TheUncommercialTraveller

ByCharlesDickens

THEUNCOMMERCIALTRAVELLER

CHAPTERI—HISGENERALLINEOFBUSINESSAllowmetointroducemyself—firstnegatively.No landlord ismy friend and brother, no chambermaid lovesme, nowaiterworshipsme,nobootsadmiresandenviesme.Noroundofbeefortongueorhamisexpresslycookedforme,nopigeon-pieisespeciallymadeforme,nohotel-advertisementispersonallyaddressedtome,nohotel-roomtapestriedwithgreat-coatsandrailwaywrappersissetapartforme,nohouseofpublicentertainmentintheUnitedKingdomgreatlycaresformyopinionofitsbrandyorsherry.WhenIgouponmyjourneys,Iamnotusuallyratedatalowfigureinthebill;whenIcomehomefrommyjourneys,Inevergetanycommission.Iknownothingaboutprices,andshouldhavenoidea,ifIwereputtoit,howtowheedleamanintoorderingsomethinghedoesn’twant.Asatowntraveller,Iamnevertobeseendrivingavehicleexternallylikeayoungandvolatilepianofortevan,andinternallylikeanoveninwhichanumberofflatboxesarebakinginlayers.Asacountrytraveller,Iamrarelytobefoundinagig,andamnevertobeencounteredbyapleasuretrain,waitingontheplatformofabranchstation,quiteaDruidinthemidstofalightStonehengeofsamples.Andyet—proceedingnow,tointroducemyselfpositively—Iambothatowntraveller and a country traveller, and am always on the road. Figurativelyspeaking, I travel for the great house ofHuman InterestBrothers, and haverather a large connection in the fancy goods way. Literally speaking, I amalwayswanderinghereandtherefrommyroomsinCovent-garden,London—

now about the city streets: now, about the country by-roads—seeing manylittle things, and somegreat things,which,because they interestme, I thinkmayinterestothers.ThesearemychiefcredentialsastheUncommercialTraveller.

CHAPTERII—THESHIPWRECK

NeverhadIseenayeargoingout,orgoingon,underquietercircumstances.Eighteenhundredandfifty-ninehadbutanotherdaytolive,andtrulyitsendwasPeaceonthatsea-shorethatmorning.Sosettledandorderlywaseverythingseaward,inthebrightlightofthesunandunderthetransparentshadowsoftheclouds,thatitwashardtoimaginethebayotherwise,foryearspastortocome,thanitwasthatveryday.TheTug-steamerlyingalittleofftheshore, the Lighter lying still nearer to theshore,theboatalongsidetheLighter,theregularly-turningwindlassaboardtheLighter, themethodical figures atwork, all slowly and regularlyheavingupand down with the breathing of the sea, all seemed as much a part of thenatureoftheplaceasthetideitself.Thetidewasontheflow,andhadbeenforsometwohoursandahalf; therewasaslightobstructionintheseawithinafewyardsofmyfeet:asifthestumpofatree,withearthenoughaboutittokeepitfromlyinghorizontallyonthewater,hadslippedalittlefromtheland—andasIstooduponthebeachandobserveditdimplingthelightswellthatwascomingin,Icastastoneoverit.Soorderly,soquiet,soregular—therisingandfallingoftheTug-steamer,theLighter,andtheboat—theturningofthewindlass—thecominginofthetide—that Imyself seemed, tomy own thinking, anything but new to the spot.Yet,Ihadneverseenitinmylife,aminutebefore,andhadtraversedtwohundredmilestogetatit.ThatverymorningIhadcomebowlingdown,andstrugglingup,hill-countryroads;lookingbackatsnowysummits;meetingcourteouspeasantswelltodo,drivingfatpigsandcattletomarket:notingtheneatandthriftydwellings,withtheirunusualquantityofcleanwhitelinen,dryingonthebushes;havingwindyweathersuggestedbyeverycotter’slittlerick,withitsthatchstraw-ridgedandextrastraw-ridgedintooverlappingcompartmentslikethebackofarhinoceros.HadInotgivenaliftoffourteenmilestotheCoast-guardsman(kitandall),whowascomingtohisspellofdutythere,andhadwenotjustnowpartedcompany?Soitwas;butthejourneyseemedtoglidedownintotheplacidsea,withotherchafeandtrouble,andforthemomentnothingwassocalmlyandmonotonouslyrealunderthesunlightasthegentlerisingandfallingofthewaterwithitsfreight,theregularturningofthewindlassaboardtheLighter,andtheslightobstructionsovery

nearmyfeet.O reader, haply turning this page by the fireside at Home, and hearing thenightwindrumble in thechimney, thatslightobstructionwas theuppermostfragmentof theWreckof theRoyalCharter,Australiantraderandpassengership,Homewardbound,thatstruckhereontheterriblemorningofthetwenty-sixthofthisOctober,brokeintothreeparts,wentdownwithhertreasureofatleastfivehundredhumanlives,andhasneverstirredsince!Fromwhichpoint,orfromwhich,shedroveashore,sternforemost;onwhichside,oronwhich,shepassedthelittleIslandinthebay,forageshenceforthtobeagroundcertainyardsoutsideher;thesearerenderedbootlessquestionsbythedarknessofthatnightandthedarknessofdeath.Hereshewentdown.Even as I stood on the beachwith thewords ‘Here shewent down!’ inmyears, adiver inhisgrotesquedress,dippedheavilyover the sideof theboatalongsidetheLighter,anddroppedtothebottom.Ontheshorebythewater’sedge,wasaroughtent,madeoffragmentsofwreck,whereotherdiversandworkmensheltered themselves,andwhere theyhadkeptChristmas-daywithrumandroastbeef,tothedestructionoftheirfrailchimney.Castupamongthestones and boulders of the beach, were great spars of the lost vessel, andmasses of iron twisted by the fury of the sea into the strangest forms. Thetimberwas already bleached and iron rusted, and even these objects did noviolencetotheprevailingairthewholescenewore,ofhavingbeenexactlythesameforyearsandyears.Yet,onlytwoshortmonthshadgone,sinceaman,livingonthenearesthill-topoverlookingthesea,beingblownoutofbedataboutdaybreakbythewindthathadbeguntostriphisroofoff,andgettinguponaladderwithhisnearestneighbourtoconstructsometemporarydeviceforkeepinghishouseoverhishead,sawfromthe ladder’selevationashe lookeddownbychance towardsthe shore, somedark troubledobject close inwith the land.Andheand theother,descendingtothebeach,andfindingtheseamercilesslybeatingoveragreat broken ship, had clambered up the stonyways, like staircaseswithoutstairs, on which the wild village hangs in little clusters, as fruit hangs onboughs, and had given the alarm.And so, over the hill-slopes, and past thewaterfall, anddown thegullieswhere the landdrainsoff into theocean, thescattered quarrymen and fishermen inhabiting that part ofWales had comerunningtothedismalsight—theirclergymanamongthem.Andastheystoodintheleadenmorning,strickenwithpity,leaninghardagainstthewind,theirbreathandvisionoftenfailingasthesleetandsprayrushedatthemfromtheever forminganddissolvingmountainsofsea,andas thewoolwhichwasapartof thevessel’s cargoblew inwith the salt foamand remainedupon thelandwhenthefoammelted,theysawtheship’slife-boatputofffromoneof

theheapsofwreck;andfirst,therewerethreemeninher,andinamomentshecapsized,andtherewerebuttwo;andagain,shewasstruckbyavastmassofwater,andtherewasbutone;andagain,shewasthrownbottomupward,andthatone,withhisarmstruckthroughthebrokenplanksandwavingasifforthehelpthatcouldneverreachhim,wentdownintothedeep.ItwastheclergymanhimselffromwhomIheardthis,whileIstoodontheshore,lookinginhiskindwholesomefaceasitturnedtothespotwheretheboathadbeen.Thediversweredownthen,andbusy.Theywere‘lifting’to-daythegoldfoundyesterday—somefive-and-twentythousandpounds.Ofthreehundredandfiftythousandpounds’worthofgold,threehundredthousandpounds’worth,inroundnumbers,wasatthattimerecovered.Thegreatbulkoftheremainderwassurelyandsteadilycomingup.Somelossofsovereignstherewouldbe,ofcourse;indeed,atfirstsovereignshaddriftedinwiththesand,andbeenscatteredfarandwideoverthebeach,likesea-shells;butmostothergoldentreasurewouldbefound.Asitwasbroughtup,itwentaboardtheTug-steamer,wheregoodaccountwastakenofit.Sotremendoushadtheforceoftheseabeenwhenitbroketheship,thatithadbeatenonegreatingotofgold,deepintoastrongandheavypieceofhersolidiron-work:inwhich,also,severalloosesovereignsthattheingothadsweptinbeforeit,hadbeenfound,asfirmlyembeddedasthoughtheironhadbeenliquidwhentheywereforcedthere.Ithadbeenremarkedofsuchbodiescomeashore,too,ashadbeenseenbyscientificmen,thattheyhadbeenstunnedtodeath,andnotsuffocated.Observation,bothoftheinternalchangethathadbeenwroughtinthem,andoftheirexternalexpression,showeddeathtohavebeenthusmercifulandeasy.Thereportwasbrought,whileIwasholdingsuchdiscourseonthebeach,thatnomorebodieshadcomeashoresincelastnight.Itbegantobeverydoubtfulwhethermanymorewouldbethrownup,untilthenorth-eastwindsoftheearlyspringsetin.Moreover,agreatnumberofthepassengers,andparticularlythesecond-classwomen-passengers,wereknowntohavebeeninthemiddleoftheshipwhensheparted,andthusthecollapsingwreckwouldhavefallenuponthemafteryawningopen,andwouldkeepthemdown.Adivermadeknown,eventhen,thathehadcomeuponthebodyofaman,andhadsoughttoreleaseitfromagreatsuperincumbentweight;butthat,findinghecouldnotdosowithoutmutilatingtheremains,hehadleftitwhereitwas.Itwas the kind andwholesome face I havemademention of as being thenbesideme,thatIhadpurposedtomyselftosee,whenIlefthomeforWales.Ihadheardofthatclergyman,ashavingburiedmanyscoresoftheshipwreckedpeople;ofhishavingopenedhishouseandhearttotheiragonisedfriends;ofhishavingusedamostsweetandpatientdiligenceforweeksandweeks,intheperformanceof the forlornestoffices thatMancan render tohiskind;ofhis

havingmosttenderlyandthoroughlydevotedhimselftothedead,andtothosewho were sorrowing for the dead. I had said to myself, ‘In the Christmasseasonoftheyear,Ishouldliketoseethatman!’Andhehadswungthegateofhislittlegardenincomingouttomeetme,nothalfanhourago.Socheerfulofspiritandguiltlessofaffectation,astruepracticalChristianityeveris!IreadmoreoftheNewTestamentinthefreshfrankfacegoingupthevillage beside me, in five minutes, than I have read in anathematisingdiscourses (albeitput topresswithenormous flourishingof trumpets), inallmylife.IheardmoreoftheSacredBookinthecordialvoicethathadnothingtosayaboutitsowner,thaninallthewould-becelestialpairsofbellowsthathaveeverblownconceitatme.Weclimbedtowardsthelittlechurch,atacheerypace,amongtheloosestones,thedeepmud,thewetcoarsegrass,theoutlyingwater,andotherobstructionsfromwhichfrostandsnowhadlatelythawed.Itwasamistake(myfriendwasgladtotellme,ontheway)tosupposethatthepeasantryhadshownanysuperstitiousavoidanceofthedrowned;onthewhole,theyhaddoneverywell,andhadassistedreadily.Tenshillingshadbeenpaidforthebringingofeachbodyuptothechurch,butthewaywassteep,andahorseandcart (inwhich itwaswrapped in a sheet)were necessary, and three or fourmen,and,allthingsconsidered,itwasnotagreatprice.Thepeoplewerenonethericherforthewreck,foritwastheseasonoftheherring-shoal—andwhocouldcastnetsforfish,andfinddeadmenandwomeninthedraught?He had the church keys in his hand, and opened the churchyard gate, andopenedthechurchdoor;andwewentin.It is a little church of great antiquity; there is reason to believe that somechurchhasoccupied the spot, these thousandyearsormore.Thepulpitwasgone,andotherthingsusuallybelongingtothechurchweregone,owingtoitslivingcongregationhavingdeserteditfortheneighbouringschool-room,andyieldedituptothedead.TheveryCommandmentshadbeenshoulderedoutoftheirplaces,inthebringinginofthedead;theblackwoodentablesonwhichtheywerepainted,wereaskew,andonthestonepavementbelowthem,andonthestonepavementalloverthechurch,werethemarksandstainswherethedrowned had been laid down. The eye, with little or no aid from theimagination, could yet see how the bodies had been turned, and where thehead had been and where the feet. Some faded traces of the wreck of theAustralianshipmaybediscernibleonthestonepavementofthislittlechurch,hundreds of years hence,when the digging for gold inAustralia shall havelongandlongceasedoutoftheland.Forty-fourshipwreckedmenandwomenlayhereatonetime,awaitingburial.

Here,withweepingandwailingineveryroomofhishouse,mycompanionworkedaloneforhours,solemnlysurroundedbyeyesthatcouldnotseehim,andbylipsthatcouldnotspeaktohim,patientlyexaminingthetatteredclothing,cuttingoffbuttons,hair,marksfromlinen,anythingthatmightleadtosubsequentidentification,studyingfaces,lookingforascar,abentfinger,acrookedtoe,comparingletterssenttohimwiththeruinabouthim.‘Mydearestbrotherhadbrightgreyeyesandapleasantsmile,’onesisterwrote.Opoorsister!well for you to be far from here, and keep that as your lastremembranceofhim!Theladiesoftheclergyman’sfamily,hiswifeandtwosisters-in-law,cameinamongthebodiesoften.Itgrewtobethebusinessoftheirlivestodoso.Anynewarrivalofabereavedwomanwouldstimulatetheirpitytocomparethedescriptionbrought,withthedreadrealities.Sometimes,theywouldgobackabletosay,‘Ihavefoundhim,’or,‘Ithinksheliesthere.’Perhaps, themourner,unabletobearthesightofallthatlayinthechurch,wouldbeledinblindfold.Conductedtothespotwithmanycompassionatewords,andencouragedtolook,shewouldsay,withapiercingcry,‘Thisismyboy!’anddropinsensibleontheinsensiblefigure.Hesoonobservedthatinsomecasesofwomen,theidentificationofpersons,thoughcomplete,wasquiteatvariancewiththemarksuponthelinen;thisledhimtonoticethateventhemarksuponthelinenweresometimesinconsistentwithoneanother;andthushecametounderstandthattheyhaddressedingreathasteandagitation,andthattheirclotheshadbecomemixedtogether.Theidentificationofmenbytheirdress,wasrenderedextremelydifficult,inconsequenceofalargeproportionofthembeingdressedalike—inclothesofonekind,thatistosay,suppliedbyslopsellersandoutfitters,andnotmadebysinglegarmentsbutbyhundreds.Manyofthemenwerebringingoverparrots,andhadreceiptsuponthemforthepriceofthebirds;othershadbillsofexchangeintheirpockets,orinbelts.Someofthesedocuments,carefullyunwrinkledanddried,werelittlelessfreshinappearancethatday,thanthepresentpagewillbeunderordinarycircumstances,afterhavingbeenopenedthreeorfourtimes.Inthatlonelyplace,ithadnotbeeneasytoobtainevensuchcommoncommoditiesintowns,asordinarydisinfectants.Pitchhadbeenburntinthechurch,asthereadiestthingathand,andthefrying-paninwhichithadbubbledoverabrazierofcoalswasstillthere,withitsashes.HardbytheCommunion-Table,weresomebootsthathadbeentakenoffthedrownedandpreserved—agold-digger’sboot,cutdownthelegforitsremoval—atrodden-downman’sankle-bootwithabuffclothtop—andothers—soakedandsandy,weedyandsalt.

Fromthechurch,wepassedoutintothechurchyard.Here,therelay,atthattime,onehundredandforty-fivebodies,thathadcomeashorefromthewreck.Hehadburiedthem,whennotidentified,ingravescontainingfoureach.Hehadnumberedeachbodyinaregisterdescribingit,andhadplacedacorrespondingnumberoneachcoffin,andovereachgrave.Identifiedbodieshehadburiedsingly,inprivategraves,inanotherpartofthechurch-yard.Severalbodieshadbeenexhumedfromthegravesoffour,asrelativeshadcomefromadistanceandseenhisregister;and,whenrecognised,thesehavebeenreburiedinprivategraves,sothatthemournersmighterectseparateheadstonesovertheremains.Inallsuchcaseshehadperformedthefuneralserviceasecondtime,andtheladiesofhishousehadattended.Therehadbeennooffenceinthepoorasheswhentheywerebroughtagaintothelightofday;thebeneficentEarthhadalreadyabsorbedit.Thedrownedwereburiedintheirclothes.Tosupplythegreatsuddendemandforcoffins,hehadgotalltheneighbouringpeoplehandyattools,toworkthelivelongday,andSundaylikewise.Thecoffinswereneatlyformed;—Ihadseentwo,waitingforoccupants,undertheleeoftheruinedwallsofastonehutonthebeach,withincallofthetentwheretheChristmasFeastwasheld.Similarly,oneofthegravesforfourwaslyingopenandready,here,inthechurchyard.Somuchofthescantyspacewasalreadydevotedtothewreckedpeople,thatthevillagershadbeguntoexpressuneasydoubtswhethertheythemselvescouldlieintheirownground,withtheirforefathersanddescendants,by-and-by.Thechurchyardbeingbutastepfromtheclergyman’s dwelling-house,we crossedtothelatter;thewhitesurplicewashangingupnearthedoorreadytobeputonatanytime,forafuneralservice.ThecheerfulearnestnessofthisgoodChristianministerwasasconsolatory,asthecircumstancesoutofwhichitshoneweresad.Ineverhaveseenanythingmore delightfully genuine than the calm dismissal by himself and hishouseholdofall theyhadundergone,asasimpleduty thatwasquietlydoneandended. In speakingof it, they spokeof itwithgreat compassion for thebereaved;butlaidnostressupontheirownhardshareinthosewearyweeks,exceptas ithadattachedmanypeople to themas friends, andelicitedmanytouching expressions of gratitude. This clergyman’s brother—himself theclergymanoftwoadjoiningparishes,whohadburiedthirty-fourofthebodiesinhisownchurchyard,andwhohaddonetothemallthathisbrotherhaddoneastothelargernumber—mustbeunderstoodasincludedinthefamily.Hewasthere, with his neatly arranged papers, and made no more account of histrouble than anybody else did. Down to yesterday’s post outward, myclergymanalonehadwrittenonethousandandseventy-fiveletterstorelativesand friends of the lost people. In the absence of self-assertion, it was onlythroughmynowandthendelicatelyputtingaquestionastheoccasionarose,thatIbecameinformedofthesethings.ItwasonlywhenIhadremarkedagain

andagain,inthechurch,ontheawfulnatureofthesceneofdeathhehadbeenrequiredsoclosely to familiarisehimselfwith for thesoothingof the living,that he had casually said, without the least abatement of his cheerfulness,‘indeed,ithadrenderedhimunableforatimetoeatordrinkmorethanalittlecoffeenowandthen,andapieceofbread.’Inthisnoblemodesty,inthisbeautifulsimplicity,inthissereneavoidanceofthe leastattempt to ‘improve’anoccasionwhichmightbesupposed tohavesunkofitsownweightintomyheart,Iseemedtohavehappilycome,inafewsteps,fromthechurchyardwithitsopengrave,whichwasthetypeofDeath,to the Christian dwelling side by side with it, which was the type ofResurrection.Inevershallthinkoftheformer,withoutthelatter.Thetwowillalwaysrestsidebysideinmymemory.IfIhadlostanyonedeartomeinthisunfortunateship,ifIhadmadeavoyagefromAustraliatolookatthegraveinthe churchyard, I should go away, thankful toGOD that that housewas soclose to it, and that its shadow by day and its domestic lights by night fellupontheearthinwhichitsMasterhadsotenderlylaidmydearone’shead.Thereferencesthatnaturallyaroseoutofourconversation,tothedescriptionssent down of shipwrecked persons, and to the gratitude of relations andfriends,mademevery anxious to see someof those letters. Iwas presentlyseatedbeforeashipwreckofpapers,allborderedwithblack,andfromthemImadethefollowingfewextracts.Amotherwrites:REVERENDSIR.Amongstthemanywhoperishedonyourshorewasnumberedmybelovedson.Iwasonlyjustrecoveringfromasevereillness,andthisfearfulafflictionhascausedarelapse,sothatIamunableatpresenttogotoidentifytheremainsofthelovedandlost.MydarlingsonwouldhavebeensixteenonChristmas-daynext.Hewasamostamiableandobedientchild,earlytaughtthewayofsalvation.WefondlyhopedthatasaBritishseamanhemightbeanornamenttohisprofession,but,‘itiswell;’Ifeelassuredmydearboyisnowwiththeredeemed.Oh,hedidnotwishtogothislastvoyage!OnthefifteenthofOctober,IreceivedaletterfromhimfromMelbourne,dateAugusttwelfth;hewroteinhighspirits,andinconclusionhesays:‘Prayforafairbreeze,dearmamma,andI’llnotforgettowhistleforit!and,Godpermitting, I shall seeyouandallmy littlepetsagain.Good-bye,dearmother—good-bye,dearestparents.Good-bye,dearbrother.’Oh, itwasindeedaneternalfarewell.Idonotapologiseforthuswritingyou,foroh,myheartissoverysorrowful.Ahusbandwrites:

MYDEARKINDSIR.Willyoukindlyinformmewhetherthereareanyinitialsupontheringandguardyouhaveinpossession,found,astheStandardsays,lastTuesday?Believeme,mydearsir,whenIsaythatIcannotexpressmydeepgratitudeinwordssufficientlyforyourkindnesstomeonthatfearfulandappallingday.WillyoutellmewhatIcandoforyou,andwillyouwritemeaconsolinglettertopreventmymindfromgoingastray?Awidowwrites:LeftinsuchastateasIam,myfriendsandIthoughtitbestthatmydearhusbandshouldbeburiedwherehelies,and,muchasIshouldhavelikedtohavehaditotherwise,Imustsubmit.Ifeel,fromallIhaveheardofyou,thatyouwillseeitdonedecentlyandinorder.Littledoesitsignifytous,whenthesoulhasdeparted,wherethispoorbodylies,butwewhoareleftbehindwoulddoallwecantoshowhowwelovedthem.Thisisdeniedme,butitisGod’shandthatafflictsus,andItrytosubmit.SomedayImaybeabletovisitthespot,andseewherehelies,anderectasimplestonetohismemory.Oh!itwillbelong,longbeforeIforgetthatdreadfulnight!Istheresuchathinginthevicinity,oranyshopinBangor,towhichIcouldsendforasmallpictureofMoelfraorLlanallgochurch,aspotnowsacredtome?Anotherwidowwrites:Ihavereceivedyourletterthismorning,anddothankyoumostkindlyfortheinterest you have taken about my dear husband, as well for the sentimentsyours contains, evincing the spirit of a Christian who can sympathise withthosewho,likemyself,arebrokendownwithgrief.MayGodblessandsustainyou,andall inconnectionwithyou,inthisgreattrial. Time may roll on and bear all its sons away, but your name as adisinterestedpersonwillstandinhistory,and,assuccessiveyearspass,manyawidowwillthinkofyournobleconduct,andthetearsofgratitudeflowdownmanyacheek,thetributeofathankfulheart,whenotherthingsareforgottenforever.Afatherwrites:IamatalosstofindwordstosufficientlyexpressmygratitudetoyouforyourkindnesstomysonRicharduponthemelancholyoccasionofhisvisit tohis

dear brother’s body, and also for your ready attention in pronouncing ourbeautiful burial service overmy poor unfortunate son’s remains. God grantthatyourprayersoverhimmayreachtheMercySeat,andthathissoulmaybereceived(throughChrist’sintercession)intoheaven!Hisdearmotherbegsmetoconveytoyouherheartfeltthanks.Thosewhowerereceivedattheclergyman’shouse,writethus,afterleavingit:DEAR AND NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN FRIENDS. I arrived hereyesterdaymorningwithoutaccident,andamabouttoproceedtomyhomebyrailway.IamoverpoweredwhenI thinkofyouandyourhospitablehome.Nowordscouldspeak languagesuited tomyheart. I refrain.Godrewardyouwith thesamemeasureyouhavemetedwith!Ienumeratenonames,butembraceyouall.MYBELOVEDFRIENDS.ThisisthefirstdaythatIhavebeenabletoleavemybedroomsinceIreturned,whichwillexplainthereasonofmynotwritingsooner.If Icouldonlyhavehadmy lastmelancholyhope realised in recovering thebodyofmybelovedandlamentedson,Ishouldhavereturnedhomesomewhatcomforted,andIthinkIcouldthenhavebeencomparativelyresigned.Ifearnowthereisbutlittleprospect,andImournasonewithouthope.The only consolation to my distressed mind is in having been so feelinglyallowedbyyoutoleavethematterinyourhands,bywhomIwellknowthateverythingwillbedonethatcanbe,accordingtoarrangementsmadebeforeIleftthesceneoftheawfulcatastrophe,bothastotheidentificationofmydearson,andalsohisinterment.Ifeelmostanxioustohearwhetheranythingfreshhas transpiredsinceI leftyou;willyouaddanothertothemanydeepobligationsIamundertoyoubywriting to me? And should the body of my dear and unfortunate son beidentified,letmehearfromyouimmediately,andIwillcomeagain.WordscannotexpressthegratitudeIfeelIowetoyouallforyourbenevolentaid,yourkindness,andyoursympathy.

MY DEARLY BELOVED FRIENDS.Iarrivedinsafetyatmyhouseyesterday,andanight’sresthasrestoredandtranquillisedme.Imustagainrepeat,thatlanguagehasnowordsbywhichIcanexpressmysenseofobligationtoyou.Youareenshrinedinmyheartofhearts.Ihaveseenhim!andcannowrealisemymisfortunemorethanIhavehithertobeenabletodo.Oh,thebitternessofthecupIdrink!ButIbowsubmissive.Godmusthavedoneright.Idonotwanttofeelless,buttoacquiescemoresimply.There were some Jewish passengers on board the Royal Charter, and thegratitude of the Jewish people is feelingly expressed in the following letterbearingdatefrom‘theofficeoftheChiefRabbi:’REVERENDSIR.IcannotrefrainfromexpressingtoyoumyheartfeltthanksonbehalfofthoseofmyflockwhoserelativeshaveunfortunatelybeenamongthosewhoperishedatthelatewreckoftheRoyalCharter.Youhave,indeed,likeBoaz,‘notleftoffyourkindnesstothelivingandthedead.’You have not alone acted kindly towards the living by receiving themhospitably at your house, and energetically assisting them in theirmournfulduty, but also towards the dead, by exerting yourself to have our co-religionistsburiedinourground,andaccordingtoourrites.MayourheavenlyFatherrewardyouforyouractsofhumanityandtruephilanthropy!The‘OldHebrewcongregationofLiverpool’thusexpressthemselvesthroughtheirsecretary:REVERENDSIR.Thewardensof thiscongregationhave learnedwithgreatpleasure that, inaddition to those indefatigableexertions,at thesceneof thelatedisastertotheRoyalCharter,whichhavereceiveduniversalrecognition,you have very benevolently employed your valuable efforts to assist suchmembersofour faith ashave sought thebodiesof lost friends togive themburialinourconsecratedgrounds,withtheobservancesandritesprescribedbytheordinancesofourreligion.Thewardens desireme to take the earliest available opportunity to offer toyou, on behalf of our community, the expression of their warmacknowledgments and grateful thanks, and their sincere wishes for yourcontinuedwelfareandprosperity.

AJewishgentlemanwrites:REVERENDANDDEARSIR.Itaketheopportunityofthankingyourightearnestlyforthepromptnessyoudisplayedinansweringmynotewithfullparticularsconcerningmymuchlamentedbrother,andIalsohereinbegtoexpressmysincereregardforthewillingnessyoudisplayedandforthefacilityyouaffordedforgettingtheremainsofmypoorbrotherexhumed.Ithasbeentousamostsorrowfulandpainfulevent,butwhenwemeetwithsuchfriendsasyourself,itinameasure,somehoworother,abatesthatmentalanguish,andmakesthesufferingsomucheasiertobeborne.Consideringthecircumstancesconnectedwithmypoorbrother’sfate,itdoes,indeed,appearahardone.Hehadbeenawayinallsevenyears;hereturnedfouryearsagotoseehisfamily.Hewasthenengagedtoaveryamiableyounglady.Hehadbeenverysuccessfulabroad,andwasnow returning to fulfil his sacredvow;hebrought all his propertywithhim ingolduninsured.Weheard fromhimwhen the ship stopped atQueenstown,whenhewas in thehighest of hope,andinafewshorthoursafterwardsallwaswashedaway.Mournful in the deepest degree, but too sacred for quotation here,were thenumerous references to thoseminiaturesofwomenworn round thenecksofroughmen(andfound thereafterdeath), those locksofhair, thosescrapsofletters,thosemanymanyslightmemorialsofhiddentenderness.Onemancastupbytheseaboreabouthim,printedonaperforatedlacecard,thefollowingsingular(andunavailing)charm:ABLESSING.MaytheblessingofGodawaitthee.Maythesunofgloryshinearoundthybed;andmaythegatesofplenty,honour,andhappinessbeeveropentothee.Maynosorrowdistressthydays;maynogriefdisturbthynights.Maythepillowofpeacekissthycheek,andthepleasuresofimaginationattendthydreams;andwhenlengthofyearsmakestheetiredofearthlyjoys,andthecurtainofdeathgentlyclosesaroundthylastsleepofhumanexistence,maytheAngelofGodattendthybed,andtakecarethattheexpiringlampoflifeshallnotreceiveonerudeblasttohastenonitsextinction.Asailorhadthesedevicesonhisrightarm.‘OurSaviourontheCross,theforeheadoftheCrucifixandthevesturestainedred;onthelowerpartofthearm,amanandwoman;ononesideoftheCross,theappearanceofahalfmoon,withaface;ontheotherside,thesun;onthetopoftheCross,the

lettersI.H.S.;ontheleftarm,amanandwomandancing,withanefforttodelineatethefemale’sdress;underwhich,initials.’Anotherseaman‘had,onthelowerpartoftherightarm,thedeviceofasailorandafemale;themanholdingtheUnionJackwithastreamer,thefoldsofwhichwavedoverherhead,andtheendofitwasheldinherhand.Ontheupperpartofthearm,adeviceofOurLordontheCross,withstarssurroundingtheheadoftheCross,andonelargestaronthesideinIndianInk.On the left arm, a flag, a truelover’sknot,aface,andinitials.’Thistattooingwasfoundstillplain,belowthediscolouredoutersurfaceofamutilatedarm,whensuchsurfacewascarefullyscrapedawaywithaknife.Itisnotimprobablethattheperpetuationofthismarkingcustomamongseamen,maybereferredbacktotheirdesiretobeidentified,ifdrownedandflungashore.ItwassometimebeforeIcouldsevermyselffromthemanyinterestingpapersonthetable,andthenIbrokebreadanddrankwinewiththekindfamilybeforeIleftthem.AsIbroughttheCoast-guarddown,soItookthePostmanback,withhis leathernwallet,walking-stick,bugle, and terrierdog.Manyaheart-broken letter had he brought to theRectoryHousewithin twomonthsmany;abenignantlypainstakinganswerhadhecarriedback.As I rode along, I thought of the many people, inhabitants of this mothercountry,whowouldmakepilgrimagestothelittlechurchyardintheyearstocome;IthoughtofthemanypeopleinAustralia,whowouldhaveaninterestin sucha shipwreck,andwould find theirwayherewhen theyvisit theOldWorld;I thoughtof thewritersofall thewreckof lettersIhadleftuponthetable;andIresolvedtoplacethislittlerecordwhereitstands.Convocations,Conferences,DiocesanEpistles,andthelike,willdoagreatdealforReligion,Idaresay,andHeavensend theymay!but Idoubt if theywilleverdo theirMaster’s service half sowell, in all the time they last, as theHeavens haveseenitdoneinthisbleakspotupontheruggedcoastofWales.HadIlostthefriendofmylife,inthewreckoftheRoyalCharter;hadIlostmybetrothed,themorethanfriendofmylife;hadIlostmymaidendaughter,hadIlostmyhopefulboy,hadIlostmylittlechild;Iwouldkissthehandsthatworkedsobusilyandgently in thechurch,andsay, ‘Nonebettercouldhavetouchedtheform,thoughithadlainathome.’Icouldbesureofit,Icouldbethankfulforit:Icouldbecontenttoleavethegravenearthehousethegoodfamilypassinandoutofeveryday,undisturbed,inthelittlechurchyardwheresomanyaresostrangelybroughttogether.Without the name of the clergyman towhom—Ihope, notwithout carryingcomforttosomeheartatsometime—Ihavereferred,myreferencewouldbeas nothing. He is the Reverend Stephen Roose Hughes, of Llanallgo, nearMoelfra, Anglesey. His brother is the Reverend Hugh Robert Hughes, of

Penrhos,Alligwy.

CHAPTERIII—WAPPINGWORKHOUSEMyday’sno-businessbeckoningmetotheEast-endofLondon,IhadturnedmyfacetothatpointofthemetropolitancompassonleavingCovent-garden,andhadgotpasttheIndiaHouse,thinkinginmyidlemannerofTippoo-Sahiband Charles Lamb, and had got past my little wooden midshipman, afteraffectionatelypattinghimononelegofhisknee-shortsforoldacquaintance’sake, and had got pastAldgate Pump, and had got past the Saracen’sHead(with an ignominious rash of posting bills disfiguring his swarthycountenance),andhadstrolleduptheemptyyardofhisancientneighbourtheBlackorBlueBoar,orBull,whodeparted this life Idon’tknowwhen, andwhosecoachesareallgoneIdon’tknowwhere;andIhadcomeoutagainintotheageofrailways,andIhadgotpastWhitechapelChurch,andwas—ratherinappropriately for an Uncommercial Traveller—in the Commercial Road.Pleasantlywallowing in the abundantmud of that thoroughfare, and greatlyenjoying thehugepilesofbuildingbelonging to the sugar refiners, the littlemastsandvanesinsmallbackgardensinbackstreets,theneighbouringcanalsand docks, the India vans lumbering along their stone tramway, and thepawnbrokers’ shopswherehard-upMateshadpawnedsomanysextantsandquadrants,thatIshouldhaveboughtafewcheapifIhadtheleastnotionhowtousethem,Iatlastbegantofileofftotheright,towardsWapping.NotthatIintendedtotakeboatatWappingOldStairs,orthatIwasgoingtolook at the locality, because I believe (for I don’t) in the constancy of theyoungwomanwhotoldhersea-goinglover,tosuchabeautifuloldtune,thatshehadevercontinuedthesame,sinceshegavehimthe‘baccer-boxmarkedwithhisname;Iamafraidheusuallygottheworstofthosetransactions,andwas frightfully taken in. No, I was going to Wapping, because an Easternpolice magistrate had said, through the morning papers, that there was noclassificationattheWappingworkhouseforwomen,andthatitwasadisgraceandashame,anddiversotherhardnames,andbecauseIwishedtoseehowthe fact really stood.For, that Eastern policemagistrates are not always thewisest men of the East, may be inferred from their course of procedurerespectingthefancy-dressingandpantomime-posturingatSt.George’sinthatquarter: which is usually, to discuss the matter at issue, in a state of mindbetokening the weakest perplexity, with all parties concerned andunconcerned,and,forafinalexpedient,toconsultthecomplainantastowhathe thinks ought to be done with the defendant, and take the defendant’sopinionastowhathewouldrecommendtobedonewithhimself.LongbeforeIreachedWapping,Igavemyselfupashavinglostmyway,and,

abandoningmyselftothenarrowstreetsinaTurkishframeofmind,reliedonpredestination tobringmesomehoworother to theplaceIwanted if Iwereever to get there.When I had ceased for an hour or so to take any troubleaboutthematter,Ifoundmyselfonaswing-bridgelookingdownatsomedarklocks insomedirtywater.Overagainstme, stoodacreature remotely in thelikenessofayoungman,withapuffedsallowface,andafigurealldirtyandshinyandslimy,whomayhavebeentheyoungestsonofhisfilthyoldfather,Thames,orthedrownedmanaboutwhomtherewasaplacardonthegranitepostlikealargethimble,thatstoodbetweenus.Iaskedthisapparitionwhatitcalledtheplace?Untowhich,itreplied,withaghastlygrinandasoundlikegurglingwaterinitsthroat:‘Mr.Baker’strap.’Asitisapointofgreatsensitivenesswithmeonsuchoccasionstobeequaltotheintellectualpressureoftheconversation,Ideeplyconsideredthemeaningof this speech, while I eyed the apparition—then engaged in hugging andsuckingahorizontalironbarat thetopofthelocks.Inspirationsuggested tomethatMr.Bakerwastheactingcoronerofthatneighbourhood.‘Acommonplaceforsuicide,’saidI,lookingdownatthelocks.‘Sue?’returnedtheghost,withastare.‘Yes!AndPoll.LikewiseEmily.AndNancy.AndJane;’hesuckedtheironbetweeneachname;‘andallthebileing.Ketchesofftheirbonnetsorshorls,takesarun,andheadersdownhere,theydoos.Alwaysaheaderin’downhere,theyis.Likeoneo’clock.’‘Andataboutthathourofthemorning,Isuppose?’‘Ah!’saidtheapparition.‘Theyan’tpartickler.Two’ulldoforthem.Three.Alltimeso’night.On’ymindyou!’Heretheapparitionrestedhisprofileonthebar,andgurgledinasarcasticmanner.‘Theremustbesomebodycomin’.Theydon’tgoaheaderin’downhere,wentherean’tno Bobby nor gen’ralCove,furtohearthesplash.’Accordingtomyinterpretationofthesewords,IwasmyselfaGeneralCove,ormemberofthemiscellaneouspublic.InwhichmodestcharacterIremarked:‘Theyareoftentakenout,arethey,andrestored?’‘Idunnoaboutrestored,’saidtheapparition,who,forsomeoccultreason,verymuchobjectedtothatword;‘they’recarriedintothewerkissandputintoa’otbath,andbroughtround.ButIdunnoaboutrestored,’saidtheapparition;‘blowthat!’—andvanished.

