry, stopped short, +and came back to see what was wrong now.</p> +<p>‘Will you look here? This is worse than +before. <i>Do</i> you understand? Here’s +yesterday’s sherry, one and eightpence, and here we are +again two shillings. And what the devil does ninepence +mean?’</p> +<p>This new portent utterly confounded the waiter. He wrung +his napkin, and mutely appealed to the ceiling.</p> +<p>‘Waiter, fetch that sherry,’ says Bullfinch, in +open wrath and revolt.</p> +<p>‘I want to know,’ persisted Mr. Indignation +Cocker, ‘the meaning of ninepence. I want to know the +meaning of sherry one and eightpence yesterday, and of here we +are again two shillings. Send somebody.’</p> +<p>The distracted waiter got out of the room on pretext of +sending somebody, and by that means got our wine. But the +instant he appeared with our decanter, Mr. Indignation Cocker +descended on him again.</p> +<p>‘Waiter!’</p> +<p>‘You will now have the goodness to attend to our dinner, +waiter,’ said Bullfinch, sternly.</p> +<p>‘I am very sorry, but it’s quite impossible to do +it, gentlemen,’ pleaded the waiter; ‘and the +kitchen—’</p> +<p>‘Waiter!’ said Mr. Indignation Cocker.</p> +<p>‘—Is,’ resumed the waiter, ‘so far +off, that—’</p> +<p>‘Waiter!’ persisted Mr. Indignation Cocker, +‘send somebody.’</p> +<p>We were not without our fears that the waiter rushed out to +hang himself; and we were much relieved by his fetching +somebody,—in graceful, flowing skirts and with a +waist,—who very soon settled Mr. Indignation Cocker’s +business.</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ said Mr. Cocker, with his fire surprisingly +quenched by this apparition; ‘I wished to ask about this +bill of mine, because it appears to me that there’s a +little mistake here. Let me show you. Here’s +yesterday’s sherry one and eightpence, and here we are +again two shillings. And how do you explain +ninepence?’</p> +<p>However it was explained, in tones too soft to be +overheard. Mr. Cocker was heard to say nothing more than +‘Ah-h-h! Indeed; thank you! Yes,’ and +shortly afterwards went out, a milder man.</p> +<p>The lonely traveller with the stomach-ache had all this time +suffered severely, drawing up a leg now and then, and sipping hot +brandy-and-water with grated ginger in it. When we tasted +our (very) mock-turtle soup, and were instantly seized with +symptoms of some disorder simulating apoplexy, and occasioned by +the surcharge of nose and brain with lukewarm dish-water holding +in solution sour flour, poisonous condiments, and (say) +seventy-five per cent. of miscellaneous kitchen stuff rolled into +balls, we were inclined to trace his disorder to that +source. On the other hand, there was a silent anguish upon +him too strongly resembling the results established within +ourselves by the sherry, to be discarded from alarmed +consideration. Again, we observed him, with terror, to be +much overcome by our sole’s being aired in a temporary +retreat close to him, while the waiter went out (as we conceived) +to see his friends. And when the curry made its appearance +he suddenly retired in great disorder.</p> +<p>In fine, for the uneatable part of this little dinner (as +contradistinguished from the undrinkable) we paid only seven +shillings and sixpence each. And Bullfinch and I agreed +unanimously, that no such ill-served, ill-appointed, ill-cooked, +nasty little dinner could be got for the money anywhere else +under the sun. With that comfort to our backs, we turned +them on the dear old Temeraire, the charging Temeraire, and +resolved (in the Scotch dialect) to gang nae mair to the flabby +Temeraire.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap34"></a>XXXIV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">MR. BARLOW</span></h2> +<p>A <span class="smcap">great</span> reader of good fiction at +an unusually early age, it seems to me as though I had been born +under the superintendence of the estimable but terrific gentleman +whose name stands at the head of my present reflections. +The instructive monomaniac, Mr. Barlow, will be remembered as the +tutor of Master Harry Sandford and Master Tommy Merton. He +knew everything, and didactically improved all sorts of +occasions, from the consumption of a plate of cherries to the +contemplation of a starlight night. What youth came to +without Mr. Barlow was displayed in the history of Sandford and +Merton, by the example of a certain awful Master Mash. This +young wretch wore buckles and powder, conducted himself with +insupportable levity at the theatre, had no idea of facing a mad +bull single-handed (in which I think him less reprehensible, as +remotely reflecting my own character), and was a frightful +instance of the enervating effects of luxury upon the human +race.</p> +<p>Strange destiny on the part of Mr. Barlow, to go down to +posterity as childhood’s experience of a bore! +Immortal Mr. Barlow, boring his way through the verdant freshness +of ages!</p> +<p>My personal indictment against Mr. Barlow is one of many +counts. I will proceed to set forth a few of the injuries +he has done me.</p> +<p>In the first place, he never made or took a joke. This +insensibility on Mr. Barlow’s part not only cast its own +gloom over my boyhood, but blighted even the sixpenny jest-books +of the time; for, groaning under a moral spell constraining me to +refer all things to Mr. Barlow, I could not choose but ask myself +in a whisper when tickled by a printed jest, ‘What would +<i>he</i> think of it? What would <i>he</i> see in +it?’ The point of the jest immediately became a +sting, and stung my conscience. For my mind’s eye saw +him stolid, frigid, perchance taking from its shelf some dreary +Greek book, and translating at full length what some dismal sage +said (and touched up afterwards, perhaps, for publication), when +he banished some unlucky joker from Athens.</p> +<p>The incompatibility of Mr. Barlow with all other portions of +my young life but himself, the adamantine inadaptability of the +man to my favourite fancies and amusements, is the thing for +which I hate him most. What right had he to bore his way +into my Arabian Nights? Yet he did. He was always +hinting doubts of the veracity of Sindbad the Sailor. If he +could have got hold of the Wonderful Lamp, I knew he would have +trimmed it and lighted it, and delivered a lecture over it on the +qualities of sperm-oil, with a glance at the whale +fisheries. He would so soon have found out—on +mechanical principles—the peg in the neck of the Enchanted +Horse, and would have turned it the right way in so workmanlike a +manner, that the horse could never have got any height into the +air, and the story couldn’t have been. He would have +proved, by map and compass, that there was no such kingdom as the +delightful kingdom of Casgar, on the frontiers of Tartary. +He would have caused that hypocritical young prig Harry to make +an experiment,—with the aid of a temporary building in the +garden and a dummy,—demonstrating that you couldn’t +let a choked hunchback down an Eastern chimney with a cord, and +leave him upright on the hearth to terrify the sultan’s +purveyor.