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diff --git a/927-0.txt b/927-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..74cad56 --- /dev/null +++ b/927-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1168 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Lamplighter, by Charles Dickens + + +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 +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: The Lamplighter + + +Author: Charles Dickens + + + +Release Date: January 11, 2015 [eBook #927] +[This file was first posted on May 30, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAMPLIGHTER*** + + +Transcribed from the 1905 Chapman & Hall edition (_The Works of Charles +Dickens_, volume 28) by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Book cover] + + + + + + THE LAMPLIGHTER + + + * * * * * + + By CHARLES DICKENS + + * * * * * + + LONDON: CHAPMAN & HALL, LD. + NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS + 1905 + + * * * * * + +‘IF you talk of Murphy and Francis Moore, gentlemen,’ said the +lamplighter who was in the chair, ‘I mean to say that neither of ’em ever +had any more to do with the stars than Tom Grig had.’ + +‘And what had _he_ to do with ’em?’ asked the lamplighter who officiated +as vice. + +‘Nothing at all,’ replied the other; ‘just exactly nothing at all.’ + +‘Do you mean to say you don’t believe in Murphy, then?’ demanded the +lamplighter who had opened the discussion. + +‘I mean to say I believe in Tom Grig,’ replied the chairman. ‘Whether I +believe in Murphy, or not, is a matter between me and my conscience; and +whether Murphy believes in himself, or not, is a matter between him and +his conscience. Gentlemen, I drink your healths.’ + +The lamplighter who did the company this honour, was seated in the +chimney-corner of a certain tavern, which has been, time out of mind, the +Lamplighters’ House of Call. He sat in the midst of a circle of +lamplighters, and was the cacique, or chief of the tribe. + +If any of our readers have had the good fortune to behold a lamplighter’s +funeral, they will not be surprised to learn that lamplighters are a +strange and primitive people; that they rigidly adhere to old ceremonies +and customs which have been handed down among them from father to son +since the first public lamp was lighted out of doors; that they +intermarry, and betroth their children in infancy; that they enter into +no plots or conspiracies (for who ever heard of a traitorous +lamplighter?); that they commit no crimes against the laws of their +country (there being no instance of a murderous or burglarious +lamplighter); that they are, in short, notwithstanding their apparently +volatile and restless character, a highly moral and reflective people: +having among themselves as many traditional observances as the Jews, and +being, as a body, if not as old as the hills, at least as old as the +streets. It is an article of their creed that the first faint glimmering +of true civilisation shone in the first street-light maintained at the +public expense. They trace their existence and high position in the +public esteem, in a direct line to the heathen mythology; and hold that +the history of Prometheus himself is but a pleasant fable, whereof the +true hero is a lamplighter. + +‘Gentlemen,’ said the lamplighter in the chair, ‘I drink your healths.’ + +‘And perhaps, Sir,’ said the vice, holding up his glass, and rising a +little way off his seat and sitting down again, in token that he +recognised and returned the compliment, ‘perhaps you will add to that +condescension by telling us who Tom Grig was, and how he came to be +connected in your mind with Francis Moore, Physician.’ + +‘Hear, hear, hear!’ cried the lamplighters generally. + +‘Tom Grig, gentlemen,’ said the chairman, ‘was one of us; and it happened +to him, as it don’t often happen to a public character in our line, that +he had his what-you-may-call-it cast.’ + +‘His head?’ said the vice. + +‘No,’ replied the chairman, ‘not his head.’ + +‘His face, perhaps?’ said the vice. ‘No, not his face.’ ‘His legs?’ +‘No, not his legs.’ Nor yet his arms, nor his hands, nor his feet, nor +his chest, all of which were severally suggested. + +‘His nativity, perhaps?’ + +‘That’s it,’ said the chairman, awakening from his thoughtful attitude at +the suggestion. ‘His nativity. That’s what Tom had cast, gentlemen.’ + +‘In plaster?’ asked the vice. + +‘I don’t rightly know how it’s done,’ returned the chairman. ‘But I +suppose it was.’ + +And there he stopped as if that were all he had to say; whereupon there +arose a murmur among the company, which at length resolved itself into a +request, conveyed through the vice, that he would go on. This being +exactly what the chairman wanted, he mused for a little time, performed +that agreeable ceremony which is popularly termed wetting one’s whistle, +and went on thus: + +‘Tom Grig, gentlemen, was, as I have said, one of us; and I may go +further, and say he was an ornament to us, and such a one as only the +good old times of oil and cotton could have produced. Tom’s family, +gentlemen, were all lamplighters.’ + +‘Not the ladies, I hope?’ asked the vice. + +‘They had talent enough for it, Sir,’ rejoined the chairman, ‘and would +have been, but for the prejudices of society. Let women have their +rights, Sir, and the females of Tom’s family would have been every one of +’em in office. But that emancipation hasn’t come yet, and hadn’t then, +and consequently they confined themselves to the bosoms of their +families, cooked the dinners, mended the clothes, minded the children, +comforted their husbands, and attended to the house-keeping generally. +It’s a hard thing upon the women, gentlemen, that they are limited to +such a sphere of action as this; very hard. + +‘I happen to know all about Tom, gentlemen, from the circumstance of his +uncle by his mother’s side, having been my particular friend. His +(that’s Tom’s uncle’s) fate was a melancholy one. Gas was the death of +him. When it was first talked of, he laughed. He wasn’t angry; he +laughed at the credulity of human nature. “They might as well talk,” he +says, “of laying on an everlasting succession of glow-worms;” and then he +laughed again, partly at his joke, and partly at poor humanity. + +‘In course of time, however, the thing got ground, the experiment was +made, and they lighted up Pall Mall. Tom’s uncle went to see it. I’ve +heard that he fell off his ladder fourteen times that night, from +weakness, and that he would certainly have gone on falling till he killed +himself, if his last tumble hadn’t been into a wheelbarrow which was +going his way, and humanely took him home. “I foresee in this,” says +Tom’s uncle faintly, and taking to his bed as he spoke—“I foresee in +this,” he says, “the breaking up of our profession. There’s no more +going the rounds to trim by daylight, no more dribbling down of the oil +on the hats and bonnets of ladies and gentlemen when one feels in +spirits. Any low fellow can light a gas-lamp. And it’s all up.” In +this state of mind, he petitioned the government for—I want a word again, +gentlemen—what do you call that which they give to people when it’s found +out, at last, that they’ve never been of any use, and have been paid too +much for doing nothing?’ + +‘Compensation?’ suggested the vice. + +‘That’s it,’ said the chairman. ‘Compensation. They didn’t give it him, +though, and then he got very fond of his country all at once, and went +about saying that gas was a death-blow to his native land, and that it +was a plot of the radicals to ruin the country and destroy the oil and +cotton trade for ever, and that the whales would go and kill themselves +privately, out of sheer spite and vexation at not being caught. At last +he got right-down cracked; called his tobacco-pipe a gas-pipe; thought +his tears were lamp-oil; and went on with all manner of nonsense of that +sort, till one night he hung himself on a lamp-iron in Saint Martin’s +Lane, and there was an end of _him_. + +‘Tom loved him, gentlemen, but he survived it. He shed a tear over his +grave, got very drunk, spoke a funeral oration that night in the +watch-house, and was fined five shillings for it, in the morning. Some +men are none the worse for this sort of thing. Tom was one of ’em. He +went that very afternoon on a new beat: as clear in his head, and as free +from fever as Father Mathew himself. + +‘Tom’s new beat, gentlemen, was—I can’t exactly say where, for that he’d +never tell; but I know it was in a quiet part of town, where there were +some queer old houses. I have always had it in my head that it must have +been somewhere near Canonbury Tower in Islington, but that’s a matter of +opinion. Wherever it was, he went upon it, with a bran-new ladder, a +white hat, a brown holland jacket and trousers, a blue neck-kerchief, and +a sprig of full-blown double wall-flower in his button-hole. Tom was +always genteel in his appearance, and I have heard from the best judges, +that if he had left his ladder at home that afternoon, you might have +took him for a lord. + +‘He was always merry, was Tom, and such a singer, that if there was any +encouragement for native talent, he’d have been at the opera. He was on +his ladder, lighting his first lamp, and singing to himself in a manner +more easily to be conceived than described, when he hears the clock +strike five, and suddenly sees an old gentleman with a telescope in his +hand, throw up a window and look at him very hard. + +‘Tom didn’t know what could be passing in this old gentleman’s mind. He +thought it likely enough that he might be saying within himself, “Here’s +a new lamplighter—a good-looking young fellow—shall I stand something to +drink?” Thinking this possible, he keeps quite still, pretending to be +very particular about the wick, and looks at the old gentleman sideways, +seeming to take no notice of him. + +‘Gentlemen, he was one of the strangest and most mysterious-looking files +that ever Tom clapped his eyes on. He was dressed all slovenly and +untidy, in a great gown of a kind of bed-furniture pattern, with a cap of +the same on his head; and a long old flapped waistcoat; with no braces, +no strings, very few buttons—in short, with hardly any of those +artificial contrivances that hold society together. Tom knew by these +signs, and by his not being shaved, and by his not being over-clean, and +by a sort of wisdom not quite awake, in his face, that he was a +scientific old gentleman. He often told me that if he could have +conceived the possibility of the whole Royal Society being boiled down +into one man, he should have said the old gentleman’s body was that Body. + +‘The old gentleman claps the telescope to his eye, looks all round, sees +nobody else in sight, stares at Tom again, and cries out very loud: + +‘“Hal-loa!” + +‘“Halloa, Sir,” says Tom from the ladder; “and halloa again, if you come +to that.” + +‘“Here’s an extraordinary fulfilment,” says the old gentleman, “of a +prediction of the planets.” + +‘“Is there?” says Tom. “I’m very glad to hear it.” + +‘“Young man,” says the old gentleman, “you don’t know me.” + +‘“Sir,” says Tom, “I have not that honour; but I shall be happy to drink +your health, notwithstanding.” + +‘“I read,” cries the old gentleman, without taking any notice of this +politeness on Tom’s part—“I read what’s going to happen, in the stars.” + +‘Tom thanked him for the information, and begged to know if anything +particular was going to happen in the stars, in the course of a week or +so; but the old gentleman, correcting him, explained that he read in the +stars what was going to happen on dry land, and that he was acquainted +with all the celestial bodies. + +‘“I hope they’re all well, Sir,” says Tom,—“everybody.” + +‘“Hush!” cries the old gentleman. “I have consulted the book of Fate +with rare and wonderful success. I am versed in the great sciences of +astrology and astronomy. In my house here, I have every description of +apparatus for observing the course and motion of the planets. Six months +ago, I derived from this source, the knowledge that precisely as the +clock struck five this afternoon a stranger would present himself—the +destined husband of my young and lovely niece—in reality of illustrious +and high descent, but whose birth would be enveloped in uncertainty and +mystery. Don’t tell me yours isn’t,” says the old gentleman, who was in +such a hurry to speak that he couldn’t get the words out fast enough, +“for I know better.” + +‘Gentlemen, Tom was so astonished when he heard him say this, that he +could hardly keep his footing on the ladder, and found it necessary to +hold on by the lamp-post. There _was_ a mystery about his birth. His +mother had always admitted it. Tom had never known who was his father, +and some people had gone so far as to say that even _she_ was in doubt. + +‘While he was in this state of amazement, the old gentleman leaves the +window, bursts out of the house-door, shakes the ladder, and Tom, like a +ripe pumpkin, comes sliding down into his arms. + +‘“Let me embrace you,” he says, folding his arms about him, and nearly +lighting up his old bed-furniture gown at Tom’s link. “You’re a man of +noble aspect. Everything combines to prove the accuracy of my +observations. You have had mysterious promptings within you,” he says; +“I know you have had whisperings of greatness, eh?” he says. + +‘“I think I have,” says Tom—Tom was one of those who can persuade +themselves to anything they like—“I’ve often thought I wasn’t the small +beer I was taken for.” + +‘“You were right,” cries the old gentleman, hugging him again. “Come in. +My niece awaits us.” + +‘“Is the young lady tolerable good-looking, Sir?” says Tom, hanging fire +rather, as he thought of her playing the piano, and knowing French, and +being up to all manner of accomplishments. + +‘“She’s beautiful!” cries the old gentleman, who was in such a terrible +bustle that he was all in a perspiration. “She has a graceful carriage, +an exquisite shape, a sweet voice, a countenance beaming with animation +and expression; and the eye,” he says, rubbing his hands, “of a startled +fawn.” + +‘Tom supposed this might mean, what was called among his circle of +acquaintance, “a game eye;” and, with a view to this defect, inquired +whether the young lady had any cash. + +‘“She has five thousand pounds,” cries the old gentleman. “But what of +that? what of that? A word in your ear. I’m in search of the +philosopher’s stone. I have very nearly found it—not quite. It turns +everything to gold; that’s its property.” + +‘Tom naturally thought it must have a deal of property; and said that +when the old gentleman did get it, he hoped he’d be careful to keep it in +the family. + +‘“Certainly,” he says, “of course. Five thousand pounds! What’s five +thousand pounds to us? What’s five million?” he says. “What’s five +thousand million? Money will be nothing to us. We shall never be able +to spend it fast enough.” + +‘“We’ll try what we can do, Sir,” says Tom. + +‘“We will,” says the old gentleman. “Your name?” + +‘“Grig,” says Tom. + +‘The old gentleman embraced him again, very tight; and without speaking +another word, dragged him into the house in such an excited manner, that +it was as much as Tom could do to take his link and ladder with him, and +put them down in the passage. + +‘Gentlemen, if Tom hadn’t been always remarkable for his love of truth, I +think you would still have believed him when he said that all this was +like a dream. There is no better way for a man to find out whether he is +really asleep or awake, than calling for something to eat. If he’s in a +dream, gentlemen, he’ll find something wanting in flavour, depend upon +it. + +‘Tom explained his doubts to the old gentleman, and said that if there +was any cold meat in the house, it would ease his mind very much to test +himself at once. The old gentleman ordered up a venison pie, a small +ham, and a bottle of very old Madeira. At the first mouthful of pie and +the first glass of wine, Tom smacks his lips and cries out, “I’m +awake—wide awake;” and to prove that he was so, gentlemen, he made an end +of ’em both. + +‘When Tom had finished his meal (which he never spoke of afterwards +without tears in his eyes), the old gentleman hugs him again, and says, +“Noble stranger! let us visit my young and lovely niece.” Tom, who was a +little elevated with the wine, replies, “The noble stranger is +agreeable!” At which words the old gentleman took him by the hand, and +led him to the parlour; crying as he opened the door, “Here is Mr. Grig, +the favourite of the planets!” + +‘I will not attempt a description of female beauty, gentlemen, for every +one of us has a model of his own that suits his own taste best. In this +parlour that I’m speaking of, there were two young ladies; and if every +gentleman present, will imagine two models of his own in their places, +and will be kind enough to polish ’em up to the very highest pitch of +perfection, he will then have a faint conception of their uncommon +radiance. + +‘Besides these two young ladies, there was their waiting-woman, that +under any other circumstances Tom would have looked upon as a Venus; and +besides her, there was a tall, thin, dismal-faced young gentleman, half +man and half boy, dressed in a childish suit of clothes very much too +short in the legs and arms; and looking, according to Tom’s comparison, +like one of the wax juveniles from a tailor’s door, grown up and run to +seed. Now, this youngster stamped his foot upon the ground and looked +very fierce at Tom, and Tom looked fierce at him—for to tell the truth, +gentlemen, Tom more than half suspected that when they entered the room +he was kissing one of the young ladies; and for anything Tom knew, you +observe, it might be _his_ young lady—which was not pleasant. + +‘“Sir,” says Tom, “before we proceed any further, will you have the +goodness to inform me who this young Salamander”—Tom called him that for +aggravation, you perceive, gentlemen—“who this young Salamander may be?” + +‘“That, Mr. Grig,” says the old gentleman, “is my little boy. He was +christened Galileo Isaac Newton Flamstead. Don’t mind him. He’s a mere +child.” + +‘“And a very fine child too,” says Tom—still aggravating, you’ll +observe—“of his age, and as good as fine, I have no doubt. How do you +do, my man?” with which kind and patronising expressions, Tom reached up +to pat him on the head, and quoted two lines about little boys, from +Doctor Watts’s Hymns, which he had learnt at a Sunday School. + +‘It was very easy to see, gentlemen, by this youngster’s frowning and by +the waiting-maid’s tossing her head and turning up her nose, and by the +young ladies turning their backs and talking together at the other end of +the room, that nobody but the old gentleman took very kindly to the noble +stranger. Indeed, Tom plainly heard the waiting-woman say of her master, +that so far from being able to read the stars as he pretended, she didn’t +believe he knew his letters in ’em, or at best that he had got further +than words in one syllable; but Tom, not minding this (for he was in +spirits after the Madeira), looks with an agreeable air towards the young +ladies, and, kissing his hand to both, says to the old gentleman, “Which +is which?” + +‘“This,” says the old gentleman, leading out the handsomest, if one of +’em could possibly be said to be handsomer than the other—“this is my +niece, Miss Fanny Barker.” + +‘“If you’ll permit me, Miss,” says Tom, “being a noble stranger and a +favourite of the planets, I will conduct myself as such.” With these +words, he kisses the young lady in a very affable way, turns to the old +gentleman, slaps him on the back, and says, “When’s it to come off, my +buck?” + +‘The young lady coloured so deep, and her lip trembled so much, +gentlemen, that Tom really thought she was going to cry. But she kept +her feelings down, and turning to the old gentleman, says, “Dear uncle, +though you have the absolute disposal of my hand and fortune, and though +you mean well in disposing of ’em thus, I ask you whether you don’t think +this is a mistake? Don’t you think, dear uncle,” she says, “that the +stars must be in error? Is it not