Asithadshownadesiretobecomeoffensive,Iwasnotsorrytofindmyselfalone, especially as the ‘werkiss’ it had indicatedwith a twist of itsmattedhead,wascloseathand.SoIleftMr.Baker’sterribletrap(baitedwithascumthatwaslike thesoapyrinsingofsootychimneys),andmadeboldtoringattheworkhousegate,whereIwaswhollyunexpectedandquiteunknown.A very bright and nimble little matron, with a bunch of keys in her hand,respondedtomyrequesttoseetheHouse.Ibegantodoubtwhetherthepolicemagistratewasquiteright inhisfacts,whenInoticedherquick,active littlefigureandherintelligenteyes.The Traveller (the matron intimated) should see the worst first. He waswelcometoseeeverything.Suchasitwas,thereitallwas.Thiswastheonlypreparationforourentering‘theFoulwards.’Theywereinan old building squeezed away in a corner of a paved yard, quite detachedfromthemoremodernandspaciousmainbodyoftheworkhouse.Theywereinabuildingmostmonstrouslybehind the time—amereseriesofgarretsorlofts, with every inconvenient and objectionable circumstance in theirconstruction,andonlyaccessiblebysteepandnarrowstaircases, infamouslyill-adaptedforthepassageup-stairsofthesickordown-stairsofthedead.A-bedinthesemiserablerooms,hereonbedsteads,there(forachange,asIunderstoodit)onthefloor,werewomenineverystageofdistressanddisease.Nonebutthosewhohaveattentivelyobservedsuchscenes,canconceivetheextraordinaryvarietyofexpressionstilllatentunderthegeneralmonotonyanduniformityofcolour,attitude,andcondition.Theformalittlecoiledupandturnedaway,asthoughithadturneditsbackonthisworldforever;theuninterestedfaceatoncelead-colouredandyellow,lookingpassivelyupwardfromthepillow;thehaggardmouthalittledropped,thehandoutsidethecoverlet,sodullandindifferent,solight,andyetsoheavy;thesewereoneverypallet;butwhenIstoppedbesideabed,andsaideversoslightawordtothefigurelyingthere,theghostoftheoldcharactercameintotheface,andmadetheFoulwardasvariousasthefairworld.Nooneappearedtocaretolive,butnoonecomplained;allwhocouldspeak,saidthatasmuchwasdoneforthemascouldbedonethere,thattheattendancewaskindandpatient,thattheirsufferingwasveryheavy,buttheyhadnothingtoaskfor.Thewretchedroomswereascleanandsweetasitispossibleforsuchroomstobe;theywouldbecomeapest-houseinasingleweek,iftheywereill-kept.I accompanied thebriskmatronupanotherbarbarous staircase, intoabetterkindofloftdevotedtotheidioticandimbecile.TherewasatleastLightinit,whereasthewindowsintheformerwardshadbeenlikesidesofschool-boys’bird-cages.Therewasastronggratingoverthefirehere,and,holdingakind

ofstateoneithersideof thehearth,separatedby thebreadthof thisgrating,weretwooldladiesinaconditionoffeebledignity,whichwassurelytheverylast and lowest reductionof self-complacency tobe found in thiswonderfulhumanityofours.Theywereevidentlyjealousofeachother,andpassedtheirwhole time (as some people do, whose fires are not grated) in mentallydisparagingeachother,andcontemptuouslywatchingtheirneighbours.Oneofthese parodies on provincial gentlewomen was extremely talkative, andexpressed a strong desire to attend the service on Sundays, fromwhich sherepresentedherselftohavederivedthegreatestinterestandconsolationwhenallowedthatprivilege.Shegossipedsowell,andlookedaltogethersocheeryandharmless,thatIbegantothinkthisacasefortheEasternmagistrate,untilI found that on the last occasion of her attending chapel she had secreted asmall stick, and had caused some confusion in the responses by suddenlyproducingitandbelabouringthecongregation.So,thesetwooldladies,separatedbythebreadthofthegrating—otherwisetheywouldflyatoneanother’scaps—satalldaylong,suspectingoneanother,andcontemplatingaworldoffits.Foreverybodyelseintheroomhadfits,exceptthewards-woman;anelderly,able-bodiedpauperess,withalargeupperlip,andanairofrepressingandsavingherstrength,asshestoodwithherhandsfoldedbeforeher,andhereyesslowlyrolling,bidinghertimeforcatchingorholdingsomebody.Thiscivilpersonage(inwhomIregrettedtoidentifyareducedmemberofmyhonourablefriendMrs.Gamp’sfamily)said,‘Theyhas’emcontiniwal,sir.Theydropswithoutnomorenoticethaniftheywascoach-horsesdroppedfromthemoon,sir.Andwhenonedrops,anotherdrops,andsometimesthere’llbeasmanyasfourorfiveon’ematonce,dearme,arollingandatearin’,blessyou!—thisyoungwoman,now,has’emdreadfulbad.’She turned up this young woman’s face with her hand as she said it. Thisyoung woman was seated on the floor, pondering in the foreground of theafflicted. There was nothing repellent either in her face or head. Many,apparentlyworse, varieties of epilepsy and hysteriawere about her, but shewassaidtobetheworsthere.WhenIhadspokentohera little,shestillsatwithherfaceturnedup,pondering,andagleamofthemid-daysunshoneinuponher.-Whetherthisyoungwoman,andtherestofthesesosorelytroubled,astheysitorlieponderingintheirconfuseddullway,evergetmentalglimpsesamongthemotesinthesunlight,ofhealthypeopleandhealthythings?Whetherthisyoungwoman,broodinglikethisinthesummerseason,everthinksthatsomewheretherearetreesandflowers,evenmountainsandthegreatsea?Whether,nottogosofar,thisyoungwomaneverhasanydim

revelationofthatyoungwoman—thatyoungwomanwhoisnothereandneverwillcomehere;whoiscourted,andcaressed,andloved,andhasahusband,andbearschildren,andlivesinahome,andwhoneverknowswhatitistohavethislashingandtearingcominguponher?Andwhetherthisyoungwoman,Godhelpher,givesherselfupthenanddropslikeacoach-horsefromthemoon?Ihardlyknewwhetherthevoicesofinfantchildren,penetratingintosohopelessaplace,madeasoundthatwaspleasantorpainfultome.Itwassomethingtoberemindedthatthewearyworldwasnotallaweary,andwaseverrenewingitself;but,thisyoungwomanwasachildnotlongago,andachildnotlonghencemightbesuchasshe.Howbeit,theactivestepandeyeofthevigilantmatronconductedmepastthetwoprovincialgentlewomen(whosedignitywasruffledbythechildren),andintotheadjacentnursery.Thereweremanybabieshere,andmorethanonehandsomeyoungmother.Therewereuglyyoungmothersalso,andsullenyoungmothers,andcallousyoungmothers.But,thebabieshadnotappropriatedtothemselvesanybadexpressionyet,andmighthavebeen,foranythingthatappearedtothecontraryintheirsoftfaces,PrincesImperial,andPrincesses Royal. I had thepleasureofgivingapoeticalcommission to thebaker’sman tomakeacakewithalldespatchand toss it into theoven forone red-headedyoungpauperandmyself,andfeltmuchthebetterforit.Withoutthatrefreshment,IdoubtifI should have been in a condition for ‘theRefractories,’ towardswhommyquick little matron—for whose adaptation to her office I had by this timeconceivedagenuinerespect—drewmenext,andmarshalledmethewaythatIwasgoing.TheRefractorieswerepickingoakum,inasmallroomgivingonayard.Theysatinlineonaform,withtheirbackstoawindow;beforethem,atable,andtheirwork.TheoldestRefractorywas, say twenty; youngestRefractory, saysixteen.Ihaveneveryetascertainedinthecourseofmyuncommercialtravels,whyaRefractoryhabitshouldaffectthetonsilsanduvula;but,Ihavealwaysobserved thatRefractoriesofbothsexesandeverygrade,betweenaRaggedSchoolandtheOldBailey,haveonevoice,inwhichthetonsilsanduvulagainadiseasedascendency.‘Fivepoundindeed!Ihain’tagoingfurtopickfivepound,’saidtheChiefoftheRefractories,keeping time toherselfwithherheadandchin. ‘More thanenoughtopickwhatwepicksnow,insichaplaceasthis,andonwotwegetshere!’(Thiswasinacknowledgmentofadelicateintimationthattheamountofworkwaslikelytobeincreased.Itcertainlywasnotheavythen,foroneRefractory

hadalreadydoneherday’stask—itwasbarelytwoo’clock—andwassittingbehindit,withaheadexactlymatchingit.)‘A pretty Ouse this is, matron, ain’t it?’ said Refractory Two, ‘where apleeseman’scalledin,ifagalsaysaword!’‘Andwenyou’resenttoprisonfornothinkorless!’saidtheChief,tuggingatheroakumas if itwere thematron’shair. ‘But anyplace isbetter than this;that’sonething,andbethankful!’A laugh of Refractories led by Oakum Head with folded arms—whooriginatednothing, butwhowas in commandof the skirmishers outside theconversation.‘Ifanyplaceisbetterthanthis,’saidmybriskguide,inthecalmestmanner,‘itisapityyouleftagoodplacewhenyouhadone.’‘Ho,no,Ididn’t,matron,’returnedtheChief,withanotherpullatheroakum,andaveryexpressivelookat theenemy’sforehead.‘Don’tsay that,matron,cosit’slies!’OakumHeadbroughtuptheskirmishersagain,skirmished,andretired.‘AndIwarn’tagoing,’exclaimedRefractoryTwo,‘thoughIwasinoneplaceforaslongasfouryear—Iwarn’tagoingfurtostopinaplacethatwarn’tfitfor me—there! And where the family warn’t ’spectable characters—there!AndwhereIfortunatelyorhunfort’nately,foundthatthepeoplewarn’twhattheypretendedtomaketheirselvesouttobe—there!Andwhereitwasn’ttheirfaults,bychalks,ifIwarn’tmadebadandruinated—Hah!’During this speech, Oakum Head had again made a diversion with theskirmishers,andhadagainwithdrawn.The Uncommercial Traveller ventured to remark that he supposed ChiefRefractoryandNumberOne,tobethetwoyoungwomenwhohadbeentakenbeforethemagistrate?‘Yes!’saidtheChief,‘wehar!andthewonderis,thatapleesemanan’t’adinnow,andwetookoffagen.Youcan’topenyourlipshere,withoutapleeseman.’NumberTwolaughed(veryuvularly),andtheskirmishersfollowedsuit.‘I’m sure I’d be thankful,’ protested the Chief, looking sideways at theUncommercial,‘ifIcouldbegotintoaplace,orgotabroad.I’msickandtiredofthispreciousOuse,Iam,withreason.’

Sowould be, and sowas,Number Two. Sowould be, and sowas,OakumHead.Sowouldbe,andsowere,Skirmishers.The Uncommercial took the liberty of hinting that he hardly thought itprobable that any lady or gentleman inwant of a likely young domestic ofretiringmanners,wouldbetemptedintotheengagementofeitherofthetwoleadingRefractories,onherownpresentationofherselfaspersample.‘Itain’tnogoodbeingnothinkelsehere,’saidtheChief.TheUncommercialthoughtitmightbeworthtrying.‘Ohnoitain’t,’saidtheChief.‘Notabitofgood,’saidNumberTwo.‘AndI’msureI’dbeverythankfultobegotintoaplace,orgotabroad,’saidtheChief.‘AndsoshouldI,’saidNumberTwo.‘Trulythankful,Ishould.’OakumHeadthenrose,andannouncedasanentirelynewidea,thementionofwhichprofoundnoveltymightbenaturallyexpectedtostartleherunpreparedhearers,thatshewouldbeverythankfultobegotintoaplace,orgotabroad.And,asifshehadthensaid,‘Chorus,ladies!’alltheSkirmishersstruckuptothesamepurpose.Weleftthem,thereupon,andbeganalongwalkamongthewomenwhoweresimplyoldand infirm;butwhenever, in thecourseof thissamewalk,Ilookedoutofanyhighwindowthatcommandedtheyard,IsawOakumHeadandall theotherRefractories lookingoutat their lowwindowforme,andneverfailingtocatchme,themomentIshowedmyhead.IntenminutesIhadceasedtobelieveinsuchfablesofagoldentimeasyouth,theprimeoflife,orahaleoldage.Intenminutes,allthelightsofwomankindseemedtohavebeenblownout,andnothinginthatwaytobeleftthisvaulttobragof,buttheflickeringandexpiringsnuffs.Andwhatwasverycurious,was,thatthesedimoldwomenhadonecompanynotionwhichwasthefashionoftheplace.Everyoldwomanwhobecameawareofavisitorandwasnotinbedhobbledoveraformintoheraccustomedseat,andbecameoneofalineofdimoldwomenconfrontinganotherlineofdimoldwomenacrossanarrowtable.Therewasnoobligationwhateveruponthemtorangethemselvesinthisway;itwastheirmannerof‘receiving.’Asarule,theymadenoattempttotalktooneanother,ortolookatthevisitor,ortolookatanything,butsatsilentlyworkingtheirmouths,likeasortofpooroldCows.Insomeofthesewards,itwasgoodtoseeafewgreenplants;in

others,anisolatedRefractoryactingasnurse,whodidwellenoughinthatcapacity,whenseparatedfromhercompeers;everyoneofthesewards,dayroom,nightroom,orbothcombined,wasscrupulouslycleanandfresh.Ihaveseenasmanysuchplacesasmosttravellersinmyline,andIneversawonesuch,betterkept.Among the bedridden therewas great patience, great reliance on the booksunderthepillow,greatfaithinGOD.Allcaredforsympathy,butnonemuchcaredtobeencouragedwithhopeofrecovery;onthewhole,Ishouldsay, itwasconsideredratheradistinctiontohaveacomplicationofdisorders,andtobeinaworsewaythantherest.Fromsomeofthewindows,therivercouldbeseenwithall its lifeandmovement; thedaywasbright,but Icameuponnoonewhowaslookingout.Inonelargeward,sittingbythefireinarm-chairsofdistinction,likethePresidentandViceofthegoodcompany,weretwooldwomen,upwardsofninetyyearsofage.Theyoungerofthetwo,justturnedninety,wasdeaf,butnotvery,andcouldeasilybemadetohear.Inherearlytimeshehadnursedachild,whowasnowanotheroldwoman,moreinfirmthanherself,inhabitingtheverysamechamber.Sheperfectlyunderstoodthiswhenthematrontoldit,and,withsundrynodsandmotionsofherforefinger,pointedoutthewomaninquestion. The elder of this pair, ninety-three, seated before an illustratednewspaper (but not reading it), was a bright-eyed old soul, really not deaf,wonderfully preserved, and amazingly conversational. She had not long lostherhusband,andhadbeeninthatplacelittlemorethanayear.AtBoston,inthe State ofMassachusetts, this poor creaturewould have been individuallyaddressed,wouldhavebeentendedinherownroom,andwouldhavehadherlifegentlyassimilatedtoacomfortablelifeoutofdoors.WouldthatbemuchtodoinEnglandforawomanwhohaskeptherselfoutofaworkhousemorethan ninety rough long years? When Britain first, at Heaven’s command,arose,withagreatdealofallegoricalconfusion,fromouttheazuremain,didherguardianangelspositivelyforbiditintheCharterwhichhasbeensomuchbesung?Theobjectofmyjourneywasaccomplishedwhenthenimblematronhadnomore to showme. As I shook hands with her at the gate, I told her that Ithoughtjusticehadnotusedherverywell,andthatthewisemenoftheEastwerenotinfallible.Now,Ireasonedwithmyself,asImademyjourneyhomeagain,concerningthoseFoulwards.Theyoughtnottoexist;nopersonofcommondecencyandhumanity can see them and doubt it. But what is this Union to do? Thenecessaryalterationwouldcostseveralthousandsofpounds;ithasalreadytosupport threeworkhouses; its inhabitantsworkhard for theirbare lives, and

arealreadyratedforthereliefofthePoortotheutmostextentofreasonableendurance.OnepoorparishinthisveryUnionisratedtotheamountofFIVEANDSIXPENCEinthepound,attheverysametimewhentherichparishofSaint George’s, Hanover-square, is rated at about SEVENPENCE in thepound, Paddington at about FOURPENCE, Saint James’s, Westminster, ataboutTENPENCE!ItisonlythroughtheequalisationofPoorRatesthatwhatis leftundonein thiswise,canbedone.Muchmore is leftundone,or is ill-done, than I have space to suggest in these notes of a single uncommercialjourney;but,thewisemenoftheEast,beforetheycanreasonablyholdforthabout it, must look to the North and South and West; let them also, anymorningbeforetakingtheseatofSolomon,lookintotheshopsanddwellingsall around the Temple, and first ask themselves ‘howmuchmore can thesepoorpeople—manyofwhomkeep themselveswithdifficultyenoughoutoftheworkhouse—bear?’IhadyetothermatterforreflectionasIjourneyedhome,inasmuchas,beforeIaltogetherdepartedfromtheneighbourhoodofMr.Baker’strap,IhadknockedatthegateoftheworkhouseofSt.George’s-in-the-East,andhadfoundittobeanestablishmenthighlycreditabletothoseparts,andthoroughlywelladministeredbyamostintelligentmaster.Iremarkedinit,aninstanceofthecollateralharmthatobstinatevanityandfollycando.‘ThiswastheHallwherethoseoldpaupers,maleandfemale,whomIhadjustseen,metfortheChurch service, was it?’—‘Yes.’—‘Did they sing the Psalms to anyinstrument?’—‘They would like to, very much; they would have anextraordinary interest in doing so.’—‘And could none be got?’—‘Well, apianocouldevenhavebeengotfornothing,buttheseunfortunatedissensions—’Ah!better,farbetter,myChristianfriendinthebeautifulgarment,tohaveletthesingingboysalone,andleftthemultitudetosingforthemselves!YoushouldknowbetterthanI,butIthinkIhavereadthattheydidso,onceuponatime,andthat‘whentheyhadsungan hymn,’ Some one (not in a beautifulgarment)wentupintotheMountofOlives.Itmademyheartachetothinkofthismiserabletrifling,inthestreetsofacitywhere every stone seemed to call tome, as Iwalked along, ‘Turn thisway,man,andseewhatwaitstobedone!’SoIdecoyedmyselfintoanothertrainofthoughttoeasemyheart.But,Idon’tknowthatIdid it, forIwassofullofpaupers, that it was, after all, only a change to a single pauper, who tookpossessionofmyremembranceinsteadofathousand.‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ he had said, in a confidential manner, on anotheroccasion,takingmeaside;‘butIhaveseenbetterdays.’‘Iamverysorrytohearit.’

‘Sir,Ihaveacomplainttomakeagainstthemaster.’‘Ihavenopowerhere,Iassureyou.AndifIhad—’‘But,allowme,sir,tomentionit,asbetweenyourselfandamanwhohasseenbetterdays,sir.Themasterandmyself arebothmasons, sir, and Imakehimthe sign continually; but, because I am in this unfortunate position, sir, hewon’tgivemethecounter-sign!’

CHAPTERIV—TWOVIEWSOFACHEAPTHEATREAsIshutthedoorofmylodgingbehindme,andcameoutintothestreetsatsixonadrizzlingSaturdayeveninginthelastpastmonthofJanuary,allthatneighbourhoodofCovent-gardenlookedverydesolate.Itissoessentiallyaneighbourhoodwhichhasseenbetterdays,thatbadweatheraffectsitsoonerthananotherplacewhichhasnotcomedownintheWorld.InitspresentreducedconditionitbearsathawalmostworsethananyplaceIknow.Itgetssodreadfullylow-spiritedwhendampbreaksforth.ThosewonderfulhousesaboutDrury-laneTheatre,whichinthepalmydaysoftheatreswereprosperousandlong-settledplacesofbusiness,andwhichnowchangehandseveryweek,butneverchangetheircharacterofbeingdividedandsub-dividedon theground floor intomouldydensof shopswhere anorangeandhalf-a-dozennuts,or apomatum-pot,onecakeof fancy soap, andacigarbox, areofferedforsaleandneversold,weremostruefullycontemplatedthatevening,bythestatueofShakespeare,withtherain-dropscoursingoneanotherdownitsinnocentnose.Thoseinscrutablepigeon-holeoffices,withnothinginthem(not so much as an inkstand) but a model of a theatre before the curtain,where,intheItalianOperaseason,ticketsatreducedpricesarekeptonsalebynomadicgentlemeninsmearyhats too tall for them,whomoneoccasionallyseems to have seen on race-courses, not wholly unconnected with strips ofcloth of various colours and a rolling ball—those Bedouin establishments,desertedbythetribe,andtenantless,exceptwhenshelteringinonecorneranirregularrowofginger-beerbottles,whichwouldhavemadeoneshudderonsuchanight,butforitsbeingplainthattheyhadnothinginthem,shrunkfromtheshrillcriesofthenews-boysattheirExchangeinthekennelofCatherine-street, like guilty thingsupon a fearful summons.At the pipe-shop inGreatRussell-street, the Death’s-head pipes were like theatrical memento mori,admonishing beholders of the decline of the playhouse as an Institution. Iwalked upBow-street, disposed to be angrywith the shops there, thatwerelettingouttheatricalsecretsbyexhibitingtowork-a-dayhumanitythestuffofwhichdiademsandrobesofkingsaremade.Inoticedthatsomeshopswhichhad once been in the dramatic line, and had struggled out of it, were notgettingonprosperously—likesomeactorsIhaveknown,whotooktobusiness

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 FOUNDDEAD on the black board at the police station might have announced thedeceaseoftheDrama,andthepoolsofwateroutsidethefire-enginemaker’satthecornerofLong-acremighthavebeenoccasionedbyhishavingbroughtoutthewholeofhisstocktoplayuponitslastsmoulderingashes.Andyet,onsuchanightinsodegenerateatime,theobjectofmyjourneywastheatrical.AndyetwithinhalfanhourIwasinanimmensetheatre,capableofholdingnearlyfivethousandpeople.WhatTheatre?HerMajesty’s?Farbetter.Royal Italian Opera?Far better.Infinitelysuperior to the latter forhearing in; infinitelysuperior toboth, forseeing in.Toeverypart of thisTheatre, spacious fire-proofwaysof ingressandegress.Foreverypartofit,convenientplacesofrefreshmentandretiringrooms.Everythingtoeatanddrinkcarefullysupervisedastoquality,andsoldatanappointedprice;respectablefemaleattendantsreadyforthecommonestwomenintheaudience;ageneralairofconsideration,decorum,andsupervision,mostcommendable;anunquestionablyhumanisinginfluenceinallthesocialarrangementsoftheplace.Surely a dearTheatre, then?Because there were in London (not very longago) Theatres with entrance-prices up to half-a-guinea a head, whosearrangements were not half so civilised.Surely, therefore, a dear Theatre?Notverydear.Agalleryatthree-pence,anothergalleryatfourpence,apitatsixpence,boxesandpit-stallsatashilling,andafewprivateboxesathalf-a-crown.Myuncommercial curiosity inducedme to go into every nook of this greatplace,andamongeveryclassoftheaudienceassembledinit—amountingthatevening, as I calculated, to about two thousand and odd hundreds.Magnificently lighted by a firmament of sparkling chandeliers, the buildingwas ventilated to perfection.My sense of smell, without being particularlydelicate, has been so offended in some of the commoner places of publicresort, that I have often been obliged to leave them when I have made anuncommercialjourneyexpresslytolookon.TheairofthisTheatrewasfresh,cool,andwholesome.Tohelptowardsthisend,verysensibleprecautionshadbeen used, ingeniously combining the experience of hospitals and railwaystations.Asphaltpavementssubstituted forwooden floors,honestbarewallsofglazedbrickandtile—evenatthebackoftheboxes—forplasterandpaper,nobenchesstuffed,andnocarpetingorbaizeused;acoolmaterialwithalightglazedsurface,beingthecoveringoftheseats.Thesevariouscontrivancesareaswellconsideredintheplaceinquestionasif

itwereaFeverHospital;theresultis,thatitissweetandhealthful.Ithasbeenconstructedfromthegroundtotheroof,withacarefulreferencetosightandsound in every corner; the result is, that its form is beautiful, and that theappearanceoftheaudience,asseenfromtheproscenium—witheveryfaceinitcommandingthestage,andthewholesoadmirablyrakedandturnedtothatcentre, that a hand can scarcely move in the great assemblage without themovement being seen from thence—is highly remarkable in its union ofvastness with compactness. The stage itself, and all its appurtenances ofmachinery,cellarage,heightandbreadth,areonascalemoreliketheScalaatMilan,ortheSanCarloatNaples,ortheGrandOperaatParis,thananynotionastrangerwouldbelikelytoformoftheBritanniaTheatreatHoxton,amilenorthofSt.Luke’sHospitalintheOld-street-road,London.TheFortyThievesmight be played here, and every thief ride his real horse, and the disguisedcaptainbringinhisoiljarsonatrainofrealcamels,andnobodybeputoutofthe way. This really extraordinary place is the achievement of one man’senterprise,andwaserectedontheruinsofaninconvenientoldbuildinginlessthan five months, at a round cost of five-and-twenty thousand pounds. Todismissthispartofmysubject,andstilltorendertotheproprietorthecreditthatisstrictlyhisdue,Imustaddthathissenseoftheresponsibilityuponhimto make the best of his audience, and to do his best for them, is a highlyagreeablesignofthesetimes.Asthespectatorsatthistheatre,forareasonIwillpresentlyshow,weretheobjectofmyjourney,Ienteredontheplayofthenightasoneofthetwothousandandoddhundreds,bylookingaboutmeatmyneighbours.Wewereamotleyassemblageofpeople,andwehadagoodmanyboysandyoungmenamongus;wehadalsomanygirlsandyoungwomen.Torepresent,however,thatwedidnotincludeaverygreatnumber,andaveryfairproportionoffamilygroups,wouldbetomakeagrossmis-statement.Suchgroupsweretobeseeninallpartsofthehouse;intheboxesandstallsparticularly,theywerecomposedofpersonsofverydecentappearance,whohadmanychildrenwiththem.Amongourdressesthereweremostkindsofshabbyandgreasywear,andmuchfustianandcorduroythatwasneithersoundnorfragrant.Thecapsofouryoungmenweremostlyofalimpcharacter,andwewhoworethem,slouched,high-shouldered,intoourplaceswithourhandsinourpockets,andoccasionallytwistedourcravatsaboutourneckslikeeels,andoccasionallytiedthemdownourbreastslikelinksofsausages,andoccasionallyhadascrewinourhairovereachcheek-bonewithaslightThief-flavourinit.Besidesprowlersandidlers,weweremechanics,dock-labourers,costermongers,pettytradesmen,smallclerks,milliners,stay-makers,shoe-binders,slop-workers,poorworkersinahundredhighwaysandbyways.Manyofus—onthewhole,themajority—werenotatallclean,andnotatallchoiceinourlivesorconversation.Butwehadallcometogetherinaplace

whereourconveniencewaswellconsulted,andwherewewerewelllookedafter,toenjoyanevening’sentertainmentincommon.Wewerenotgoingtoloseanypartofwhatwehadpaidforthroughanybody’scaprice,andasacommunitywehadacharactertolose.So,wewerecloselyattentive,andkeptexcellentorder;andletthemanorboywhodidotherwiseinstantlygetoutfromthisplace,orwewouldputhimoutwiththegreatestexpedition.Webeganathalf-pastsixwithapantomime—withapantomimesolong,thatbeforeitwasoverIfeltasifIhadbeentravellingforsixweeks—goingtoIndia,say,bytheOverlandMail.TheSpiritofLibertywastheprincipalpersonageintheIntroduction,andtheFourQuartersoftheWorldcameoutoftheglobe,glittering,anddiscoursedwiththeSpirit,whosangcharmingly.Weweredelightedtounderstandthattherewasnolibertyanywherebutamongourselves,andwehighlyapplaudedtheagreeablefact.Inanallegoricalway,whichdidaswellasanyotherway,weandtheSpiritofLibertygotintoakingdomofNeedlesandPins,andfoundthematwarwithapotentatewhocalledintohisaidtheiroldarchenemyRust,andwhowouldhavegotthebetterofthemiftheSpiritofLibertyhadnotinthenickoftimetransformedtheleadersintoClown,Pantaloon,Harlequin,Columbine,Harlequina,andawholefamilyofSprites,consistingofaremarkablystoutfatherandthreespinelesssons.WeallknewwhatwascomingwhentheSpiritofLibertyaddressedthekingwithabigface,andHisMajestybackedtotheside-scenesandbeganuntyinghimselfbehind,withhisbigfaceallononeside.Ourexcitementatthatcrisiswasgreat,andourdelightunbounded.Afterthiserainourexistence,wewentthroughalltheincidentsofapantomime;itwasnotbyanymeansasavagepantomime,inthewayofburningorboilingpeople,orthrowingthemoutofwindow,orcuttingthemup;wasoftenverydroll;wasalwaysliberallygotup,andcleverlypresented.Inoticedthatthepeoplewhokepttheshops,andwhorepresentedthepassengersinthethoroughfares,andsoforth,hadnoconventionalityinthem,butwereunusuallyliketherealthing—from which I infer that you may take that audience in (if you wish to)concerningKnightsandLadies,Fairies,Angels,orsuchlike,buttheyarenottobedoneastoanythinginthestreets.Inoticed,also,thatwhentwoyoungmen,dressedinexactimitationoftheeel-and-sausage-cravatedportionoftheaudience, were chased by policemen, and, finding themselves in danger ofbeingcaught,droppedsosuddenlyastoobligethepolicementotumbleoverthem,therewasgreatrejoicingamongthecaps—asthoughitwereadelicatereferencetosomethingtheyhadheardofbefore.ThePantomimewassucceededbyaMelo-Drama.Throughout theeveningIwas pleased to observe Virtue quite as triumphant as she usually is out ofdoors,andindeedI thoughtrathermoreso.Weallagreed(for thetime) thathonestywasthebestpolicy,andwewereashardasironuponVice,andwe

wouldn’t hear of Villainy getting on in the world—no, not on anyconsiderationwhatever.Betweenthepieces,wealmostallofuswentoutandrefreshed.Manyofuswentthelengthofdrinkingbeeratthebaroftheneighbouringpublic-house,someofusdrankspirits,crowdsofushadsandwichesandginger-beerattherefreshment-bars established for us in the Theatre. The sandwich—assubstantial aswas consistentwith portability, and as cheap as possible—wehailed as one of our greatest institutions. It forced its way among us at allstages of the entertainment, and we were always delighted to see it; itsadaptabilitytothevaryingmoodsofournaturewassurprising;wecouldneverweepsocomfortablyaswhenourtearsfellonoursandwich;wecouldneverlaughsoheartilyaswhenwechokedwithsandwich;Virtuenever lookedsobeautiful or Vice so deformed as when we paused, sandwich in hand, toconsiderwhatwouldcomeofthatresolutionofWickednessinboots,toseverInnocenceinfloweredchintzfromHonestIndustryinstripedstockings.Whenthe curtain fell for the night, we still fell back upon sandwich, to help usthroughtherainandmire,andhometobed.This, as I havementioned,wasSaturday night.Being Saturday night, I hadaccomplishedbutthehalfofmyuncommercialjourney;for,itsobjectwastocomparetheplayonSaturdayeveningwiththepreachinginthesameTheatreonSundayevening.Therefore,atthesamehourofhalf-pastsixonthesimilarlydampandmuddySundayevening,IreturnedtothisTheatre.Idroveuptotheentrance(fearfulofbeinglate,orIshouldhavecomeonfoot),andfoundmyselfinalargecrowdofpeoplewho,Iamhappyto state, were put into excellent spirits bymyarrival.Havingnothingtolookatbutthemudandthecloseddoors,theylookedatme,andhighlyenjoyedthecomicspectacle.Mymodestyinducingmetodrawoff,somehundredsofyards,intoadarkcorner,theyatonceforgotme,andappliedthemselvestotheirformeroccupationoflookingatthemudandlookinginatthecloseddoors:which,beingofgratedironwork,allowedthelightedpassagewithintobeseen.Theywerechieflypeopleofrespectableappearance, odd and impulsive as most crowds are, and making a joke ofbeingthereasmostcrowdsdo.In the dark corner I might have sat a long while, but that a very obligingpasser-by informedmethat theTheatrewasalreadyfull,and that thepeoplewhomIsawinthestreetwereallshutoutforwantofroom.Afterthat,Ilostno time in wormingmyself into the building, and creeping to a place in aProsceniumboxthathadbeenkeptforme.Theremusthavebeenfullfourthousandpeoplepresent.Carefullyestimating

thepitalone,Icouldbringitoutasholdinglittlelessthanfourteenhundred.Everypartofthehousewaswellfilled,andIhadnotfounditeasytomakemywayalongthebackoftheboxestowhereIsat.Thechandeliersintheceilingwere lighted; therewas no light on the stage; the orchestrawas empty.Thegreen curtain was down, and, packed pretty closely on chairs on the smallspaceofstagebeforeit,weresomethirtygentlemen,andtwoorthreeladies.In the centre of these, in a desk or pulpit covered with red baize, was thepresiding minister. The kind of rostrum he occupied will be very wellunderstood,ifIlikenittoaboarded-upfireplaceturnedtowardstheaudience,withagentlemaninablacksurtoutstandinginthestoveandleaningforwardoverthemantelpiece.AportionofScripturewasbeing readwhen Iwent in. Itwas followedbyadiscourse, towhich the congregation listenedwithmost exemplary attentionanduninterruptedsilenceanddecorum.Myownattentioncomprehendedboththe auditory and the speaker, and shall turn to both in this recalling of thescene,exactlyasitdidatthetime.‘A very difficult thing,’ I thought, when the discourse began, ‘to speakappropriatelytosolargeanaudience,andtospeakwithtact.Withoutit,betternottospeakatall.Infinitelybetter,toreadtheNewTestamentwell,andtoletthatspeak.In thiscongregation there is indubitablyonepulse;but Idoubt ifanypowershortofgeniuscantouchitasone,andmakeitanswerasone.’Icouldnotpossiblysaytomyselfasthediscourseproceeded,thattheministerwasagoodspeaker. I couldnotpossibly say tomyself thatheexpressedanunderstandingofthegeneralmindandcharacterofhisaudience.Therewasasupposititiousworking-manintroducedintothehomily,tomakesupposititiousobjectionstoourChristianreligionandbereasoneddown,whowasnotonlyaverydisagreeableperson,butremarkablyunlikelife—verymuchmoreunlikeitthananythingIhadseeninthepantomime.Thenativeindependenceofcharacterthisartisanwassupposedtopossess,wasrepresentedbyasuggestionofadialectthatIcertainlyneverheardinmyuncommercialtravels,andwithacoarseswingofvoiceandmanneranythingbutagreeabletohisfeelings,Ishouldconceive,consideredinthelightofaportrait,andasfarawayfromthefactasaChineseTartar.Therewasamodelpauperintroducedinlikemanner,whoappearedtometobethemostintolerablyarrogantpaupereverrelieved,andtoshowhimselfinabsolutewantanddirenecessityofacourseofStoneYard.For,howdidthispaupertestifytohishavingreceivedthegospelofhumility?Agentlemanmethimintheworkhouse,andsaid(whichImyselfreallythoughtgood-naturedofhim),‘Ah,John?Iamsorrytoseeyouhere.Iamsorrytoseeyousopoor.’‘Poor,sir!’repliedthatman,drawinghimselfup,‘IamthesonofaPrince!MyfatheristheKingofKings.