</p> +<p>The golden sounds of the overture to the first metropolitan +pantomime, I remember, were alloyed by Mr. Barlow. Click +click, ting ting, bang bang, weedle weedle weedle, bang! I +recall the chilling air that ran across my frame and cooled my +hot delight, as the thought occurred to me, ‘This would +never do for Mr. Barlow!’ After the curtain drew up, +dreadful doubts of Mr. Barlow’s considering the costumes of +the Nymphs of the Nebula as being sufficiently opaque, obtruded +themselves on my enjoyment. In the clown I perceived two +persons; one a fascinating unaccountable creature of a hectic +complexion, joyous in spirits though feeble in intellect, with +flashes of brilliancy; the other a pupil for Mr. Barlow. I +thought how Mr. Barlow would secretly rise early in the morning, +and butter the pavement for <i>him</i>, and, when he had brought +him down, would look severely out of his study window and ask +<i>him</i> how he enjoyed the fun.</p> +<p>I thought how Mr. Barlow would heat all the pokers in the +house, and singe him with the whole collection, to bring him +better acquainted with the properties of incandescent iron, on +which he (Barlow) would fully expatiate. I pictured Mr. +Barlow’s instituting a comparison between the clown’s +conduct at his studies,—drinking up the ink, licking his +copy-book, and using his head for blotting-paper,—and that +of the already mentioned young prig of prigs, Harry, sitting at +the Barlovian feet, sneakingly pretending to be in a rapture of +youthful knowledge. I thought how soon Mr. Barlow would +smooth the clown’s hair down, instead of letting it stand +erect in three tall tufts; and how, after a couple of years or so +with Mr. Barlow, he would keep his legs close together when he +walked, and would take his hands out of his big loose pockets, +and wouldn’t have a jump left in him.</p> +<p>That I am particularly ignorant what most things in the +universe are made of, and how they are made, is another of my +charges against Mr. Barlow. With the dread upon me of +developing into a Harry, and with a further dread upon me of +being Barlowed if I made inquiries, by bringing down upon myself +a cold shower-bath of explanations and experiments, I forbore +enlightenment in my youth, and became, as they say in melodramas, +‘the wreck you now behold.’ That I consorted +with idlers and dunces is another of the melancholy facts for +which I hold Mr. Barlow responsible. That pragmatical prig, +Harry, became so detestable in my sight, that, he being reported +studious in the South, I would have fled idle to the extremest +North. Better to learn misconduct from a Master Mash than +science and statistics from a Sandford! So I took the path, +which, but for Mr. Barlow, I might never have trodden. +Thought I, with a shudder, ‘Mr. Barlow is a bore, with an +immense constructive power of making bores. His prize +specimen is a bore. He seeks to make a bore of me. +That knowledge is power I am not prepared to gainsay; but, with +Mr. Barlow, knowledge is power to bore.’ Therefore I +took refuge in the caves of ignorance, wherein I have resided +ever since, and which are still my private address.</p> +<p>But the weightiest charge of all my charges against Mr. Barlow +is, that he still walks the earth in various disguises, seeking +to make a Tommy of me, even in my maturity. Irrepressible, +instructive monomaniac, Mr. Barlow fills my life with pitfalls, +and lies hiding at the bottom to burst out upon me when I least +expect him.</p> +<p>A few of these dismal experiences of mine shall suffice.</p> +<p>Knowing Mr. Barlow to have invested largely in the moving +panorama trade, and having on various occasions identified him in +the dark with a long wand in his hand, holding forth in his old +way (made more appalling in this connection by his sometimes +cracking a piece of Mr. Carlyle’s own Dead-Sea fruit in +mistake for a joke), I systematically shun pictorial +entertainment on rollers. Similarly, I should demand +responsible bail and guaranty against the appearance of Mr. +Barlow, before committing myself to attendance at any assemblage +of my fellow-creatures where a bottle of water and a note-book +were conspicuous objects; for in either of those associations, I +should expressly expect him. But such is the designing +nature of the man, that he steals in where no reasoning +precaution or provision could expect him. As in the +following case:—</p> +<p>Adjoining the Caves of Ignorance is a country town. In +this country town the Mississippi Momuses, nine in number, were +announced to appear in the town-hall, for the general +delectation, this last Christmas week. Knowing Mr. Barlow +to be unconnected with the Mississippi, though holding republican +opinions, and deeming myself secure, I took a stall. My +object was to hear and see the Mississippi Momuses in what the +bills described as their ‘National ballads, plantation +break-downs, nigger part-songs, choice conundrums, sparkling +repartees, &c.’ I found the nine dressed alike, +in the black coat and trousers, white waistcoat, very large +shirt-front, very large shirt-collar, and very large white tie +and wristbands, which constitute the dress of the mass of the +African race, and which has been observed by travellers to +prevail over a vast number of degrees of latitude. All the +nine rolled their eyes exceedingly, and had very red lips. +At the extremities of the curve they formed, seated in their +chairs, were the performers on the tambourine and bones. +The centre Momus, a black of melancholy aspect (who inspired me +with a vague uneasiness for which I could not then account), +performed on a Mississippi instrument closely resembling what was +once called in this island a hurdy-gurdy. The Momuses on +either side of him had each another instrument peculiar to the +Father of Waters, which may be likened to a stringed +weather-glass held upside down. There were likewise a +little flute and a violin. All went well for awhile, and we +had had several sparkling repartees exchanged between the +performers on the tambourine and bones, when the black of +melancholy aspect, turning to the latter, and addressing him in a +deep and improving voice as ‘Bones, sir,’ delivered +certain grave remarks to him concerning the juveniles present, +and the season of the year; whereon I perceived that I was in the +presence of Mr. Barlow—corked!</p> +<p>Another night—and this was in London—I attended +the representation of a little comedy. As the characters +were lifelike (and consequently not improving), and as they went +upon their several ways and designs without personally addressing +themselves to me, I felt rather confident of coming through it +without being regarded as Tommy, the more so, as we were clearly +getting close to the end. But I deceived myself. All +of a sudden, Apropos of nothing, everybody concerned came to a +check and halt, advanced to the foot-lights in a general rally to +take dead aim at me, and brought me down with a moral homily, in +which I detected the dread hand of Barlow.