possible that the comet may have put +’em out?” + +‘“The stars,” says the old gentleman, “couldn’t make a mistake if they +tried. Emma,” he says to the other young lady. + +‘“Yes, papa,” says she. + +‘“The same day that makes your cousin Mrs. Grig will unite you to the +gifted Mooney. No remonstrance—no tears. Now, Mr. Grig, let me conduct +you to that hallowed ground, that philosophical retreat, where my friend +and partner, the gifted Mooney of whom I have just now spoken, is even +now pursuing those discoveries which shall enrich us with the precious +metal, and make us masters of the world. Come, Mr. Grig,” he says. + +‘“With all my heart, Sir,” replies Tom; “and luck to the gifted Mooney, +say I—not so much on his account as for our worthy selves!” With this +sentiment, Tom kissed his hand to the ladies again, and followed him out; +having the gratification to perceive, as he looked back, that they were +all hanging on by the arms and legs of Galileo Isaac Newton Flamstead, to +prevent him from following the noble stranger, and tearing him to pieces. + +‘Gentlemen, Tom’s father-in-law that was to be, took him by the hand, and +having lighted a little lamp, led him across a paved court-yard at the +back of the house, into a very large, dark, gloomy room: filled with all +manner of bottles, globes, books, telescopes, crocodiles, alligators, and +other scientific instruments of every kind. In the centre of this room +was a stove or furnace, with what Tom called a pot, but which in my +opinion was a crucible, in full boil. In one corner was a sort of ladder +leading through the roof; and up this ladder the old gentleman pointed, +as he said in a whisper: + +‘“The observatory. Mr. Mooney is even now watching for the precise time +at which we are to come into all the riches of the earth. It will be +necessary for he and I, alone in that silent place, to cast your nativity +before the hour arrives. Put the day and minute of your birth on this +piece of paper, and leave the rest to me.” + +‘“You don’t mean to say,” says Tom, doing as he was told and giving him +back the paper, “that I’m to wait here long, do you? It’s a precious +dismal place.” + +‘“Hush!” says the old gentleman. “It’s hallowed ground. Farewell!” + +‘“Stop a minute,” says Tom. “What a hurry you’re in! What’s in that +large bottle yonder?” + +‘“It’s a child with three heads,” says the old gentleman; “and everything +else in proportion.” + +‘“Why don’t you throw him away?” says Tom. “What do you keep such +unpleasant things here for?” + +‘“Throw him away!” cries the old gentleman. “We use him constantly in +astrology. He’s a charm.” + +‘“I shouldn’t have thought it,” says Tom, “from his appearance. _Must_ +you go, I say?” + +‘The old gentleman makes him no answer, but climbs up the ladder in a +greater bustle than ever. Tom looked after his legs till there was +nothing of him left, and then sat down to wait; feeling (so he used to +say) as comfortable as if he was going to be made a freemason, and they +were heating the pokers. + +‘Tom waited so long, gentlemen, that he began to think it must be getting +on for midnight at least, and felt more dismal and lonely than ever he +had done in all his life. He tried every means of whiling away the time, +but it never had seemed to move so slow. First, he took a nearer view of +the child with three heads, and thought what a comfort it must have been +to his parents. Then he looked up a long telescope which was pointed out +of the window, but saw nothing particular, in consequence of the stopper +being on at the other end. Then he came to a skeleton in a glass case, +labelled, “Skeleton of a Gentleman—prepared by Mr. Mooney,”—which made +him hope that Mr. Mooney might not be in the habit of preparing gentlemen +that way without their own consent. A hundred times, at least, he looked +into the pot where they were boiling the philosopher’s stone down to the +proper consistency, and wondered whether it was nearly done. “When it +is,” thinks Tom, “I’ll send out for six-penn’orth of sprats, and turn ’em +into gold fish for a first experiment.” Besides which, he made up his +mind, gentlemen, to have a country-house and a park; and to plant a bit +of it with a double row of gas-lamps a mile long, and go out every night +with a French-polished mahogany ladder, and two servants in livery behind +him, to light ’em for his own pleasure. + +‘At length and at last, the old gentleman’s legs appeared upon the steps +leading through the roof, and he came slowly down: bringing along with +him, the gifted Mooney. This Mooney, gentlemen, was even more scientific +in appearance than his friend; and had, as Tom often declared upon his +word and honour, the dirtiest face we can possibly know of, in this +imperfect state of existence. + +‘Gentlemen, you are all aware that if a scientific man isn’t absent in +his mind, he’s of no good at all. Mr. Mooney was so absent, that when +the old gentleman said to him, “Shake hands with Mr. Grig,” he put out +his leg. “Here’s a mind, Mr. Grig!” cries the old gentleman in a +rapture. “Here’s philosophy! Here’s rumination! Don’t disturb him,” he +says, “for this is amazing!” + +‘Tom had no wish to disturb him, having nothing particular to say; but he +was so uncommonly amazing, that the old gentleman got impatient, and +determined to give him an electric shock to bring him to—“for you must +know, Mr. Grig,” he says, “that we always keep a strongly charged +battery, ready for that purpose.” These means being resorted to, +gentlemen, the gifted Mooney revived with a loud roar, and he no sooner +came to himself than both he and the old gentleman looked at Tom with +compassion, and shed tears abundantly. + +‘“My dear friend,” says the old gentleman to the Gifted, “prepare him.” + +‘“I say,” cries Tom, falling back, “none of that, you know. No preparing +by Mr. Mooney if you please.” + +‘“Alas!” replies the old gentleman, “you don’t understand us. My friend, +inform him of his fate.—I can’t.” + +‘The Gifted mustered up his voice, after many efforts, and informed Tom +that his nativity had been carefully cast, and he would expire at exactly +thirty-five minutes, twenty-seven seconds, and five-sixths of a second +past nine o’clock, a.m., on that day two months. + +‘Gentlemen, I leave you to judge what were Tom’s feelings at this +announcement, on the eve of matrimony and endless riches. “I think,” he +says in a trembling voice, “there must be a mistake in the working of +that sum. Will you do me the favour to cast it up again?”—“There is no +mistake,” replies the old gentleman, “it is confirmed by Francis Moore, +Physician. Here is the prediction for to-morrow two months.” And he +showed him the page, where sure enough were these words—“The decease of a +great person may be looked for, about this time.” + +‘“Which,” says the old gentleman, “is clearly you, Mr. Grig.” + +‘“Too clearly,” cries Tom, sinking into a chair, and giving one hand to +the old gentleman, and one to the Gifted. “The orb of day has set on +Thomas Grig for ever!” + +‘At this affecting remark, the Gifted shed tears again, and the other two +mingled their tears with his, in a kind—if I may use the expression—of +Mooney and Co.’s entire. But the old gentleman recovering first, +observed that this was only a reason for hastening the marriage, in order +that Tom’s distinguished race might be transmitted to posterity; and +requesting the Gifted to console Mr. Grig during his temporary absence, +he withdrew to settle the preliminaries with his niece immediately. + +‘And now, gentlemen, a very extraordinary and remarkable occurrence took +place; for as Tom sat in a melancholy way in one chair, and the Gifted +sat in a melancholy way in another, a couple of doors were thrown +violently open, the two young ladies rushed in, and one knelt down in a +loving attitude at Tom’s feet, and the other at the Gifted’s. So far, +perhaps, as Tom was concerned—as he used to say—you will say there was +nothing strange in this: but you will be of a different opinion when you +understand that Tom’s young lady was kneeling to the Gifted, and the +Gifted’s young lady was kneeling to Tom. + +‘“Halloa! stop a minute!” cries Tom; “here’s a mistake. I need condoling +with by sympathising woman, under my afflicting circumstances; but we’re +out in the figure. Change partners, Mooney.” + +‘“Monster!” cries Tom’s young lady, clinging to the Gifted. + +‘“Miss!” says Tom. “Is _that_ your manners?” + +‘“I abjure thee!” cries Tom’s young lady. “I renounce thee. I never +will be thine. Thou,” she says to the Gifted, “art the object of my +first and all-engrossing passion. Wrapt in thy sublime visions, thou +hast not perceived my love; but, driven to despair, I now shake off the +woman and avow it. Oh, cruel, cruel man!” With which reproach she laid +her head upon the Gifted’s breast, and put her arms about him in the +tenderest manner possible, gentlemen. + +‘“And I,” says the other young lady, in a sort of ecstasy, that made Tom +start—“I hereby abjure my chosen husband too. Hear me, Goblin!”—this was +to the Gifted—“Hear me! I hold thee in the deepest detestation. The +maddening interview of this one night has filled my soul with love—but +not for thee. It is for thee, for thee, young man,” she cries to Tom. +“As Monk Lewis finely observes, Thomas, Thomas, I am thine, Thomas, +Thomas, thou art mine: thine for ever, mine for ever!” with which words, +she became very tender likewise. + +‘Tom and the Gifted, gentlemen, as you may believe, looked at each other +in a very awkward manner, and with thoughts not at all complimentary to +the two young ladies. As to the Gifted, I have heard Tom say often, that +he was certain he was in a fit, and had it inwardly. + +‘“Speak to me! Oh, speak to me!” cries Tom’s young lady to the Gifted. + +‘“I don’t want to speak to anybody,” he says, finding his voice at last, +and trying to push her away. “I think I had better go. I’m—I’m +frightened,” he says, looking about as if he had lost something. + +‘“Not one look of love!” she cries. “Hear me while I declare—” + +‘“I don’t know how to look a look of love,” he