MyfatheristheLordofLords.MyfatheristherulerofallthePrincesoftheEarth!’&c.Andthiswaswhatallthepreacher’sfellow-sinnersmightcometo,iftheywouldembracethisblessedbook—whichImustsayitdidsomeviolencetomyownfeelingsofreverence,toseeheldoutatarm’slengthatfrequentintervalsandsoundinglyslapped,likeaslowlotatasale.Now,couldIhelpaskingmyselfthequestion,whetherthemechanicbeforeme,whomustdetectthepreacherasbeingwrongaboutthevisiblemannerofhimselfandthelikeofhimself,andaboutsuchanoisylip-serverasthatpauper,mightnot,mostunhappilyfortheusefulnessoftheoccasion,doubtthatpreacher’sbeingrightaboutthingsnotvisibletohumansenses?Again.Isitnecessaryoradvisabletoaddresssuchanaudiencecontinuallyas‘fellow-sinners’?Isitnotenoughtobefellow-creatures,bornyesterday,sufferingandstrivingto-day,dyingto-morrow?Byourcommonhumanity,mybrothersandsisters,byourcommoncapacitiesforpainandpleasure,byourcommonlaughterandourcommontears,byourcommonaspirationtoreachsomethingbetterthanourselves,byourcommontendencytobelieveinsomethinggood,andtoinvestwhateverweloveorwhateverwelosewithsomequalitiesthataresuperiortoourownfailingsandweaknessesasweknowtheminourownpoorhearts—bythese,Hearme!—Surely,itisenoughtobefellow-creatures.Surely,itincludestheotherdesignation,andsometouchingmeaningsoverandabove.Again.Therewasapersonageintroducedintothediscourse(notanabsolutenovelty,tothebestofmyremembranceofmyreading),whohadbeenpersonallyknowntothepreacher,andhadbeenquiteaCrichtoninallthewaysofphilosophy,buthadbeenaninfidel.Manyatimehadthepreachertalkedwithhimonthatsubject,andmanyatimehadhefailedtoconvincethatintelligentman.Buthefellill,anddied,andbeforehediedherecordedhisconversion—inwordswhichthepreacherhadtakendown,myfellow-sinners,andwouldreadtoyoufromthispieceofpaper.Imustconfessthattome,asoneof an uninstructed audience, theydid not appear particularly edifying. Ithoughttheirtoneextremelyselfish,andIthoughttheyhadaspiritualvanityinthemwhichwasofthebefore-mentionedrefractorypauper’sfamily.Allslangsandtwangsareobjectionableeverywhere,buttheslangandtwangoftheconventicle—asbadinitswayasthatoftheHouseofCommons,andnothing worse can be said of it—should be studiously avoided under suchcircumstancesasIdescribe.Theavoidancewasnotcompleteonthisoccasion.Norwasitquiteagreeabletoseethepreacheraddressinghispet‘points’tohisbackerson the stage, as if appealing to thosedisciples to showhimup, andtestifytothemultitudethateachofthosepointswasaclincher.But,inrespectofthelargeChristianityofhisgeneraltone;ofhisrenunciation

ofallpriestlyauthority;ofhisearnestand reiteratedassurance to thepeoplethat the commonest among themcouldworkout their own salvation if theywould,bysimply,lovingly,anddutifullyfollowingOurSaviour,andthattheyneeded themediation of no erringman; in these particulars, this gentlemandeserved all praise. Nothing could be better than the spirit, or the plainemphatic words of his discourse in these respects. And it was a mostsignificantandencouragingcircumstancethatwheneverhestruckthatchord,orwheneverhedescribedanythingwhichChristhimselfhaddone, thearrayof faces before him was very much more earnest, and very much moreexpressiveofemotion,thanatanyothertime.Andnow,Iambroughttothefact,thatthelowestpartoftheaudienceofthepreviousnight,wasnotthere.Thereisnodoubtaboutit.Therewasnosuchthinginthatbuilding,thatSundayevening.Ihavebeentoldsince,thatthelowestpartoftheaudienceoftheVictoriaTheatrehasbeenattractedtoitsSundayservices.Ihavebeenverygladtohearit,butonthisoccasionofwhichIwrite,thelowestpartoftheusualaudienceoftheBritanniaTheatre,decidedlyandunquestionablystayedaway.WhenIfirsttookmyseatandlookedatthehouse,mysurpriseatthechangeinitsoccupantswasasgreatasmydisappointment.Tothemostrespectableclassofthepreviousevening,wasaddedagreatnumberofrespectablestrangersattractedbycuriosity,anddraftsfromtheregularcongregationsofvariouschapels.Itwasimpossibletofailinidentifyingthecharacteroftheselast,andtheywereverynumerous.Icameoutinastrong,slowtideofthemsettingfromtheboxes.Indeed,whilethediscoursewasinprogress,therespectablecharacteroftheauditorywassomanifestintheirappearance,thatwhentheministeraddressedasupposititious‘outcast,’onereallyfeltalittleimpatientofit,asafigureofspeechnotjustifiedbyanythingtheeyecoulddiscover.The timeappointed for theconclusionof theproceedingswaseighto’clock.The address having lasted until full that time, and it being the custom toconcludewithahymn,thepreacherintimatedinafewsensiblewordsthattheclockhadstruckthehour,andthat thosewhodesiredtogobeforethehymnwas sung, could go now,without giving offence.No one stirred.The hymnwas then sung, in good time and tune and unison, and its effect was verystriking. A comprehensive benevolent prayer dismissed the throng, and insevenoreightminutestherewasnothingleftintheTheatrebutalightcloudofdust.ThattheseSundaymeetingsinTheatresaregoodthings,Idonotdoubt.Nordo I doubt that theywillwork lower and lower down in the social scale, ifthosewhopresideoverthemwillbeverycarefulontwoheads:firstly,nottodisparagetheplacesinwhichtheyspeak,ortheintelligenceoftheirhearers;

secondly,not toset themselves inantagonism to thenatural inborndesireofthemassofmankindtorecreatethemselvesandtobeamused.Thereisathirdhead,takingprecedenceofallothers,towhichmyremarksonthediscourse Iheard,havetended.IntheNewTestamentthereisthemostbeautifulandaffectinghistoryconceivablebyman,andtherearethetersemodelsforallprayerandforallpreaching.Astothemodels,imitatethem,Sundaypreachers—elsewhyaretheythere,consider?Astothehistory,tellit.Somepeoplecannotread,somepeoplewillnotread,manypeople(thisespeciallyholdsamongtheyoungandignorant)findithardtopursuetheverse-forminwhichthebookispresentedtothem,andimaginethatthosebreaksimplygapsandwantofcontinuity.Helpthemoverthatfirststumbling-block,bysettingforththehistoryinnarrative,withnofearofexhaustingit.Youwillneverpreachsowell,youwillnevermovethemsoprofoundly,youwillneversendthemawaywithhalfsomuchtothinkof.Whichisthebetterinterest:Christ’schoiceoftwelvepoormentohelpinthosemercifulwondersamongthepoorandrejected;orthepiousbullyingofawholeUnion-fullofpaupers?Whatisyourchangedphilosophertowretchedme,peepinginatthedooroutofthemudofthestreetsandofmylife,whenyouhavethewidow’ssontotellmeabout,theruler’sdaughter,theotherfigureatthedoorwhenthebrotherofthetwosisterswasdead,andoneofthetworantothemourner,crying,‘TheMasteriscomeandcallethforthee’?—Letthepreacherwhowillthoroughlyforgethimselfandremembernoindividualitybutone,andnoeloquencebutone,standupbeforefourthousandmenandwomenattheBritanniaTheatreanySundaynight,recountingthatnarrativetothemasfellowcreatures,andheshallseeasight!

CHAPTERV—POORMERCANTILEJACKIsthesweetlittlecherubwhositssmilingaloftandkeepswatchonlifeofpoorJack,commissionedtotakechargeofMercantileJack,aswellasJackofthenationalnavy?Ifnot,whois?Whatis thecherubabout,andwhatareweallabout,whenpoorMercantile Jack is having his brains slowly knocked out by penny-weights,aboardthebrigBeelzebub,orthebarqueBowie-knife—whenhelookshislastat that infernal craft, with the first officer’s iron boot-heel in his remainingeye, orwith his dying body towed overboard in the ship’swake,while thecruelwoundsinitdo‘themultitudinousseasincarnadine’?Isitunreasonabletoentertainabeliefthatif,aboardthebrigBeelzebuborthebarqueBowie-knife,thefirstofficerdidhalfthedamagetocottonthathedoesto men, there would presently arise from both sides of the Atlantic so

vociferousan invocationof thesweet littlecherubwhositscalculatingaloft,keepingwatchonthemarketsthatpay,thatsuchvigilantcherubwould,withawinged sword,have thatgallantofficer’sorganofdestructivenessoutofhisheadinthespaceofaflashoflightning?Ifitbeunreasonable,thenamIthemostunreasonableofmen,forIbelieveitwithallmysoul.ThiswasmythoughtasIwalkedthedock-quaysatLiverpool,keepingwatchonpoorMercantileJack.Alasforme!Ihavelongoutgrownthestateofsweetlittlecherub;butthereIwas,andthereMercantileJackwas,andverybusyhewas,andverycoldhewas:thesnowyetlyinginthefrozenfurrowsoftheland,andthenorth-eastwindssnippingoffthetopsofthelittlewavesintheMersey,androllingthemintohailstonestopelthimwith.MercantileJackwashardatit,inthehardweather:ashemostlyisinallweathers,poorJack.Hewasgirdedtoships’mastsandfunnelsofsteamers,likeaforestertoagreatoak,scrapingandpainting;hewaslyingoutonyards,furlingsailsthattriedtobeathimoff;hewasdimlydiscernibleupinaworldofgiantcobwebs,reefingandsplicing;hewasfaintlyaudibledowninholds,stowingandunshippingcargo;hewaswindingroundandroundatcapstansmelodious,monotonous,anddrunk;hewasofadiabolicalaspect,withcoalingfortheAntipodes;hewaswashingdecksbarefoot,withthebreastofhisredshirtopentotheblast,thoughitwassharperthantheknifeinhisleatherngirdle;hewaslookingoverbulwarks,alleyesandhair;hewasstandingbyattheshootoftheCunardsteamer,offto-morrow,asthestocksintradeofseveralbutchers,poulterers,andfishmongers,poureddownintotheice-house;hewascomingaboardofothervessels,withhiskitinatarpaulinbag,attendedbyplundererstotheverylastmomentofhisshore-goingexistence.Asthoughhissenses,whenreleasedfromtheuproaroftheelements,wereunderobligationtobeconfusedbyotherturmoil,therewasarattlingofwheels,aclatteringofhoofs,aclashingofiron,ajoltingofcottonandhidesandcasksandtimber,anincessantdeafeningdisturbanceonthequays, that wastheverymadnessofsound.Andas,inthemidstofit,hestoodswayingabout,withhishairblownallmannerofwildways,rathercrazedlytakingleaveofhisplunderers,alltherigginginthedockswasshrillinthewind,andeverylittlesteamercomingandgoingacrosstheMerseywassharpinitsblowingoff,andeverybuoyintheriverbobbedspitefullyupanddown,asiftherewereageneraltauntingchorusof‘Comealong,MercantileJack!Ill-lodged, ill-fed, ill-used,hocussed,entrapped,anticipated,cleanedout.Comealong,PoorMercantileJack,andbetempest-tossedtillyouaredrowned!’Theuncommercial transactionwhichhadbroughtmeandJack together,wasthis:-IhadenteredtheLiverpoolpoliceforce,thatImighthavealookatthe

variousunlawfultrapswhichareeverynightsetforJack.Asmytermofserviceinthatdistinguishedcorpswasshort,andasmypersonalbiasinthecapacityofoneofitsmembershasceased,nosuspicionwillattachtomyevidencethatitisanadmirableforce.Besidesthatitiscomposed,withoutfavour,ofthebestmenthatcanbepicked,itisdirectedbyanunusualintelligence.ItsorganisationagainstFires,Itaketobemuchbetterthanthemetropolitansystem,andinallrespectsittempersitsremarkablevigilancewithastillmoreremarkablediscretion.Jack had knocked off work in the docks some hours, and I had taken, forpurposes of identification, a photograph-likeness of a thief, in the portrait-roomatourheadpoliceoffice(onthewhole,heseemedrathercomplimentedbytheproceeding),andIhadbeenonpoliceparade,andthesmallhandoftheclock was moving on to ten, when I took up my lantern to follow Mr.SuperintendenttothetrapsthatweresetforJack.InMr.SuperintendentIsaw,asanybodymight,atall,well-looking,well-set-upmanofasoldierlybearing,withacavalryair,agoodchest,andaresolutebutnotbyanymeansungentleface.He carried in his hand a plain blackwalking-stick of hardwood; andwhenever and wherever, at any after-time of the night, he struck it on thepavement with a ringing sound, it instantly produced a whistle out of thedarkness,andapoliceman.Tothisremarkablestick,IreferanairofmysteryandmagicwhichpervadedthewholeofmyperquisitionamongthetrapsthatweresetforJack.Webeganbydivingintotheobscureststreetsandlanesoftheport.Suddenlypausinginaflowofcheerfuldiscourse,beforeadeadwall,apparentlysometen miles long, Mr. Superintendent struck upon the ground, and the wallopenedandshotout,withmilitarysaluteofhandtotemple,twopolicemen—not in the least surprised themselves, not in the least surprising Mr.Superintendent.‘Allright,Sharpeye?’‘Allright,sir.’‘Allright,Trampfoot?’‘Allright,sir.’‘IsQuickearthere?’‘HereamI,sir.’‘Comewithus.’

‘Yes,sir.’So, Sharpeye went before, and Mr. Superintendent and I went next, andTrampfoot and Quickear marched as rear-guard. Sharp-eye, I soon hadoccasiontoremark,hadaskilfulandquiteprofessionalwayofopeningdoors—touched latches delicately, as if theywere keys ofmusical instruments—openedeverydoorhetouched,asifhewereperfectlyconfidentthattherewasstolen property behind it—instantly insinuated himself, to prevent its beingshut.SharpeyeopenedseveraldoorsoftrapsthatweresetforJack,butJackdidnothappentobeinanyofthem.Theywereallsuchmiserableplacesthatreally,Jack,ifIwereyou,Iwouldgivethemawiderberth.Ineverytrap,somebodywassittingoverafire,waitingforJack.Now,itwasacrouchingoldwoman,likethepictureoftheNorwoodGipsyintheoldsixpennydream-books;now,itwasacrimpofthemalesex,inacheckedshirtandwithoutacoat,readinganewspaper; now, it was a man crimp and a woman crimp, who alwaysintroducedthemselvesasunitedinholymatrimony;now,itwasJack’sdelight,his(un)lovelyNan;buttheywereallwaitingforJack,andwereallfrightfullydisappointedtoseeus.‘Whohaveyougotup-stairshere?’saysSharpeye,generally.(IntheMove-ontone.)‘Nobody,surr;surenotablessedsowl!’(Irishfemininereply.)‘What do youmean by nobody?Didn’t I hear awoman’s step go up-stairswhenmyhandwasonthelatch?’‘Ah!surethinyou’reright,surr,Iforgother!’Tis on’y Betsy White, surr.Ah!youknowBetsy,surr.Comedown,Betsydarlin’,andsaythegintlemin.’Generally,Betsy looksover thebanisters (thesteepstaircase is in the room)withaforcibleexpressioninherprotestingface,ofanintentiontocompensateherself for the present trial by grinding Jack finer than usualwhen he doescome.Generally, Sharpeye turns to Mr. Superintendent, and says, as if thesubjectsofhisremarkswerewax-work:‘One of the worst, sir, thishouseis.Thiswomanhasbeenindictedthreetimes.Thisman’saregularbadonelikewise.HisrealnameisPegg.GiveshimselfoutasWaterhouse.’‘NeverhadsitchanameasPeggnearmeback,thin,sinceIwasinthishouse,beethegoodLard!’saysthewoman.

Generally, the man says nothing at all, but becomes exceedingly round-shouldered, and pretends to read his paper with rapt attention. Generally,Sharpeyedirectsourobservationwithalook,totheprintsandpicturesthatareinvariablynumerousonthewalls.Always,TrampfootandQuickeararetakingnoticeonthedoorstep.IndefaultofSharpeyebeingacquaintedwiththeexactindividuality of any gentleman encountered, one of these two is sure toproclaimfromtheouterair, likeagruffspectre, thatJacksonisnotJackson,but knows himself to be Fogle; or that Canlon isWalker’s brother, againstwhom therewasnot sufficient evidence;or that themanwho saysheneverwasatseasincehewasaboy,cameashorefromavoyagelastThursday,orsails tomorrowmorning. ‘And that isabadclassofman,yousee,’ saysMr.Superintendent,whenhegotoutintothedarkagain,‘andverydifficulttodealwith,who,whenhehasmadethisplacetoohottoholdhim,entershimselfforavoyageas stewardor cook, and isoutofknowledge formonths, and thenturnsupagainworsethanever.’Whenwehadgoneintomanysuchhouses,andhadcomeout(alwaysleavingeverybodyrelapsing intowaitingforJack),westartedoff toasinging-housewhereJackwasexpectedtomusterstrong.Thevocalisationwastakingplaceinalonglowroomup-stairs;atoneend,anorchestraoftwoperformers,andasmallplatform;acrosstheroom,aseriesofopenpewsforJack,withanaisledownthemiddle;at theotherenda largerpew than the rest, entitled SNUG, and reserved formates and similar goodcompany.About theroom,someamazingcoffee-colouredpicturesvarnishedaninchdeep,andsomestuffedcreaturesincases;dottedamongtheaudience,in Sung and out of Snug, the ‘Professionals;’ among them, the celebratedcomic favouriteMr. Banjo Bones, looking very hideouswith his blackenedfaceandlimpsugar-loafhat;besidehim,sippingrum-and-water,Mrs.BanjoBones,inhernaturalcolours—alittleheightened.ItwasaFridaynight,andFridaynightwasconsiderednotagoodnightforJack.Atanyrate,Jackdidnotshowinverygreatforceevenhere,thoughthehousewasonetowhichhemuchresorts,andwhereagooddealofmoneyistaken.TherewasBritishJack,alittlemaudlinandsleepy,lollingoverhisemptyglass,asifheweretryingtoreadhisfortuneatthebottom;therewasLoafingJackoftheStarsandStripes,ratheranunpromisingcustomer,withhislongnose,lankcheek,highcheek-bones,andnothingsoftabouthimbuthiscabbage-leafhat;therewasSpanishJack,withcurlsofblackhair,ringsinhisears,andaknifenotfarfromhishand,ifyougotintotroublewithhim;therewereMalteseJack,andJackofSweden,andJacktheFinn,loomingthroughthesmokeoftheirpipes,andturningfacesthatlookedasiftheywerecarvedoutofdarkwood,towardstheyoungladydancingthehornpipe:who

foundtheplatformsoexceedinglysmallforit,thatIhadanervousexpectationofseeingher,inthebackwardsteps,disappearthroughthewindow.Still,ifallhandshadbeengottogether,theywouldnothavemorethanhalf-filledtheroom.Observe,however,saidMr.LicensedVictualler,thehost,thatitwasFridaynight,and,besides,itwasgettingonfortwelve,andJackhadgoneaboard.A sharp and watchful man, Mr. Licensed Victualler, the host, withtightlipsandacompleteeditionofCocker’sarithmeticineacheye.Attendedtohisbusinesshimself,hesaid.Alwaysonthespot.Whenheheardoftalent,trustednobody’saccountofit,butwentoffbyrailtoseeit.Iftruetalent,engagedit.Poundsaweekfortalent—fourpound—fivepound.BanjoBoneswasundoubtedtalent.Hearthisinstrumentthatwasgoingtoplay—itwasrealtalent!Intruthitwasverygood;akindofpiano-accordion,playedbyayounggirlofadelicateprettinessofface,figure,anddress,thatmadetheaudiencelookcoarser.Shesangtotheinstrument,too;first,asongaboutvillagebells,andhowtheychimed;thenasongabouthowIwenttosea;windingupwithanimitationofthebagpipes,whichMercantileJackseemedtounderstandmuchthebest.Agoodgirl,saidMr.LicensedVictualler.Keptherselfselect.SatinSnug,notlisteningtotheblandishmentsofMates.Livedwithmother.Fatherdead.Onceamerchantwelltodo,butover-speculatedhimself.Ondelicateinquiryastosalarypaidforitemoftalentunderconsideration,Mr.Victualler’spoundsdroppedsuddenlytoshillings—stillitwasaverycomfortablethingforayoungpersonlikethat,youknow;sheonlywentonsixtimesanight,andwasonlyrequiredtobetherefromsixatnighttotwelve.Whatwasmoreconclusivewas,Mr.Victualler’sassurancethathe‘neverallowedanylanguage,andneversufferedanydisturbance.’Sharpeyeconfirmedthestatement,andtheorderthatprevailedwasthebestproofofitthatcouldhavebeencited.So,IcametotheconclusionthatpoorMercantileJackmightdo(asIamafraidhedoes)muchworsethantrusthimselftoMr.Victualler,andpasshiseveningshere.Butwehadnotyetlooked,Mr.Superintendent—saidTrampfoot,receivingusinthestreetagainwithmilitarysalute—forDarkJack.True,Trampfoot.Ringthewonderfulstick,rubthewonderfullantern,andcausethespiritsofthestickandlanterntoconveyustotheDarkies.TherewasnodisappointmentinthematterofDarkJack;hewasproducible.TheGeniisetusdowninthelittlefirstfloorofalittlepublic-house,andthere,inastiflinglycloseatmosphere,wereDarkJack,andDarkJack’sdelight,hiswhite unlovelyNan, sitting against thewall all round the room.More thanthat: Dark Jack’s delight was the least unlovely Nan, both morally andphysically,thatIsawthatnight.Asafiddleand tambourinebandweresittingamongthecompany,Quickear

suggestedwhynotstrikeup?‘Ah,la’ads!’saidanegrosittingbythedoor,‘gibthejebblemadarnse.Tak’yahpardlers,jebblem,for’umQUAD-rill.’Thiswasthelandlord,inaGreekcap,andadresshalfGreekandhalfEnglish.As master of the ceremonies, he called all the figures, and occasionallyaddressedhimselfparenthetically—afterthismanner.Whenhewasveryloud,Iusecapitals.‘Nowden!Hoy!ONE.Rightandleft.(Putasteamon,gib’umpowder.)LA-dies’chail.BAL-loonsay.Lemonade!TWO.AD-warnseandgoback(gib’ellabreakdown,shakeitouto’yerselbs,keepamovil).SWING-corners,BAL-loonsay,andLemonade!(Hoy!)THREE.GENTcomefor’ardwithaladyandgoback,hoppersitecomefor’ardanddowhatyercan.(Aeiohoy!)BAL-loonsay,andleetlelemonade.(Dathairniggerby’umfireplace’hinda’time,shakeitouto’yerselbs,gib’ellabreakdown.)Nowden!Hoy!FOUR!Lemonade.BAL-loonsay,andswing.FOURladiesmeetin’ummiddle,FOURgentsgoesround’umladies,FOURgentspassesoutunder’umladies’arms,SWING—andLemonadetill‘amoosiccan’tplaynomore!(Hoy,Hoy!)’Themaledancerswereallblacks,andonewasanunusuallypowerfulmanofsixfeetthreeorfour.Thesoundoftheirflatfeetonthefloorwasasunlikethesoundofwhitefeetastheirfaceswereunlikewhitefaces.Theytoedandheeled,shuffled,double-shuffled,double-double-shuffled,coveredthebuckle,andbeatthetimeout,rarely,dancingwithagreatshowofteeth,andwithachildishgood-humouredenjoymentthatwasveryprepossessing.Theygenerallykepttogether,thesepoorfellows,saidMr.Superintendent,becausetheywereatadisadvantagesingly,andliabletoslightsintheneighbouringstreets.But,ifIwereLightJack,IshouldbeveryslowtointerfereoppressivelywithDarkJack,for,wheneverIhavehadtodowithhimIhavefoundhimasimpleandagentlefellow.Bearingthisinmind,Iaskedhisfriendlypermissiontoleavehimrestorationofbeer,inwishinghimgoodnight,andthusitfelloutthatthelastwordsIheardhimsayasIblundereddownthewornstairs,were,‘Jebblem’selth!Ladiesdrinksfust!’Thenightwasnowwellonintothemorning,but,formilesandhoursweexploredastrangeworld,wherenobodyevergoestobed,buteverybodyiseternallysittingup,waitingforJack.Thisexplorationwasamongalabyrinthofdismalcourtsandblindalleys,calledEntries,keptinwonderfulorderbythepolice,andinmuchbetterorderthanbythecorporation:thewantofgaslightinthemostdangerousandinfamousoftheseplacesbeingquiteunworthyofsospiritedatown.IneeddescribebuttwoorthreeofthehousesinwhichJackwaswaitedforasspecimensoftherest.Manyweattainedbynoisomepassagessoprofoundlydarkthatwefeltourwaywithourhands.

Notoneofthewholenumberwe visited,waswithout its show of prints andornamentalcrockery;thequantityofthelattersetforthonlittleshelvesandinlittlecases,inotherwisewretchedrooms,indicatingthatMercantileJackmusthave an extraordinary fondness for crockery, to necessitate somuch of thatbaitinhistraps.Among such garniture, in one front parlour in the dead of the night, fourwomenweresittingbyafire.Oneofthemhadamalechildinherarms.Onastool among them was a swarthy youth with a guitar, who had evidentlystoppedplayingwhenourfootstepswereheard.‘WellIhowdoyoudo?’saysMr.Superintendent,lookingabouthim.‘Prettywell,sir,andhopeyougentlemenaregoingtotreatusladies,nowyouhavecometoseeus.’‘Orderthere!’saysSharpeye.‘Noneofthat!’saysQuickear.Trampfoot,outside,isheardtoconfidetohimself,‘Meggisson’slotthisis.Andabad’un!’‘Well!’ says Mr. Superintendent, laying his hand on the shoulder of theswarthyyouth,‘andwho’sthis?’‘Antonio,sir.’‘Andwhatdoeshedohere?’‘Cometogiveusabitofmusic.Noharminthat,Isuppose?’‘Ayoungforeignsailor?’‘Yes.He’saSpaniard.You’reaSpaniard,ain’tyou,Antonio?’‘MeSpanish.’‘Andhedon’tknowawordyousay,nothe;notifyouwastotalktohimtilldoomsday.’(Triumphantly,asifitredoundedtothecreditofthehouse.)‘Willheplaysomething?’‘Oh, yes, if you like. Play something, Antonio. You ain’t ashamed to playsomething;areyou?’Thecrackedguitarraisesthefeeblestghostofatune,andthreeofthewomen

keeptimetoitwiththeirheads,andthefourthwiththechild.IfAntoniohasbroughtanymoneyinwithhim,Iamafraidhewillnevertakeitout,anditevenstrikesmethathisjacketandguitarmaybeinabadway.But,thelookoftheyoungmanandthetinklingoftheinstrumentsochangetheplaceinamomenttoaleafoutofDonQuixote,thatIwonderwherehismuleisstabled,untilheleavesoff.Iamboundtoacknowledge(asittendsrathertomyuncommercialconfusion),thatIoccasionedadifficultyinthisestablishment,byhavingtakenthechildinmyarms.For,onmyofferingtorestoreittoaferociousjokernotunstimulatedby rum, who claimed to be its mother, that unnatural parent put her handsbehind her, and declined to accept it; backing into the fireplace, and veryshrillydeclaring,regardlessofremonstrancefromherfriends,thatsheknowedit tobeLaw,thatwhoevertookachildfromitsmotherofhisownwill,wasbound to stick to it.Theuncommercial senseofbeing in a rather ridiculouspositionwiththepoorlittlechildbeginningtobefrightened,wasrelievedbymyworthyfriendandfellow-constable,Trampfoot;who,layinghandsonthearticleasifitwereaBottle,passeditontothenearestwoman,andbadeher‘take hold of that.’Aswe came out the Bottle was passed to the ferociousjoker,andtheyallsatdownasbefore,includingAntonioandtheguitar.Itwasclearthat therewasnosuchthingasanightcaptothisbaby’shead,andthatevenheneverwenttobed,butwasalwayskeptup—andwouldgrowup,keptup—waitingforJack.Laterstillinthenight,wecame(bythecourt‘wherethemanwasmurdered,’andbytheothercourtacrossthestreet,intowhichhisbodywasdragged)toanother parlour in another Entry,where several peoplewere sitting round afireinjustthesameway.Itwasadirtyandoffensiveplace,withsomeraggedclothesdrying in it;but therewasahighshelfover theentrance-door (tobeoutofthereachofmaraudinghands,possibly)withtwolargewhiteloavesonit,andagreatpieceofCheshirecheese.‘Well!’saysMr.Superintendent,withacomprehensivelookallround.‘Howdoyoudo?’‘Notmuchtoboastof,sir.’Fromthecurtseyingwomanofthehouse.‘Thisismygoodman,sir.’‘YouarenotregisteredasacommonLodgingHouse?’‘No,sir.’Sharpeye(intheMove-ontone)putsinthepertinentinquiry,‘Thenwhyain’tyou?’

‘Ain’t got noonehere,Mr.Sharpeye,’ rejoin thewoman andmygoodmantogether,‘butourownfamily.’‘Howmanyareyouinfamily?’Thewomantakestimetocount,underpretenceofcoughing,andadds,asonescantofbreath,‘Seven,sir.’Butshehasmissedone,soSharpeye,whoknowsallaboutit,says:‘Here’sayoungmanheremakeseight,whoain’tofyourfamily?’‘No,Mr.Sharpeye,he’saweeklylodger.’‘Whatdoeshedoforaliving?’Theyoungmanhere,takesthereplyuponhimself,andshortlyanswers,‘Ain’tgotnothingtodo.’Theyoungmanhere,ismodestlybroodingbehindadampapronpendentfromaclothes-line.AsIglanceathimIbecome—butIdon’tknowwhy—vaguelyremindedofWoolwich,Chatham,Portsmouth,andDover.Whenwegetout,myrespectedfellow-constableSharpeye,addressingMr.Superintendent,says:‘Younoticedthatyoungman,sir,inatDarby’s?’‘Yes.Whatishe?’‘Deserter,sir.’Mr.Sharpeyefurtherintimatesthatwhenwehavedonewithhisservices,hewillstepbackandtakethatyoungman.Whichincourseoftimehedoes:feelingatperfecteaseabout finding him, and knowing for amoral certaintythatnobodyinthatregionwillbegonetobed.Laterstillinthenight,wecametoanotherparlourupasteportwofromthestreet,whichwasverycleanly,neatly,eventastefully,kept,andinwhich,setforthonadrapedchestofdrawersmaskingthestaircase,wassuchaprofusionofornamental crockery, that itwouldhave furnished forthahandsomesale-booth at a fair. It backed up a stout old lady—HOGARTH drew her exactlikenessmore than once—and a boywhowas carefullywriting a copy in acopy-book.‘Well,ma’am,howdoyoudo?’Sweetly,shecanassurethedeargentlemen,sweetly.Charmingly, charmingly.

Andoverjoyedtoseeus!‘Why,thisisastrangetimeforthisboytobewritinghiscopy.In the middleofthenight!’‘So it is, dear gentlemen, Heaven bless your welcome faces and send yeprosperous,buthehasbeentothePlaywithayoungfriendforhisdiversion,andhecombinateshisimprovementwithentertainment,bydoinghisschool-writingafterwards,Godbegoodtoye!’The copy admonished human nature to subjugate the fire of every fiercedesire.Onemighthavethoughtitrecommendedstirringthefire,theoldladysoapproved it.There she sat, rosily beaming at the copy-book and theboy,and invoking showers of blessings on our heads, when we left her in themiddleofthenight,waitingforJack.Laterstillinthenight,wecametoanauseousroomwithanearthfloor,intowhichtherefusescumofanalleytrickled.Thestenchof thishabitationwasabominable;theseemingpovertyofit,diseasedanddire.Yet,hereagain,wasvisitororlodger—amansittingbeforethefire,liketherestofthemelsewhere,andapparentlynotdistastefultothemistress’sniece,whowasalsobeforethefire.Themistressherselfhadthemisfortuneofbeinginjail.Threeweirdoldwomenof transcendentghastliness,wereatneedleworkatatableinthisroom.SaysTrampfoottoFirstWitch,‘Whatareyoumaking?’Saysshe,‘Money-bags.’‘Whatareyoumaking?’retortsTrampfoot,alittleoffhisbalance.‘Bagstoholdyourmoney,’saysthewitch,shakingherhead,andsettingherteeth;‘youashasgotit.’Sheholdsupacommoncash-bag,andonthetableisaheapofsuchbags.WitchTwolaughsatus.WitchThreescowlsatus.Witchsisterhoodall,stitch,stitch. First Witch has a circle round each eye. I fancy it like thebeginningofthedevelopmentofaperverteddiabolicalhalo,andthatwhenitspreadsallroundherhead,shewilldieintheodourofdevilry.Trampfootwishes tobe informedwhatFirstWitchhasgotbehind the table,downbythesideofher,there?WitchesTwoandThreecroakangrily,‘Showhimthechild!’She drags out a skinny little arm from a brown dustheap on the ground.Adjurednottodisturbthechild,sheletsitdropagain.ThuswefindatlastthatthereisonechildintheworldofEntrieswhogoestobed—ifthisbebed.

Mr.Superintendentaskshowlongaretheygoingtoworkatthosebags?Howlong?FirstWitchrepeats.Goingtohavesupperpresently.Seethecupsandsaucers,andtheplates.‘Late?Ay!Butwehasto’arnoursupperaforeweeatsit!’BoththeotherwitchesrepeatthisafterFirstWitch,andtaketheUncommercialmeasurementwiththeireyes,asforacharmedwinding-sheet.Somegrimdiscourseensues,referringtothemistressofthecave,whowillbereleasedfromjailto-morrow.WitchespronounceTrampfoot‘rightthere,’whenhedeemsitatryingdistancefortheoldladytowalk;sheshallbefetchedbynieceinaspring-cart.AsI tookapartinglookatFirstWitchinturningaway, theredmarksroundhereyesseemedtohavealreadygrownlarger,andshehungrilyandthirstilylooked out beyondme into the dark doorway, to see if Jackwas there. For,Jackcameevenhere,andthemistresshadgotintojailthroughdeludingJack.WhenIat lastended thisnightof travelandgot tobed, I failed tokeepmymind on comfortable thoughts of Seaman’s Homes (not overdone withstrictness),and improveddockregulationsgivingJackgreaterbenefitof fireandcandleaboardship,throughmymind’swanderingamongtheverminIhadseen.Afterwardsthesameverminranallovermysleep.Evermore,whenonabreezydayIseePoorMercantileJackrunningintoportwithafairwindunderallsail,Ishallthinkoftheunsleepinghostofdevourerswhonevergotobed,andarealwaysintheirsettrapswaitingforhim.