</p> +<p>Nay, so intricate and subtle are the toils of this hunter, +that on the very next night after that, I was again entrapped, +where no vestige of a spring could have been apprehended by the +timidest. It was a burlesque that I saw performed; an +uncompromising burlesque, where everybody concerned, but +especially the ladies, carried on at a very considerable rate +indeed. Most prominent and active among the corps of +performers was what I took to be (and she really gave me very +fair opportunities of coming to a right conclusion) a young lady +of a pretty figure. She was dressed as a picturesque young +gentleman, whose pantaloons had been cut off in their infancy; +and she had very neat knees and very neat satin boots. +Immediately after singing a slang song and dancing a slang dance, +this engaging figure approached the fatal lamps, and, bending +over them, delivered in a thrilling voice a random eulogium on, +and exhortation to pursue, the virtues. ‘Great +Heaven!’ was my exclamation; ‘Barlow!’</p> +<p>There is still another aspect in which Mr. Barlow perpetually +insists on my sustaining the character of Tommy, which is more +unendurable yet, on account of its extreme aggressiveness. +For the purposes of a review or newspaper, he will get up an +abstruse subject with definite pains, will Barlow, utterly +regardless of the price of midnight oil, and indeed of everything +else, save cramming himself to the eyes.</p> +<p>But mark. When Mr. Barlow blows his information off, he +is not contented with having rammed it home, and discharged it +upon me, Tommy, his target, but he pretends that he was always in +possession of it, and made nothing of it,—that he imbibed +it with mother’s milk,—and that I, the wretched +Tommy, am most abjectly behindhand in not having done the +same. I ask, why is Tommy to be always the foil of Mr. +Barlow to this extent? What Mr. Barlow had not the +slightest notion of himself, a week ago, it surely cannot be any +very heavy backsliding in me not to have at my fingers’ +ends to-day! And yet Mr. Barlow systematically carries it +over me with a high hand, and will tauntingly ask me, in his +articles, whether it is possible that I am not aware that every +school-boy knows that the fourteenth turning on the left in the +steppes of Russia will conduct to such and such a wandering +tribe? with other disparaging questions of like nature. So, +when Mr. Barlow addresses a letter to any journal as a volunteer +correspondent (which I frequently find him doing), he will +previously have gotten somebody to tell him some tremendous +technicality, and will write in the coolest manner, ‘Now, +sir, I may assume that every reader of your columns, possessing +average information and intelligence, knows as well as I do +that’—say that the draught from the touch-hole of a +cannon of such a calibre bears such a proportion in the nicest +fractions to the draught from the muzzle; or some equally +familiar little fact. But whatever it is, be certain that +it always tends to the exaltation of Mr. Barlow, and the +depression of his enforced and enslaved pupil.</p> +<p>Mr. Barlow’s knowledge of my own pursuits I find to be +so profound, that my own knowledge of them becomes as +nothing. Mr. Barlow (disguised and bearing a feigned name, +but detected by me) has occasionally taught me, in a sonorous +voice, from end to end of a long dinner-table, trifles that I +took the liberty of teaching him five-and-twenty years ago. +My closing article of impeachment against Mr. Barlow is, that he +goes out to breakfast, goes out to dinner, goes out everywhere, +high and low, and that he <span class="GutSmall">WILL</span> +preach to me, and that I <span +class="GutSmall">CAN’T</span> get rid of him. He +makes me a Promethean Tommy, bound; and he is the vulture that +gorges itself upon the liver of my uninstructed mind.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap35"></a>XXXV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ON AN AMATEUR BEAT</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is one of my fancies, that even +my idlest walk must always have its appointed destination. +I set myself a task before I leave my lodging in Covent-garden on +a street expedition, and should no more think of altering my +route by the way, or turning back and leaving a part of it +unachieved, than I should think of fraudulently violating an +agreement entered into with somebody else. The other day, +finding myself under this kind of obligation to proceed to +Limehouse, I started punctually at noon, in compliance with the +terms of the contract with myself to which my good faith was +pledged.</p> +<p>On such an occasion, it is my habit to regard my walk as my +beat, and myself as a higher sort of police-constable doing duty +on the same. There is many a ruffian in the streets whom I +mentally collar and clear out of them, who would see mighty +little of London, I can tell him, if I could deal with him +physically.</p> +<p>Issuing forth upon this very beat, and following with my eyes +three hulking garrotters on their way home,—which home I +could confidently swear to be within so many yards of Drury-lane, +in such a narrow and restricted direction (though they live in +their lodging quite as undisturbed as I in mine),—I went on +duty with a consideration which I respectfully offer to the new +Chief Commissioner,—in whom I thoroughly confide as a tried +and efficient public servant. How often (thought I) have I +been forced to swallow, in police-reports, the intolerable +stereotyped pill of nonsense, how that the police-constable +informed the worthy magistrate how that the associates of the +prisoner did, at that present speaking, dwell in a street or +court which no man dared go down, and how that the worthy +magistrate had heard of the dark reputation of such street or +court, and how that our readers would doubtless remember that it +was always the same street or court which was thus edifyingly +discoursed about, say once a fortnight.</p> +<p>Now, suppose that a Chief Commissioner sent round a circular +to every division of police employed in London, requiring +instantly the names in all districts of all such much-puffed +streets or courts which no man durst go down; and suppose that in +such circular he gave plain warning, ‘If those places +really exist, they are a proof of police inefficiency which I +mean to punish; and if they do not exist, but are a conventional +fiction, then they are a proof of lazy tacit police connivance +with professional crime, which I also mean to +punish’—what then? Fictions or realities, could +they survive the touchstone of this atom of common sense? +To tell us in open court, until it has become as trite a feature +of news as the great gooseberry, that a costly police-system such +as was never before heard of, has left in London, in the days of +steam and gas and photographs of thieves and electric telegraphs, +the sanctuaries and stews of the Stuarts! Why, a parity of +practice, in all departments, would bring back the Plague in two +summers, and the Druids in a century!