says, all in a maze. +“Don’t declare anything. I don’t want to hear anybody.” + +‘“That’s right!” cries the old gentleman (who it seems had been +listening). “That’s right! Don’t hear her. Emma shall marry you +to-morrow, my friend, whether she likes it or not, and _she_ shall marry +Mr. Grig.” + +‘Gentlemen, these words were no sooner out of his mouth than Galileo +Isaac Newton Flamstead (who it seems had been listening too) darts in, +and spinning round and round, like a young giant’s top, cries, “Let her. +Let her. I’m fierce; I’m furious. I give her leave. I’ll never marry +anybody after this—never. It isn’t safe. She is the falsest of the +false,” he cries, tearing his hair and gnashing his teeth; “and I’ll live +and die a bachelor!” + +‘“The little boy,” observed the Gifted gravely, “albeit of tender years, +has spoken wisdom. I have been led to the contemplation of woman-kind, +and will not adventure on the troubled waters of matrimony.” + +‘“What!” says the old gentleman, “not marry my daughter! Won’t you, +Mooney? Not if I make her? Won’t you? Won’t you?” + +‘“No,” says Mooney, “I won’t. And if anybody asks me any more, I’ll run +away, and never come back again.” + +‘“Mr. Grig,” says the old gentleman, “the stars must be obeyed. You have +not changed your mind because of a little girlish folly—eh, Mr. Grig?” + +‘Tom, gentlemen, had had his eyes about him, and was pretty sure that all +this was a device and trick of the waiting-maid, to put him off his +inclination. He had seen her hiding and skipping about the two doors, +and had observed that a very little whispering from her pacified the +Salamander directly. “So,” thinks Tom, “this is a plot—but it won’t +fit.” + +‘“Eh, Mr. Grig?” says the old gentleman. + +‘“Why, Sir,” says Tom, pointing to the crucible, “if the soup’s nearly +ready—” + +‘“Another hour beholds the consummation of our labours,” returned the old +gentleman. + +‘“Very good,” says Tom, with a mournful air. “It’s only for two months, +but I may as well be the richest man in the world even for that time. +I’m not particular, I’ll take her, Sir. I’ll take her.” + +‘The old gentleman was in a rapture to find Tom still in the same mind, +and drawing the young lady towards him by little and little, was joining +their hands by main force, when all of a sudden, gentlemen, the crucible +blows up, with a great crash; everybody screams; the room is filled with +smoke; and Tom, not knowing what may happen next, throws himself into a +Fancy attitude, and says, “Come on, if you’re a man!” without addressing +himself to anybody in particular. + +‘“The labours of fifteen years!” says the old gentleman, clasping his +hands and looking down upon the Gifted, who was saving the pieces, “are +destroyed in an instant!”—And I am told, gentlemen, by-the-bye, that this +same philosopher’s stone would have been discovered a hundred times at +least, to speak within bounds, if it wasn’t for the one unfortunate +circumstance that the apparatus always blows up, when it’s on the very +point of succeeding. + +‘Tom turns pale when he hears the old gentleman expressing himself to +this unpleasant effect, and stammers out that if it’s quite agreeable to +all parties, he would like to know exactly what has happened, and what +change has really taken place in the prospects of that company. + +‘“We have failed for the present, Mr. Grig,” says the old gentleman, +wiping his forehead. “And I regret it the more, because I have in fact +invested my niece’s five thousand pounds in this glorious speculation. +But don’t be cast down,” he says, anxiously—“in another fifteen years, +Mr. Grig—” + +“Oh!” cries Tom, letting the young lady’s hand fall. “Were the stars +very positive about this union, Sir?” + +‘“They were,” says the old gentleman. + +‘“I’m sorry to hear it,” Tom makes answer, “for it’s no go, Sir.” + +‘“No what!” cries the old gentleman. + +‘“Go, Sir,” says Tom, fiercely. “I forbid the banns.” And with these +words—which are the very words he used—he sat himself down in a chair, +and, laying his head upon the table, thought with a secret grief of what +was to come to pass on that day two months. + +‘Tom always said, gentlemen, that that waiting-maid was the artfullest +minx he had ever seen; and he left it in writing in this country when he +went to colonize abroad, that he was certain in his own mind she and the +Salamander had blown up the philosopher’s stone on purpose, and to cut +him out of his property. I believe Tom was in the right, gentlemen; but +whether or no, she comes forward at this point, and says, “May I speak, +Sir?” and the old gentleman answering, “Yes, you may,” she goes on to say +that “the stars are no doubt quite right in every respect, but Tom is not +the man.” And she says, “Don’t you remember, Sir, that when the clock +struck five this afternoon, you gave Master Galileo a rap on the head +with your telescope, and told him to get out of the way?” “Yes, I do,” +says the old gentleman. “Then,” says the waiting-maid, “I say he’s the +man, and the prophecy is fulfilled.” The old