CHAPTERVI—REFRESHMENTSFORTRAVELLERSInthelatehighwindsIwasblowntoagreatmanyplaces—andindeed,windornowind, Igenerallyhaveextensive transactionsonhand in thearticleofAir—butIhavenotbeenblowntoanyEnglishplacelately,andIveryseldomhaveblowntoanyEnglishplaceinmylife,whereIcouldgetanythinggoodtoeatanddrinkinfiveminutes,orwhere,ifIsoughtit,Iwasreceivedwithawelcome.This is a curious thing to consider. But before (stimulated by my ownexperiences and the representations of many fellow-travellers of everyuncommercial and commercial degree) I consider it further, I must utter apassingwordofwonderconcerninghighwinds.IwonderwhymetropolitangalesalwaysblowsohardatWalworth.IcannotimaginewhatWalworthhasdone,tobringsuchwindypunishmentuponitself,asIneverfailtofindrecordedinthenewspaperswhenthewindhasblownatallhard.Brixtonseemstohavesomethingonitsconscience;Peckhamsuffers

more than a virtuous Peckham might be supposed to deserve; the howlingneighbourhood of Deptford figures largely in the accounts of the ingeniousgentlemenwhoareoutineverywindthatblows,andtowhomitisanillhighwindthatblowsnogood;but, therecanhardlybeanyWalworth leftby thistime.Itmustsurelybeblownaway.Ihavereadofmorechimney-stacksandhouse-copingscomingdownwith terrificsmashesatWalworth,andofmoresacred edifices being nearly (not quite) blown out to sea from the sameaccursedlocality,thanIhavereadofpractisedthieveswiththeappearanceandmannersofgentlemen—apopularphenomenonwhichneverexistedonearthout of fiction and a police report. Again: I wonder why people are alwaysblownintotheSurreyCanal,andintonootherpieceofwater!Whydopeoplegetupearlyandgooutingroups,tobeblownintotheSurreyCanal?Dotheysaytooneanother,‘Welcomedeath,sothatwegetintothenewspapers’?Eventhat would be an insufficient explanation, because even then they mightsometimesputthemselvesinthewayofbeingblownintotheRegent’sCanal,insteadofalwayssaddlingSurreyforthefield.Somenamelesspoliceman,too,is constantly, on the slightest provocation, getting himself blown into thissameSurreyCanal.WillSIRRICHARDMAYNEsee to it,andrestrain thatweak-mindedandfeeble-bodiedconstable?Toresumetheconsiderationof thecuriousquestionofRefreshment.IamaBriton,and,assuch,IamawarethatIneverwillbeaslave—andyetIhavelatentsuspicionthattheremustbesomeslaveryofwrongcustominthismatter.Itravelbyrailroad.Istartfromhomeatsevenoreightinthemorning,afterbreakfastinghurriedly.Whatwithskimmingovertheopenlandscape,whatwithmininginthedampbowelsoftheearth,whatwithbanging,boomingandshriekingthescoresofmilesaway,IamhungrywhenIarriveatthe‘Refreshment’stationwhereIamexpected.Pleasetoobserve,expected.Ihavesaid,Iamhungry;perhapsImightsay,withgreaterpointandforce,thatIamtosomeextentexhausted,andthatIneed—intheexpressiveFrenchsenseoftheword—toberestored.Whatisprovidedformyrestoration?Theapartmentthatistorestoremeisawind-trap,cunninglysettoinveigleallthedraughtsinthatcountry-side,andtocommunicateaspecialintensityandvelocitytothemastheyrotateintwohurricanes:one,aboutmywretchedhead:one,aboutmywretchedlegs.Thetrainingoftheyoungladiesbehindthecounterwhoaretorestoreme,hasbeenfromtheirinfancydirectedtotheassumptionofadefiantdramaticshowthatIamnotexpected.Itisinvainformetorepresenttothembymyhumbleandconciliatorymanners,thatIwishtobeliberal.Itisinvainformetorepresenttomyself,fortheencouragementofmysinkingsoul,thattheyoungladieshaveapecuniaryinterestinmyarrival.Neithermyreasonnormyfeelingscanmakeheadagainstthecoldglazed

glareofeyewithwhichIamassuredthatIamnotexpected,andnotwanted.Thesolitarymanamongthebottleswouldsometimestakepityonme,ifhedared,butheispowerlessagainsttherightsandmightsofWoman.(OfthepageImakenoaccount,for,heisaboy,andthereforethenaturalenemyofCreation.)Chillingfast,inthedeadlytornadoestowhichmyupperandlowerextremitiesareexposed,andsubduedbythemoraldisadvantageatwhichIstand,Iturnmydisconsolateeyesontherefreshmentsthataretorestoreme.IfindthatImusteitherscaldmythroatbyinsanelyladlingintoit,againsttimeandfornowager,brownhotwaterstiffenedwithflour;orImustmakemyselfflakyandsickwithBanburycake;or,Imuststuffintomydelicateorganisation,acurrantpincushionwhichIknowwillswellintoimmeasurabledimensionswhenithasgotthere;or,Imustextortfromaniron-boundquarry,withafork,asifIwerefarminganinhospitablesoil,someglutinouslumpsofgristleandgrease,calledpork-pie.Whilethusforlornlyoccupied,Ifindthatthedepressingbanquetonthetableis,ineveryphaseofitsprofoundlyunsatisfactorycharacter,solikethebanquetatthemeanestandshabbiestofeveningparties,thatIbegintothinkImusthave‘broughtdown’tosupper,theoldladyunknown,bluewithcold,whoissettingherteethonedgewithacoolorangeatmyelbow—thatthepastrycookwhohascompoundedforthecompanyonthelowesttermsperhead,isafraudulentbankrupt,redeeminghiscontractwiththestalestockfromhiswindow—that,forsomeunexplainedreason,thefamilygivingthepartyhavebecomemymortalfoes,andhavegivenitonpurposetoaffrontme.Or,IfancythatIam‘breakingup’again,attheeveningconversazioneatschool,chargedtwo-and-sixpenceinthehalf-year’sbill;orbreakingdownagainatthatcelebratedeveningpartygivenatMrs.Bogles’sboarding-housewhenIwasaboarderthere,onwhichoccasionMrs.Bogleswastakeninexecutionbyabranchofthelegalprofession whogotinastheharp,andwasremoved(withthekeysandsubscribedcapital)toaplaceofdurance,halfanhourpriortothecommencementofthefestivities.Takeanothercase.Mr.Grazinglands,of theMidlandCounties,cametoLondonbyrailroadonemorning last week, accompanied by the amiable and fascinating Mrs.Grazinglands.Mr.G.isagentlemanofacomfortableproperty,andhadalittlebusiness to transactat theBankofEngland,which required theconcurrenceand signature of Mrs. G. Their business disposed of, Mr. and Mrs.Grazinglands viewed the Royal Exchange, and the exterior of St. Paul’sCathedral.ThespiritsofMrs.Grazinglandsthengraduallybeginningtoflag,Mr.Grazinglands(whoisthetenderestofhusbands)remarkedwithsympathy,‘Arabella’, my dear, ‘fear you are faint.’ Mrs. Grazing-lands replied,‘Alexander,Iamratherfaint;butdon’tmindme,Ishallbebetterpresently.’Touchedbythefemininemeeknessofthisanswer,Mr.Grazinglandslookedin

atapastrycook’swindow,hesitatingas to theexpediencyof lunchingat thatestablishment.Hebeheldnothing toeat,butbutter invariousforms,slightlychargedwithjam,andlanguidlyfrizzlingovertepidwater.Twoancientturtle-shells, on which was inscribed the legend, ‘SOUPS,’ decorated a glasspartitionwithin,enclosingastuffyalcove,fromwhichaghastlymockeryofamarriage-breakfastspreadonaricketytable,warnedtheterrifiedtraveller.Anoblongboxofstaleandbrokenpastryatreducedprices,mountedonastool,ornamented the doorway; and two high chairs that looked as if they wereperformingon stilts, embellished the counter.Over thewhole, ayoung ladypresided,whosegloomyhaughtinessasshesurveyedthestreet,announcedadeep-seatedgrievanceagainstsociety,andan implacabledeterminationtobeavenged.From a beetle-haunted kitchen below this institution, fumes arose,suggestive of a class of soup which Mr. Grazinglands knew, from painfulexperience, enfeebles the mind, distends the stomach, forces itself into thecomplexion,andtriestooozeoutattheeyes.Ashedecidedagainstentering,andturnedaway,Mrs.Grazinglandsbecomingperceptiblyweaker,repeated,‘Iamratherfaint,Alexander,butdon’tmindme.’Urgedtoneweffortsbythesewordsofresignation,Mr.Grazinglandslookedinatacoldandflourybaker’sshop, where utilitarian buns unrelieved by a currant, consorted with hardbiscuits, a stone filter of coldwater, a hard pale clock, and a hard little oldwomanwithflaxenhair,ofanundeveloped-farinaceousaspect,as ifshehadbeen fed upon seeds. He might have entered even here, but for the timelyremembrancecominguponhimthatJairing’swasbutroundthecorner.Now, Jairing’s being anhotelforfamiliesandgentlemen,inhighreputeamongthemidlandcounties,Mr.GrazinglandspluckedupagreatspiritwhenhetoldMrs.Grazinglandssheshouldhaveachopthere.Thatlady,likewisefeltthatshewasgoingtoseeLife.Arrivingonthatgayandfestivescene,theyfoundthesecondwaiter,inaflabbyundress,cleaningthewindowsoftheemptycoffee-room;andthefirstwaiter,denudedofhiswhitetie,makinguphiscruetsbehindthePost-OfficeDirectory.Thelatter(whotooktheminhand)wasgreatlyputoutbytheirpatronage,andshowedhismindtobetroubledbyasenseofthepressingnecessityofinstantlysmugglingMrs.Grazinglandsintotheobscurestcornerofthebuilding.Thisslightedlady(whoistheprideofherdivisionofthecounty)wasimmediatelyconveyed,byseveraldarkpassages,andupanddownseveralsteps,intoapenitentialapartmentatthebackofthehouse,wherefiveinvalidedoldplate-warmersleanedupagainstoneanotherunderadiscardedoldmelancholysideboard,andwherethewintryleavesofallthedining-tablesinthehouselaythick.Also,asofa,ofincomprehensibleformregardedfromanysofanepointofview,murmured‘Bed;’whileanairofmingledfluffinessandheeltaps,added,‘SecondWaiter’s.’Secretedinthisdismalhold,objectsofamysteriousdistrustandsuspicion,Mr.Grazinglandsandhischarmingpartnerwaited

twentyminutesforthesmoke(foritnevercametoafire),twenty-fiveminutesforthesherry,halfanhourforthetablecloth,fortyminutesfortheknivesandforks,three-quartersofanhourforthechops,andanhourforthepotatoes.Onsettling the little bill—which was not much more than the day’s pay of aLieutenant in thenavy—Mr.Grazinglandstookhearttoremonstrateagainstthegeneralqualityandcostofhisreception.Towhomthewaiterreplied,substantially,thatJairing’smadeitamerittohaveacceptedhimonanyterms:‘for,’addedthewaiter(unmistakablycoughingatMrs.Grazinglands,theprideofherdivisionofthecounty),‘whenindiwidualsisnotstayinginthe‘Ouse,theirfavoursisnotasarulelookeduponasmakingitworthMr.Jairing’swhile;norisit,indeed,astyleofbusinessMr.Jairingwishes.’Finally,Mr.andMrs.GrazinglandspassedoutofJairing’shotelforFamiliesandGentlemen,inastateofthegreatestdepression,scornedbythebar;anddidnotrecovertheirself-respectforseveraldays.Ortakeanothercase.Takeyourowncase.Youaregoingoffby railway, fromanyTerminus.Youhave twentyminutesfordinner,beforeyougo.Youwantyourdinner,andlikeDr.Johnson,Sir,youlike todine.Youpresent to yourmind, a picture of the refreshment-table atthatterminus.Theconventionalshabbyevening-partysupper—acceptedasthemodelforallterminiandallrefreshmentstations,becauseitisthelastrepastknowntothisstateofexistenceofwhichanyhumancreaturewouldpartake,but in thedirestextremity—sickensyourcontemplation,andyourwordsarethese: ‘I cannotdineon stale sponge-cakes that turn to sand in themouth. Icannotdineonshiningbrownpatties,composedofunknownanimalswithin,andofferingtomyviewthedeviceofanindigestiblestar-fishin leadenpie-crustwithout.Icannotdineonasandwichthathaslongbeenpiningunderanexhausted receiver. I cannot dine on barley-sugar. I cannot dine on Toffee.’Yourepairtothenearesthotel,andarrive,agitated,inthecoffee-room.Itisamostastonishingfactthatthewaiterisverycoldtoyou.Accountforithowyoumay,smoothitoverhowyouwill,youcannotdenythatheiscoldtoyou.Heisnotgladtoseeyou,hedoesnotwantyou,hewouldmuchratheryouhadn’tcome.Heopposestoyourflushedcondition,animmovablecomposure.Asifthiswerenotenough,anotherwaiter,born,asitwouldseem,expresslytolookatyouinthispassageofyourlife,standsatalittledistance,withhisnapkinunderhisarmandhishandsfolded,lookingatyouwithallhismight.Youimpressonyourwaiterthatyouhavetenminutesfordinner,andheproposesthatyoushallbeginwithabitoffishwhichwillbereadyintwenty.Thatproposaldeclined,hesuggests—asaneatoriginality—‘awealormuttoncutlet.’Youclosewitheithercutlet,anycutlet,anything.Hegoes,leisurely,behindadoorandcallsdownsomeunseenshaft.A

ventriloquialdialogueensues,tendingfinallytotheeffectthatwealonly,isavailableonthespurofthemoment.Youanxiouslycallout,‘Veal,then!’Yourwaiterhavingsettledthatpoint,returnstoarrayyourtablecloth,withatablenapkinfoldedcocked-hat-wise(slowly,forsomethingoutofwindowengageshiseye),awhitewine-glass,agreenwine-glass,abluefinger-glass,atumbler,andapowerfulfieldbatteryoffourteencasterswithnothinginthem;oratallevents—whichisenoughforyourpurpose—withnothinginthemthatwillcomeout.Allthistime,theotherwaiterlooksatyou—withanairofmentalcomparisonandcuriosity,now,asifithadoccurredtohimthatyouareratherlikehisbrother.Halfyourtimegone,andnothingcomebutthejugofaleandthebread,youimploreyourwaiterto‘seeafterthatcutlet,waiter;praydo!’Hecannotgoatonce,forheiscarryinginseventeenpoundsofAmericancheeseforyoutofinishwith,andasmallLandedEstateofceleryandwater-cresses.Theotherwaiterchangeshisleg,andtakesanewviewofyou,doubtfully,now,asifhehadrejectedtheresemblancetohisbrother,andhadbeguntothinkyoumorelikehisauntorhisgrandmother.Againyoubeseechyourwaiterwithpatheticindignation,to‘seeafterthatcutlet!’Hestepsouttoseeafterit,andby-and-by,whenyouaregoingawaywithoutit,comesbackwithit.Eventhen,hewillnottaketheshamsilvercoveroff,withoutapauseforaflourish,andalookatthemustycutletasifheweresurprisedtoseeit—whichcannotpossiblybethecase,hemusthaveseenitsooftenbefore.Asortoffurhasbeenproduceduponitssurfacebythecook’sart,andinashamsilvervesselstaggeringontwofeetinsteadofthree,isacutaneouskindofsauceofbrownpimplesandpickledcucumber.Youorderthebill,butyourwaitercannotbringyourbillyet,becauseheisbringing,instead,threeflinty-heartedpotatoesandtwogrimheadofbroccoli,liketheoccasionalornamentsonarearailings,badlyboiled.Youknowthatyouwillnevercometothispass,anymorethantothecheeseandcelery,andyouimperativelydemandyourbill;but,ittakestimetoget,evenwhengonefor,becauseyourwaiterhastocommunicatewithaladywholivesbehindasash-windowinacorner,andwhoappearstohavetorefertoseveralLedgersbeforeshecanmakeitout—asifyouhadbeenstayingthereayear.Youbecomedistractedtogetaway,andtheotherwaiter,oncemorechanginghisleg,stilllooksatyou—butsuspiciously,now,asifyouhadbeguntoremindhimofthepartywhotookthegreat-coatslastwinter.Yourbillatlastbroughtand paid, at the rate ofsixpenceamouthful,yourwaiterreproachfullyremindsyouthat‘attendanceisnotchargedforasinglemeal,’andyouhavetosearchinallyourpocketsforsixpencemore.Hehasaworseopinionofyouthanever,whenyouhavegivenittohim,andletsyououtintothestreetwiththeairofonesayingtohimself,asyoucannotagaindoubtheis,‘Ihopeweshallneverseeyouhereagain!’Or, takeanyotherof thenumerous travelling instances inwhich,withmoretimeatyourdisposal,youare,havebeen,ormaybe,equallyillserved.Take

theold-establishedBull’sHeadwithitsold-establishedknife-boxesonitsold-establishedsideboards, itsold-establishedflueunder itsold-establishedfour-post bedsteads in its old-established airless rooms, its old-establishedfrouzinessup-stairsanddown-stairs, itsold-establishedcookery,and itsold-establishedprinciplesofplunder.Countupyourinjuries,initsside-dishesofailing sweetbreads in white poultices, of apothecaries’ powders in rice forcurry, of pale stewed bits of calf ineffectually relying for an adventitiousinterest on forcemeat balls. You have had experience of the old-establishedBull’sHead stringy fowls,with lowerextremities likewooden legs, stickingupoutofthedish;ofitscannibalicboiledmutton,gushinghorriblyamongitscapers, when carved; of its little dishes of pastry—roofs of spermacetiointment,erectedoverhalfanappleorfourgooseberries.Wellforyouifyouhave yet forgotten the old-established Bull’s Head fruity port: whosereputationwasgainedsolelybytheold-establishedpricetheBull’sHeadputupon it, and by the old-established air with which the Bull’s Head set theglassesandD’Oyleyson,andheldthatLiquidGouttothethree-and-sixpennywax-candle,asifitsold-establishedcolourhadn’tcomefromthedyer’s.Orlastly,taketofinishwith,twocasesthatweallknow,everyday.Weallknowthenewhotelnearthestation,whereitisalwaysgusty,goingupthelanewhichisalwaysmuddy,wherewearesuretoarriveatnight,andwherewemakethegasstartawfullywhenweopenthefrontdoor.Weallknowtheflooringofthepassagesandstaircasesthatistoonew,andthewallsthataretoonew,andthehousethatishauntedbytheghostofmortar.Weallknowthedoorsthathavecracked,andthecrackedshuttersthroughwhichwegetaglimpseofthedisconsolatemoon.Weallknowthenewpeople,whohavecometokeepthenewhotel,andwhowishtheyhadnevercome,andwho(inevitableresult)wishwehadnevercome.Weallknowhowmuchtooscantandsmoothandbrightthenewfurnitureis,andhowithasneversettleddown,andcannotfititselfintorightplaces,andwillgetintowrongplaces.Weallknowhowthegas,beinglighted,showsmapsofDampuponthewalls.Weallknowhowtheghostofmortarpassesintooursandwich,stirsournegus,goesuptobedwithus,ascendsthepalebedroomchimney,andpreventsthesmokefromfollowing.Weallknowhowalegofourchaircomesoffatbreakfastinthemorning,andhowthedejectedwaiterattributestheaccidenttoageneralgreennesspervadingtheestablishment,andinformsus,inreplytoalocalinquiry,thatheisthankfultosayheisanentirestrangerinthatpartofthecountryandisgoingbacktohisownconnexiononSaturday.We all know, on the other hand, the great station hotel belonging to thecompanyofproprietors,whichhassuddenlysprungupinthebackoutskirtsofanyplaceweliketoname,andwherewelookoutofourpalatialwindowsat

littlebackyardsandgardens,oldsummer-houses,fowl-houses,pigeon-traps,andpigsties.Weallknow thishotel inwhichwecangetanythingwewant,afteritskind,formoney;butwherenobodyisgladtoseeus,orsorrytoseeus,orminds(ourbillpaid)whetherwecomeorgo,orhow,orwhen,orwhy,orcaresaboutus.Weallknowthishotel,wherewehavenoindividuality,butputourselves into the general post, as it were, and are sorted and disposed ofaccordingtoourdivision.Weallknowthatwecangetonverywellindeedatsuchaplace,butstillnotperfectlywell;andthismaybe,becausetheplaceislargelywholesale,andthereisalingeringpersonalretailinterestwithinusthataskstobesatisfied.To sum up.Myuncommercialtravellinghasnotyetbroughtmetotheconclusionthatweareclosetoperfectioninthesematters.AndjustasIdonotbelievethattheendoftheworldwilleverbenearathand,solongasanyoftheverytiresomeandarrogantpeoplewhoconstantlypredictthatcatastropheareleftinit,so,IshallhavesmallfaithintheHotelMillennium,whileanyoftheuncomfortablesuperstitionsIhaveglancedatremaininexistence.

CHAPTERVII—TRAVELLINGABROADIgot into the travellingchariot—itwasofGermanmake, roomy,heavy,andunvarnished—I got into the travelling chariot, pulled up the steps afterme,shutmyselfinwithasmartbangofthedoor,andgavetheword,‘Goon!’Immediately,allthatW.andS.W.divisionofLondonbegantoslideawayatapacesolively,thatIwasovertheriver,andpasttheOldKentRoad,andoutonBlackheath, and even ascendingShooter’sHill, before I had had time tolookaboutmeinthecarriage,likeacollectedtraveller.IhadtwoampleImperialsontheroof,otherfittedstorageforluggageinfront,andotherupbehind;Ihadanetforbooksoverhead,greatpockets toall thewindows,a leathernpouchor twohungupforoddsandends,andareadinglamp fixed in the back of the chariot, in case I should be benighted. Iwasamplyprovidedinallrespects,andhadnoideawhereIwasgoing(whichwasdelightful),exceptthatIwasgoingabroad.So smoothwas the old high road, and so freshwere the horses, and so fastwent I, that it was midway between Gravesend and Rochester, and thewideningriverwasbearingtheships,whitesailedorblack-smoked,outtosea,whenInoticedbythewaysideaveryqueersmallboy.‘Holloa!’saidI,totheveryqueersmallboy,‘wheredoyoulive?’

‘AtChatham,’sayshe.‘Whatdoyoudothere?’saysI.‘Igotoschool,’sayshe.I tookhimupinamoment,andwewenton.Presently, theveryqueersmallboysays,‘ThisisGads-hillwearecomingto,whereFalstaffwentouttorobthosetravellers,andranaway.’‘YouknowsomethingaboutFalstaff,eh?’saidI.‘All abouthim,’ said theveryqueer smallboy. ‘I amold (I amnine), and Ireadallsortsofbooks.Butdoletusstopatthetopofthehill,andlookatthehousethere,ifyouplease!’‘Youadmirethathouse?’saidI.‘Blessyou,sir,’saidtheveryqueersmallboy,‘whenIwasnotmorethanhalfasoldasnine,itusedtobeatreatformetobebroughttolookatit.Andnow,Iamnine,Icomebymyselftolookatit.AndeversinceIcanrecollect,myfather,seeingmesofondofit,hasoftensaidtome,“Ifyouweretobeveryperseveringandwere toworkhard,youmightsomedaycometo live in it.”Though that’s impossible!’ said the very queer small boy, drawing a lowbreath,andnowstaringatthehouseoutofwindowwithallhismight.Iwasratheramazedtobetoldthisbytheveryqueersmallboy;forthathousehappens tobemyhouse,andIhavereason tobelieve thatwhathesaidwastrue.Well!Imadenohaltthere,andIsoondroppedtheveryqueersmallboyandwenton.OvertheroadwheretheoldRomansusedtomarch,overtheroadwheretheoldCanterburypilgrimsusedtogo,overtheroadwherethetravellingtrainsoftheoldimperiouspriestsandprincesusedtojingleonhorsebackbetweenthecontinentandthisIslandthroughthemudandwater,overtheroadwhereShakespearehummedtohimself, ‘Blow, blow, thouwinterwind,’ ashe sat in the saddleat thegateof the innyardnoticing thecarriers;allamongthecherryorchards,appleorchards,corn-fields,andhop-gardens;sowent I,byCanterbury toDover.There, theseawas tumbling in,withdeepsounds,afterdark,andtherevolvingFrenchlightonCapeGrinezwas seen regularly bursting out and becoming obscured, as if the head of agigantic light-keeper inananxiousstateofmindwereinterposedeveryhalf-minute,tolookhowitwasburning.Early in the morning I was on the deck of the steam-packet, and we were

aimingatthebarintheusualintolerablemanner,andthebarwasaimingatusintheusualintolerablemanner,andthebargotbyfarthebestofit,andwegotbyfartheworst—allintheusualintolerablemanner.But, when I was clear of the CustomHouse on the other side, andwhen IbegantomakethedustflyonthethirstyFrenchroads,andwhenthetwigsometreesbythewayside(which,Isuppose,neverwillgrowleafy,fortheyneverdid)guardedhereandthereadustysoldier,orfieldlabourer,bakingonaheapof broken stones, sound asleep in a fiction of shade, I began to recovermytravellingspirits.Cominguponthebreakerofthebrokenstones,inahard,hot,shininghat,onwhichthesunplayedatadistanceasonaburning-glass,Ifeltthatnow,indeed,IwasinthedearoldFranceofmyaffections.Ishouldhaveknownit,withoutthewell-rememberedbottleofroughordinarywine,thecoldroastfowl,theloaf,andthepinchofsalt,onwhichIlunchedwithunspeakablesatisfaction,fromoneofthestuffedpocketsofthechariot.Imusthavefallenasleepafterlunch,forwhenabrightfacelookedinat thewindow,Istarted,andsaid:‘GoodGod,Louis,Idreamedyouweredead!’Mycheerfulservantlaughed,andanswered:‘Me?Notatall,sir.’‘HowgladIamtowake!WhatarewedoingLouis?’‘Wegototakerelayofhorses.Willyouwalkupthehill?’‘Certainly.’Welcome the old French hill, with the old French lunatic (not in the mostdistantdegreerelatedtoSterne’sMaria)livinginathatcheddog-kennelhalf-wayup,andflyingoutwithhiscrutchandhisbigheadandextendednightcap,tobebeforehandwith theoldmenandwomenexhibiting crippled children,andwith the children exhibiting oldmen andwomen, ugly and blind, whoalways seemedby resurrectionaryprocess tobe recalledoutof theelementsforthesuddenpeoplingofthesolitude!‘Itiswell,’saidI,scatteringamongthemwhatsmallcoinIhad;‘herecomesLouis,andIamquiterousedfrommynap.’We journeyed on again, and I welcomed every new assurance that FrancestoodwhereIhadleftit.Thereweretheposting-houses,withtheirarchways,dirty stable-yards, and cleanpost-masters’wives, brightwomenofbusiness,lookingonat theputting-toof thehorses; therewere thepostilionscounting

whatmoney they got, into their hats, and nevermaking enough of it; therewere the standard population of grey horses of Flanders descent, invariablybitingoneanotherwhentheygotachance;therewerethefleecysheepskins,looped on over their uniforms by the postilions, like bibbed apronswhen itblewandrained; thereweretheirJack-boots,andtheircrackingwhips; therewerethecathedralsthatIgotouttosee,asundersomecruelbondage,innowisedesiringtoseethem;therewerethelittletownsthatappearedtohavenoreason for being towns, sincemost of their houses were to let and nobodycouldbeinducedtolookatthem,exceptthepeoplewhocouldn’tletthemandhadnothingelsetodobutlookatthemallday.Ilayanightupontheroadandenjoyed delectable cookery of potatoes, and some other sensible things,adoptionofwhichathomewouldinevitablybeshowntobefraughtwithruin,somehoworother,tothatricketynationalblessing,theBritishfarmer;andatlast Iwas rattled, like a single pill in a box, over leagues of stones, until—madly cracking, plunging, and flourishing twogrey tails about—ImademytriumphalentryintoParis.AtParis,ItookanupperapartmentforafewdaysinoneofthehotelsoftheRue de Rivoli; my front windows looking into the garden of the Tuileries(where the principal difference between the nursemaids and the flowersseemed to be that the formerwere locomotive and the latter not):my backwindows lookingatall theotherbackwindows in thehotel,anddeepdownintoapavedyard,wheremyGermanchariothadretiredunderatight-fittingarchway, to all appearance for life, and where bells rang all day withoutanybody’s minding them but certain chamberlains with feather brooms andgreenbaizecaps,whohereandthereleanedoutofsomehighwindowplacidlylookingdown,andwhereneatwaiterswithtraysontheirleftshoulderspassedandrepassedfrommorningtonight.WheneverIamatParis,IamdraggedbyinvisibleforceintotheMorgue.Ineverwanttogothere,butamalwayspulledthere.OneChristmasDay,whenIwouldratherhavebeenanywhereelse,Iwasattractedin,toseeanoldgreymanlyingallaloneonhiscoldbed,withatapofwaterturnedonoverhisgreyhair,andrunning,drip,drip,drip,downhis wretched face until it got to thecornerofhismouth,where it tooka turn,andmadehim looksly.OneNewYear’sMorning (by the same token, the sunwas shining outside, and therewasamountebankbalancingafeatheronhisnose,withinayardofthegate),Iwas pulled in again to look at a flaxen-haired boy of eighteen,with a hearthangingonhisbreast—‘fromhismother,’wasengravenonit—whohadcomeintothenetacrosstheriver,withabulletwoundinhisfairforeheadandhishandscutwithaknife,butwhenceorhowwasablankmystery.Thistime,Iwas forced into the same dread place, to see a large dark man whosedisfigurementbywaterwasinafrightfulmannercomic,andwhoseexpression

wasthatofaprize-fighterwhohadclosedhiseyelidsunderaheavyblow,butwasgoingimmediatelytoopenthem,shakehishead,and‘comeupsmiling.’Ohwhatthislargedarkmancostmeinthatbrightcity!Itwasveryhotweather,andhewasnonethebetterforthat,andIwasmuchtheworse.Indeed,averyneatandpleasant littlewomanwith thekeyofherlodgingonher forefinger,whohadbeenshowinghimtoher littlegirlwhileshe and the child ate sweetmeats, observedmonsieur looking poorly as wecame out together, and askedmonsieur, with herwondering little eyebrowsprettily raised, if there were anything the matter? Faintly replying in thenegative, monsieur crossed the road to a wine-shop, got some brandy, andresolvedtofreshenhimselfwithadipinthegreatfloatingbathontheriver.The bath was crowded in the usual airy manner, by a male population instripeddrawersofvariousgaycolours,whowalkedupanddownarminarm,drank coffee, smoked cigars, sat at little tables, conversed politely with thedamsels who dispensed the towels, and every now and then pitchedthemselves into the river head foremost, and came out again to repeat thissocial routine. I made haste to participate in the water part of theentertainments,andwasinthefullenjoymentofadelightfulbath,whenallinamomentIwasseizedwithanunreasonableideathatthelargedarkbodywasfloatingstraightatme.Iwasoutof the river, anddressing instantly. In theshock Ihad takensomewater into my mouth, and it turned me sick, for I fancied that thecontaminationof thecreaturewas in it. Ihadgotback tomycooldarkenedroominthehotel,andwaslyingonasofathere,beforeIbegantoreasonwithmyself.Ofcourse,Iknewperfectlywell that thelargedarkcreaturewasstonedead,andthatIshouldnomorecomeuponhimoutof theplacewhereIhadseenhimdead,thanIshouldcomeuponthecathedralofNotre-Dameinanentirelynewsituation.Whattroubledmewasthepictureofthecreature;andthathadsocuriouslyandstronglypainteditselfuponmybrain,thatIcouldnotgetridofituntilitwaswornout.Inoticedthepeculiaritiesofthispossession,whileitwasarealdiscomforttome.Thatveryday,atdinner,somemorselonmyplatelookedlikeapieceofhim,andIwasgladtogetupandgoout.Laterintheevening,Iwaswalkingalong the Rue St. Honoré, when I saw a bill at a public room there,announcingsmall-swordexercise,broad-swordexercise,wrestling,andothersuchfeats.Iwentin,andsomeofthesword-playbeingveryskilful,remained.Aspecimenofourownnationalsport,TheBritishBoaxe,wasannouncedtobegivenatthecloseoftheevening.Inanevilhour,Ideterminedtowaitfor

thisBoaxe,asbecameaBriton. Itwasaclumsyspecimen(executedby twoEnglishgroomsoutofplace),butoneofthecombatants,receivingastraightright-handerwiththeglovebetweenhiseyes,didexactlywhatthelargedarkcreature in theMorgue had seemed going to do—and finished me for thatnight.Therewasratherasicklysmell(notatallanunusualfragranceinParis)inthelittleante-roomofmyapartmentatthehotel.ThelargedarkcreatureintheMorguewasbynodirectexperienceassociatedwithmysenseofsmell,because,whenIcametotheknowledgeofhim,helaybehindawallofthickplate-glassasgoodasawallofsteelormarbleforthatmatter.Yetthewhiffoftheroomneverfailedtoreproducehim.Whatwasmorecurious,wasthecapriciousnesswithwhichhisportraitseemedtolightitselfupinmymind,elsewhere.ImightbewalkinginthePalaisRoyal,lazilyenjoyingtheshopwindows,andmightberegalingmyselfwithoneoftheready-madeclothesshopsthataresetoutthere.Myeyes,wanderingoverimpossible-waisteddressing-gownsandluminouswaistcoats,wouldfalluponthemaster,ortheshopman,oreventheverydummyatthedoor,andwouldsuggesttome,‘Somethinglikehim!’—andinstantlyIwassickenedagain.Thiswouldhappenatthetheatre,inthesamemanner.Oftenitwouldhappenin the street, when I certainly was not looking for the likeness, and whenprobablytherewasnolikenessthere.ItwasnotbecausethecreaturewasdeadthatIwassohaunted,becauseIknowthatImighthavebeen(andIknowitbecauseIhavebeen)equallyattendedbytheimageofalivingaversion.Thislastedaboutaweek.Thepicturedidnotfadebydegrees, in thesensethat itbecameawhitlessforcibleanddistinct,butinthesensethatitobtrudeditselfless and less frequently.The experiencemay beworth considering by somewhohavethecareofchildren.Itwouldbedifficult tooverstatetheintensityandaccuracyofanintelligentchild’sobservation.Atthatimpressibletimeoflife,itmustsometimesproduceafixedimpression.Ifthefixedimpressionbeof an object terrible to the child, it will be (for want of reasoning upon)inseparablefromgreatfear.Forcethechildatsuchatime,beSpartanwithit,send it into thedarkagainst itswill, leave it ina lonelybedroomagainst itswill,andyouhadbettermurderit.OnabrightmorningIrattledawayfromParis,intheGermanchariot,andleftthelargedarkcreaturebehindmeforgood.Ioughttoconfess,though,thatIhadbeendrawnbacktotheMorgue,afterhewasputunderground,tolookathisclothes,andthatIfoundthemfrightfullylikehim—particularlyhisboots.However, I rattledawayforSwitzerland, lookingforwardandnotbackward,andsowepartedcompany.Welcomeagain,thelong,longspellofFrance,withthequeercountryinns,

fullofvasesofflowersandclocks,inthedulllittletown,andwiththelittlepopulationnotatalldullonthelittleBoulevardintheevening,underthelittletrees!WelcomeMonsieurtheCuré,walkingaloneintheearlymorningashortwayoutofthetown,readingthateternalBreviaryofyours,whichsurelymightbealmostread,withoutbook,bythistime!WelcomeMonsieurtheCuré,laterintheday,joltingthroughthehighwaydust(asifyouhadalreadyascendedtothecloudyregion),inaverybig-headedcabriolet,withthedriedmudofadozenwintersonit.WelcomeagainMonsieurtheCuré,asweexchangesalutations;you,straighteningyourbacktolookattheGermanchariot,whilepickinginyourlittlevillagegardenavegetableortwofortheday’ssoup:I,lookingoutoftheGermanchariotwindowinthatdelicioustraveller’strancewhichknowsnocares,noyesterdays,noto-morrows,nothingbutthepassingobjectsandthepassingscentsandsounds!AndsoIcame,induecourseofdelight,toStrasbourg,whereIpassedawetSundayeveningatawindow,whileanidletrifleofavaudevillewasplayed formeattheoppositehouse.Howsucha largehousecame tohaveonly threepeople living in it,wasitsownaffair.Therewereatleastascoreofwindowsinitshighroofalone;howmanyinitsgrotesquefront,Isoongaveupcounting.Theownerwasashopkeeper,bynameStraudenheim;bytrade—Icouldn’tmakeoutwhatbytrade,forhehadforbornetowritethatup,andhisshopwasshut.Atfirst,asIlookedatStraudenheim’s,throughthesteadilyfallingrain,Isethimupinbusinessinthegoose-liverline.But,inspectionofStraudenheim,whobecamevisibleatawindowonthesecondfloor,convincedmethattherewassomethingmorepreciousthanliverinthecase.Heworeablackvelvetskull-cap,andlookedusuriousandrich.A large-lipped, pear-nosed old man,withwhitehair,andkeeneyes,thoughnear-sighted.Hewaswritingatadesk,wasStraudenheim,andeverandagainleftoffwriting,puthispeninhismouth,andwentthroughactionswithhisrighthand,likeamansteadyingpilesofcash.Five-francpieces,Straudenheim,orgoldenNapoleons?Ajeweller,Straudenheim,adealerinmoney,adiamondmerchant,orwhat?BelowStraudenheim,atawindowonthefirstfloor,sathishousekeeper—farfromyoung,butofacomelypresence,suggestiveofawell-maturedfootandankle.Shewascheerilydressed,hadafaninherhand,andworelargegoldearringsandalargegoldcross.Shewouldhavebeenoutholiday-making(asIsettledit)butforthepestilentrain.Strasbourghadgivenupholiday-makingforthatonce,asabadjob,becausetherain was jerking in gushes out of theold roof-spouts, and running in a brook down themiddle of the street. Thehousekeeper,herarmsfoldedonherbosomandherfantappingherchin,wasbright and smiling at heropenwindow,butotherwiseStraudenheim’shouse

front was very dreary. The housekeeper’s was the only open window in it;Straudenheimkepthimself close, though itwasa sultryeveningwhenair ispleasant,andthoughtherainhadbroughtintothetownthatvaguerefreshingsmellofgrasswhichraindoesbringinthesummer-time.ThedimappearanceofamanatStraudenheim’sshoulder,inspiredmewithamisgiving that somebody had come tomurder that flourishingmerchant forthewealthwithwhichIhadhandsomelyendowedhim:therather,asitwasanexcitedman, leanand longof figure, andevidently stealthyof foot.But,heconferredwithStraudenheim insteadof doinghimamortal injury, and thenthey both softly opened the other window of that room—which wasimmediatelyover thehousekeeper’s—and tried to seeher by lookingdown.AndmyopinionofStraudenheimwasmuchloweredwhenIsawthateminentcitizen spit out of window, clearly with the hope of spitting on thehousekeeper.The unconscious housekeeper fanned herself, tossed her head, and laughed.ThoughunconsciousofStraudenheim,shewasconsciousofsomebodyelse—ofme?—therewasnobodyelse.Afterleaningsofaroutofthewindow,thatIconfidentlyexpectedtoseetheirheelstiltup,Straudenheimandtheleanmandrewtheirheadsinandshutthewindow. Presently, the house door secretly opened, and they slowly andspitefullycrept forth into thepouring rain.Theywerecomingover tome (Ithought)todemandsatisfactionformylookingatthehousekeeper,whentheyplungedintoarecessinthearchitectureundermywindowanddraggedoutthepuniestoflittlesoldiers,begirtwiththemostinnocentoflittleswords.Thetallglazedhead-dressofthiswarrior,Straudenheiminstantlyknockedoff,andoutofitfelltwosugar-sticks,andthreeorfourlargelumpsofsugar.Thewarriormadenoefforttorecoverhispropertyortopickuphisshako,butlookedwithanexpressionofattentionatStraudenheimwhenhekickedhimfivetimes,andalsoattheleanmanwhenhekickedhimfivetimes,andagainatStraudenheimwhenhetorethebreastofhis(thewarrior’s)littlecoatopen,andshookallhis tenfingers inhisface,as if theywere tenthousand.Whentheseoutrageshadbeencommitted,Straudenheimandhismanwentintothehouse again and barred the door. A wonderful circumstance was, that thehousekeeperwhosawitall(andwhocouldhavetakensixsuchwarriorstoherbuxombosomatonce),only fannedherself and laughedas shehad laughedbefore,andseemedtohavenoopinionaboutit,onewayorother.But,thechiefeffectofthedramawastheremarkablevengeancetakenbythelittlewarrior.Leftaloneintherain,hepickeduphisshako;putiton,allwetanddirtyasitwas;retiredintoacourt,ofwhichStraudenheim’shouseformed