</p> +<p>Walking faster under my share of this public injury, I +overturned a wretched little creature, who, clutching at the rags +of a pair of trousers with one of its claws, and at its ragged +hair with the other, pattered with bare feet over the muddy +stones. I stopped to raise and succour this poor weeping +wretch, and fifty like it, but of both sexes, were about me in a +moment, begging, tumbling, fighting, clamouring, yelling, +shivering in their nakedness and hunger. The piece of money +I had put into the claw of the child I had over-turned was clawed +out of it, and was again clawed out of that wolfish gripe, and +again out of that, and soon I had no notion in what part of the +obscene scuffle in the mud, of rags and legs and arms and dirt, +the money might be. In raising the child, I had drawn it +aside out of the main thoroughfare, and this took place among +some wooden hoardings and barriers and ruins of demolished +buildings, hard by Temple Bar.</p> +<p>Unexpectedly, from among them emerged a genuine +police-constable, before whom the dreadful brood dispersed in +various directions, he making feints and darts in this direction +and in that, and catching nothing. When all were frightened +away, he took off his hat, pulled out a handkerchief from it, +wiped his heated brow, and restored the handkerchief and hat to +their places, with the air of a man who had discharged a great +moral duty,—as indeed he had, in doing what was set down +for him. I looked at him, and I looked about at the +disorderly traces in the mud, and I thought of the drops of rain +and the footprints of an extinct creature, hoary ages upon ages +old, that geologists have identified on the face of a cliff; and +this speculation came over me: If this mud could petrify at this +moment, and could lie concealed here for ten thousand years, I +wonder whether the race of men then to be our successors on the +earth could, from these or any marks, by the utmost force of the +human intellect, unassisted by tradition, deduce such an +astounding inference as the existence of a polished state of +society that bore with the public savagery of neglected children +in the streets of its capital city, and was proud of its power by +sea and land, and never used its power to seize and save +them!</p> +<p>After this, when I came to the Old Bailey and glanced up it +towards Newgate, I found that the prison had an inconsistent +look. There seemed to be some unlucky inconsistency in the +atmosphere that day; for though the proportions of St. +Paul’s Cathedral are very beautiful, it had an air of being +somewhat out of drawing, in my eyes. I felt as though the +cross were too high up, and perched upon the intervening golden +ball too far away.</p> +<p>Facing eastward, I left behind me Smithfield and Old +Bailey,—fire and faggot, condemned hold, public hanging, +whipping through the city at the cart-tail, pillory, +branding-iron, and other beautiful ancestral landmarks, which +rude hands have rooted up, without bringing the stars quite down +upon us as yet,—and went my way upon my beat, noting how +oddly characteristic neighbourhoods are divided from one another, +hereabout, as though by an invisible line across the way. +Here shall cease the bankers and the money-changers; here shall +begin the shipping interest and the nautical-instrument shops; +here shall follow a scarcely perceptible flavouring of groceries +and drugs; here shall come a strong infusion of butchers; now, +small hosiers shall be in the ascendant; henceforth, everything +exposed for sale shall have its ticketed price attached. +All this as if specially ordered and appointed.</p> +<p>A single stride at Houndsditch Church, no wider than sufficed +to cross the kennel at the bottom of the Canon-gate, which the +debtors in Holyrood sanctuary were wont to relieve their minds by +skipping over, as Scott relates, and standing in delightful +daring of catchpoles on the free side,—a single stride, and +everything is entirely changed in grain and character. West +of the stride, a table, or a chest of drawers on sale, shall be +of mahogany and French-polished; east of the stride, it shall be +of deal, smeared with a cheap counterfeit resembling +lip-salve. West of the stride, a penny loaf or bun shall be +compact and self-contained; east of the stride, it shall be of a +sprawling and splay-footed character, as seeking to make more of +itself for the money. My beat lying round by Whitechapel +Church, and the adjacent sugar-refineries,—great buildings, +tier upon tier, that have the appearance of being nearly related +to the dock-warehouses at Liverpool,—I turned off to my +right, and, passing round the awkward corner on my left, came +suddenly on an apparition familiar to London streets afar +off.</p> +<p>What London peripatetic of these times has not seen the woman +who has fallen forward, double, through some affection of the +spine, and whose head has of late taken a turn to one side, so +that it now droops over the back of one of her arms at about the +wrist? Who does not know her staff, and her shawl, and her +basket, as she gropes her way along, capable of seeing nothing +but the pavement, never begging, never stopping, for ever going +somewhere on no business? How does she live, whence does +she come, whither does she go, and why? I mind the time +when her yellow arms were naught but bone and parchment. +Slight changes steal over her; for there is a shadowy suggestion +of human skin on them now. The Strand may be taken as the +central point about which she revolves in a half-mile +orbit. How comes she so far east as this? And coming +back too! Having been how much farther? She is a rare +spectacle in this neighbourhood. I receive intelligent +information to this effect from a dog—a lop-sided mongrel +with a foolish tail, plodding along with his tail up, and his +ears pricked, and displaying an amiable interest in the ways of +his fellow-men,—if I may be allowed the expression. +After pausing at a pork-shop, he is jogging eastward like myself, +with a benevolent countenance and a watery mouth, as though +musing on the many excellences of pork, when he beholds this +doubled-up bundle approaching. He is not so much astonished +at the bundle (though amazed by that), as the circumstance that +it has within itself the means of locomotion. He stops, +pricks his ears higher, makes a slight point, stares, utters a +short, low growl, and glistens at the nose,—as I conceive +with terror. The bundle continuing to approach, he barks, +turns tail, and is about to fly, when, arguing with himself that +flight is not becoming in a dog, he turns, and once more faces +the advancing heap of clothes. After much hesitation, it +occurs to him that there may be a face in it somewhere. +Desperately resolving to undertake the adventure, and pursue the +inquiry, he goes slowly up to the bundle, goes slowly round it, +and coming at length upon the human countenance down there where +never human countenance should be, gives a yelp of horror, and +flies for the East India Docks.</p> +<p>Being now in the Commercial Road district of my beat, and +bethinking myself that Stepney Station is near, I quicken my pace +that I may turn out of the road at that point, and see how my +small eastern star is shining.