gentleman staggers at this, +as if somebody had hit him a blow on the chest, and cries, “He! why he’s +a boy!” Upon that, gentlemen, the Salamander cries out that he’ll be +twenty-one next Lady-day; and complains that his father has always been +so busy with the sun round which the earth revolves, that he has never +taken any notice of the son that revolves round him; and that he hasn’t +had a new suit of clothes since he was fourteen; and that he wasn’t even +taken out of nankeen frocks and trousers till he was quite unpleasant in +’em; and touches on a good many more family matters to the same purpose. +To make short of a long story, gentlemen, they all talk together, and cry +together, and remind the old gentleman that as to the noble family, his +own grandfather would have been lord mayor if he hadn’t died at a dinner +the year before; and they show him by all kinds of arguments that if the +cousins are married, the prediction comes true every way. At last, the +old gentleman being quite convinced, gives in; and joins their hands; and +leaves his daughter to marry anybody she likes; and they are all well +pleased; and the Gifted as well as any of them. + +‘In the middle of this little family party, gentlemen, sits Tom all the +while, as miserable as you like. But, when everything else is arranged, +the old gentleman’s daughter says, that their strange conduct was a +little device of the waiting-maid’s to disgust the lovers he had chosen +for ’em, and will he forgive her? and if he will, perhaps he might even +find her a husband—and when she says that, she looks uncommon hard at +Tom. Then the waiting-maid says that, oh dear! she couldn’t abear Mr. +Grig should think she wanted him to marry her; and that she had even gone +so far as to refuse the last lamplighter, who was now a literary +character (having set up as a bill-sticker); and that she hoped Mr. Grig +would not suppose she was on her last legs by any means, for the baker +was very strong in his attentions at that moment, and as to the butcher, +he was frantic. And I don’t know how much more she might have said, +gentlemen (for, as you know, this kind of young women are rare ones to +talk), if the old gentleman hadn’t cut in suddenly, and asked Tom if he’d +have her, with ten pounds to recompense him for his loss of time and +disappointment, and as a kind of bribe to keep the story secret. + +‘“It don’t much matter, Sir,” says Tom, “I ain’t long for this world. +Eight weeks of marriage, especially with this young woman, might +reconcile me to my fate. I think,” he says, “I could go off easy after +that.” With which he embraces her with a very dismal face, and groans in +a way that might move a heart of stone—even of philosopher’s stone. + +‘“Egad,” says the old gentleman, “that reminds me—this bustle put it out +of my head—there was a figure wrong. He’ll live to a green old +age—eighty-seven at least!” + +‘“How much, Sir?” cries Tom. + +‘“Eighty-seven!” says the old gentleman. + +‘Without another word, Tom flings himself on the old gentleman’s neck; +throws up his hat; cuts a caper; defies the waiting-maid; and refers her +to the butcher. + +‘“You won’t marry her!” says the old gentleman, angrily. + +‘“And live after it!” says Tom. “I’d sooner marry a mermaid with a +small-tooth comb and looking-glass.” + +‘“Then take the consequences,” says the other. + +‘With those words—I beg your kind attention here, gentlemen, for it’s +worth your notice—the old gentleman wetted the forefinger of his right +hand in some of the liquor from the crucible that was spilt on the floor, +and drew a small triangle on Tom’s forehead. The room swam before his +eyes, and he found himself in the watch-house.’ + +‘Found himself _where_?’ cried the vice, on behalf of the company +generally. + +‘In the watch-house,’ said the chairman. ‘It was late at night, and he +found himself in the very watch-house from which he had been let out that +morning.’ + +‘Did he go home?’ asked the vice. + +‘The watch-house people rather objected to that,’ said the chairman; ‘so +he stopped there that night, and went before the magistrate in the +morning. “Why, you’re here again, are you?” says the magistrate, adding +insult to injury; “we’ll trouble you for five shillings more, if you can +conveniently spare the money.” Tom told him he had been enchanted, but +it was of no use. He told the contractors the same, but they wouldn’t +believe him. It was very hard upon him, gentlemen, as he often said, for +was it likely he’d go and invent such a tale? They shook their heads and +told him he’d say anything but his prayers—as indeed he would; there’s no +doubt about that. It was the only imputation on his moral character that +ever _I_ heard of.’ + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAMPLIGHTER*** + + +******* This file should be named 927-0.txt or 927-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/9/2/927 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +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. 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