thecorner;wheeledabout;andbringinghistwoforefingersclosetothetopofhisnose,rubbedthemoveroneanother,cross-wise,inderision,defiance,andcontemptofStraudenheim.AlthoughStraudenheimcouldnotpossiblybesupposedtobeconsciousofthisstrangeproceeding,itsoinflatedandcomfortedthelittlewarrior’ssoul, thattwicehewentaway,andtwicecamebackintothecourttorepeatit,asthoughitmustgoadhisenemytomadness.Notonlythat,butheafterwardscamebackwithtwoothersmallwarriors,andtheyallthreedidittogether.Notonlythat—asIlivetotellthetale!—butjustasitwasfallingquitedark,thethreecameback,bringingwiththemahugebeardedSapper,whomtheymoved,byrecitaloftheoriginalwrong,togothroughthesameperformance,withthesamecompleteabsenceofallpossibleknowledgeofitonthepartofStraudenheim.Andthentheyallwentaway,arminarm,singing.Iwent away too, in theGerman chariot at sunrise, and rattled on, day afterday,likeoneinasweetdream;withsomanyclearlittlebellsontheharnessofthehorses,thatthenurseryrhymeaboutBanburyCrossandthevenerableladywhorodeinstatethere,wasalwaysinmyears.AndnowIcametothelandofwooden houses, innocent cakes, thin butter soup, and spotless little innbedroomswith a family likeness toDairies. And now the Swissmarksmenwere for ever rifle-shootingatmarks acrossgorges, so exceedinglynearmyear, that I felt like a newGesler in a Canton of Tells, and went in highly-deserved danger of my tyrannical life. The prizes at these shootings, werewatches, smart handkerchiefs, hats, spoons, and (above all) tea-trays; and atthese contests I came upon a more than usually accomplished and amiablecountryman of my own, who had shot himself deaf in whole years ofcompetition, andhadwon somany tea-trays that hewent about the countrywithhiscarriagefullofthem,likeaglorifiedCheap-Jack.Inthemountain-countryintowhichIhadnowtravelled,ayokeofoxenweresometimeshookedonbeforethepost-horses,andIwentlumberingup,up,up,throughmistandrain,withtheroaroffallingwaterforchangeofmusic.Ofasudden,mistandrainwouldclearaway,andIwouldcomedownintopicturesquelittletownswithgleamingspiresandoddtowers;andwouldstrollafootintomarket-placesinsteepwindingstreets,whereahundredwomeninbodices,soldeggsandhoney,butterandfruit,andsuckledtheirchildrenastheysatbytheircleanbaskets,andhadsuchenormousgoîtres(orglandularswellingsinthethroat)thatitbecameasciencetoknowwherethenurseendedandthechildbegan.Aboutthistime,IdesertedmyGermanchariotforthebackofamule(incolourandconsistencysoverylikeadustyoldhairtrunkIoncehadatschool,thatIhalfexpectedtoseemyinitialsinbrass-headednailsonhisbackbone),andwentupathousandruggedways,andlookeddownatathousandwoodsoffirandpine,andwouldonthewhole

havepreferredmymule’skeepingalittlenearertotheinside, and not usuallytravellingwith a hoof or twoover the precipice—thoughmuch consoledbyexplanationthatthiswastobeattributedtohisgreatsagacity,byreasonofhiscarrying broad loads ofwood at other times, and not being clear but that Imyselfbelongedtothatstationoflife,andrequiredasmuchroomasthey.Hebroughtme safely, inhis ownwiseway, among thepassesof theAlps, andhere I enjoyedadozenclimatesaday;beingnow (likeDonQuixoteon thebackof thewoodenhorse) in the regionofwind, now in the regionof fire,now in the regionofunmelting iceandsnow.Here, Ipassedover tremblingdomesofice,beneathwhichthecataractwasroaring;andherewasreceivedunderarchesoficicles,ofunspeakablebeauty;andherethesweetairwassobracingandsolight,thatathalting-timesIrolledinthesnowwhenIsawmymule do it, thinking that hemust knowbest.At this part of the journeywewouldcome,atmid-day, intohalfanhour’s thaw:whentheroughmountaininn would be found on an island of deepmud in a sea of snow, while thebaitingstringsofmules,andthecartsfullofcasksandbales,whichhadbeenin an Arctic condition a mile off, would steam again. By such ways andmeans, Iwouldcometo theclusterofchâletswhereIhad to turnoutof thetrack to see the waterfall; and then, uttering a howl like a young giant, onespyinga traveller—inotherwords, something toeat—comingup thesteep,the idiot lying on thewood-pilewho sunned himself and nursed his goître,would rouse thewoman-guidewithin thehut,whowouldstreamouthastily,throwingherchildoveroneofhershouldersandhergoîtreovertheother,asshecamealong.Isleptatreligioushouses,andbleakrefugesofmanykinds,onthis journey,andbythestoveatnightheardstoriesof travellerswhohadperishedwithincall,inwreathsanddriftsofsnow.Onenightthestovewithin,and the cold outside, awakened childish associations long forgotten, and IdreamedIwasinRussia—theidenticalserfoutofapicture-bookIhad,beforeI could read it formyself—and that I was going to be knouted by a noblepersonageinafurcap,boots,andearrings,who,Ithink,musthavecomeoutofsomemelodrama.Commendmetothebeautifulwatersamongthesemountains!Though I wasnotoftheirmind:they,beinginveteratelybentongettingdownintothelevelcountry,andIardentlydesiringtolingerwhereIwas.Whatdesperateleapstheytook,whatdarkabyssestheyplungedinto,whatrockstheyworeaway,whatechoestheyinvoked!InonepartwhereIwent,theywerepressedintotheserviceofcarryingwooddown,tobeburntnextwinter,ascostlyfuel,inItaly.But,theirfiercesavagenaturewasnottobeeasilyconstrained,andtheyfoughtwitheverylimbofthewood;whirlingitroundandround,strippingitsbarkaway,dashingitagainstpointedcorners,drivingitoutofthecourse,androaringandflyingatthepeasantswhosteereditbackagainfromthebankwithlongstoutpoles.Alas!concurrentstreamsoftimeandwatercarriedmedown

fast,andIcame,onanexquisitelyclearday,totheLausanneshoreoftheLakeofGeneva,whereIstoodlookingatthebrightbluewater,theflushedwhitemountainsopposite,and theboatsatmyfeetwith their furledMediterraneansails, showing like enormous magnifications of this goose-quill pen that isnowinmyhand.-Theskybecameovercastwithoutanynotice;awindveryliketheMarcheastwindofEngland,blewacrossme;andavoicesaid,‘Howdoyoulikeit?Willitdo?’Ihadmerelyshutmyself,forhalfaminute,inaGermantravellingchariotthatstoodforsaleintheCarriageDepartmentoftheLondonPantechnicon.Ihadacommission to buy it, for a friendwhowasgoing abroad; and the look andmannerofthechariot,asItriedthecushionsandthesprings,broughtallthesehintsoftravellingremembrancebeforeme.‘Itwilldoverywell,’saidI,rathersorrowfully,asIgotoutattheotherdoor,andshutthecarriageup.

CHAPTERVIII—THEGREATTASMANIA’SCARGOItravelconstantly,upanddownacertainlineofrailwaythathasaterminusinLondon. It is the railway for a large military depôt, and for other largebarracks.Tothebestofmyseriousbelief,Ihaveneverbeenonthatrailwaybydaylight,withoutseeingsomehandcuffeddesertersinthetrain.ItisinthenatureofthingsthatsuchaninstitutionasourEnglisharmyshouldhavemanybadandtroublesomecharactersinit.But,thisisareasonfor,andnotagainst,itsbeingmadeasacceptableaspossibletowell-disposedmenofdecentbehaviour.Suchmenareassuredlynottemptedintotheranks,bythebeastlyinversionofnaturallaws,andthecompulsiontoliveinworsethanswinishfoulness.Accordingly,whenanysuchCircumlocutionalembellishmentsofthesoldier’sconditionhaveoflatebeenbroughttonotice,wecivilians,seatedinouterdarknesscheerfullymeditatingonanIncomeTax,haveconsideredthematterasbeingourbusiness,andhaveshownatendencytodeclarethatwewouldrathernothaveitmisregulated,ifsuchdeclarationmay,withoutviolencetotheChurchCatechism,behintedtothosewhoareputinauthorityoverus.Any animated description of a modern battle, any private soldier’s letterpublished in the newspapers, any page of the records of theVictoriaCross,willshowthatintheranksofthearmy,thereexistsunderalldisadvantagesasfineasenseofdutyasistobefoundinanystationonearth.Whodoubtsthatifwealldidourdutyasfaithfullyasthesoldierdoeshis,thisworldwouldbe

a better place? There may be greater difficulties in our way than in thesoldier’s.Notdisputed.But,letusatleastdoourdutytowardshim.Ihadgotbackagain to that richandbeautifulportwhereIhad lookedafterMercantileJack,andIwaswalkingupahillthere,onawildMarchmorning.MyconversationwithmyofficialfriendPangloss,bywhomIwasaccidentallyaccompanied,tookthisdirectionaswetooktheup-hilldirection,becausetheobjectofmyuncommercialjourneywastoseesomedischargedsoldierswhohad recently come home from India. There were men of HAVELOCK’samongthem;thereweremenwhohadbeeninmanyofthegreatbattlesofthegreat Indian campaign, among them; and I was curious to note what ourdischargedsoldierslookedlike,whentheyweredonewith.Iwas not the less interested (as Imentioned tomyofficial friendPangloss)because these men had claimed to be discharged, when their right to bedischargedwasnotadmitted.Theyhadbehavedwithunblemishedfidelityandbravery;but,achangeofcircumstanceshadarisen,which,astheyconsidered,put an end to their compact and entitled them to enter on a newone.TheirdemandhadbeenblunderinglyresistedbytheauthoritiesinIndia:but,itistobe presumed that themenwere not farwrong, inasmuch as the bungle hadendedintheirbeingsenthomedischarged,inpursuanceofordersfromhome.(Therewasanimmensewasteofmoney,ofcourse.)Under these circumstances—thought I, as I walked up the hill, on which Iaccidentallyencounteredmyofficialfriend—underthesecircumstancesofthemenhavingsuccessfullyopposedthemselvestothePagodaDepartmentofthatgreat Circumlocution Office on which the sun never sets and the light ofreasonneverrises,thePagodaDepartmentwillhavebeenparticularlycarefulofthenationalhonour.Itwillhaveshownthesemen,inthescrupulousgoodfaith, not to say the generosity, of its dealingwith them, that great nationalauthorities can have no small retaliations and revenges. It will have madeevery provision for their health on the passage home, andwill have landedthem, restored from their campaigning fatigues by a sea-voyage, pure air,sound food, and good medicines. And I pleased myself with dwellingbeforehand,onthegreataccountsoftheirpersonaltreatmentwhichthesemenwould carry into their various towns and villages, and on the increasingpopularityoftheservicethatwouldinsensiblyfollow.Ialmostbegantohopethat the hitherto-never-failing deserters on my railroad would by-and-bybecomeaphenomenon.InthisagreeableframeofmindIenteredtheworkhouseofLiverpool.—For,thecultivationoflaurelsinasandysoil,hadbroughtthesoldiersinquestiontothatabodeofGlory.

Beforegoingintotheirwardstovisitthem,Iinquiredhowtheyhadmadetheirtriumphant entry there?Theyhadbeenbroughtthroughtherainincartsitseemed,fromthelanding-placetothegate,andhadthenbeencarriedup-stairsonthebacksofpaupers.Theirgroansandpainsduringtheperformanceofthisgloriouspageant,hadbeensodistressing,astobringtearsintotheeyesofspectatorsbut toowell accustomed to scenesof suffering.Themenwere sodreadfully cold, that those who could get near the fires were hard to berestrainedfromthrustingtheirfeetinamongtheblazingcoals.Theyweresohorribly reduced, that theywereawful to lookupon.Rackedwithdysenteryandblackenedwithscurvy,onehundredandfortywretchedsoldiershadbeenrevivedwithbrandyandlaidinbed.MyofficialfriendPanglossislineallydescendedfromalearneddoctorofthatname,whowasoncetutortoCandide,aningeniousyounggentlemanofsomecelebrity.Inhispersonalcharacter,heisashumaneandworthyagentlemanasanyIknow;inhisofficialcapacity,heunfortunatelypreachesthedoctrinesofhisrenownedancestor,bydemonstratingonalloccasions thatwelive in thebestofallpossibleofficialworlds.‘InthenameofHumanity,’saidI,‘howdidthemenfall intothisdeplorablestate?Wastheshipwellfoundinstores?’‘I am not here to asseverate that I know the fact, of my own knowledge,’answeredPangloss,‘butIhavegroundsforassertingthatthestoreswerethebestofallpossiblestores.’Amedicalofficerlaidbeforeus,ahandfulofrottenbiscuit,andahandfulofsplitpeas.Thebiscuitwasahoneycombedheapofmaggots,andtheexcrementofmaggots.Thepeaswereevenharderthanthisfilth.Asimilarhandfulhadbeenexperimentallyboiledsixhours,andhadshownnosignsofsoftening.Thesewerethestoresonwhichthesoldiershadbeenfed.‘Thebeef—’Ibegan,whenPanglosscutmeshort.‘Wasthebestofallpossiblebeef,’saidhe.But,behold,therewaslaidbeforeuscertainevidencegivenattheCoroner’sInquest, holden on some of the men (who had obstinately died of theirtreatment),andfromthatevidenceitappearedthatthebeefwastheworstofpossiblebeef!‘ThenIlaymyhanduponmyheart,andtakemystand,’saidPangloss,‘bythepork,whichwasthebestofallpossiblepork.’‘Butlookatthisfoodbeforeoureyes,ifonemaysomisusetheword,’saidI.

‘WouldanyInspectorwhodidhisduty,passsuchabomination?’‘Itoughtnottohavebeenpassed,’Panglossadmitted.‘Thentheauthoritiesoutthere—’Ibegan,whenPanglosscutmeshortagain.‘Therewouldcertainlyseemtohavebeensomethingwrongsomewhere,’saidhe;‘butIampreparedtoprovethattheauthoritiesoutthere,arethebestofallpossibleauthorities.’Ineverheardofanyimpeachedpublicauthorityinmylife,whowasnotthebestpublicauthorityinexistence.‘Wearetoldoftheseunfortunatemenbeinglaidlowbyscurvy,’saidI.‘Sincelime-juice has been regularly stored and served out in our navy, surely thatdisease,whichused todevastate it,hasalmostdisappeared?Was there lime-juiceaboardthistransport?’My official friend was beginning ‘the best of all possible—’ when aninconvenientmedicalforefingerpointedoutanotherpassageintheevidence,fromwhichitappearedthatthelime-juicehadbeenbadtoo.Not tomentionthat the vinegar had been bad too, the vegetables bad too, the cookingaccommodation insufficient (if therehadbeenanythingworthmentioning tocook),thewatersupplyexceedinglyinadequate,andthebeersour.‘Thenthemen,’saidPangloss,alittleirritated,‘Weretheworstofallpossiblemen.’‘Inwhatrespect?’Iasked.‘Oh!Habitualdrunkards,’saidPangloss.But, again the same incorrigible medical forefinger pointed out anotherpassageintheevidence,showingthatthedeadmenhadbeenexaminedafterdeath,andthatthey,atleast,couldnotpossiblyhavebeenhabitualdrunkards,because theorganswithin themwhichmusthaveshowntracesof thathabit,wereperfectlysound.‘Andbesides,’saidthethreedoctorspresent,‘oneandall,habitualdrunkardsbroughtaslowasthesemenhavebeen,couldnotrecoverundercareandfood,as the great majority of these men are recovering. They would not havestrengthofconstitutiontodoit.’‘Reckless and improvident dogs, then,’ said Pangloss. ‘Always are—ninetimesoutoften.’

Iturnedtothemasteroftheworkhouse,andaskedhimwhetherthemenhadanymoney?‘Money?’ said he. ‘I have in my iron safe, nearly four hundred pounds oftheirs;theagentshavenearlyahundredpoundsmoreandmanyofthemhaveleftmoneyinIndianbanksbesides.’‘Hah!’saidItomyself,aswewentup-stairs,‘thisisnotthebestofallpossiblestories,Idoubt!’Wewent intoa largeward,containingsometwentyorfive-and-twentybeds.Wewentintoseveralsuchwards,oneafteranother.Ifinditverydifficult toindicatewhata shocking sight I saw in them,without frightening the readerfromtheperusaloftheselines,anddefeatingmyobjectofmakingitknown.OthesunkeneyesthatturnedtomeasIwalkedbetweentherowsofbeds,or—worsestill—thatglazedlylookedatthewhiteceiling,andsawnothingandcaredfornothing!Here,laytheskeletonofaman,solightlycoveredwithathinunwholesomeskin, thatnotaboneintheanatomywasclothed,andIcouldclaspthearmabovetheelbow,inmyfingerandthumb.Here,layamanwiththeblackscurvyeatinghislegsaway,hisgumsgone,andhisteethallgauntandbare.Thisbedwasempty,becausegangrenehadsetin,andthepatienthaddiedbutyesterday.Thatbedwasahopelessone,becauseitsoccupantwassinkingfast,andcouldonlyberousedtoturnthepoorpinchedmaskoffaceuponthepillow,withafeeblemoan.Theawfulthinnessofthefallencheeks,theawfulbrightnessofthedeepseteyes,thelipsoflead,thehandsofivory,therecumbenthumanimageslyingintheshadowofdeathwithakindofsolemntwilightonthem,likethesixtywhohaddiedaboardtheshipandwerelyingatthebottomofthesea,OPangloss,GODforgiveyou!Inonebed, layamanwhose lifehadbeen saved (as itwashoped)bydeepincisionsinthefeetandlegs.WhileIwasspeakingtohim,anursecameuptochangethepoulticeswhichthisoperationhadrenderednecessary,andIhadaninstinctivefeelingthatitwasnotwelltoturnaway,merelytosparemyself.Hewassorelywastedandkeenlysusceptible,but theeffortshemade tosubdueany expressionof impatience or suffering,were quite heroic. Itwas easy tosee,intheshrinkingofthefigure,andthedrawingofthebed-clothesoverthehead,howacutetheendurancewas,anditmademeshrinktoo,asifIwereinpain;but,whenthenewbandageswereon,andthepoorfeetwerecomposedagain,hemadeanapologyforhimself(thoughhehadnotutteredaword),andsaidplaintively,‘Iamsotenderandweak,yousee,sir!’Neitherfromhimnorfromanyonesuffererofthewholeghastlynumber,didIhearacomplaint.Ofthankfulnessforpresentsolicitudeandcare,Iheardmuch;ofcomplaint,notaword.

IthinkIcouldhaverecognisedinthedismalestskeletonthere,theghostofasoldier.SomethingoftheoldairwasstilllatentinthepalestshadowoflifeItalked to.Oneemaciatedcreature, in thestrictest literalityworn to thebone,laystretchedonhisback,lookingsolikedeaththatIaskedoneofthedoctorsifhewerenotdying,ordead?Afewkindwordsfromthedoctor, inhisear,andheopenedhiseyes,andsmiled—looked,inamoment,asifhewouldhavemadeasalute, ifhecould.‘Weshallpullhimthrough,pleaseGod,’said theDoctor.‘PlaseGod,surr,andthankye,’saidthepatient.‘Youaremuchbetterto-day;areyounot?’said theDoctor. ‘PlaseGod, surr; ’tis theslape Iwant,surr;’tismybreathin’makesthenightssolong.’‘Heisacarefulfellowthis,youmustknow,’ said theDoctor, cheerfully; ‘itwas raininghardwhen theyputhimintheopencarttobringhimhere,andhehadthepresenceofmindtoask tohavea sovereign takenoutofhispocket thathehad there,andacabengaged.Probably it savedhis life.’Thepatient rattledout theskeletonofalaugh,andsaid,proudofthestory,‘’Deed,surr,anopencairtwasacomicalmeanso’bringin’adyin’manhere,andacleverwaytokillhim.’Youmighthavesworntohimforasoldierwhenhesaidit.Onethinghadperplexedmeverymuchingoingfrombedtobed.A verysignificant and cruel thing.Icouldfindnoyoungmanbutone.Hehadattractedmynotice,byhavinggotupanddressedhimselfinhissoldier’sjacketandtrousers,withtheintentionofsittingbythefire;buthehadfoundhimselftooweak,andhadcreptbacktohisbedandlaidhimselfdownontheoutsideofit.Icouldhavepronouncedhim,alone,tobeayoungmanagedbyfamineandsickness.AswewerestandingbytheIrishsoldier’sbed,ImentionedmyperplexitytotheDoctor.HetookaboardwithaninscriptiononitfromtheheadoftheIrishman’sbed,andaskedmewhatageIsupposedthatmantobe?Ihadobservedhimwithattentionwhiletalkingtohim,andanswered,confidently,‘Fifty.’TheDoctor,withapityingglanceatthepatient,whohaddroppedintoastuporagain,puttheboardback,andsaid,‘Twenty-four.’All thearrangementsof thewardswereexcellent.Theycouldnothavebeenmorehumane, sympathising,gentle,attentive,orwholesome.Theowners ofthe ship, too, had done all they could, liberally. There were bright fires inevery room, and the convalescent men were sitting round them, readingvariouspapersandperiodicals.ItookthelibertyofinvitingmyofficialfriendPanglosstolookatthoseconvalescentmen,andtotellmewhethertheirfacesand bearing were or were not, generally, the faces and bearing of steadyrespectable soldiers?Themaster of theworkhouse, overhearingme, said hehadhadaprettylargeexperienceoftroops,andthatbetterconductedmenthanthese,hehadneverhadtodowith.Theywerealways(headded)aswesaw

them.Andofusvisitors(Iadd) theyknewnothingwhatever,except thatwewerethere.Itwasaudaciousinme,butItookanotherlibertywithPangloss.Prefacingitwiththeobservationthat,ofcourse,Iknewbeforehandthattherewasnotthefaintestdesire,anywhere,tohushupanypartofthisdreadfulbusiness,andthattheInquestwasthefairestofallpossibleInquests,IbesoughtfourthingsofPangloss.Firstly,toobservethattheInquestwasnotheldinthatplace,butatsomedistanceoff.Secondly,tolookrounduponthosehelplessspectresintheir beds.Thirdly,torememberthatthewitnessesproducedfromamongthembeforethatInquest,couldnothavebeenselectedbecausetheywerethemenwhohadthemosttotellit,butbecausetheyhappenedtobeinastateadmittingoftheirsaferemoval.Fourthly,tosaywhetherthecoronerandjurycouldhavecomethere,tothosepillows,andtakenalittleevidence?Myofficialfrienddeclinedtocommithimselftoareply.Therewasasergeant,reading,inoneofthefiresidegroups.Ashewasamanof very intelligent countenance, and as I have a great respect for non-commissionedofficersasaclass,Isatdownonthenearestbed,tohavesometalkwithhim.(Itwasthebedofoneofthegrisliestofthepoorskeletons,andhediedsoonafterwards.)‘Iwasgladtosee,intheevidenceofanofficerattheInquest,sergeant,thatheneversawmenbehavebetteronboardshipthanthesemen.’‘Theydidbehaveverywell,sir.’‘Iwasgladtosee,too,thateverymanhadahammock.’Thesergeantgravelyshookhishead.‘Theremustbesomemistake,sir.Themenofmyownmesshadnohammocks.Therewerenothammocksenoughonboard,andthemenofthetwonextmesseslaidholdofhammocksforthemselvesassoonastheygotonboard,andsqueezedmymenout,asImaysay.’‘Hadthesqueezed-outmennonethen?’‘None, sir.Asmendied,theirhammockswereusedbyothermen,whowantedhammocks;butmanymenhadnoneatall.’‘Thenyoudon’tagreewiththeevidenceonthatpoint?’‘Certainlynot,sir.Amancan’t,whenheknowstothecontrary.’‘Didanyofthemenselltheirbeddingfordrink?’‘Thereissomemistakeonthatpointtoo,sir.Menwereundertheimpression—Iknewitforafactatthetime—thatitwasnotallowedtotakeblanketsor

beddingonboard,andsomenwhohadthingsofthatsortcametosell thempurposely.’‘Didanyofthemenselltheirclothesfordrink?’‘They did, sir.’ (I believe there never was a more truthful witness than thesergeant.Hehadnoinclinationtomakeoutacase.)‘Many?’‘Some, sir’ (considering the question).‘Soldier-like.Theyhadbeenlongmarchingintherainyseason,bybadroads—noroadsatall,inshort—andwhentheygottoCalcutta,menturnedtoanddrank,beforetakingalastlookatit.Soldier-like.’‘Doyouseeanymeninthisward,forexample,whosoldclothesfordrinkatthattime?’Thesergeant’swaneye,happilyjustbeginningtorekindlewithhealth,travelledroundtheplaceandcamebacktome.‘Certainly,sir.’‘ThemarchingtoCalcuttaintherainyseasonmusthavebeensevere?’‘Itwasverysevere,sir.’‘Yetwhatwith the rest and the sea air, I should have thought that themen(even themenwho got drunk)would have soon begun to recover on boardship?’‘Sotheymight;butthebadfoodtolduponthem,andwhenwegotintoacoldlatitude,itbegantotellmore,andthemendropped.’‘Thesickhadageneraldisinclinationforfood,Iamtold,sergeant?’‘Haveyouseenthefood,sir?’‘Someofit.’‘Haveyouseenthestateoftheirmouths,sir?’Ifthesergeant,whowasamanofafeworderlywords,hadspokentheamountofthisvolume,hecouldnothavesettledthatquestionbetter.Ibelievethesickcouldassoonhaveeatentheship,astheship’sprovisions.ItooktheadditionallibertywithmyfriendPangloss,whenIhadleftthesergeantwithgoodwishes,ofaskingPanglosswhetherhehadeverheardofbiscuitgettingdrunkandbarteringitsnutritiousqualitiesforputrefactionand

vermin;ofpeasbecominghardenedinliquor;ofhammocksdrinkingthemselvesoffthefaceoftheearth;oflime-juice,vegetables,vinegar,cookingaccommodation,watersupply,andbeer,alltakingtodrinkingtogetherandgoingtoruin?‘Ifnot(Iaskedhim),whatdidhesayindefenceoftheofficerscondemnedbytheCoroner’sjury,who,bysigningtheGeneralInspectionreportrelativetotheshipGreatTasmania,charteredforthesetroops,haddeliberatelyassertedallthatbadandpoisonousdunghillrefuse,tobegoodandwholesomefood?’Myofficialfriendrepliedthatitwasaremarkablefact,thatwhereassomeofficerswereonlypositivelygood, and other officers onlycomparativelybetter,thoseparticularofficersweresuperlativelytheverybestofallpossibleofficers.My hand and my heart fail me, in writing my record of this journey. Thespectacleof the soldiers in thehospital-bedsof thatLiverpoolworkhouse (avery good workhouse, indeed, be it understood), was so shocking and soshameful, thatasanEnglishmanIblush to remember it. Itwouldhavebeensimplyunbearableat the time,but for theconsiderationandpitywithwhichtheyweresoothedintheirsufferings.Nopunishmentthatourinefficientlawsprovide,isworthyofthenamewhenset against the guilt of this transaction. But, if the memory of it die outunavenged,andifitdonotresult intheinexorabledismissalanddisgraceofthose who are responsible for it, their escape will be infamous to theGovernment(nomatterofwhatparty)thatsoneglectsitsduty,andinfamoustothenationthattamelysufferssuchintolerablewrongtobedoneinitsname.

CHAPTERIX—CITYOFLONDONCHURCHESIftheconfessionthatIhaveoftentravelledfromthisCoventGardenlodgingof mine on Sundays, should give offence to those who never travel onSundays, they will be satisfied (I hope) by my adding that the journeys inquestionweremadetochurches.NotthatIhaveanycuriositytohearpowerfulpreachers.Timewas,whenIwasdraggedbythehairofmyhead,asonemaysay,toheartoomany.Onsummerevenings,wheneveryflower,andtree,andbird,mighthavebetteraddressedmysoftyoungheart,Ihaveinmydaybeencaughtinthepalmofafemalehandbythecrown,havebeenviolentlyscrubbedfromthenecktotherootsofthehairasapurificationfortheTemple,andhavethenbeencarriedoffhighlychargedwithsaponaceouselectricity,tobesteamedlikeapotatointheunventilatedbreathofthepowerfulBoanergesBoilerandhiscongregation,untilwhatsmallmindIhad,wasquitesteamedoutofme.InwhichpitiableplightIhavebeenhaledoutoftheplaceofmeeting,attheconclusionofthe

exercises,andcatechisedrespectingBoanergesBoiler,hisfifthly,hissixthly,andhisseventhly,untilIhaveregardedthatreverendpersoninthelightofamostdismalandoppressiveCharade.Timewas,whenIwascarriedofftoplatformassemblagesatwhichnohumanchild,whetherofwrathorgrace,couldpossiblykeepitseyesopen,andwhenIfeltthefatalsleepstealing,stealingoverme,andwhenIgraduallyheardtheoratorinpossession,spinningandhumminglikeagreattop,untilherolled,collapsed,andtumbledover,andIdiscoveredtomyburningshameandfear,thatastothatlaststageitwasnothe,butI.IhavesatunderBoanergeswhenhehasspecificallyaddressedhimselftous—us,theinfants—andatthispresentwritingIhearhislumberingjocularity(whichneveramusedus,thoughwebaselypretendedthatitdid),andIbeholdhisbigroundface,andIlookuptheinsideofhisoutstretchedcoat-sleeveasifitwereatelescopewiththestopperon,andIhatehimwithanunwholesomehatredfortwohours.ThroughsuchmeansdiditcometopassthatIknewthepowerfulpreacherfrombeginningtoend,alloverandallthrough,whileIwasveryyoung,andthatIlefthimbehindatanearlyperiodoflife.Peacebewithhim!Morepeacethanhebroughttome!Now, I have heard many preachers since that time—not powerful; merelyChristian,unaffected,andreverential—andIhavehadmanysuchpreachersonmyrolloffriends.But, itwasnot tohear these,anymorethanthepowerfulclass,thatImademySundayjourneys.TheywerejourneysofcuriositytothenumerouschurchesintheCityofLondon.Itcameintomyheadoneday,herehadIbeencultivatingafamiliaritywithallthechurchesofRome,andIknewnothingoftheinsidesoftheoldchurchesofLondon!ThisbefellonaSundaymorning. I beganmy expeditions that very same day, and they lastedme ayear.IneverwantedtoknowthenamesofthechurchestowhichIwent,andtothishourIamprofoundlyignorantinthatparticularofatleastnine-tenthsofthem.Indeed, saying that I know the church of old GOWER’S tomb (he lies ineffigy with his head upon his books) to be the church of Saint Saviour’s,Southwark; and the church of MILTON’S tomb to be the church ofCripplegate;andthechurchonCornhillwith thegreatgoldenkeystobethechurchofSaintPeter;IdoubtifIcouldpassacompetitiveexaminationinanyof thenames.NoquestiondidIeveraskof livingcreatureconcerning thesechurches,andnoanswertoanyantiquarianquestiononthesubjectthatIeverputtobooks,shallharassthereader’ssoul.Afullhalfofmypleasureinthemarose out of their mystery; mysterious I found them; mysterious they shallremainforme.WhereshallIbeginmyroundofhiddenandforgottenoldchurchesintheCityofLondon?

ItistwentyminutesshortofelevenonaSundaymorning,whenIstrolldownone of themany narrow hilly streets in the City that tend due south to theThames. It is my first experiment, and I have come to the region ofWhittington in an omnibus, andwe have put down a fierce-eyed, spare oldwoman, whose slate-coloured gown smells of herbs, and who walked upAldersgate-street to some chapelwhere she comforts herselfwith brimstonedoctrine,Iwarrant.Wehavealsoputdownastouterandsweeteroldlady,withaprettylargeprayer-bookinanunfoldedpocket-handkerchief,whogotoutatacornerofacourtnearStationers’Hall,andwhoI thinkmustgo tochurchthere,becausesheisthewidowofsomedeceasedoldCompany’sBeadle.Therestofour freightweremerechancepleasure-seekersandruralwalkers,andwent on to theBlackwall railway. Somany bells are ringing, when I standundecidedatastreetcorner, thateverysheep in theecclesiastical foldmightbeabell-wether.Thediscordanceisfearful.Mystateofindecisionisreferableto, and about equally divisible among, four great churches, which are allwithinsightandsound,allwithinthespaceofafewsquareyards.AsIstandatthestreetcorner,Idon’tseeasmanyasfourpeopleatoncegoingtochurch,thoughIseeasmanyasfourchurcheswiththeirsteeplesclamouringforpeople.Ichoosemychurch,andgouptheflightofstepstothegreatentranceinthetower.Amouldy towerwithin, and like a neglectedwashhouse.Aropecomesthroughthebeamedroof,andamaninthecornerpullsitandclashesthebell—awhity-brownman,whoseclotheswereonceblack—amanwithflueonhim,andcobweb.Hestaresatme,wonderinghowIcomethere,andIstareathim,wonderinghowhecomesthere.Throughascreenofwoodandglass,Ipeepintothedimchurch.Abouttwentypeoplearediscernible,waitingtobegin.Christeningwouldseemtohavefadedoutofthischurchlongago,forthefonthasthedustofdesuetudethickuponit,anditswoodencover(shapedlikeanold-fashionedtureen-cover)looksasifitwouldn’tcomeoff,uponrequirement.IperceivethealtartobericketyandtheCommandmentsdamp.Enteringafterthissurvey,Ijostletheclergymaninhiscanonicals,whoisenteringtoofromadarklanebehindapewofstatewithcurtains,wherenobodysits.Thepewisornamentedwithfourbluewands,oncecarriedbyfoursomebodys,Isuppose,beforesomebodyelse,butwhichthereisnobodynowtoholdorreceivehonourfrom.Iopenthedoorofafamilypew,andshutmyselfin;ifIcouldoccupytwentyfamilypewsatonceImighthavethem.Theclerk,abriskyoungman(howdoeshecomehere?),glancesatmeknowingly,aswhoshouldsay,‘Youhavedoneitnow;youmuststop.’Organplays.Organ-loftisinasmallgalleryacrossthechurch;gallerycongregation,twogirls.Iwonderwithinmyselfwhatwillhappenwhenwearerequiredtosing.Thereisapaleheapofbooksinthecornerofmypew,andwhiletheorgan,

whichishoarseandsleepy,playsinsuchfashionthatIcanhearmoreoftherustyworkingofthestopsthanofanymusic,Ilookatthebooks,whicharemostlyboundinfadedbaizeandstuff.Theybelongedin1754,totheDowgatefamily;andwhowerethey?JaneComportmust have marriedYoung Dowgate, and come into the family that way; Young Dowgate wascourting JaneComportwhenhegaveher her prayer-book, and recorded thepresentationinthefly-leaf;ifJanewerefondofYoungDowgate,whydidshedieandleavethebookhere?Perhapsatthericketyaltar,andbeforethedampCommandments, she, Comport, had taken him, Dowgate, in a flush ofyouthful hope and joy, and perhaps it had not turned out in the long run asgreatasuccessaswasexpected?Theopeningoftheservicerecallsmywanderingthoughts.Ithenfind,tomyastonishment,thatIhavebeen,andstillam,takingastrongkindofinvisiblesnuff,upmynose,intomyeyes,anddownmythroat.Iwink,sneeze,andcough.Theclerksneezes;theclergymanwinks;theunseenorganistsneezesandcoughs(andprobablywinks);allourlittlepartywink,sneeze,andcough.Thesnuffseemstobemadeofthedecayofmatting,wood,cloth,stone,iron,earth,andsomethingelse.Isthesomethingelse,thedecayofdeadcitizensinthevaultsbelow?AssureasDeathitis!Notonlyinthecold,dampFebruaryday,dowecoughandsneezedeadcitizens,allthroughtheservice,butdeadcitizenshavegotintotheverybellowsoftheorgan,andhalfchokedthesame.Westampourfeettowarmthem,anddeadcitizensariseinheavyclouds.Deadcitizensstickuponthewalls,andliepulverisedonthesounding-boardovertheclergyman’shead,and,whenagustofaircomes,tumbledownuponhim.In this first experience I was so nauseated by toomuch snuff,made of theDowgatefamily,theComportbranch,andotherfamiliesandbranches,thatIgavebutlittleheedtoourdullmannerofamblingthroughtheservice;tothebriskclerk’smannerofencouragingustotryanoteortwoatpsalmtime;tothegallery-congregation’smannerofenjoyingashrillduet,withoutanotionoftimeortune;tothewhity-brownman’smannerofshuttingtheministerintothepulpit,andbeingveryparticularwiththelockofthedoor,asifhewereadangerousanimal.But,ItriedagainnextSunday,andsoonaccustomedmyselftothedeadcitizenswhenIfoundthatIcouldnotpossiblygetonwithoutthemamongtheCitychurches.AnotherSunday.Afterbeingagainrungforbyconflictingbells,likealegofmuttonoralacedhatahundredyearsago,Imakeselectionofachurchoddlyputawayinacorneramonganumberoflanes—asmallerchurchthanthelast,andanugly:ofaboutthedateofQueenAnne.Asacongregation,wearefourteenstrong:

notcountinganexhaustedcharityschoolinagallery,whichhasdwindledawaytofourboys,andtwogirls.Intheporch,isabenefactionofloavesofbread,whichtherewouldseemtobenobodyleftintheexhaustedcongregationtoclaim,andwhichIsawanexhaustedbeadle,longfadedoutofuniform,eatingwithhiseyesforselfandfamilywhenIpassedin.Thereisalsoanexhaustedclerkinabrownwig,andtwoorthreeexhausteddoorsandwindowshavebeen bricked up, and the service books are musty, and thepulpit cushions are threadbare, and thewholeof the church furniture is in avery advanced stage of exhaustion.We are three oldwomen (habitual), twoyounglovers(accidental), twotradesmen,onewithawifeandonealone,anauntandnephew,againtwogirls(thesetwogirlsdressedoutforchurchwitheverything about them limp that should be stiff, and vice versâ, are aninvariableexperience),andthreesniggeringboys.Theclergymanis,perhaps,thechaplainofaciviccompany;hehasthemoistandvinouslook,andekethebulbousboots,ofoneacquaintedwith‘Twentyport,andcometvintages.Wearesoquietinourdulnessthatthethreesniggeringboys,whohavegotawayintoacornerbythealtar-railing,giveusastart,likecrackers,whenevertheylaugh.Andthisremindsmeofmyownvillagechurchwhere,duringsermon-timeonbrightSundayswhenthebirdsareverymusicalindeed,farmers’boyspatteroutoverthestonepavement,andtheclerkstepsoutfromhisdeskafterthem,andisdistinctlyheardinthesummerreposetopursueandpunchtheminthechurchyard,andisseentoreturnwithameditativecountenance,makingbelievethatnothingofthesorthashappened.TheauntandnephewinthisCitychurcharemuchdisturbedbythesniggeringboys.Thenephewishimselfaboy,andthesniggererstempthimtosecularthoughtsofmarblesandstring,bysecretlyofferingsuchcommoditiestohisdistantcontemplation.ThisyoungSaintAnthonyforawhileresists,butpresentlybecomesabackslider,andindumbshowdefiesthesniggerersto‘heave’amarbleortwoinhisdirection.Hereinheisdetectedbytheaunt(arigorousreducedgentlewomanwhohasthechargeofoffices),andIperceivethatworthyrelativetopokehimintheside,withthecorrugatedhookedhandleofanancientumbrella.Thenephewrevengeshimselfforthis,byholdinghisbreathandterrifyinghiskinswomanwiththedreadbeliefthathehasmadeuphismindtoburst.Regardlessofwhispersandshakes,heswellsandbecomesdiscoloured,andyetagainswellsandbecomesdiscoloured,untiltheauntcanbearitnolonger,butleadshimout,withnovisibleneck,andwithhiseyesgoingbeforehimlikeaprawn’s.Thiscausesthesniggererstoregardflightasaneligiblemove,andIknowwhichofthemwillgooutfirst,becauseoftheover-devoutattentionthathesuddenlyconcentratesontheclergyman.Inalittlewhile,thishypocrite,withanelaboratedemonstrationofhushinghisfootsteps,andwithafacegenerallyexpressiveofhavinguntilnowforgottenareligiousappointmentelsewhere,isgone.Numbertwogetsoutinthesame

way,butratherquicker.Numberthreegettingsafelytothedoor,thereturnsreckless,andbangingitopen,fliesforthwithaWhoop!thatvibratestothetopofthetoweraboveus.Theclergyman,whoisofaprandialpresenceandamuffledvoice,maybescantofhearingaswellasofbreath,butheonlyglancesup,ashavinganideathatsomebodyhassaidAmeninawrongplace,andcontinueshissteadyjog-trot,likeafarmer’swifegoingtomarket.Hedoesallhehastodo,inthesameeasyway,andgivesusaconcisesermon,stilllikethejog-trotofthefarmer’swifeonalevelroad.Itsdrowsycadencesoon lulls the three oldwomenasleep,andtheunmarriedtradesmansits lookingoutatwindow,andthe married tradesman sits looking at his wife’s bonnet, and the lovers sitlookingatoneanother,sosuperlativelyhappy, thatImindwhenI, turnedofeighteen,wentwithmyAngelicatoaCitychurchonaccountofashower(bythis special coincidence that itwas inHuggin-lane), andwhen I said tomyAngelica, ‘Let the blessed event, Angelica, occur at no altar but this!’ andwhen my Angelica consented that it should occur at no other—which itcertainly never did, for it never occurred anywhere.AndO,Angelica,whathas becomeof you, this presentSundaymorningwhen I can’t attend to thesermon; and,moredifficult question than that,what hasbecomeofMeas IwaswhenIsatbyyourside!But,wereceivethesignaltomakethatunanimousdivewhichsurelyisalittleconventional—likethestrangerustlingsandsettlingsandclearingsofthroatsand noses, which are never dispensed with, at certain points of the Churchservice,andareneverheldtobenecessaryunderanyothercircumstances.Inaminutemoreitisallover,andtheorganexpressesitselftobeasgladofitasitcanbeofanythinginitsrheumaticstate,andinanotherminuteweareallofusoutofthechurch,andWhity-brownhaslockeditup.Anotherminuteorlittlemore,and,intheneighbouringchurchyard—nottheyardofthatchurch,butofanother—achurchyardlikeagreatshabbyoldmignonettebox,withtwotreesin it andone tomb—ImeetWhity-brown, inhisprivate capacity, fetching apintofbeerforhisdinnerfromthepublic-houseinthecorner,wherethekeysoftherottingfire-laddersarekeptandwereneveraskedfor,andwherethereisaragged,white-seamed,out-at-elbowedbagatelleboardonthefirstfloor.In one of these City churches, and only in one, I found an individual whomight have been claimed as expressly a City personage. I remember thechurch,bythefeaturethattheclergymancouldn’tgettohisowndeskwithoutgoingthroughtheclerk’s,orcouldn’tgettothepulpitwithoutgoingthroughthereading-desk—Iforgetwhich,anditisnomatter—andbythepresenceofthispersonageamongtheexceedinglysparsecongregation.Idoubtifwewereadozen,andwehadnoexhaustedcharityschooltohelpusout.Thepersonage

wasdressedinblackofsquarecut,andwasstrickeninyears,andworeablackvelvetcap,andclothshoes.Hewasofastaid,wealthy,anddissatisfiedaspect.Inhishand,heconductedtochurchamysteriouschild:achildofthefemininegender.Thechildhadabeaverhat,withastiffdrabplume thatsurelyneverbelongedtoanybirdoftheair.Thechildwasfurtherattiredinanankeenfrockandspencer,brownboxing-gloves,andaveil.Ithadablemish,inthenatureof currant jelly, on its chin; and was a thirsty child. Insomuch that thepersonage carried in his pocket a green bottle, from which, when the firstpsalm was given out, the child was openly refreshed. At all other timesthroughout the service itwasmotionless, and stood on the seat of the largepew,closelyfittedintothecorner,likearain-waterpipe.Thepersonageneveropenedhisbook,andneverlookedattheclergyman.Heneversatdowneither,butstoodwithhisarmsleaningonthetopofthepew,andhisforeheadsometimesshadedwithhisrighthand,alwayslookingatthechurchdoor. Itwasa longchurchforachurchof itssize,andhewasat theupperend,buthealwayslookedatthedoor.Thathewasanoldbookkeeper,oranoldtraderwhohadkepthisownbooks,andthathemightbeseenattheBankofEnglandaboutDividendtimes,nodoubt.ThathehadlivedintheCityallhislifeandwasdisdainfulofotherlocalities,nodoubt.Whyhelookedatthe door, I never absolutely proved, but it is my belief that he lived inexpectationofthetimewhenthecitizenswouldcomebacktoliveintheCity,and its ancient glories would be renewed. He appeared to expect that thiswould occur on a Sunday, and that thewandererswould first appear, in thedesertedchurches,penitentandhumbled.Hence,helookedatthedoorwhichthey never darkened. Whose child the child was, whether the child of adisinherited daughter, or some parish orphan whom the personage hadadopted, there was nothing to lead up to. It never played, or skipped, orsmiled.Once, the ideaoccurredtomethat itwasanautomaton,andthat thepersonage hadmade it; but following the strange couple out one Sunday, Iheardthepersonagesaytoit,‘Thirteenthousandpounds;’towhichitaddedina weak human voice, ‘Seventeen and fourpence.’ Four Sundays I followedthemout,andthisisallIeverheardorsawthemsay.OneSunday,Ifollowedthemhome.Theylivedbehindapump,andthepersonageopenedtheirabodewithanexceedinglargekey.Theonesolitaryinscriptionontheirhouserelatedto a fire-plug. The house was partly undermined by a deserted and closedgateway; its windows were blind with dirt; and it stood with its facedisconsolatelyturnedtoawall.FivegreatchurchesandtwosmallonesrangtheirSundaybellsbetweenthishouseandthechurchthecouplefrequented,sotheymusthavehadsomespecialreasonforgoingaquarterofamiletoit.ThelasttimeIsawthem,wasonthiswise.Ihadbeentoexploreanotherchurchatadistance,andhappenedtopassthechurchtheyfrequented,atabouttwooftheafternoonwhenthatedificewasclosed.But,alittleside-door,whichIhad

never observed before, stood open, and disclosed certain cellarous steps.Methought ‘They are airing the vaults to-day,’ when the personage and thechildsilentlyarrivedatthesteps,andsilentlydescended.Ofcourse,Icametotheconclusionthatthepersonagehadatlastdespairedofthelooked-forreturnofthepenitentcitizens,andthatheandthechildwentdowntogetthemselvesburied.InthecourseofmypilgrimagesIcameupononeobscurechurchwhichhadbrokenoutinthemelodramaticstyle,andwasgotupwithvarioustawdrydecorations,muchafterthemanneroftheextinctLondonmay-poles.Theseattractionshadinducedseveralyoungpriestsordeaconsinblackbibsforwaistcoats,andseveralyoungladiesinterestedinthatholyorder(theproportionbeing,asIestimated,seventeenyoungladiestoadeacon),tocomeintotheCityasanewandoddexcitement.ItwaswonderfultoseehowtheseyoungpeopleplayedouttheirlittleplayintheheartoftheCity, all amongthemselves,withoutthedesertedCity’sknowinganythingaboutit.Itwasasifyoushouldtakeanemptycounting-houseonaSunday,andactoneoftheoldMysteriesthere.Theyhadimpressedasmallschool(fromwhatneighbourhoodIdon’tknow)toassistintheperformances,anditwaspleasanttonoticefranticgarlandsofinscriptiononthewalls,especiallyaddressingthosepoorinnocentsincharactersimpossibleforthemtodecipher.Therewasaremarkablyagreeablesmellofpomatuminthiscongregation.But, inother cases, rot andmildewanddead citizens formed theuppermostscent,while, infused into it in a dreamyway not at all displeasing,was thestaple character of the neighbourhood. In the churches aboutMark-lane, forexample, there was a dry whiff of wheat; and I accidentally struck an airysampleofbarleyoutofanagedhassock inoneof them.FromRood-lane toTower-street, and thereabouts, there was often a subtle flavour of wine:sometimes, of tea. One church near Mincing-lane smelt like a druggist’sdrawer.BehindtheMonumenttheservicehadaflavourofdamagedoranges,which, a little further down towards the river, tempered into herrings, andgradually toned into a cosmopolitan blast of fish. In one church, the exactcounterpart of the church in the Rake’s Progress where the hero is beingmarried to thehorribleold lady, therewasnospecialityofatmosphere,untiltheorganshookaperfumeofhidesalloverusfromsomeadjacentwarehouse.Bethescentwhatitwould,however,therewasnospecialityinthepeople.Therewereneverenoughofthemtorepresentanycallingorneighbourhood.Theyhadallgoneelsewhereover-night, and the few stragglers in the manychurcheslanguishedthereinexpressively.AmongtheUncommercialtravelsinwhichIhaveengaged,thisyearofSundaytraveloccupiesitsownplace,apartfromalltherest.WhetherIthink

ofthechurchwherethesailsoftheoyster-boatsintheriveralmostflappedagainstthewindows,orofthechurchwheretherailroadmadethebellshumasthetrainrushedbyabovetheroof,Irecallacuriousexperience.OnsummerSundays,inthegentlerainorthebrightsunshine—either,deepeningtheidlenessoftheidleCity—Ihavesat,inthatsingularsilencewhichbelongstoresting-placesusuallyastir,inscoresofbuildingsattheheartoftheworld’smetropolis,unknowntofargreaternumbersofpeoplespeakingtheEnglishtongue,thantheancientedificesoftheEternalCity,orthePyramidsofEgypt.ThedarkvestriesandregistriesintowhichIhavepeeped,andthelittlehemmed-inchurchyardsthathaveechoedtomyfeet,haveleftimpressionsonmymemoryasdistinctandquaintasanyithasinthatwayreceived.Inallthosedustyregistersthatthewormsareeating,thereisnotalinebutmadesomeheartsleap,orsometearsflow,intheirday.Stillanddrynow,stillanddry!andtheoldtreeatthewindowwithnoroomforitsbranches,hasseenthemallout.So with the tomb of the old Master of the old Company, onwhichitdrips.Hissonrestoreditanddied,hisdaughterrestoreditanddied,andthenhehadbeenrememberedlongenough,andthetreetookpossessionofhim,andhisnamecrackedout.There are few more striking indications of the changes of manners andcustoms that two or three hundred years have brought about, than thesedesertedchurches.Manyofthemarehandsomeandcostlystructures,severalofthemweredesignedbyWREN,manyofthemarosefromtheashesofthegreat fire, others of themoutlived theplague and the fire too, to die a slowdeathintheselaterdays.Noonecanbesureofthecomingtime;butitisnottoomuchtosayofitthatithasnosigninitsoutsettingtides,oftherefluxtothesechurchesoftheircongregationsanduses.Theyremainlikethetombsoftheoldcitizenswholiebeneaththemandaroundthem,Monumentsofanotherage.TheyareworthaSunday-exploration,nowand then, for theyyet echo,notunharmoniously,tothetimewhentheCityofLondonreallywasLondon;whenthe’PrenticesandTrainedBandswereofmarkinthestate;wheneventheLordMayorhimselfwasaReality—notaFictionconventionallybe-puffedononedayintheyearbyillustriousfriends,whonolessconventionallylaughathimontheremainingthreehundredandsixty-fourdays.

CHAPTERX—SHYNEIGHBOURHOODSSomuchofmytravellingisdoneonfoot,thatifIcherishedbettingpropensities,IshouldprobablybefoundregisteredinsportingnewspapersundersomesuchtitleastheElasticNovice,challengingallelevenstonemankindtocompetitioninwalking.Mylastspecialfeatwasturningoutofbedattwo,afterahardday,pedestrianandotherwise,andwalkingthirtymilesintothecountrytobreakfast.Theroadwassolonelyinthenight,thatIfell

asleeptothemonotonoussoundofmyownfeet,doingtheirregularfourmilesanhour.MileaftermileIwalked,withouttheslightestsenseofexertion,dozingheavilyanddreamingconstantly.ItwasonlywhenImadeastumblelikeadrunkenman,orstruckoutintotheroadtoavoidahorsemancloseuponmeonthepath—whohadnoexistence—thatIcametomyselfandlookedabout.Thedaybrokemistily(itwasautumntime),andIcouldnotdisembarrassmyselfoftheideathatIhadtoclimbthoseheightsandbanksofcloud,andthattherewasanAlpineConventsomewherebehindthesun,whereIwasgoingtobreakfast.Thissleepynotionwassomuchstrongerthansuchsubstantialobjectsasvillagesandhaystacks,that,afterthesunwasupandbright,andwhenIwassufficientlyawaketohaveasenseofpleasureintheprospect,Istilloccasionallycaughtmyselflookingaboutforwoodenarmstopointtherighttrackupthemountain,andwonderingtherewasnosnowyet.ItisacuriosityofbrokensleepthatImadeimmensequantitiesofversesonthatpedestrianoccasion(ofcourseInevermakeanywhenIaminmyrightsenses),andthatIspokeacertainlanguage once pretty familiar to me, butwhich I have nearly forgotten from disuse, with fluency. Of both thesephenomenaIhavesuchfrequentexperienceinthestatebetweensleepingandwaking, that I sometimes arguewithmyself that I know I cannotbe awake,for, if Iwere, I shouldnotbehalf so ready.The readiness is not imaginary,becauseIoftenrecalllongstringsoftheverses,andmanyturnsofthefluentspeech,afterIambroadawake.Mywalkingisoftwokinds:one,straightonendtoadefinitegoalataroundpace;one,objectless,loitering,andpurelyvagabond.Inthelatterstate,nogipsyonearthisagreatervagabondthanmyself; it is so natural to me, andstrongwithme,thatIthinkImustbethedescendant,atnogreatdistance,ofsomeirreclaimabletramp.OneofthepleasantestthingsIhavelatelymetwith,inavagabondcourseofshymetropolitanneighbourhoods and small shops, is the fancyof a humbleartist, as exemplified in two portraits representing Mr. Thomas Sayers, ofGreatBritain,andMr.JohnHeenan,of theUnitedStatesofAmerica.Theseillustriousmenarehighlycoloured in fighting trim,andfightingattitude.Tosuggest the pastoral and meditative nature of their peaceful calling, Mr.Heenan is represented on emerald sward, with primroses and other modestflowers springing up under the heels of his half-boots; whileMr. Sayers isimpelled to the administration of his favourite blow, theAuctioneer, by thesilenteloquenceofavillagechurch.ThehumblehomesofEngland,withtheirdomesticvirtuesandhoneysuckleporches,urgebothheroestogoinandwin;andthelarkandothersingingbirdsareobservableintheupperair,ecstaticallycarolling their thanks toHeaven for a fight.On thewhole, the associationsentwinedwiththepugilisticartbythisartistaremuchinthemannerofIzaak

Walton.But,itiswiththeloweranimalsofbackstreetsandby-waysthatmypresentpurposerests.Forhumannoteswemayreturntosuchneighbourhoodswhenleisureandopportunityserve.Nothinginshyneighbourhoodsperplexesmymindmore,thanthebadcompanybirdskeep.Foreignbirdsoftengetintogoodsociety,butBritishbirdsareinseparablefromlowassociates.ThereisawholestreetoftheminSt.Giles’s;andIalwaysfindtheminpoorandimmoralneighbourhoods,convenienttothepublic-houseandthepawnbroker’s.Theyseemtoleadpeopleintodrinking,andeventhemanwhomakestheircagesusuallygetsintoachronicstateofblackeye.Whyisthis?Also,theywilldothingsforpeopleinshort-skirtedvelveteencoatswithbonebuttons,orinsleevedwaistcoatsandfurcaps,whichtheycannotbepersuadedbytherespectableordersofsocietytoundertake.InadirtycourtinSpitalfields,once,Ifoundagoldfinchdrawinghisownwater,anddrawingasmuchofitasifhewereinaconsumingfever.Thatgoldfinchlivedatabird-shop,andoffered,inwriting,tobarterhimselfagainstoldclothes, empty bottles, or even kitchen stuff.Surelyalowthingandadepravedtasteinanyfinch!Iboughtthatgoldfinchformoney.Hewassenthome,andhunguponanailoveragainstmytable.Helived outside a counterfeit dwelling-house, supposed (as I argued) to be adyer’s; otherwise it would have been impossible to account for his perchsticking out of the garret window. From the time of his appearance in myroom,eitherheleftoffbeingthirsty—whichwasnotinthebond—orhecouldnotmakeuphismindtohearhislittlebucketdropbackintohiswellwhenheletitgo:ashockwhichinthebestoftimeshadmadehimtremble.Hedrewnowaterbutbystealthandunderthecloakofnight.Afteranintervaloffutileandat length hopeless expectation, the merchant who had educated him wasappealed to. The merchant was a bow-legged character, with a flat andcushionynose,likethelastnewstrawberry.Heworeafurcap,andshorts,andwas of the velveteen race, velveteeny. He sent word that he would ‘lookround.’He looked round,appeared in thedoorwayof the room,andslightlycockeduphisevileyeatthegoldfinch.Instantlyaragingthirstbesetthatbird;whenitwasappeased,hestilldrewseveralunnecessarybucketsofwater;andfinally,leapedabouthisperchandsharpenedhisbill,asifhehadbeentothenearestwinevaultsandgotdrunk.Donkeysagain.IknowshyneighbourhoodswheretheDonkeygoesinatthestreetdoor,andappearstoliveup-stairs,forIhaveexaminedtheback-yardfromoverthepalings,andhavebeenunabletomakehimout.Gentility,nobility,Royalty,wouldappealtothatdonkeyinvaintodowhathedoesforacostermonger.Feedhimwithoatsatthehighestprice,putaninfantprinceand

princessinapairofpanniersonhisback,adjusthisdelicatetrappingstoanicety,takehimtothesoftestslopesatWindsor,andtrywhatpaceyoucangetoutofhim.Then,starvehim,harnesshimanyhowtoatruckwithaflattrayonit,andseehimbowlfromWhitechapeltoBayswater.Thereappearstobenoparticularprivateunderstandingbetweenbirdsanddonkeys,inastateofnature;butintheshyneighbourhoodstate,youshallseethemalwaysinthesamehandsandalwaysdevelopingtheirverybestenergiesfortheveryworstcompany.Ihaveknownadonkey—bysight;wewerenotonspeakingterms—wholivedoverontheSurreysideofLondon-bridge,amongthefastnessesofJacob’sIslandandDockhead.Itwasthehabitofthatanimal,whenhisserviceswerenotinimmediaterequisition,togooutalone,idling.Ihavemethimamilefromhisplaceofresidence,loiteringaboutthestreets;andtheexpressionofhiscountenanceatsuchtimeswasmostdegraded.Hewasattachedtotheestablishmentofanelderlyladywhosoldperiwinkles,andheusedtostandonSaturdaynightswithacartfulofthosedelicaciesoutsideagin-shop,prickinguphisearswhenacustomercametothecart,andtooevidentlyderivingsatisfactionfromtheknowledgethattheygotbadmeasure.Hismistresswassometimesovertakenbyinebriety.ThelasttimeIeversawhim(aboutfiveyearsago)hewasincircumstancesofdifficulty,causedbythisfailing.Havingbeenleftalonewiththecartofperiwinkles,andforgotten,hewentoffidling.Heprowledamonghisusuallowhauntsforsometime,gratifyinghisdepravedtastes,until,nottakingthecartintohiscalculations,heendeavouredtoturnupanarrowalley,andbecamegreatlyinvolved.Hewastakenintocustodybythepolice,and,theGreenYardofthedistrictbeingnearathand,wasbackedintothatplaceofdurance.Atthatcrisis,Iencounteredhim;thestubbornsenseheevincedofbeing—nottocompromisetheexpression—ablackguard,Ineversawexceededinthehumansubject.Aflaringcandleinapapershade,stuckinamonghisperiwinkles,showedhim,withhisraggedharnessbrokenandhiscartextensivelyshattered,twitchinghismouthandshakinghishanginghead,apictureofdisgraceandobduracy.Ihaveseenboysbeingtakentostation-houses,whowereaslikehimashisownbrother.Thedogsofshyneighbourhoods,Iobservetoavoidplay,andtobeconsciousofpoverty.Theyavoidwork,too,iftheycan,ofcourse;thatisinthenatureofallanimals.IhavethepleasuretoknowadoginabackstreetintheneighbourhoodofWalworth,whohasgreatlydistinguishedhimselfintheminordrama,andwhotakeshisportraitwithhimwhenhemakesanengagement,fortheillustrationoftheplay-bill.Hisportrait(whichisnotatalllikehim)representshimintheactofdraggingtotheeartharecreantIndian,whoissupposedtohavetomahawked,oressayedtotomahawk,aBritishofficer.Thedesignispurepoetry,forthereisnosuchIndianinthepiece,andnosuchincident.HeisadogoftheNewfoundlandbreed,for

whosehonestyIwouldbebailtoanyamount;butwhoseintellectualqualitiesinassociationwithdramaticfiction,Icannotratehigh.Indeed,heistoohonestfortheprofessionhehasentered.BeingatatowninYorkshirelastsummer,andseeinghimpostedinthebillofthenight,Iattendedtheperformance.Hisfirstscenewaseminentlysuccessful;but,asitoccupiedasecondinitsrepresentation(andfivelinesinthebill),itscarcelyaffordedgroundforacoolanddeliberatejudgmentofhispowers.Hehadmerelytobark,runon,andjumpthroughaninnwindow,afteracomicfugitive.Thenextsceneofimportancetothefablewasalittlemarredinitsinterestbyhisover-anxiety;forasmuchaswhilehismaster(abelatedsoldierinadenofrobbersonatempestuousnight)wasfeelinglylamentingtheabsenceofhisfaithfuldog,andlayinggreatstressonthefactthathewasthirtyleaguesaway,thefaithfuldogwasbarkingfuriouslyintheprompter’sbox,andclearlychokinghimselfagainsthiscollar.Butitwasinhisgreatestsceneofall,thathishonestygotthebetterofhim.Hehadtoenteradenseandtracklessforest,onthetrailofthemurderer,andtheretoflyatthemurdererwhenhefoundhimrestingatthefootofatree,withhisvictimboundreadyforslaughter.Itwasahotnight,andhecameintotheforestfromanaltogetherunexpecteddirection,inthesweetesttemper,ataverydeliberatetrot,notintheleastexcited;trottedtothefoot-lightswithhistongueout;andtheresatdown,panting,andamiablysurveyingtheaudience,withhistailbeatingontheboards,likeaDutchclock.Meanwhilethemurderer,impatienttoreceivehisdoom,wasaudiblycallingtohim‘CO-O-OMEhere!’whilethevictim,strugglingwithhisbonds,assailedhimwiththemostinjuriousexpressions.Ithappenedthroughthesemeans,thatwhenhewasincourseof timepersuadedto trot up and rend themurderer limb from limb, hemade it (for dramaticpurposes) a little too obvious that he worked out that awful retribution bylickingbutteroffhisblood-stainedhands.In a shy street, behind Long-acre, two honest dogs live, who perform inPunch’sshows.ImayventuretosaythatIamontermsofintimacywithboth,andthatIneversaweitherguiltyofthefalsehoodoffailingtolookdownattheman inside theshow,during thewholeperformance.Thedifficultyotherdogs have in satisfying their minds about these dogs, appears to be neverovercomebytime.Thesamedogsmustencounterthemoverandoveragain,as they trudge along in their off-minutes behind the legs of the show andbeside thedrum;butalldogs seem to suspect their frillsand jackets, and tosniff at them as if they thought those articles of personal adornment, aneruption—a something in the nature of mange, perhaps. From this Covent-gardenwindowofmineInoticedacountrydog,onlytheotherday,whohadcomeup toCovent-gardenMarketunderacart,andhadbrokenhiscord,anendofwhichhestilltrailedalongwithhim.Heloiteredaboutthecornersofthe fourstreetscommandedbymywindow;andbadLondondogscameup,

andtoldhimliesthathedidn’tbelieve;andworseLondondogscameup,andmade proposals to him to go and steal in the market, which his principlesrejected;and thewaysof the townconfusedhim,andhecreptasideand laydown in a doorway. He had scarcely got a wink of sleep, when up comesPunchwithToby.HewasdartingtoTobyforconsolationandadvice,whenhesawthefrill,andstopped,inthemiddleofthestreet,appalled.Theshowwaspitched,Tobyretiredbehind thedrapery, theaudienceformed, thedrumandpipesstruckup.Mycountrydogremainedimmovable,intentlystaringatthesestrangeappearances,untilTobyopenedthedramabyappearingonhisledge,andtohimenteredPunch,whoputatobacco-pipeintoToby’smouth.Atthisspectacle,thecountrydogthrewuphishead,gaveoneterriblehowl,andfledduewest.Wetalkofmenkeepingdogs,butwemightoften talkmoreexpressivelyofdogskeepingmen. I knowabull-dog in a shy cornerofHammersmithwhokeepsaman.Hekeepshimupayard,andmakeshimgotopublic-housesandlaywagersonhim,andobligeshimtoleanagainstpostsandlookathim,andforceshimtoneglectworkforhim,andkeepshimunderrigidcoercion.Ionceknew a fancy terrier who kept a gentleman—a gentleman who had beenbrought up at Oxford, too. The dog kept the gentleman entirely for hisglorification, and the gentleman never talked about anything but the terrier.This, however, was not in a shy neighbourhood, and is a digressionconsequently.Thereareagreatmanydogsinshyneighbourhoods,whokeepboys.IhavemyeyeonamongrelinSomerstownwhokeepsthreeboys.Hefeignsthathecanbringdownsparrows,andunburrowrats(hecandoneither),andhetakestheboysoutonsportingpretencesintoallsortsofsuburbanfields.Hehaslikewisemadethembelievethathepossessessomemysteriousknowledgeoftheartoffishing,andtheyconsiderthemselvesincompletelyequippedfortheHampsteadponds,withapickle-jarandwide-mouthedbottle,unlessheiswiththemandbarkingtremendously.ThereisadogresidingintheBoroughofSouthwarkwhokeepsablindman.Hemaybeseen,mostdays,inOxford-street,halingtheblindmanawayonexpeditionswhollyuncontemplatedby,andunintelligibleto,theman:whollyofthedog’sconceptionandexecution.Contrariwise,whenthemanhasprojects,thedogwillsitdowninacrowdedthoroughfareandmeditate.Isawhimyesterday,wearingthemoney-traylikeaneasycollar,insteadofofferingittothepublic,takingthemanagainsthiswill,ontheinvitationofadisreputablecur,apparentlytovisitadogatHarrow—hewassointentonthatdirection.ThenorthwallofBurlingtonHouseGardens,betweentheArcadeandtheAlbany,offersashyspotforappointmentsamongblindmenatabouttwoorthreeo’clockintheafternoon.Theysit(veryuncomfortably)onaslopingstonethere,andcomparenotes.

Theirdogsmayalwaysbeobservedatthesametime,openlydisparagingthementheykeep,tooneanother,andsettlingwheretheyshallrespectivelytaketheirmenwhentheybegintomoveagain.Atasmallbutcher’s,inashyneighbourhood(thereisnoreasonforsuppressingthename;itisbyNotting-hill,andgivesuponthedistrictcalledthePotteries),Iknowashaggyblackandwhitedogwhokeepsadrover.Heisadogofaneasydisposition,andtoofrequentlyallowsthisdrovertogetdrunk.Ontheseoccasions,itisthedog’scustomtositoutsidethepublic-house,keepinghiseyeonafewsheep,andthinking.Ihaveseenhimwithsixsheep,plainlycastingupinhismindhowmanyhebeganwithwhenheleftthemarket,andatwhatplaceshehaslefttherest.Ihaveseenhimperplexedbynotbeingabletoaccounttohimselfforcertainparticularsheep.Alighthasgraduallybrokenonhim,hehasrememberedatwhatbutcher’sheleftthem,andinaburstofgravesatisfactionhascaughtaflyoffhisnose,andshownhimselfmuchrelieved.IfIcouldatanytimehavedoubtedthefactthatitwashewhokeptthedrover,andnotthedroverwhokepthim,itwouldhavebeenabundantlyprovedbyhiswayoftakingundividedchargeofthesixsheep,whenthedrovercameoutbesmearedwithredochreandbeer,andgavehimwrongdirections,whichhecalmlydisregarded.Hehastakenthesheepentirelyintohisownhands,hasmerelyremarkedwithrespectfulfirmness,‘Thatinstructionwouldplacethemunderanomnibus;youhadbetterconfineyourattentiontoyourself—youwillwantitall;’andhasdrivenhischargeaway,withanintelligenceofearsandtail,andaknowledgeofbusiness,thathaslefthisloutofamanvery,veryfarbehind.Asthedogsofshyneighbourhoodsusuallybetrayaslinkingconsciousnessofbeinginpoorcircumstances—forthemostpartmanifestedinanaspectofanxiety,anawkwardnessintheirplay,andamisgivingthatsomebodyisgoingtoharnessthemtosomething,topickupaliving—sothecatsofshyneighbourhoodsexhibitastrongtendencytorelapseintobarbarism.Notonlyaretheymadeselfishlyferociousbyruminating on the surplus populationaround them, and on the densely crowded state of all the avenues to cat’smeat;notonlyisthereamoralandpolitico-economicalhaggardnessinthem,traceable to these reflections; but they evince a physical deterioration.Theirlinen is not clean, and iswretchedlygotup; their black turns rusty, likeoldmourning; they wear very indifferent fur; and take to the shabbiest cottonvelvet,insteadofsilkvelvet.Iamontermsofrecognitionwithseveralsmallstreets of cats, about the Obelisk in Saint George’s Fields, and also in thevicinityofClerkenwell-green,andalsointhebacksettlementsofDrury-lane.In appearance, they are very like thewomen amongwhom they live. Theyseem to turn out of their unwholesome beds into the street, without anypreparation. They leave their young families to stagger about the gutters,unassisted,whiletheyfrouzilyquarrelandswearandscratchandspit,atstreetcorners. In particular, I remark that when they are about to increase their

families (an event of frequent recurrence) the resemblance is stronglyexpressedinacertaindustydowdiness,down-at-heelself-neglect,andgeneralgiving up of things. I cannot honestly report that I have ever seen a felinematronofthisclasswashingherfacewheninaninterestingcondition.Nottoprolongthesenotesofuncommercialtravelamongtheloweranimalsofshyneighbourhoods,bydwellingatlengthupontheexasperatedmoodinessofthetom-cats,andtheirresemblanceinmanyrespectstoamanandabrother,Iwillcometoaclosewithawordonthefowlsofthesamelocalities.Thatanythingbornofaneggandinvestedwithwings,shouldhavegottothepassthatithopscontentedlydownaladderintoacellar,andcallsthatgoinghome,isacircumstancesoamazingastoleaveonenothingmoreinthisconnexiontowonderat.OtherwiseImightwonderatthecompletenesswithwhichthesefowlshavebecomeseparatedfromallthebirdsoftheair—havetakentogrovellinginbricksandmortarandmud—haveforgottenallaboutlivetrees,andmakeroosting-placesofshop-boards,barrows,oyster-tubs,bulk-heads,anddoor-scrapers.Iwonderatnothingconcerningthem,andtakethemastheyare.IacceptasproductsofNatureandthingsofcourse,areducedBantamfamilyofmyacquaintanceintheHackney-road,whoareincessantlyatthepawnbroker’s.Icannotsaythattheyenjoythemselves,fortheyareofamelancholytemperament;butwhatenjoymenttheyarecapableof,theyderivefromcrowdingtogetherinthepawnbroker’sside-entry.Here,theyarealwaystobefoundinafeebleflutter,asiftheywerenewlycomedownintheworld,andwereafraidofbeingidentified.Iknowalowfellow,originallyofagoodfamilyfromDorking,whotakeshiswholeestablishmentofwives,insinglefile,inatthedoorofthejugDepartmentofadisorderlytavernneartheHaymarket,manoeuvresthemamongthecompany’slegs,emergeswiththemattheBottleEntrance,andsopasseshislife:seldom,intheseason,goingtobedbeforetwointhemorning.OverWaterloo-bridge,thereisashabbyoldspeckledcouple(theybelongtothewoodenFrench-bedstead,washing-stand,andtowel-horse-makingtrade),whoarealwaystryingtogetinatthedoorofachapel.Whethertheoldlady,underadelusionremindingoneofMrs.Southcott,hasanideaofentrustinganeggtothatparticulardenomination,ormerelyunderstandsthatshehasnobusinessinthebuildingandisconsequentlyfrantictoenterit,Icannotdetermine;butsheisconstantlyendeavouringtounderminetheprincipaldoor:whileherpartner,whoisinfirmuponhislegs,walksupanddown,encouragingheranddefyingtheUniverse.But,thefamilyIhavebeenbestacquaintedwith,sincetheremovalfromthistryingsphereofaChinesecircleatBrentford,resideinthedensestpartofBethnal-green.Theirabstractionfromtheobjectsamongwhichtheylive,orrathertheirconvictionthatthoseobjectshaveallcomeintoexistenceinexpresssubserviencetofowls,hassoenchantedme,thatIhavemadethemthe

subjectofmanyjourneysatdivershours.Aftercarefulobservationofthetwolordsandthetenladiesofwhomthisfamilyconsists,Ihavecometotheconclusionthattheiropinionsarerepresentedbytheleadinglordandleadinglady:thelatter,asIjudge,anagedpersonage,afflictedwithapaucityoffeatherandvisibilityofquill,thatgiveshertheappearanceofabundleofofficepens.Whenarailwaygoodsvanthatwouldcrushanelephantcomesroundthecorner,tearingoverthesefowls,theyemergeunharmedfromunderthehorses,perfectlysatisfiedthatthewholerushwasapassingpropertyintheair,whichmayhaveleftsomethingtoeatbehindit.Theylookuponoldshoes,wrecksofkettlesandsaucepans,andfragmentsofbonnets,asakindofmeteoricdischarge,forfowlstopeckat.Peg-topsandhoopstheyaccount,Ithink,asasortofhail;shuttlecocks,asrain,ordew.Gaslightcomesquiteasnaturaltothemasanyotherlight;andIhavemorethanasuspicionthat,inthemindsofthetwolords,theearlypublic-houseatthecornerhassupersededthesun.Ihaveestablisheditasacertainfact, that they always begin to crowwhen thepublic-house shuttersbegin tobe takendown,and that they salutethepotboy,theinstantheappearstoperformthatduty,asifhewerePhoebusinperson.