</p> +<p>The Children’s Hospital, to which I gave that name, is +in full force. All its beds are occupied. There is a +new face on the bed where my pretty baby lay, and that sweet +little child is now at rest for ever. Much kind sympathy +has been here since my former visit, and it is good to see the +walls profusely garnished with dolls. I wonder what Poodles +may think of them, as they stretch out their arms above the beds, +and stare, and display their splendid dresses. Poodles has +a greater interest in the patients. I find him making the +round of the beds, like a house-surgeon, attended by another +dog,—a friend,—who appears to trot about with him in +the character of his pupil dresser. Poodles is anxious to +make me known to a pretty little girl looking wonderfully +healthy, who had had a leg taken off for cancer of the +knee. A difficult operation, Poodles intimates, wagging his +tail on the counterpane, but perfectly successful, as you see, +dear sir! The patient, patting Poodles, adds with a smile, +‘The leg was so much trouble to me, that I am glad +it’s gone.’ I never saw anything in doggery +finer than the deportment of Poodles, when another little girl +opens her mouth to show a peculiar enlargement of the +tongue. Poodles (at that time on a table, to be on a level +with the occasion) looks at the tongue (with his own +sympathetically out) so very gravely and knowingly, that I feel +inclined to put my hand in my waistcoat-pocket, and give him a +guinea, wrapped in paper.</p> +<p>On my beat again, and close to Limehouse Church, its +termination, I found myself near to certain +‘Lead-Mills.’ Struck by the name, which was +fresh in my memory, and finding, on inquiry, that these same +lead-mills were identified with those same lead-mills of which I +made mention when I first visited the East London +Children’s Hospital and its neighbourhood as Uncommercial +Traveller, I resolved to have a look at them.</p> +<p>Received by two very intelligent gentlemen, brothers, and +partners with their father in the concern, and who testified +every desire to show their works to me freely, I went over the +lead-mills. The purport of such works is the conversion of +pig-lead into white-lead. This conversion is brought about +by the slow and gradual effecting of certain successive chemical +changes in the lead itself. The processes are picturesque +and interesting,—the most so, being the burying of the +lead, at a certain stage of preparation, in pots, each pot +containing a certain quantity of acid besides, and all the pots +being buried in vast numbers, in layers, under tan, for some ten +weeks.</p> +<p>Hopping up ladders, and across planks, and on elevated +perches, until I was uncertain whether to liken myself to a bird +or a brick-layer, I became conscious of standing on nothing +particular, looking down into one of a series of large cocklofts, +with the outer day peeping in through the chinks in the tiled +roof above. A number of women were ascending to, and +descending from, this cockloft, each carrying on the upward +journey a pot of prepared lead and acid, for deposition under the +smoking tan. When one layer of pots was completely filled, +it was carefully covered in with planks, and those were carefully +covered with tan again, and then another layer of pots was begun +above; sufficient means of ventilation being preserved through +wooden tubes. Going down into the cockloft then filling, I +found the heat of the tan to be surprisingly great, and also the +odour of the lead and acid to be not absolutely exquisite, though +I believe not noxious at that stage. In other cocklofts, +where the pots were being exhumed, the heat of the steaming tan +was much greater, and the smell was penetrating and +peculiar. There were cocklofts in all stages; full and +empty, half filled and half emptied; strong, active women were +clambering about them busily; and the whole thing had rather the +air of the upper part of the house of some immensely rich old +Turk, whose faithful seraglio were hiding his money because the +sultan or the pasha was coming.</p> +<p>As is the case with most pulps or pigments, so in the instance +of this white-lead, processes of stirring, separating, washing, +grinding, rolling, and pressing succeed. Some of these are +unquestionably inimical to health, the danger arising from +inhalation of particles of lead, or from contact between the lead +and the touch, or both. Against these dangers, I found good +respirators provided (simply made of flannel and muslin, so as to +be inexpensively renewed, and in some instances washed with +scented soap), and gauntlet gloves, and loose gowns. +Everywhere, there was as much fresh air as windows, well placed +and opened, could possibly admit. And it was explained that +the precaution of frequently changing the women employed in the +worst parts of the work (a precaution originating in their own +experience or apprehension of its ill effects) was found +salutary. They had a mysterious and singular appearance, +with the mouth and nose covered, and the loose gown on, and yet +bore out the simile of the old Turk and the seraglio all the +better for the disguise.</p> +<p>At last this vexed white-lead, having been buried and +resuscitated, and heated and cooled and stirred, and separated +and washed and ground, and rolled and pressed, is subjected to +the action of intense fiery heat. A row of women, dressed +as above described, stood, let us say, in a large stone +bakehouse, passing on the baking-dishes as they were given out by +the cooks, from hand to hand, into the ovens. The oven, or +stove, cold as yet, looked as high as an ordinary house, and was +full of men and women on temporary footholds, briskly passing up +and stowing away the dishes. The door of another oven, or +stove, about to be cooled and emptied, was opened from above, for +the uncommercial countenance to peer down into. The +uncommercial countenance withdrew itself, with expedition and a +sense of suffocation, from the dull-glowing heat and the +overpowering smell. On the whole, perhaps the going into +these stoves to work, when they are freshly opened, may be the +worst part of the occupation.</p> +<p>But I made it out to be indubitable that the owners of these +lead-mills honestly and sedulously try to reduce the dangers of +the occupation to the lowest point.</p> +<p>A washing-place is provided for the women (I thought there +might have been more towels), and a room in which they hang their +clothes, and take their meals, and where they have a good +fire-range and fire, and a female attendant to help them, and to +watch that they do not neglect the cleansing of their hands +before touching their food. An experienced medical +attendant is provided for them, and any premonitory symptoms of +lead-poisoning are carefully treated. Their teapots and +such things were set out on tables ready for their afternoon +meal, when I saw their room; and it had a homely look. It +is found that they bear the work much better than men: some few +of them have been at it for years, and the great majority of +those I observed were strong and active. On the other hand, +it should be remembered that most of them are very capricious and +irregular in their attendance.</p> +<p>American inventiveness would seem to indicate that before very +long white-lead may be made entirely by machinery. The +sooner, the better. In the meantime, I parted from my two +frank conductors over the mills, by telling them that they had +nothing there to be concealed, and nothing to be blamed +for. As to the rest, the philosophy of the matter of +lead-poisoning and workpeople seems to me to have been pretty +fairly summed up by the Irishwoman whom I quoted in my former +paper: ‘Some of them gets lead-pisoned soon, and some of +them gets lead-pisoned later, and some, but not many, niver; and +’tis all according to the constitooshun, sur; and some +constitooshuns is strong and some is weak.’ Retracing +my footsteps over my beat, I went off duty.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap36"></a>XXXVI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A FLY-LEAF IN A LIFE</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a time (no matter when), +I was engaged in a pursuit (no matter what), which could be +transacted by myself alone; in which I could have no help; which +imposed a constant strain on the attention, memory, observation, +and physical powers; and which involved an almost fabulous amount +of change of place and rapid railway travelling. I had +followed this pursuit through an exceptionally trying winter in +an always trying climate, and had resumed it in England after but +a brief repose. Thus it came to be prolonged until, at +length—and, as it seemed, all of a sudden—it so wore +me out that I could not rely, with my usual cheerful confidence, +upon myself to achieve the constantly recurring task, and began +to feel (for the first time in my life) giddy, jarred, shaken, +faint, uncertain of voice and sight and tread and touch, and dull +of spirit. The medical advice I sought within a few hours, +was given in two words: ‘instant rest.’ Being +accustomed to observe myself as curiously as if I were another +man, and knowing the advice to meet my only need, I instantly +halted in the pursuit of which I speak, and rested.</p> +<p>My intention was, to interpose, as it were, a fly-leaf in the +book of my life, in which nothing should be written from without +for a brief season of a few weeks. But some very singular +experiences recorded themselves on this same fly-leaf, and I am +going to relate them literally. I repeat the word: +literally.</p> +<p>My first odd experience was of the remarkable coincidence +between my case, in the general mind, and one Mr. Merdle’s +as I find it recorded in a work of fiction called <span +class="smcap">Little Dorrit</span>. To be sure, Mr. Merdle +was a swindler, forger, and thief, and my calling had been of a +less harmful (and less remunerative) nature; but it was all one +for that.</p> +<p>Here is Mr. Merdle’s case:</p> +<p>‘At first, he was dead of all the diseases that ever +were known, and of several bran-new maladies invented with the +speed of Light to meet the demand of the occasion. He had +concealed a dropsy from infancy, he had inherited a large estate +of water on the chest from his grandfather, he had had an +operation performed upon him every morning of his life for +eighteen years, he had been subject to the explosion of important +veins in his body after the manner of fireworks, he had had +something the matter with his lungs, he had had something the +matter with his heart, he had had something the matter with his +brain. Five hundred people who sat down to breakfast +entirely uninformed on the whole subject, believed before they +had done breakfast, that they privately and personally knew +Physician to have said to Mr. Merdle, “You must expect to +go out, some day, like the snuff of a candle;” and that +they knew Mr. Merdle to have said to Physician, “A man can +die but once.” By about eleven o’clock in the +forenoon, something the matter with the brain, became the +favourite theory against the field; and by twelve the something +had been distinctly ascertained to be “Pressure.”</p> +<p>‘Pressure was so entirely satisfactory to the public +mind, and seemed to make every one so comfortable, that it might +have lasted all day but for Bar’s having taken the real +state of the case into Court at half-past nine. Pressure, +however, so far from being overthrown by the discovery, became a +greater favourite than ever. There was a general moralising +upon Pressure, in every street. All the people who had +tried to make money and had not been able to do it, said, There +you were! You no sooner began to devote yourself to the +pursuit of wealth, than you got Pressure. The idle people +improved the occasion in a similar manner. See, said they, +what you brought yourself to by work, work, work! You +persisted in working, you overdid it, Pressure came on, and you +were done for! This consideration was very potent in many +quarters, but nowhere more so than among the young clerks and +partners who had never been in the slightest danger of overdoing +it. These, one and all declared, quite piously, that they +hoped they would never forget the warning as long as they lived, +and that their conduct might be so regulated as to keep off +Pressure, and preserve them, a comfort to their friends, for many +years.’</p> +<p>Just my case—if I had only known it—when I was +quietly basking in the sunshine in my Kentish meadow!</p> +<p>But while I so rested, thankfully recovering every hour, I had +experiences more odd than this. I had experiences of +spiritual conceit, for which, as giving me a new warning against +that curse of mankind, I shall always feel grateful to the +supposition that I was too far gone to protest against playing +sick lion to any stray donkey with an itching hoof. All +sorts of people seemed to become vicariously religious at my +expense. I received the most uncompromising warning that I +was a Heathen: on the conclusive authority of a field preacher, +who, like the most of his ignorant and vain and daring class, +could not construct a tolerable sentence in his native tongue or +pen a fair letter. This inspired individual called me to +order roundly, and knew in the freest and easiest way where I was +going to, and what would become of me if I failed to fashion +myself on his bright example, and was on terms of blasphemous +confidence with the Heavenly Host. He was in the secrets of +my heart, and in the lowest soundings of my +soul—he!—and could read the depths of my nature +better than his A B C, and could turn me inside out, like his own +clammy glove. But what is far more extraordinary than +this—for such dirty water as this could alone be drawn from +such a shallow and muddy source—I found from the +information of a beneficed clergyman, of whom I never heard and +whom I never saw, that I had not, as I rather supposed I had, +lived a life of some reading, contemplation, and inquiry; that I +had not studied, as I rather supposed I had, to inculcate some +Christian lessons in books; that I had never tried, as I rather +supposed I had, to turn a child or two tenderly towards the +knowledge and love of our Saviour; that I had never had, as I +rather supposed I had had, departed friends, or stood beside open +graves; but that I had lived a life of ‘uninterrupted +prosperity,’ and that I needed this ‘check, +overmuch,’ and that the way to turn it to account was to +read these sermons and these poems, enclosed, and written and +issued by my correspondent! I beg it may be understood that +I relate facts of my own uncommercial experience, and no vain +imaginings. The documents in proof lie near my hand.</p> +<p>Another odd entry on the fly-leaf, of a more entertaining +character, was the wonderful persistency with which kind +sympathisers assumed that I had injuriously coupled with the so +suddenly relinquished pursuit, those personal habits of mine most +obviously incompatible with it, and most plainly impossible of +being maintained, along with it. As, all that exercise, all +that cold bathing, all that wind and weather, all that uphill +training—all that everything else, say, which is usually +carried about by express trains in a portmanteau and hat-box, and +partaken of under a flaming row of gas-lights in the company of +two thousand people. This assuming of a whole case against +all fact and likelihood, struck me as particularly droll, and was +an oddity of which I certainly had had no adequate experience in +life until I turned that curious fly-leaf.</p> +<p>My old acquaintances the begging-letter writers came out on +the fly-leaf, very piously indeed. They were glad, at such +a serious crisis, to afford me another opportunity of sending +that Post-office order. I needn’t make it a pound, as +previously insisted on; ten shillings might ease my mind. +And Heaven forbid that they should refuse, at such an +insignificant figure, to take a weight off the memory of an +erring fellow-creature! One gentleman, of an artistic turn +(and copiously illustrating the books of the Mendicity Society), +thought it might soothe my conscience, in the tender respect of +gifts misused, if I would immediately cash up in aid of his lowly +talent for original design—as a specimen of which he +enclosed me a work of art which I recognized as a tracing from a +woodcut originally published in the late Mrs. Trollope’s +book on America, forty or fifty years ago. The number of +people who were prepared to live long years after me, untiring +benefactors to their species, for fifty pounds apiece down, was +astonishing. Also, of those who wanted bank-notes for stiff +penitential amounts, to give away:—not to keep, on any +account.</p> +<p>Divers wonderful medicines and machines insinuated +recommendations of themselves into the fly-leaf that was to have +been so blank. It was specially observable that every +prescriber, whether in a moral or physical direction, knew me +thoroughly—knew me from head to heel, in and out, through +and through, upside down. I was a glass piece of general +property, and everybody was on the most surprisingly intimate +terms with me. A few public institutions had complimentary +perceptions of corners in my mind, of which, after considerable +self-examination, I have not discovered any indication. +Neat little printed forms were addressed to those corners, +beginning with the words: ‘I give and bequeath.’</p> +<p>Will it seem exaggerative to state my belief that the most +honest, the most modest, and the least vain-glorious of all the +records upon this strange fly-leaf, was a letter from the +self-deceived discoverer of the recondite secret ‘how to +live four or five hundred years’? Doubtless it will +seem so, yet the statement is not exaggerative by any means, but +is made in my serious and sincere conviction. With this, +and with a laugh at the rest that shall not be cynical, I turn +the Fly-leaf, and go on again.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap37"></a>XXXVII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A PLEA FOR TOTAL ABSTINENCE</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> day this last Whitsuntide, at +precisely eleven o’clock in the forenoon, there suddenly +rode into the field of view commanded by the windows of my +lodging an equestrian phenomenon. It was a fellow-creature +on horseback, dressed in the absurdest manner. The +fellow-creature wore high boots; some other (and much larger) +fellow-creature’s breeches, of a slack-baked doughy colour +and a baggy form; a blue shirt, whereof the skirt, or tail, was +puffily tucked into the waist-band of the said breeches; no coat; +a red shoulder-belt; and a demi-semi-military scarlet hat, with a +feathered ornament in front, which, to the uninstructed human +vision, had the appearance of a moulting shuttlecock. I +laid down the newspaper with which I had been occupied, and +surveyed the fellow-man in question with astonishment. +Whether he had been sitting to any painter as a frontispiece for +a new edition of ‘Sartor Resartus;’ whether +‘the husk or shell of him,’ as the esteemed Herr +Teufelsdroch might put it, were founded on a jockey, on a circus, +on General Garibaldi, on cheap porcelain, on a toy shop, on Guy +Fawkes, on waxwork, on gold-digging, on Bedlam, or on +all,—were doubts that greatly exercised my mind. +Meanwhile, my fellow-man stumbled and slided, excessively against +his will, on the slippery stones of my Covent-garden street, and +elicited shrieks from several sympathetic females, by +convulsively restraining himself from pitching over his +horse’s head. In the very crisis of these evolutions, +and indeed at the trying moment when his charger’s tail was +in a tobacconist’s shop, and his head anywhere about town, +this cavalier was joined by two similar portents, who, likewise +stumbling and sliding, caused him to stumble and slide the more +distressingly. At length this Gilpinian triumvirate +effected a halt, and, looking northward, waved their three right +hands as commanding unseen troops, to ‘Up, guards! and at +’em.’ Hereupon a brazen band burst forth, which +caused them to be instantly bolted with to some remote spot of +earth in the direction of the Surrey Hills.</p> +<p>Judging from these appearances that a procession was under +way, I threw up my window, and, craning out, had the satisfaction +of beholding it advancing along the streets. It was a +Teetotal procession, as I learnt from its banners, and was long +enough to consume twenty minutes in passing. There were a +great number of children in it, some of them so very young in +their mothers’ arms as to be in the act of practically +exemplifying their abstinence from fermented liquors, and +attachment to an unintoxicating drink, while the procession +defiled. The display was, on the whole, pleasant to see, as +any good-humoured holiday assemblage of clean, cheerful, and +well-conducted people should be. It was bright with +ribbons, tinsel, and shoulder-belts, and abounded in flowers, as +if those latter trophies had come up in profusion under much +watering. The day being breezy, the insubordination of the +large banners was very reprehensible. Each of these being +borne aloft on two poles and stayed with some half-dozen lines, +was carried, as polite books in the last century used to be +written, by ‘various hands,’ and the anxiety +expressed in the upturned faces of those +officers,—something between the anxiety attendant on the +balancing art, and that inseparable from the pastime of +kite-flying, with a touch of the angler’s quality in +landing his scaly prey,—much impressed me. Suddenly, +too, a banner would shiver in the wind, and go about in the most +inconvenient manner. This always happened oftenest with +such gorgeous standards as those representing a gentleman in +black, corpulent with tea and water, in the laudable act of +summarily reforming a family, feeble and pinched with beer. +The gentleman in black distended by wind would then conduct +himself with the most unbecoming levity, while the beery family, +growing beerier, would frantically try to tear themselves away +from his ministration. Some of the inscriptions +accompanying the banners were of a highly determined character, +as ‘We never, never will give up the temperance +cause,’ with similar sound resolutions rather suggestive to +the profane mind of Mrs. Micawber’s ‘I never will +desert Mr. Micawber,’ and of Mr. Micawber’s retort, +‘Really, my dear, I am not aware that you were ever +required by any human being to do anything of the +sort.’