CHAPTERXI—TRAMPSThechanceuseoftheword‘Tramp’inmylastpaper,broughtthatnumerousfraternitysovividlybeforemymind’seye,thatIhadnosoonerlaiddownmypenthanacompulsionwasuponmetotakeitupagain,andmakenotesoftheTrampswhomIperceivedonallthesummerroadsinalldirections.Wheneveratrampsitsdowntorestbythewayside,hesitswithhislegsinadryditch;andwheneverhegoestosleep(whichisveryoftenindeed),hegoestosleeponhisback.Yonder,bythehighroad,glaringwhiteinthebrightsunshine,lies,onthedustybitofturfunderthebramble-bushthatfencesthecoppicefromthehighway,thetrampoftheordersavage,fastasleep.Heliesonthebroadofhisback,withhisfaceturneduptothesky,andoneofhisraggedarmslooselythrownacrosshisface.Hisbundle(whatcanbethecontentsofthatmysteriousbundle,tomakeitworthhiswhiletocarryitabout?)isthrowndownbesidehim,andthewakingwomanwithhimsitswithherlegsintheditch,andherbacktotheroad.Shewearsherbonnetrakishlyperchedonthefrontofherhead,toshadeherfacefromthesuninwalking,andshetiesherskirtsroundherinconventionallytighttramp-fashionwithasortofapron.Youcanseldomcatchsightofher,restingthus,withoutseeingherinadespondentlydefiantmannerdoingsomethingtoherhairorherbonnet,andglancingatyoubetweenherfingers.Shedoesnotoftengotosleepherselfinthedaytime,butwillsitforanylengthoftimebesidetheman.Andhisslumberouspropensitieswouldnotseemtobereferabletothefatigue

ofcarryingthebundle,forshecarriesitmuchoftenerandfurtherthanhe.Whentheyareafoot,youwillmostlyfindhimslouchingonahead,inagrufftemper,whileshelagsheavilybehindwiththeburden.Heisgiventopersonallycorrectingher,too—whichphaseofhischaracterdevelopsitselfoftenest,onbenchesoutsidealehousedoors—andsheappearstobecomestronglyattachedtohimforthesereasons;itmayusuallybenoticedthatwhenthepoorcreaturehasabruisedface,sheisthemostaffectionate.Hehasnooccupationwhatever,thisorderoftramp,andhasnoobjectwhateveringoinganywhere.Hewillsometimescallhimselfabrickmaker,orasawyer,butonlywhenhetakesanimaginaryflight.Hegenerallyrepresentshimself,inavagueway,aslookingoutforajobofwork;butheneverdidwork,heneverdoes,andheneverwill.Itisafavouritefictionwithhim,however(asifhewerethemostindustriouscharacteronearth),thatyouneverwork;andashegoespastyourgardenandseesyoulookingatyourflowers,youwilloverhearhimgrowlwithastrongsenseofcontrast,‘Youarealuckyhidledevil,youare!’Theslinkingtrampisofthesamehopelessorder,andhasthesameinjuredconvictiononhimthatyouwereborntowhateveryoupossess,andneverdidanythingtogetit:butheisofalessaudaciousdisposition.Hewillstopbeforeyourgate,andsaytohisfemalecompanionwithanairofconstitutionalhumilityandpropitiation—toedifyanyonewhomaybewithinhearingbehindablindorabush—‘Thisisasweetspot,ain’tit?Alovellyspot!AndIwonderifthey’dgivetwopoorfootsoretravellerslikemeandyou,adropoffreshwateroutofsuchaprettygen-teelcrib?We’dtakeitwerykoindon’em,wouldn’tus?Werykoind,uponmyword,uswould?’Hehasaquicksenseofadoginthevicinity,andwillextendhismodestly-injuredpropitiationtothedogchainedupinyouryard;remarking,asheslinksattheyardgate,‘Ah!Youareafoinebreedo’dog,too,andyouain’tkepfornothink!I’dtakeitwerykoindo’yourmasterifhe’delpatravellerandhiswoifeasenviesnogentlefolktheirgoodfortun,wi’abito’yourbrokenwittles.He’dneverknowthewantofit,normorewouldyou.Don’tbarklikethat,atpoorpersonsasneverdoneyounoarm;thepoorisdown-troddenandbrokeenoughwithoutthat;ODON’T!’Hegenerallyheavesaprodigioussighinmovingaway,andalwayslooksupthelaneanddownthelane,anduptheroadanddowntheroad,beforegoingon.Bothoftheseordersoftrampareofaveryrobusthabit;letthehard-workinglabourer atwhose cottage-door they prowl and beg, have the ague never sobadly,thesetrampsaresuretobeingoodhealth.Thereisanotherkindoftramp,whomyouencounterthisbrightsummerday—say,onaroadwiththesea-breezemakingitsdustlively,andsailsofships

inthebluedistancebeyondtheslopeofDown.Asyouwalkenjoyinglyon,youdescryintheperspectiveatthebottomofasteephillupwhichyourwaylies,afigurethatappearstobesittingairilyonagate,whistlinginacheerfulanddisengagedmanner.Asyouapproachnearertoit,youobservethefiguretoslidedownfromthegate,todesistfromwhistling,touncockitshat,tobecometenderoffoot,todepressitsheadandelevateitsshoulders,andtopresentallthecharacteristicsofprofounddespondency.Arrivingatthebottomofthehillandcomingclosetothefigure,youobserveittobethefigureofashabbyyoungman.Heismovingpainfullyforward,inthedirectioninwhichyouaregoing,andhismindissopreoccupiedwithhismisfortunesthatheisnotawareofyourapproachuntilyouarecloseuponhimatthehill-foot.Whenheisawareofyou,youdiscoverhimtobearemarkablywell-behavedyoungman,andaremarkablywell-spokenyoungman.Youknowhimtobewell-behaved,byhisrespectfulmanneroftouchinghishat:youknowhimtobewell-spoken,byhissmoothmannerofexpressinghimself.Hesaysinaflowingconfidentialvoice,andwithoutpunctuation,‘IaskyourpardonsirbutifyouwouldexcusethelibertyofbeingsoaddresseduponthepublicIwaybyonewhoisalmostreducedtoragsthoughitasnotalwaysbeensoandbynofaultofhisownbutthroughillelthinhisfamilyandmanyunmeritedsufferingsitwouldbeagreatobligationsirtoknowthetime.’Yougivethewell-spokenyoungmanthetime.Thewell-spokenyoungman,keepingwellupwithyou,resumes:‘IamawaresirthatitisalibertytointrudeafurtherquestiononagentlemanwalkingforhisentertainmentbutmightImakesoboldasaskthefavourofthewaytoDoversirandaboutthedistance?’Youinformthewell-spokenyoungmanthatthewaytoDoverisstraighton,andthedistancesomeeighteenmiles.Thewell-spokenyoungmanbecomesgreatlyagitated.‘IntheconditiontowhichIamreduced,’sayshe,‘IcouldnotopetoreachDoverbeforedarkevenifmyshoeswereinastatetotakemethereormyfeetwereinastatetooldoutovertheflintyroadandwerenotonthebaregroundofwhichanygentlemanhasthemeanstosatisfyhimselfbylookingSirmayItakethelibertyofspeakingtoyou?’Asthewell-spokenyoungmankeepssowellupwithyouthatyoucan’tpreventhistakingthelibertyofspeakingtoyou,hegoeson,withfluency:‘SiritisnotbeggingthatismyintentionforIwasbroughtupbythebestofmothersandbeggingisnotmytradeIshouldnotknowsirhowtofollowitasatradeifsuchweremyshamefulwishesforthebestofmotherslongtaughtotherwiseandinthebestofomesthoughnowreducedtotakethepresentlibertyontheIwaySirmybusinesswasthelaw-stationeringandIwasfavourablyknowntotheSolicitor-GeneraltheAttorney-GeneralthemajorityofthejudgesandtheoleofthelegalprofessionbutthroughillelthinmyfamilyandthetreacheryofafriendforwhomIbecamesecurityandhenoother thanmyownwife’sbrotherthebrotherofmyownwifeIwascastforthwithmytenderpartnerand

threeyoungchildrennottobegforIwillsoonerdieofdeprivationbuttomakemywaytothesea-porttownofDoverwhereIhavearelativeiinrespectnotonlythatwillassistmebutthatwouldtrustmewithuntoldgoldSirinappiertimesandhare thiscalamityfelluponmeImadeformyamusementwhenIlittle thought that I should ever need it excepting formy air this’—here thewell-spokenyoungmanputhishandintohisbreast—‘thiscomb!SirIimploreyouinthenameofcharitytopurchaseatortoiseshellcombwhichisagenuinearticleatanypricethatyourhumanitymayputuponitandmaytheblessingsofaouselessfamilyawaitingwithbeatingartsthereturnofahusbandandafatherfromDoveruponthecoldstoneseatsofLondon-bridgeeverattendyouSirmayItakethelibertyofspeakingtoyouIimploreyoutobuythiscomb!’Bythistime,beingareasonablygoodwalker,youwillhavebeentoomuchforthewell-spokenyoungman,whowillstopshortandexpresshisdisgustandhiswantofbreath,inalongexpectoration,asyouleavehimbehind.Towardstheendofthesamewalk,onthesamebrightsummerday,atthecornerofthenextlittletownorvillage,youmayfindanotherkindoftramp,embodiedinthepersonsofamostexemplarycouplewhoseonlyimprovidenceappearstohavebeen,thattheyspentthelastoftheirlittleAllonsoap.Theyareamanandwoman,spotlesstobehold—JohnAnderson,withthefrostonhisshortsmock-frockinsteadofhis‘pow,’attendedbyMrs.Anderson.Johnisover-ostentatiousofthefrostuponhisraiment,andwearsacuriousand,youwouldsay,analmostunnecessarydemonstrationofgirdleofwhitelinenwoundabouthiswaist—agirdle,snowyasMrs.Anderson’sapron.Thiscleanlinesswastheexpiringeffortoftherespectablecouple,andnothingthenremainedtoMr.Andersonbuttogetchalkeduponhisspadeinsnow-whitecopy-bookcharacters,HUNGRY!andtositdownhere.Yes;onethingmoreremainedtoMr.Anderson—hischaracter;Monarchscouldnotdeprivehimofhishard-earnedcharacter.Accordingly,asyoucomeupwiththisspectacleofvirtueindistress,Mrs.Andersonrises,andwithadecentcurtseypresentsforyourconsiderationacertificatefromaDoctorofDivinity,thereverendtheVicarofUpperDodgington,whoinformshisChristianfriendsandallwhomitmayconcernthatthebearers,JohnAndersonandlawfulwife,arepersonstowhomyoucannotbetooliberal.Thisbenevolentpastoromittednoworkofhishandstofitthegoodcoupleout,forwithhalfaneyeyoucanrecognisehisautographonthespade.Anotherclassoftrampisaman,themostvaluablepartofwhosestock-in-tradeisahighlyperplexeddemeanour.Heisgotuplikeacountryman,andyouwilloftencomeuponthepoorfellow,whileheisendeavouringtodeciphertheinscriptiononamilestone—quiteafruitlessendeavour,forhecannotread.Heasksyourpardon,hetrulydoes(heisveryslowofspeech,thistramp,andhelooksinabewilderedwayallround the prospect while he

talkstoyou),butallofussholddoaswewoldbedoneby,andhe’ll takeitkind, ifyou’llputapowermanintherightroadfur to jinehiseldestsonashasbrokehislegbadinthemasoning,andisinthisheereOrspit’lasiswrotedownbySquirePouncerby’sownhandaswoldnottellaliefurnoman.Hethen produces from under his dark frock (being always very slow andperplexed)aneatbutwornoldleathernpurse,fromwhichhetakesascrapofpaper.Onthisscrapofpaper iswritten,bySquirePouncerby,ofTheGrove,‘PleasetodirecttheBearer,apoorbutveryworthyman,totheSussexCountyHospital,nearBrighton’—amatterof somedifficultyat themoment, seeingthattherequestcomessuddenlyuponyouinthedepthsofHertfordshire.ThemoreyouendeavourtoindicatewhereBrightonis—whenyouhavewiththegreatest difficulty remembered—the less the devoted father can bemade tocomprehend,andthemoreobtuselyhestaresattheprospect;whereby,beingreducedtoextremity,yourecommendthefaithfulparenttobeginbygoingtoSt.Albans,andpresenthimwithhalf-a-crown.Itdoeshimgood,nodoubt,butscarcelyhelpshimforward,sinceyoufindhimlyingdrunkthatsameeveninginthewheelwright’ssawpitundertheshedwherethefelledtreesare,oppositethesignoftheThreeJollyHedgers.But,themostvicious,byfar,ofalltheidletramps,isthetrampwhopretendstohavebeenagentleman.‘Educated,’hewrites,fromthevillagebeer-shopinpale inkofaferruginouscomplexion;‘educatedatTrin.Coll.Cam.—nursedinthelapofaffluence—onceinmysmallwaythepattronoftheMuses,’&c.&c.&c.—surelyasympatheticmindwillnotwithholdatrifle,tohelphimonto the market-town where he thinks of giving a Lecture to the frugesconsumere nati, on things in general? This shameful creature lolling abouthedgetap-roomsinhisraggedclothes,nowsofarfrombeingblackthattheylookas if theynever canhavebeenblack, ismore selfish and insolent thaneventhesavagetramp.Hewouldspongeonthepoorestboyforafarthing,andspurnhimwhenhehadgotit;hewouldinterpose(ifhecouldgetanythingbyit) between the baby and the mother’s breast. So much lower than thecompany he keeps, for hismaudlin assumption of being higher, this pitilessrascal blights the summer road as he maunders on between the luxurianthedges;where(tomythinking)eventhewildconvolvulusandroseandsweet-briar,aretheworseforhisgoingby,andneedtimetorecoverfromthetaintofhimintheair.Theyoungfellowswhotrudgealongbarefoot,fiveorsixtogether,theirbootsslungovertheirshoulders,theirshabbybundlesundertheirarms,theirsticksnewlycutfromsomeroadsidewood,arenoteminentlyprepossessing,butaremuchlessobjectionable.Thereisatramp-fellowshipamongthem.Theypickoneanotherupatrestingstations,andgoonincompanies.Theyalwaysgoatafastswing—thoughtheygenerallylimptoo—andthereisinvariablyoneof

thecompanywhohasmuchadotokeepupwiththerest.Theygenerallytalkabouthorses,andanyothermeansoflocomotionthanwalking:or,oneofthecompany relates some recent experiences of the road—which are alwaysdisputesanddifficulties.Asforexample.‘SoasI’mastandingatthepumpinthemarket,blestiftheredon’tcomeupaBeadle,andheses,“Mustn’tstandhere,”heses.“Whynot?”Ises.“Nobeggarsallowedinthistown,”heses.“Who’sabeggar?”Ises.“Youare,”heses.“Whoeverseemebeg?Didyou?”Ises.“Thenyou’reatramp,”heses.“I’dratherbethatthanaBeadle,”Ises.’(Thecompanyexpressgreatapproval.)‘“Wouldyou?”hesestome.“Yes,Iwould,”Isestohim.“Well,”heses,“anyhow,getoutofthistown.”“Why,blowyourlittletown!”Ises, “who wants to be in it?Wot does yourdirty little townmeanbycomin’andstickin’ itself in the road toanywhere?Whydon’tyougetashovelandabarrer,andclearyourtownouto’people’sway?”’ (The company expressing the highest approval and laughing aloud,theyallgodownthehill.)Then,therearethetramphandicraftmen.AretheynotalloverEngland,inthisMidsummertime?Wheredoesthelarksing,thecorngrow,themillturn,theriverrun,andtheyarenotamongthelightsandshadows,tinkering,chair-mending,umbrella-mending,clock-mending,knife-grinding?Surely,apleasantthing,ifwewereinthatconditionoflife,togrindourwaythroughKent,Sussex,andSurrey.Fortheworstsixweeksorso,weshouldseethesparkswegroundoff,fierybrightagainstabackgroundofgreenwheatandgreenleaves.Alittlelater,andtheripeharvestwouldpaleoursparksfromredtoyellow,untilwegotthedarknewly-turnedlandforabackgroundagain,andtheywereredoncemore.Bythattime,weshouldhavegroundourwaytotheseacliffs,andthewhirrofourwheelwouldbelostinthebreakingofthewaves.Ournextvarietyinsparkswouldbederivedfromcontrastwiththegorgeousmedleyofcoloursintheautumnwoods,and,bythetimewehadgroundourwayroundtotheheathylandsbetweenReigateandCroydon,doingaprosperousstrokeofbusinessallalong,weshouldshowlikealittlefireworkinthelightfrostyair,andbethenextbestthingtotheblacksmith’sforge.Veryagreeable, too, togoona chair-mending tour.Whatjudgesweshouldbeofrushes,andhowknowingly(withasheafandabottomlesschairatourback)weshouldloungeonbridges,lookingoveratosier-beds!Amongalltheinnumerableoccupationsthatcannotpossiblybetransactedwithouttheassistanceoflookers-on,chair-mendingmaytakeastationinthefirstrank.Whenwesatdownwithourbacksagainstthebarnorthepublic-house,andbegantomend,whatasenseofpopularitywouldgrowuponus!Whenallthechildrencametolookatus,andthetailor,andthegeneraldealer,andthefarmerwhohadbeengivingasmallorderatthelittlesaddler’s,andthegroomfromthegreathouse,andthepublican,andeventhetwoskittle-players(andherenotethat,howsoeverbusyalltherestofvillagehuman-kindmaybe,

therewillalwaysbetwopeoplewithleisuretoplayatskittles,wherevervillageskittlesare),whatencouragementwouldbeonustoplaitandweave!Noonelooksatuswhileweplaitandweavethesewords.Clock-mendingagain.Exceptfortheslightinconvenienceofcarryingaclockunderourarm,andthemonotonyofmakingthebellgo,wheneverwecametoahumanhabitation,whatapleasantprivilegetogiveavoicetothedumbcottage-clock,andsetittalkingtothecottagefamilyagain!Likewiseweforeseegreatinterestingoingroundbytheparkplantations,undertheoverhangingboughs(hares,rabbits,partridges,andpheasants,scuddinglikemadacrossandacrossthechequeredgroundbeforeus),andsoovertheparkladder,andthroughthewood,untilwecametotheKeeper’slodge.Then,would,theKeeperbediscoverableathisdoor,inadeepnestofleaves,smokinghispipe.Then,onouraccostinghiminthewayofourtrade,wouldhecalltoMrs.Keeper,respecting‘t’ouldclock’inthekitchen.Then,wouldMrs.Keeperaskusintothelodge,andondueexaminationweshouldoffertomakeagoodjobofitforeighteenpence;whichoffer,beingaccepted,wouldsetustinklingandclinkingamongthechubby,awe-strucklittleKeepersforanhourandmore.Socompletelytothefamily’ssatisfactionwouldweachieveourwork,thattheKeeperwouldmentionhowthattherewassomethingwrongwiththebelloftheturretstable-clockupattheHall,andthatifwethoughtgoodofgoinguptothehousekeeperonthechanceofthatjobtoo,whyhewouldtakeus.Then,shouldwego,amongthebranchingoaksandthedeepfern,bysilentwaysofmysteryknowntotheKeeper,seeingtheherdglancinghereandthereaswewentalong,untilwecametotheoldHall,solemnandgrand.UndertheTerraceFlowerGarden,androundbythestables,wouldtheKeepertakeusin,andaswepassedweshouldobservehowspaciousandstatelythestables,andhowfinethepaintingofthehorses’namesovertheirstalls,andhowsolitaryall:thefamilybeinginLondon.Then,shouldwefindourselvespresentedtothehousekeeper,sitting,inhushedstate,atneedlework,inabay-windowlookingoutuponamightygrimred-brickquadrangle,guardedbystonelionsdisrespectfullythrowingsomersaultsovertheescutcheonsofthenoblefamily.Then,ourservicesacceptedandweinsinuatedwithacandleintothestable-turret,weshouldfindittobeamerequestionofpendulum,butonethatwouldholdusuntildark.Then,shouldwefalltowork,withageneralimpressionofGhostsbeingabout,andofpicturesindoorsthatofacertaintycameoutoftheirframesand‘walked,’ifthefamilywouldonlyownit.Then,shouldweworkandwork,untilthedaygraduallyturnedtodusk,andevenuntiltheduskgraduallyturnedtodark.Ourtaskatlengthaccomplished,weshouldbetakenintoanenormousservants’hall,andthereregaledwithbeefandbread,andpowerfulale.Then,paidfreely,weshouldbeatlibertytogo,andshouldbetoldbyapointinghelpertokeeproundoveryinderbytheblastedash,andsostraightthroughthewoods,tillweshouldseethetown-lightsrightaforeus.

Then,feelinglonesome,shouldwedesireuponthewhole,thattheashhadnotbeenblasted,orthatthehelperhadhadthemannersnottomentionit.However,weshouldkeepon,allright,tillsuddenlythestablebellwouldstriketeninthedolefullestway,quitechillingourblood,thoughwehadsolatelytaughthimhowtoacquithimself.Then,aswewenton,shouldwerecalloldstories,anddimlyconsiderwhatitwouldbemostadvisabletodo,intheeventofatallfigure,allinwhite,withsaucereyes,comingupandsaying,‘Iwantyoutocometoachurchyardandmendachurchclock.Followme!’Then,shouldwemakeabursttogetclearofthetrees,andshouldsoonfindourselvesintheopen,withthetown-lightsbrightaheadofus.Soshould welie thatnightat theancientsignof theCrispinandCrispanus,and riseearlynextmorningtobebetimesontrampagain.Bricklayersoften tramp, in twosand threes, lyingbynight at their ‘lodges,’which are scattered all over the country. Bricklaying is another of theoccupations that can by no means be transacted in rural parts, without theassistance of spectators—of asmany as can be convened. In thinly-peopledspots, I have known brick-layers on tramp, coming up with bricklayers atwork, to be so sensible of the indispensability of lookers-on, that theythemselveshavesatupinthatcapacity,andhavebeenunabletosubsideintotheacceptanceofaprofferedshareinthejob,fortwoorthreedaystogether.Sometimes, the ‘navvy,’ on tramp,with an extra pair of half-boots over hisshoulder, a bag, a bottle, and a can, will take a similar part in a job ofexcavation, andwill look at itwithout engaging in it, until all hismoney isgone.Thecurrentofmyuncommercialpursuitscausedmeonlylastsummertowantalittlebodyofworkmenforacertainspellofworkinapleasantpartofthecountry;andIwasatonetimehonouredwiththeattendanceofasmanyasseven-and-twenty,whowerelookingatsix.Whocanbefamiliarwithanyrustichighwayinsummer-time,withoutstoringupknowledgeofthemanytrampswhogofromoneoasisoftownorvillagetoanother,tosellastockintrade,apparentlynotworthashillingwhensold?Shrimpsareafavouritecommodityforthiskindofspeculation,andsoarecakesofasoftandspongycharacter,coupledwithSpanishnutsandbrandyballs.Thestockiscarriedontheheadinabasket,and,betweentheheadandthebasket,arethetrestlesonwhichthestockisdisplayedattradingtimes.Fleetoffoot,butacarewornclassoftrampthis,mostly;withacertainstiffnessofneck,occasionedbymuchanxiousbalancingofbaskets;andalsowithalong,Chinesesortofeye,whichanoverweightedforeheadwouldseemtohavesqueezedintothatform.On the hot dusty roads near seaport towns and great rivers, behold thetramping Soldier. And if you should happen never to have asked yourself

whether his uniform is suited to his work, perhaps the poor fellow’sappearance as he comes distressfully towards you, with his absurdly tightjacketunbuttoned,hisneck-gear inhishand,andhis legswellchafedbyhistrousersofbaize,maysuggestthepersonalinquiry,howyouthinkyouwouldlike it.Much better the trampingSailor, although his cloth is somewhat toothickforlandservice.But,whythetrampingmerchant-mateshouldputonablackvelvetwaistcoat,forachalkycountryinthedog-days,isoneofthegreatsecretsofnaturethatwillneverbediscovered.IhavemyeyeuponapieceofKentishroad,borderedoneithersidebyawood,andhavingononehand,betweentheroad-dustandthetrees,askirtingpatchofgrass.Wildflowersgrowinabundanceonthisspot,anditlieshighandairy,withadistantriverstealingsteadilyawaytotheocean,likeaman’slife.Togainthemilestonehere,whichthemoss,primroses,violets,blue-bells,andwildroses,wouldsoonrenderillegiblebutforpeeringtravellerspushingthemasidewiththeirsticks,youmustcomeupasteephill,comewhichwayyoumay.So,allthetrampswithcartsorcaravans—theGipsy-tramp,theShow-tramp,theCheapJack—finditimpossibletoresistthetemptationsoftheplace,andallturnthehorseloosewhentheycometoit,andboilthepot.Blesstheplace,Ilovetheashesofthevagabondfiresthathavescorcheditsgrass!WhattrampchildrendoIseehere,attiredinahandfulofrags,makingagymnasiumoftheshaftsofthecart,makingafeather-bedoftheflintsandbrambles,makingatoyofthehobbledoldhorsewhoisnotmuchmorelikeahorsethananycheaptoywouldbe!Here,doIencounterthecartofmatsandbroomsandbaskets—withallthoughtsofbusinessgiventotheeveningwind—withthestewmadeandbeingservedout—withCheapJackandDearJillstrikingsoftmusicoutoftheplatesthatarerattledlikewarlikecymbalswhenputupforauctionatfairsandmarkets—theirmindssoinfluenced(nodoubt)bythemelodyofthenightingalesastheybegintosinginthewoodsbehindthem,thatifIweretoproposetodeal,theywouldsellmeanythingatcostprice.Onthishallowedgroundhasitbeenmyhappyprivilege(letmewhisperit),tobeholdtheWhite-hairedLadywiththepinkeyes,eatingmeat-piewiththeGiant:while,bythehedge-side,ontheboxofblanketswhichIknewcontainedthesnakes,weresetforththecupsandsaucersandtheteapot.ItwasonaneveninginAugust,thatIchanceduponthisravishingspectacle,andInoticedthat,whereastheGiantreclinedhalfconcealedbeneaththeoverhangingboughsandseemedindifferenttoNature,thewhitehairofthegraciousLadystreamedfreeinthebreathofevening,andherpinkeyesfoundpleasureinthelandscape.Iheardonlyasinglesentenceofheruttering,yetitbespokeatalentformodestrepartee.Theill-manneredGiant—accursedbehisevilrace!—hadinterruptedtheLadyinsomeremark,and,asIpassedthatenchantedcornerofthewood,shegentlyreprovedhim,withthewords,‘Now,Cobby;’—Cobby!so short a name!—‘ain’t one fool

enoughtotalkatatime?’Withinappropriatedistanceofthismagicground,thoughnotsonearitasthatthesongtrolledfromtaporbenchatdoor,caninvadeitswoodlandsilence,isalittlehostelrywhichnomanpossessedofapennywaseverknowntopassinwarmweather.Beforeitsentrance,arecertainpleasant,trimmedlimes;likewise,acoolwell,withsomusicalabucket-handlethatitsfalluponthebucketrimwillmakeahorseprickuphisearsandneigh,uponthedroughtyroadhalfamileoff.Thisisahouseofgreatresortforhaymakingtrampsandharvesttramps,insomuchthatastheysitwithin,drinkingtheirmugsofbeer,theirrelinquishedscythesandreaping-hooksglareoutoftheopenwindows,asifthewholeestablishmentwereafamilywar-coachofAncientBritons.Laterintheseason,thewholecountry-side,formilesandmiles,willswarmwithhoppingtramps.Theycomeinfamilies,men,women,andchildren,everyfamilyprovidedwithabundleofbedding,anironpot,anumberofbabies,andtoooftenwithsomepoorsickcreaturequiteunfitfortheroughlife,forwhomtheysupposethesmellofthefreshhoptobeasovereignremedy.ManyofthesehoppersareIrish,butmanycomefromLondon.Theycrowdalltheroads,andcampunderallthehedgesandonallthescrapsofcommon-land,andliveamonganduponthehopsuntiltheyareallpicked,andthehop-gardens,sobeautifulthroughthesummer,lookasiftheyhadbeenlaidwastebyaninvadingarmy.Then,thereisavastexodusoftrampsoutofthecountry;andifyourideordriveroundanyturnofanyroad,atmorethanafootpace,youwillbebewilderedtofindthatyouhavechargedintothebosomoffiftyfamilies,andthattherearesplashingupallaroundyou,intheutmostprodigalityofconfusion,bundlesofbedding,babies,ironpots,andagood-humouredmultitudeofbothsexesandallages,equallydividedbetweenperspirationandintoxication.

CHAPTERXII—DULLBOROUGHTOWNItlatelyhappenedthatIfoundmyselframblingaboutthescenesamongwhichmy earliest days were passed; scenes fromwhich I departed when I was achild, andwhich I did not revisit until I was aman. This is no uncommonchance,butonethatbefallssomeofusanyday;perhapsitmaynotbequiteuninteresting to compare notes with the reader respecting an experience sofamiliarandajourneysouncommercial.Icallmyboyhood’shome(andIfeellikeaTenorinanEnglishOperawhenImentionit)Dullborough.MostofuscomefromDullboroughwhocomefromacountrytown.AsIleftDullboroughinthedayswhentherewerenorailroadsintheland,I

left it ina stage-coach.Throughall theyears that have sincepassed, have IeverlostthesmellofthedampstrawinwhichIwaspacked—likegame—andforwarded,carriagepaid,totheCrossKeys,Wood-street,Cheapside,London?There was no other inside passenger, and I consumed my sandwiches insolitude and dreariness, and it rained hard all the way, and I thought lifesloppierthanIhadexpectedtofindit.With this tender remembrance uponme, Iwas cavalierly shunted back intoDullboroughtheotherday,bytrain.Mytickethadbeenpreviouslycollected,likemytaxes,andmyshiningnewportmanteauhadhadagreatplasterstuckupon it, and IhadbeendefiedbyActofParliament toofferanobjection toanything that was done to it, or me, under a penalty of not less than fortyshillingsormorethanfivepounds,compoundableforatermofimprisonment.WhenIhadsentmydisfiguredpropertyontothehotel,Ibegantolookaboutme;andthefirstdiscoveryImade,was,thattheStationhadswalloweduptheplaying-field.It was gone. The two beautiful hawthorn-trees, the hedge, the turf, and allthosebuttercupsanddaisies,hadgivenplace to thestoniestof joltingroads:while,beyondtheStation,anuglydarkmonsterofatunnelkeptitsjawsopen,as if it had swallowed them and were ravenous for more destruction. Thecoachthathadcarriedmeaway,wasmelodiouslycalledTimpson’sBlue-EyedMaid,andbelongedtoTimpson,atthecoach-officeup-street;thelocomotiveenginethathadbroughtmeback,wascalledseverelyNo.97,andbelongedtoS.E.R.,andwasspittingashesandhotwaterovertheblightedground.WhenIhadbeenletoutattheplatform-door,likeaprisonerwhomhisturnkeygrudgingly released, I looked in again over the low wall, at the scene ofdepartedglories.Here,inthehaymakingtime,hadIbeendeliveredfromthedungeons of Seringapatam, an immense pile (of haycock), by my owncountrymen, thevictoriousBritish (boynext door andhis twocousins), andhadbeenrecognisedwithecstasybymyaffiancedone(MissGreen),whohadcomeall thewayfromEngland(secondhouse in the terrace) to ransomme,andmarryme.Here, had I first heard in confidence, fromonewhose fatherwasgreatlyconnected,beingunderGovernment,oftheexistenceofaterriblebanditti,called‘TheRadicals,’whoseprincipleswere,thatthePrinceRegentworestays,andthatnobodyhadaright toanysalary,andthat thearmyandnavy ought to be put down—horrors at which I trembled in my bed, aftersupplicatingthattheRadicalsmightbespeedilytakenandhanged.Here,too,hadwe, the small boys ofBoles’s, had that cricketmatch against the smallboysofColes’s,whenBolesandColeshadactuallymetupontheground,andwhen, insteadof instantlyhittingoutatoneanotherwith theutmost fury,aswe 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 doingcharmingly.’Coulditbethat,afterallthis,andmuchmore,thePlaying-fieldwasaStation,andNo.97expectoratedboilingwaterandredhotcindersonit,andthewholebelongedbyActofParliamenttoS.E.R.?Asitcouldbe,andwas,Ilefttheplacewithaheavyheartforawalkalloverthetown.And first of Timpson’s up-street.WhenIdepartedfromDullboroughinthestrawyarmsofTimpson’sBlue-EyedMaid,Timpson’swasamoderate-sizedcoach-office(infact,alittlecoach-office),withanovaltransparencyinthewindow,whichlookedbeautifulbynight,representingoneofTimpson’scoachesintheactofpassingamilestoneontheLondonroadwithgreatvelocity,completelyfullinsideandout,andallthepassengersdressedinthefirststyleoffashion,andenjoyingthemselvestremendously.IfoundnosuchplaceasTimpson’snow—nosuchbricksandrafters,nottomentionthename—nosuchedificeontheteemingearth.PickfordhadcomeandknockedTimpson’sdown.PickfordhadnotonlyknockedTimpson’sdown,buthadknockedtwoorthreehousesdownoneachsideofTimpson’s,andthenhadknockedthewholeintoonegreatestablishmentwithapairofbiggates,inandoutofwhich,his(Pickford’s)waggonsare,in thesedays, alwaysrattling,with theirdriverssittingupsohigh, that theylookinat thesecond-floorwindowsoftheold-fashionedhousesintheHigh-streetastheyshakethetown.IhavenotthehonourofPickford’sacquaintance,butIfeltthathehaddoneme an injury, not to say committed an act of boyslaughter, in runningovermyChildhoodinthisroughmanner;andifeverImeetPickforddrivingoneofhisownmonsters,andsmokingapipethewhile(whichisthecustomofhismen),heshallknowbytheexpressionofmyeye,ifitcatcheshis,thatthereissomethingwrongbetweenus.Moreover,IfeltthatPickfordhadnorighttocomerushingintoDullboroughanddeprivethetownofapublicpicture.HeisnotNapoleonBonaparte.Whenhetookdownthetransparentstage-coach,heoughttohavegiventhetownatransparentvan.Withagloomyconviction thatPickford iswhollyutilitarianandunimaginative,Iproceededonmyway.ItisamercyIhavenotaredandgreenlampandanight-bellatmydoor,forin my very young days I was taken to so many lyings-in that I wonder Iescapedbecomingaprofessionalmartyrtotheminafter-life.IsupposeIhadaverysympatheticnurse,withalargecircleofmarriedacquaintance.Howeverthatwas,asIcontinuedmywalkthroughDullborough,Ifoundmanyhousestobe solelyassociated inmymindwith thisparticular interest.At one littlegreengrocer’s shop, down certain steps from the street, I remember to havewaitedonaladywhohadhadfourchildren(Iamafraidtowritefive,thoughIfully believe it was five) at a birth. This meritorious woman held quite a

reception inher roomon themorningwhen Iwas introduced there, and thesightof thehousebroughtvividly tomymindhow the four (five)deceasedyoung people lay, side by side, on a clean cloth on a chest of drawers;remindingmebyahomelyassociation,which I suspect their complexion tohaveassisted,ofpigs’feetas theyareusuallydisplayedataneat tripe-shop.Hotcandlewashandedroundontheoccasion,andIfurtherrememberedasIstood contemplating the greengrocer’s, that a subscription was entered intoamongthecompany,whichbecameextremelyalarmingtomyconsciousnessof having pocket-money on my person. This fact being known to myconductress, whoever she was, I was earnestly exhorted to contribute, butresolutely declined: therein disgusting the company, who gave me tounderstandthatImustdismissallexpectationsofgoingtoHeaven.Howdoesithappenthatwhenallelseischangewhereveronegoes,thereyetseem,ineveryplace,tobesomefewpeoplewhoneveralter?Asthesightofthegreengrocer’shouserecalledthesetrivialincidentsoflongago,theidenticalgreengrocerappearedonthesteps,withhishandsinhispockets,andleaninghisshoulderagainstthedoor-post,asmychildisheyeshadseenhimmanyatime;indeed,therewashisoldmarkonthedoor-postyet,asifhisshadowhadbecomeafixturethere.Itwashehimself;hemightformerlyhavebeenanold-lookingyoungman,orhemightnowbeayoung-lookingoldman,buttherehewas.Inwalkingalongthestreet,Ihadasyetlookedinvainforafamiliarface,orevena transmittedface;herewas theverygreengrocerwhohadbeenweighingandhandlingbasketsonthemorningofthereception.Ashebroughtwithhimadawningremembrancethathehadhadnoproprietaryinterest in thosebabies, Icrossed the road,andaccostedhimon thesubject.He was not in the least excited or gratified, or in any way roused, by theaccuracyofmy recollection, but said,Yes, summutout of the common—hedidn’trememberhowmanyitwas(asifhalf-a-dozenbabeseitherwaymadeno difference)—had happened to a Mrs. What’s-her-name, as once lodgedthere—but he didn’t call it to mind, particular. Nettled by this phlegmaticconduct,IinformedhimthatIhadleftthetownwhenIwasachild.Heslowlyreturned,quiteunsoftened, andnotwithout a sarcastickindof complacency,HadI?Ah!AnddidIfindithadgotontolerablywellwithoutme?Suchisthedifference (I thought,when I had left him a fewhundred yards behind, andwas by somuch in a better temper) between going away from a place andremaininginit.Ihadnoright,Ireflected,tobeangrywiththegreengrocerforhis want of interest, I was nothing to him: whereas he was the town, thecathedral,thebridge,theriver,mychildhood,andalargesliceofmylife,tome.Of course the town had shrunk fearfully, since I was a child there. I hadentertainedtheimpressionthattheHigh-streetwasatleastaswideasRegent-