</p> +<p>At intervals, a gloom would fall on the passing members of the +procession, for which I was at first unable to account. But +this I discovered, after a little observation, to be occasioned +by the coming on of the executioners,—the terrible official +beings who were to make the speeches by-and-by,—who were +distributed in open carriages at various points of the +cavalcade. A dark cloud and a sensation of dampness, as +from many wet blankets, invariably preceded the rolling on of the +dreadful cars containing these headsmen; and I noticed that the +wretched people who closely followed them, and who were in a +manner forced to contemplate their folded arms, complacent +countenances, and threatening lips, were more overshadowed by the +cloud and damp than those in front. Indeed, I perceived in +some of these so moody an implacability towards the magnates of +the scaffold, and so plain a desire to tear them limb from limb, +that I would respectfully suggest to the managers the expediency +of conveying the executioners to the scene of their dismal +labours by unfrequented ways, and in closely-tilted carts, next +Whitsuntide.</p> +<p>The procession was composed of a series of smaller +processions, which had come together, each from its own +metropolitan district. An infusion of allegory became +perceptible when patriotic Peckham advanced. So I judged, +from the circumstance of Peckham’s unfurling a silken +banner that fanned heaven and earth with the words, ‘The +Peckham Lifeboat.’ No boat being in attendance, +though life, in the likeness of ‘a gallant, gallant +crew,’ in nautical uniform, followed the flag, I was led to +meditate on the fact that Peckham is described by geographers as +an inland settlement, with no larger or nearer shore-line than +the towing-path of the Surrey Canal, on which stormy station I +had been given to understand no lifeboat exists. Thus I +deduced an allegorical meaning, and came to the conclusion, that +if patriotic Peckham picked a peck of pickled poetry, this +<i>was</i> the peck of pickled poetry which patriotic Peckham +picked.</p> +<p>I have observed that the aggregate procession was on the whole +pleasant to see. I made use of that qualified expression +with a direct meaning, which I will now explain. It +involves the title of this paper, and a little fair trying of +teetotalism by its own tests. There were many people on +foot, and many people in vehicles of various kinds. The +former were pleasant to see, and the latter were not pleasant to +see; for the reason that I never, on any occasion or under any +circumstances, have beheld heavier overloading of horses than in +this public show. Unless the imposition of a great van +laden with from ten to twenty people on a single horse be a +moderate tasking of the poor creature, then the temperate use of +horses was immoderate and cruel. From the smallest and +lightest horse to the largest and heaviest, there were many +instances in which the beast of burden was so shamefully +overladen, that the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to +Animals have frequently interposed in less gross cases.</p> +<p>Now, I have always held that there may be, and that there +unquestionably is, such a thing as use without abuse, and that +therefore the total abolitionists are irrational and +wrong-headed. But the procession completely converted +me. For so large a number of the people using +draught-horses in it were so clearly unable to use them without +abusing them, that I perceived total abstinence from horseflesh +to be the only remedy of which the case admitted. As it is +all one to teetotalers whether you take half a pint of beer or +half a gallon, so it was all one here whether the beast of burden +were a pony or a cart-horse. Indeed, my case had the +special strength that the half-pint quadruped underwent as much +suffering as the half-gallon quadruped. Moral: total +abstinence from horseflesh through the whole length and breadth +of the scale. This pledge will be in course of +administration to all teetotal processionists, not pedestrians, +at the publishing office of ‘All the Year Round,’ on +the 1st day of April, 1870.</p> +<p>Observe a point for consideration. This procession +comprised many persons in their gigs, broughams, tax-carts, +barouches, chaises, and what not, who were merciful to the dumb +beasts that drew them, and did not overcharge their +strength. What is to be done with those unoffending +persons? I will not run amuck and vilify and defame them, +as teetotal tracts and platforms would most assuredly do, if the +question were one of drinking instead of driving: I merely ask +what is to be done with them! The reply admits of no +dispute whatever. Manifestly, in strict accordance with +teetotal doctrines, <span class="GutSmall">THEY</span> must come +in too, and take the total abstinence from horseflesh +pledge. It is not pretended that those members of the +procession misused certain auxiliaries which in most countries +and all ages have been bestowed upon man for his use, but it is +undeniable that other members of the procession did. +Teetotal mathematics demonstrate that the less includes the +greater; that the guilty include the innocent, the blind the +seeing, the deaf the hearing, the dumb the speaking, the drunken +the sober. If any of the moderate users of draught-cattle +in question should deem that there is any gentle violence done to +their reason by these elements of logic, they are invited to come +out of the procession next Whitsuntide, and look at it from my +window.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>FOOTNOTES.</h2> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="footnote188"></a><a href="#citation188">[188]</a> After this Uncommercial Journey +was printed, I happened to mention the experience it describes to +Lord Houghton. That gentleman then showed me an article of +his writing, in <i>The Edinburgh Review</i> for January, 1862, +which is highly remarkable for its philosophical and literary +research concerning these Latter-Day Saints. I find in it +the following sentences:—‘The Select Committee of the +House of Commons on emigrant ships for 1854 summoned the Mormon +agent and passenger-broker before it, and came to the conclusion +that no ships under the provisions of the “Passengers +Act” could be depended upon for comfort and security in the +same degree as those under his administration. The Mormon ship is +a Family under strong and accepted discipline, with every +provision for comfort, decorum and internal peace.’</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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