street,London,ortheItalianBoulevardatParis.Ifounditlittlebetterthanalane. Therewas a public clock in it, which I had supposed to be the finestclock in theworld:whereas it now turned out to be as inexpressive,moon-faced,andweakaclockaseverIsaw.ItbelongedtoaTownHall,whereIhadseenanIndian(whoInowsupposewasn’tanIndian)swallowasword(whichI now suppose he didn’t). The edifice had appeared tome in those days sogloriousastructure,thatIhadsetitupinmymindasthemodelonwhichtheGenieoftheLampbuiltthepalaceforAladdin.Ameanlittlebrickheap,likeadementedchapel,withafewyawningpersonsinleathergaiters,andinthelastextremityforsomething todo, loungingat thedoorwith theirhands in theirpockets,andcallingthemselvesaCornExchange!TheTheatrewasinexistence,Ifound,onaskingthefishmonger,whohadacompactshowofstockinhiswindow,consistingofasoleandaquartofshrimps—andIresolvedtocomfortmymindbygoingtolookatit.RichardtheThird,inaveryuncomfortablecloak,hadfirstappearedtomethere,andhadmademyheartleapwithterrorbybackingupagainstthestage-boxinwhichIwasposted,whilestrugglingforlifeagainstthevirtuousRichmond.ItwaswithinthosewallsthatIhadlearntasfromapageofEnglishhistory,howthatwickedKingsleptinwar-timeonasofamuchtooshortforhim,andhowfearfullyhisconsciencetroubledhisboots.There,too,hadIfirstseenthefunnycountryman,butcountrymanofnobleprinciples,inafloweredwaistcoat,crunchuphislittlehatandthrowitontheground,andpulloffhiscoat,saying,‘Domthee,squire, coomonwith thy fistes then!’Atwhich thelovely young woman who kept company with him (and who went outgleaning, in a narrow white muslin apron with five beautiful bars of fivedifferent-coloured ribbons across it)was so frightened for his sake, that shefaintedaway.ManywondroussecretsofNaturehadIcometotheknowledgeof in that sanctuary: ofwhich not the least terrificwere, that thewitches inMacbeth bore an awful resemblance to the Thanes and other properinhabitants of Scotland; and that the goodKingDuncan couldn’t rest in hisgrave,butwasconstantlycomingoutofitandcallinghimselfsomebodyelse.TotheTheatre,therefore,Irepairedforconsolation.ButIfoundverylittle,forit was in a bad and declining way. A dealer in wine and bottled beer hadalready squeezedhis trade into thebox-office, and the theatricalmoneywastaken—when it came—in a kind ofmeat-safe in the passage. The dealer inwineandbottledbeermusthaveinsinuatedhimselfunderthestagetoo;forheannouncedthathehadvariousdescriptionsofalcoholicdrinks‘inthewood,’andtherewasnopossiblestowageforthewoodanywhereelse.Evidently,hewas by degrees eating the establishment away to the core, andwould soonhave sole possession of it. It was To Let, and hopelessly so, for its oldpurposes;andtherehadbeennoentertainmentwithinitswallsforalongtimeexcept a Panorama; and even that had been announced as ‘pleasingly

instructive,’and Iknow toowell the fatalmeaningand the leaden importofthose terrible expressions. No, there was no comfort in the Theatre. It wasmysteriously gone, like my own youth. Unlike my own youth, it might becomingbacksomeday;buttherewaslittlepromiseofit.AsthetownwasplacardedwithreferencestotheDullboroughMechanics’Institution,IthoughtIwouldgoandlookatthatestablishmentnext.Therehadbeennosuchthinginthetown,inmyyoungday,anditoccurredtomethatitsextremeprosperitymighthavebroughtadversityupontheDrama.IfoundtheInstitutionwithsomedifficulty,andshouldscarcelyhaveknownthatIhadfounditifIhadjudgedfromitsexternalappearanceonly;butthiswasattributabletoitsneverhavingbeenfinished,andhavingnofront:consequently,itledamodestandretiredexistenceupastable-yard.Itwas(asIlearnt,oninquiry)amostflourishingInstitution,andofthehighestbenefittothetown:twotriumphswhichIwasgladtounderstandwerenotatallimpairedbytheseemingdrawbacksthatnomechanicsbelongedtoit,andthatitwassteepedindebttothechimney-pots.Ithadalargeroom,whichwasapproachedbyaninfirmstep-ladder:thebuilderhavingdeclinedtoconstructtheintendedstaircase,withoutapresentpaymentincash,whichDullborough(thoughprofoundlyappreciativeoftheInstitution)seemedunaccountablybashfulaboutsubscribing.Thelargeroomhadcost—orwould,whenpaidfor—fivehundredpounds;andithadmoremortarinitandmoreechoes,thanonemighthaveexpectedtogetforthemoney.Itwasfittedupwithaplatform,andtheusuallecturingtools,includingalargeblackboardofamenacingappearance.OnreferringtolistsofthecoursesoflecturesthathadbeengiveninthisthrivingHall,IfanciedIdetectedashynessinadmittingthathumannaturewhenatleisurehasanydesire whatever to be relieved anddiverted; and a furtive sliding in of any poor make-weight piece ofamusement, shame-facedly and edgewise. Thus, I observed that it wasnecessary for themembers tobeknockedon theheadwithGas,Air,Water,Food, the Solar System, the Geological periods, Criticism on Milton, theSteam-engine, John Bunyan, and Arrow-Headed Inscriptions, before theymight be tickled by those unaccountable choristers, the negro singers in thecourtcostumeofthereignofGeorgetheSecond.Likewise,thattheymustbestunned by a weighty inquiry whether there was internal evidence inShakespeare’sworks, to prove that his uncle by themother’s side lived forsome years at Stoke Newington, before they were brought-to by aMiscellaneous Concert. But, indeed, the masking of entertainment, andpretending itwas something else—as peoplemask bedsteadswhen they areobliged tohave them insitting-rooms,andmakebelieve that theyarebook-cases,sofas,chestsofdrawers,anythingratherthanbedsteads—wasmanifesteveninthepretenceofdrearinessthattheunfortunateentertainersthemselvesfeltobligedindecencytoputforthwhentheycamehere.Oneveryagreeable

professional singer, who travelledwith two professional ladies, knew betterthantointroduceeitherofthoseladiestosingtheballad‘Comin’throughtheRye’without prefacing it himself,with some general remarks onwheat andclover; and even then, he dared not for his life call the song, a song, butdisguised it in the bill as an ‘Illustration.’ In the library, also—fitted withshelvesforthreethousandbooks,andcontainingupwardsofonehundredandseventy(presentedcopiesmostly),seethingtheiredgesindampplaster—therewassuchapainfullyapologeticreturnof62offenderswhohadreadTravels,Popular Biography, and mere Fiction descriptive of the aspirations of thehearts and souls of mere human creatures like themselves; and such anelaborate parade of 2 bright examples who had had down Euclid after theday’s occupation and confinement; and 3 who had had down Metaphysicsafter ditto; and 1 who had had down Theology after ditto; and 4 who hadworriedGrammar,PoliticalEconomy,Botany,andLogarithmsallatonceafterditto;thatIsuspectedtheboastedclasstobeoneman,whohadbeenhiredtodoit.EmergingfromtheMechanics’Institutionandcontinuingmywalkaboutthetown,Istillnoticedeverywheretheprevalence,toanextraordinarydegree,ofthiscustomofputtingthenaturaldemandforamusementoutofsight,assomeuntidyhousekeepersputdust,andpretendingthatitwassweptaway.Andyetitwasministeredto,inadullandabortivemanner,byallwhomadethisfeint.LookinginatwhatiscalledinDullborough‘theseriousbookseller’s,’where,inmychildhood,Ihadstudiedthefacesofnumbersofgentlemendepictedinrostrumswithagaslightoneachsideofthem,andcastingmyeyesovertheopenpagesofcertainprinteddiscoursesthere,Ifoundavastdealofaimingatjocosityanddramaticeffect,eveninthem—yes,verily,evenonthepartofoneverywrathfulexpounderwhobitterlyanathematisedapoorlittleCircus.Similarly,inthereadingprovidedfortheyoungpeopleenrolledintheLassoofLove,andotherexcellentunions,Ifoundthewritersgenerallyunderadistressingsensethatthey must start (at all events) like story-tellers, anddeludetheyoungpersonsintothebeliefthattheyweregoingtobeinteresting.As I looked in at this window for twenty minutes by the clock, I am in apositiontoofferafriendlyremonstrance—notbearingonthisparticularpoint—to thedesigners and engraversof thepictures in thosepublications.Havethey considered the awful consequences likely to flow from theirrepresentationsofVirtue?Have theyasked themselves thequestion,whethertheterrificprospectofacquiringthatfearfulchubbinessofhead,unwieldinessof arm, feeble dislocation of leg, crispiness of hair, and enormity of shirt-collar,which they represent as inseparable fromGoodness,may not tend toconfirm sensitive waverers, in Evil? A most impressive example (if I hadbelieved it) ofwhat aDustmanand aSailormaycome to,when theymendtheirways,waspresentedtomeinthissameshop-window.When theywere

leaning (theywere intimate friends) against apost, drunkand reckless,withsurpassinglybadhatson,andtheirhairovertheirforeheads,theywereratherpicturesque,andlookedasiftheymightbeagreeablemen,iftheywouldnotbebeasts.But,whentheyhadgotovertheirbadpropensities,andwhen,asaconsequence, theirheadshad swelledalarmingly, theirhairhadgot so curlythatitliftedtheirblown-outcheeksup,theircoat-cuffsweresolongthattheynever coulddo anywork, and their eyeswere sowideopen that theynevercould do any sleep, they presented a spectacle calculated to plunge a timidnatureintothedepthsofInfamy.But,theclockthathadsodegeneratedsinceIsawitlast,admonishedmethatIhadstayedherelongenough;andIresumedmywalk.IhadnotgonefiftypacesalongthestreetwhenIwassuddenlybroughtupbythesightofamanwhogotoutofalittlephaetonatthedoctor’sdoor,andwentintothedoctor’shouse.Immediately,theairwasfilledwiththescentoftroddengrass,andtheperspectiveofyearsopened,andattheendofitwasalittlelikenessofthismankeepingawicket,andIsaid,‘Godblessmysoul!JoeSpecks!’Throughmanychangesandmuchwork,IhadpreservedatendernessforthememoryofJoe,forasmuchaswehadmadetheacquaintanceofRoderickRandomtogether,andhadbelievedhimtobenoruffian,butaningenuousandengaginghero.ScorningtoasktheboyleftinthephaetonwhetheritwasreallyJoe,andscorningeventoreadthebrassplateonthedoor—sosurewasI—IrangthebellandinformedtheservantmaidthatastrangersoughtaudienceofMr.Specks.Intoaroom,halfsurgery,halfstudy,Iwasshowntoawaithiscoming,andIfoundit,byaseriesofelaborateaccidents,bestrewnwithtestimoniestoJoe.PortraitofMr.Specks,bustofMr.Specks,silvercupfromgratefulpatienttoMr.Specks,presentationsermonfromlocalclergyman,dedicationpoemfromlocalpoet,dinner-cardfromlocalnobleman,tractonbalanceofpowerfromlocalrefugee,inscribedHommagedel’auteuràSpecks.Whenmyoldschoolfellowcamein,andIinformedhimwithasmilethatIwasnotapatient,heseemedratheratalosstoperceiveanyreasonforsmilinginconnexionwiththatfact,andinquiredtowhatwashetoattributethehonour?Iaskedhimwithanothersmile,couldheremembermeatall?Hehadnot(hesaid)thatpleasure.IwasbeginningtohavebutapooropinionofMr.Specks,whenhesaidreflectively,‘Andyetthere’sasomethingtoo.’Uponthat,Isawaboyishlightinhiseyesthatlookedwell,andIaskedhimifhecouldinformme,asastrangerwhodesiredtoknowandhadnotthemeansofreferenceathand,whatthenameoftheyoungladywas,whomarriedMr.Random?Uponthat,hesaid‘Narcissa,’and,afterstaringforamoment,

calledmebymyname,shookmebythehand,andmeltedintoaroaroflaughter.‘Why,ofcourse,you’llrememberLucyGreen,’hesaid,afterwehadtalkedalittle.‘Ofcourse,’saidI.‘Whomdoyouthinkshemarried?’saidhe.‘You?’Ihazarded.‘Me,’saidSpecks,‘andyoushallseeher.’SoIsawher,andshewasfat,andifallthehayintheworldhadbeenheapeduponher,itcouldscarcelyhavealteredherfacemorethanTimehadaltereditfrommyremembranceofthefacethathadoncelookeddownuponmeintothefragrantdungeonsofSeringapatam.Butwhenheryoungestchildcameinafterdinner(forIdinedwiththem,andwehadnoothercompanythanSpecks,Junior,Barrister-at-law,whowentawayassoonastheclothwasremoved,tolookaftertheyoungladytowhomhewasgoingtobemarriednextweek),Isawagain,inthatlittledaughter,thelittlefaceofthehayfield,unchanged,anditquitetouchedmyfoolishheart.Wetalkedimmensely,SpecksandMrs.Specks,andI,andwespokeofouroldselvesasthoughouroldselvesweredeadandgone,andindeed,indeedtheywere—deadandgoneastheplaying-fieldthathadbecomeawildernessofrustyiron,andthepropertyofS.E.R.Specks, however, illuminated Dullborough with the rays of interest that Iwanted and should otherwise havemissed in it, and linked its present to itspast, with a highly agreeable chain. And in Specks’s society I had newoccasion to observe what I had before noticed in similar communicationsamongothermen.All the schoolfellowsandothersofold,whomI inquiredabout, had either done superlatively well or superlatively ill—had eitherbecome uncertificated bankrupts, or been felonious and got themselvestransported;orhadmadegreathits in life,anddonewonders.Andthisissocommonlythecase,thatInevercanimaginewhatbecomesofallthemediocrepeopleofpeople’syouth—especiallyconsidering thatwefindno lackof thespeciesinourmaturity.But,IdidnotpropoundthisdifficultytoSpecks,fornopauseintheconversationgavemeanoccasion.Nor,couldIdiscoveronesingle flaw in the good doctor—when he reads this, he will receive in afriendly spirit the pleasantlymeant record—except that he had forgotten hisRoderickRandom,and thatheconfoundedStrapwithLieutenantHatchway;whoneverknewRandom,howsoeverintimatewithPickle.When I went alone to the Railway to catch my train at night (Specks hadmeant to go with me, but was inopportunely called out), I was in a morecharitablemoodwithDullboroughthanIhadbeenallday;andyetinmyheartIhadloveditalldaytoo.Ah!whowasIthatIshouldquarrelwiththetownforbeingchangedtome,whenImyselfhadcomeback,sochanged,toit!Allmyearlyreadingsandearlyimaginationsdatedfromthisplace,andItookthemawaysofullofinnocentconstructionandguilelessbelief,andIbroughtthembacksowornandtorn,somuchthewiserandsomuchtheworse!

CHAPTERXIII—NIGHTWALKSSome years ago, a temporary inability to sleep, referable to a distressingimpression, caused me to walk about the streets all night, for a series ofseveralnights.Thedisordermighthavetakenalongtimetoconquer,ifithadbeen faintly experimented on in bed; but, itwas soon defeated by the brisktreatmentofgettingupdirectlyafter lyingdown,andgoingout,andcominghometiredatsunrise.In the course of those nights, I finished my education in a fair amateurexperience of houselessness. My principal object being to get through thenight,thepursuitofitbroughtmeintosympatheticrelationswithpeoplewhohavenootherobjecteverynightintheyear.ThemonthwasMarch,andtheweatherdamp,cloudy,andcold.Thesunnotrising before half-past five, the night perspective looked sufficiently long athalf-pasttwelve:whichwasaboutmytimeforconfrontingit.Therestlessnessofagreatcity,andthewayinwhichittumblesandtossesbeforeitcangettosleep,formedoneofthefirstentertainmentsofferedtothecontemplationofushouselesspeople.Itlastedabouttwohours.Welostagreatdealofcompanionshipwhenthelatepublic-housesturnedtheirlampsout,andwhenthepotmenthrustthelastbrawlingdrunkardsintothestreet;butstrayvehiclesandstraypeoplewereleftus,afterthat.Ifwewereverylucky,apoliceman’srattlesprangandafrayturnedup;but,ingeneral,surprisinglylittleofthisdiversionwasprovided.ExceptintheHaymarket,whichistheworstkeptpartofLondon,andaboutKent-streetintheBorough,andalongaportionofthelineoftheOldKent-road,thepeacewasseldomviolentlybroken.But,itwasalwaysthecasethatLondon,asifinimitationofindividualcitizensbelongingtoit,hadexpiringfitsandstartsofrestlessness.Afterallseemedquiet,ifonecabrattledby,half-a-dozenwouldsurelyfollow;andHouselessnessevenobservedthatintoxicatedpeopleappearedtobemagneticallyattractedtowardseachother;sothatweknewwhenwesawonedrunkenobjectstaggeringagainsttheshuttersofashop,thatanotherdrunkenobjectwouldstaggerupbeforefiveminuteswereout,tofraterniseorfightwithit.Whenwemadeadivergencefromtheregularspeciesofdrunkard,thethin-armed,puff-faced, leaden-lipped gin-drinker, and encountered a rarerspecimen of a more decent appearance, fifty to one but that specimen wasdressedinsoiledmourning.Asthestreetexperienceinthenight,sothestreetexperience in theday; thecommonfolkwhocomeunexpectedly intoa littleproperty,comeunexpectedlyintoadealofliquor.Atlengththeseflickeringsparkswoulddieaway,wornout—thelastveritablesparksofwakinglife trailedfromsomelatepiemanorhot-potatoman—and

Londonwouldsinktorest.Andthentheyearningofthehouselessmindwouldbe for any sign of company, any lighted place, any movement, anythingsuggestive of any one being up—nay, even so much as awake, for thehouselesseyelookedoutforlightsinwindows.Walkingthestreetsunderthepatteringrain,Houselessnesswouldwalkandwalkandwalk,seeingnothingbuttheinterminabletangleofstreets,saveatacorner,hereandthere,twopolicemeninconversation,orthesergeantorinspectorlookingafterhismen.Nowandtheninthenight—butrarely—Houselessnesswouldbecomeawareofafurtiveheadpeeringoutofadoorwayafewyardsbeforehim,and,comingupwiththehead,wouldfindamanstandingboltuprighttokeepwithinthedoorway’sshadow,andevidentlyintentuponnoparticularservicetosociety.Underakindoffascination,andinaghostlysilencesuitabletothetime,Houselessnessandthisgentlemanwouldeyeoneanotherfromheadtofoot,andso,withoutexchangeofspeech,part,mutuallysuspicious.Drip,drip,drip,fromledgeandcoping,splashfrompipesandwater-spouts,andby-and-bythehouselessshadowwouldfalluponthestonesthatpavethewaytoWaterloo-bridge;itbeinginthehouselessmindtohaveahalfpennyworthofexcuseforsaying‘Good-night’tothetoll-keeper,andcatchingaglimpseofhisfire.Agoodfireandagoodgreat-coatandagoodwoollenneck-shawl,werecomfortablethingstoseeinconjunctionwiththetoll-keeper;alsohisbriskwakefulnesswasexcellentcompanywhenherattledthechangeofhalfpencedownuponthatmetaltableofhis,likeamanwhodefiedthenight,withallitssorrowfulthoughts,anddidn’tcareforthecomingofdawn.Therewasneedofencouragementonthethresholdofthebridge,forthebridgewasdreary.Thechopped-upmurderedman,hadnotbeenloweredwitharopeovertheparapetwhenthosenightswere;hewasalive,andsleptthenquietlyenoughmostlikely,andundisturbedbyanydreamofwherehewastocome.Buttheriverhadanawfullook,thebuildingsonthebanksweremuffledinblackshrouds,andthereflectedlightsseemedtooriginatedeepinthewater,asifthespectresofsuicideswereholdingthemtoshowwheretheywentdown.Thewildmoonandcloudswereasrestlessasanevilconscienceinatumbledbed,andtheveryshadowoftheimmensityofLondonseemedtolieoppressivelyupontheriver.Betweenthebridgeandthetwogreattheatres,therewasbutthedistanceofafewhundredpaces,sothetheatrescamenext.Grimandblackwithin,atnight,thosegreatdryWells,andlonesometoimagine,withtherowsoffacesfadedout,thelightsextinguished,andtheseatsallempty.OnewouldthinkthatnothinginthemknewitselfatsuchatimebutYorick’sskull.Inoneofmynightwalks,asthechurchsteepleswereshakingtheMarchwindsandrainwiththestrokesofFour,Ipassedtheouterboundaryofoneofthesegreatdeserts,andenteredit.Withadimlanterninmyhand,Igropedmywell-

knownwaytothestageandlookedovertheorchestra—whichwaslikeagreatgravedugforatimeofpestilence—intothevoidbeyond.A dismal cavern ofan immense aspect,with the chandelier gone dead like everything else, andnothing visible throughmist and fog and space, but tiers ofwinding-sheets.Thegroundatmyfeetwhere,whenlastthere,IhadseenthepeasantryofNaplesdancingamongthevines,recklessoftheburningmountainwhichthreatenedtooverwhelmthem,wasnowinpossessionofastrongserpentofengine-hose,watchfullylyinginwaitfortheserpentFire,andreadytoflyatitifitshoweditsforkedtongue.Aghostofawatchman,carryingafaintcorpsecandle,hauntedthedistantuppergalleryandflittedaway.Retiringwithintheproscenium,andholdingmylightabovemyheadtowardstherolled-upcurtain—greennomore,butblackasebony—mysightlostitselfinagloomyvault,showingfaintindicationsinitofashipwreckofcanvasandcordage.MethoughtIfeltmuchasadivermight,atthebottomofthesea.In thosesmallhourswhen therewasnomovement in thestreets, itaffordedmatterforreflectiontotakeNewgateintheway,and,touchingitsroughstone,tothinkoftheprisonersintheirsleep,andthentoglanceinatthelodgeoverthespikedwicket,andseethefireandlightofthewatchingturnkeys,onthewhitewall. Not an inappropriate time either, to linger by that wicked littleDebtors’Door—shuttingtighterthananyotherdooroneeversaw—whichhasbeenDeath’sDoortosomany.Inthedaysoftheutteringofforgedone-poundnotesbypeopletemptedupfromthecountry,howmanyhundredsofwretchedcreatures of both sexes—many quite innocent—swung out of a pitiless andinconsistent world, with the tower of yonder Christian church of SaintSepulchremonstrously before their eyes! Is there any haunting of theBankParlour, by the remorseful souls of olddirectors, in thenights of these laterdays,Iwonder,orisitasquietasthisdegenerateAceldamaofanOldBailey?Towalk on to the Bank, lamenting the good old times and bemoaning thepresentevilperiod,wouldbeaneasynextstep,soIwouldtakeit,andwouldmakemyhouselesscircuitoftheBank,andgiveathoughttothetreasurewithin;likewisetotheguardofsoldierspassingthenightthere,andnoddingoverthefire.Next,IwenttoBillingsgate,insomehopeofmarket-people,butitprovingasyettooearly,crossedLondon-bridgeandgotdownbythewater-sideontheSurreyshoreamongthebuildingsofthegreatbrewery.Therewasplentygoingonatthebrewery;andthereek,andthesmellofgrains,andtherattlingoftheplumpdrayhorsesattheirmangers,werecapital company.Quiterefreshedbyhavingmingledwiththisgoodsociety,Imadeanewstartwithanewheart,settingtheoldKing’sBenchprisonbeforemeformynextobject,andresolving,whenIshouldcometothewall,tothinkofpoorHoraceKinch,andtheDryRotinmen.

A very curious disease the Dry Rot in men, and difficult to detect thebeginningof.IthadcarriedHoraceKinchinsidethewalloftheoldKing’sBenchprison,andithadcarriedhimoutwithhisfeetforemost.Hewasalikelymantolookat,intheprimeoflife,welltodo,ascleverasheneededtobe,andpopularamongmanyfriends.Hewassuitablymarried,andhadhealthyandprettychildren.But,likesomefair-lookinghousesorfair-lookingships,hetooktheDryRot.ThefirststrongexternalrevelationoftheDryRotinmen,isatendencytolurkandlounge;tobeatstreet-cornerswithoutintelligiblereason;tobegoinganywherewhenmet;tobeaboutmanyplacesratherthanatany;todonothingtangible,buttohaveanintentionofperformingavarietyofintangibledutiesto-morroworthedayafter.Whenthismanifestationofthediseaseisobserved,theobserverwillusuallyconnectitwithavagueimpressiononceformedorreceived,thatthepatientwaslivingalittletoohard.Hewillscarcelyhavehadleisuretoturnitoverinhismindandformtheterriblesuspicion‘DryRot,’whenhewillnoticeachangefortheworseinthepatient’sappearance:acertainslovenlinessanddeterioration,whichisnotpoverty,nordirt,norintoxication,norill-health,butsimplyDryRot.Tothis,succeedsasmellasofstrongwaters,inthemorning;tothat,aloosenessrespectingmoney;tothat,astrongersmellasofstrongwaters,atalltimes;tothat,aloosenessrespectingeverything;tothat,atremblingofthelimbs,somnolency,misery,andcrumblingtopieces.Asitisinwood,soitisinmen.DryRotadvancesatacompoundusuryquiteincalculable.Aplankisfoundinfectedwithit,andthewholestructureisdevoted.ThusithadbeenwiththeunhappyHoraceKinch,latelyburiedbyasmallsubscription.Thosewhoknewhimhadnotnighdonesaying,‘So well off, so comfortablyestablished, with such hope before him—and yet, it is feared, with a slighttouchofDryRot!’whenlo!themanwasallDryRotanddust.Fromthedeadwallassociatedonthosehouselessnightswiththistoocommonstory,IchosenexttowanderbyBethlehemHospital;partly,becauseitlayonmyroadroundtoWestminster;partly,becauseIhadanightfancyinmyheadwhichcouldbebestpursuedwithinsightofitswallsanddome.Andthefancywasthis:Arenotthesaneandtheinsaneequalatnightasthesanelieadreaming?Arenotallofusoutsidethishospital,whodream,moreorlessintheconditionofthoseinsideit,everynightofourlives?Arewenotnightlypersuaded,astheydailyare,thatweassociatepreposterouslywithkingsandqueens,emperorsandempresses,andnotabilitiesofallsorts?Dowenotnightlyjumbleeventsandpersonagesandtimesandplaces,asthesedodaily?Arewenotsometimestroubledbyourownsleepinginconsistencies,anddowenotvexedlytrytoaccountforthemorexcusethem,justasthesedosometimesinrespectoftheirwakingdelusions?Saidanafflictedmantome,whenIwaslastinahospitallikethis,‘Sir,Icanfrequentlyfly.’IwashalfashamedtoreflectthatsocouldI—bynight.Saidawomantomeonthesame

occasion,‘QueenVictoriafrequentlycomestodinewithme,andherMajestyandIdineoffpeachesandmaccaroniinournight-gowns,andhisRoyalHighnessthePrinceConsortdoesusthehonourtomakeathirdonhorsebackinaField-Marshal’suniform.’CouldIrefrainfromreddeningwithconsciousnesswhenIrememberedtheamazingroyalpartiesImyselfhadgiven(atnight),theunaccountableviandsIhadputontable,andmyextraordinarymannerofconductingmyselfonthosedistinguishedoccasions?Iwonderthatthegreatmasterwhokneweverything,whenhecalledSleep thedeathofeachday’slife,didnotcallDreamstheinsanityofeachday’ssanity.BythistimeIhadlefttheHospitalbehindme,andwasagainsettingtowardstheriver;andinashortbreathingspaceIwasonWestminster-bridge,regalingmy houseless eyes with the external walls of the British Parliament—theperfection of a stupendous institution, I know, and the admiration of allsurroundingnationsandsucceedingages, Idonotdoubt,butperhapsa littlethebetternowandthenforbeingprickeduptoitswork.TurningoffintoOldPalace-yard, theCourts of Law keptme company for a quarter of an hour;hinting in lowwhisperswhat numbers of people theywere keeping awake,andhowintenselywretchedandhorribletheywererenderingthesmallhourstounfortunatesuitors.WestminsterAbbeywasfinegloomysocietyforanotherquarterofanhour;suggestingawonderfulprocessionof itsdeadamongthedarkarchesandpillars,eachcenturymoreamazedbythecenturyfollowingitthan by all the centuries going before.And indeed in those houseless nightwalks—whichevenincludedcemeterieswherewatchmenwentroundamongthegravesat stated times, andmoved the tell-talehandleof an indexwhichrecorded that they had touched it at such an hour—it was a solemnconsiderationwhatenormoushostsofdeadbelong tooneoldgreatcity,andhow,iftheywereraisedwhilethelivingslept,therewouldnotbethespaceofapin’spoint in all the streets andways for the living tocomeout into.Notonly that, but the vast armies of deadwould overflow the hills and valleysbeyondthecity,andwouldstretchawayallroundit,Godknowshowfar.Whenachurchclockstrikes,onhouselessearsinthedeadofthenight,itmaybeatfirstmistakenforcompanyandhailedassuch.But,asthespreadingcirclesofvibration,whichyoumayperceiveatsuchatimewithgreatclearness,goopeningout,foreverandeverafterwardswideningperhaps(asthephilosopherhassuggested)ineternalspace,themistakeisrectifiedandthesenseoflonelinessisprofounder.Once—itwasafterleavingtheAbbeyandturningmyfacenorth—IcametothegreatstepsofSt.Martin’schurchastheclockwasstrikingThree.Suddenly,athingthatinamomentmoreIshouldhavetroddenuponwithoutseeing,roseupatmyfeetwithacryoflonelinessandhouselessness,struckoutofitbythebell,thelikeofwhichIneverheard.Wethenstoodfacetofacelookingatoneanother,frightenedbyoneanother.

Thecreaturewaslikeabeetle-browedhair-lippedyouthoftwenty,andithadaloosebundleofragson,whichitheld together with one of its hands. Itshivered fromhead to foot, and its teeth chattered, and as it stared atme—persecutor, devil, ghost, whatever it thought me—it made with its whiningmouthasifitweresnappingatme,likeaworrieddog.Intendingtogivethisuglyobjectmoney,Iputoutmyhandtostayit—for it recoiledas itwhinedandsnapped—andlaidmyhanduponitsshoulder.Instantly,ittwistedoutofitsgarment, like theyoungman in theNewTestament,and leftmestandingalonewithitsragsinmyhands.Covent-gardenMarket,whenitwasmarketmorning,waswonderfulcompany.The great waggons of cabbages, with growers’ men and boys lying asleepunderthem,andwithsharpdogsfrommarket-gardenneighbourhoodslookingafter thewhole,wereasgoodasaparty.Butoneof theworstnight sights Iknow inLondon, is tobe found in thechildrenwhoprowlabout thisplace;whosleepinthebaskets,fightfortheoffal,dartatanyobjecttheythinktheycanlaytheirtheirthievinghandson,diveunderthecartsandbarrows,dodgetheconstables,andareperpetuallymakingabluntpatteringonthepavementofthePiazzawiththerainoftheirnakedfeet.Apainfulandunnaturalresultcomes of the comparison one is forced to institute between the growth ofcorruption as displayed in the somuch improved and cared for fruits of theearth, and the growth of corruption as displayed in these all uncared for(exceptinasmuchasever-hunted)savages.TherewasearlycoffeetobegotaboutCovent-gardenMarket,andthatwasmorecompany—warmcompany,too,whichwasbetter.Toastofaverysubstantialquality,waslikewiseprocurable:thoughthetowzled-headedmanwhomadeit,inaninnerchamberwithinthecoffee-room,hadn’tgothiscoatonyet,andwassoheavywithsleepthatineveryintervaloftoastandcoffeehewentoffanewbehindthepartitionintocomplicatedcross-roadsofchokeandsnore,andlosthiswaydirectly.Intooneoftheseestablishments(amongtheearliest)nearBow-street,therecameonemorningasIsatovermyhouselesscup,ponderingwheretogonext,amaninahighandlongsnuff-colouredcoat,andshoes,and,tothebestofmybelief,nothingelsebutahat,whotookoutofhishatalargecoldmeatpudding;ameatpuddingsolargethatitwasaverytightfit,andbroughttheliningofthehatoutwithit.Thismysteriousmanwasknownbyhispudding,foronhisentering,themanofsleepbroughthimapintofhottea,asmallloaf,andalargeknifeandforkandplate.Lefttohimselfinhisbox,hestoodthepuddingonthebaretable,and,insteadofcuttingit,stabbedit,overhand,withtheknife,likeamortalenemy;thentooktheknifeout,wipeditonhissleeve,torethepuddingasunderwithhisfingers,andateitallup.Theremembranceofthismanwiththepuddingremainswithmeastheremembranceofthemostspectralpersonmy

houselessnessencountered.TwiceonlywasIinthatestablishment,andtwiceIsawhimstalkin(asIshouldsay,justoutofbed,andpresentlygoingbacktobed),takeouthispudding,stabhispudding,wipethedagger,andeathispuddingallup.Hewasamanwhosefigurepromisedcadaverousness,butwhohadanexcessivelyredface,thoughshapedlikeahorse’s.Onthesecondoccasionofmyseeinghim,hesaidhuskilytothemanofsleep,‘AmIredto-night?’‘Youare,’heuncompromisinglyanswered.‘Mymother,’saidthespectre,‘wasared-facedwomanthatlikeddrink,andIlookedatherhardwhenshelaidinhercoffin,andItookthecomplexion.’Somehow,thepuddingseemedanunwholesomepuddingafterthat,andIputmyselfinitswaynomore.Whentherewasnomarket,orwhenIwantedvariety,arailwayterminuswiththemorningmailscomingin,wasremunerativecompany.Butlikemostofthecompanytobehadinthisworld,itlastedonlyaveryshorttime.Thestationlamps would burst out ablaze, the porters would emerge from places ofconcealment, thecabsand truckswouldrattle to theirplaces (thepost-officecartswerealreadyintheirs),and,finally,thebellwouldstrikeup,andthetrainwouldcomebangingin.Buttherewerefewpassengersandlittleluggage,andeverything scuttled awaywith the greatest expedition.The locomotivepost-offices, with their great nets—as if they had been dragging the country forbodies—wouldflyopenastotheirdoors,andwoulddisgorgeasmelloflamp,anexhaustedclerk,aguardinaredcoat,andtheirbagsofletters;theenginewould blow and heave and perspire, like an enginewiping its forehead andsayingwhatarunithadhad;andwithintenminutesthelampswereout,andIwashouselessandaloneagain.Butnow,thereweredrivencattleonthehighroadnear,wanting(ascattlealwaysdo)toturnintothemidstofstonewalls,andsqueezethemselvesthroughsixinches’widthofironrailing,andgettingtheirheadsdown(alsoascattlealwaysdo)fortossing-purchaseatquiteimaginarydogs,andgivingthemselvesandeverydevotedcreatureassociatedwiththemamostextraordinaryamountofunnecessarytrouble.Now,too,theconsciousgasbegantogrowpalewiththeknowledgethatdaylightwascoming,andstragglingworkpeoplewerealreadyinthestreets,and,aswakinglifehadbecomeextinguishedwiththelastpieman’ssparks,soitbegantoberekindledwiththefiresofthefirststreet-cornerbreakfast-sellers.Andsobyfasterandfasterdegrees,untilthelastdegreeswereveryfast,thedaycame,andIwastiredandcouldsleep.Anditisnot,asIusedtothink,goinghomeatsuchtimes,theleastwonderfulthinginLondon,thatintherealdesertregionofthenight,thehouselesswandererisalonethere.IknewwellenoughwheretofindViceandMisfortuneofallkinds,ifIhadchosen;buttheywereputoutofsight,andmyhouselessnesshadmanymilesuponmilesofstreetsinwhichit

could,anddid,haveitsownsolitaryway.

CHAPTERXIV—CHAMBERSHaving occasion to transact some business with a solicitor who occupies ahighlysuicidalsetofchambersinGray’sInn,Iafterwardstookaturninthelarge square of that stronghold of Melancholy, reviewing, with congenialsurroundings,myexperiencesofChambers.Ibegan,aswasnatural,withtheChambersIhadjustleft.Theywereanuppersetona rotten staircase,withamysteriousbunkorbulkheadon the landingoutside them, of a rather nautical and Screw Collier-like appearance thanotherwise,andpaintedanintenseblack.Manydustyyearshavepassedsincetheappropriationof thisDavyJones’s locker toanypurpose,andduring thewhole period within the memory of living man, it has been hasped andpadlocked.Icannotquitesatisfymymindwhetheritwasoriginallymeantforthe receptionof coals,orbodies,or as aplaceof temporary security for theplunder ‘looted’ by laundresses; but I incline to the last opinion. It is aboutbreast high, and usually serves as a bulk for defendants in reducedcircumstancesto leanagainstandponderat,whentheycomeonthehopefulerrand of trying to make an arrangement without money—under whichauspiciouscircumstancesitmostlyhappensthatthelegalgentlemantheywantto see, is much engaged, and they pervade the staircase for a considerableperiod.Against this opposing bulk, in the absurdest manner, the tomb-likeouter 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’sapartmentsarethreeinnumber;consistingofaslice,acell,andawedge.Thesliceisassignedtothetwoclerks,thecellisoccupiedbytheprincipal,andthewedge is devoted to stray papers, old game baskets from the country, awashing-stand,andamodelofapatentShip’sCaboosewhichwasexhibitedinChanceryatthecommencementofthepresentcenturyonanapplicationforaninjunctiontorestraininfringement.Atabouthalf-pastnineoneveryweek-daymorning, theyoungerofthetwoclerks(who,Ihavereasontobelieve, leadsthe fashion at Pentonville in the articles of pipes and shirts) may be foundknocking the dust out of his official door-key on the bunk or locker beforementioned;andsoexceedinglysubjecttodustishiskey,andsoveryretentiveofthatsuperfluity,thatinexceptionalsummerweatherwhenarayofsunlighthas fallen on the locker in my presence, I have noticed its inexpressivecountenance to be deeplymarked by a kind ofBramah erysipelas or small-pox.Thissetofchambers(asIhavegraduallydiscovered,whenIhavehadrestlessoccasiontomakeinquiriesorleavemessages,afterofficehours)isunderthe

chargeofaladynamedSweeney,infigureextremelylikeanoldfamily-umbrella:whosedwellingconfrontsadeadwallinacourtoffGray’sInn-lane,andwhoisusuallyfetchedintothepassageofthatbower,whenwanted,fromsomeneighbouringhomeofindustry,whichhasthecuriouspropertyofimpartinganinflammatoryappearancetohervisage.Mrs.Sweeneyisoneoftheraceofprofessedlaundresses,andisthecompilerofaremarkablemanuscriptvolumeentitled‘Mrs.Sweeney’sBook,’fromwhichmuchcuriousstatisticalinformationmaybegatheredrespectingthehighpricesandsmallusesofsoda,soap,sand,firewood,andothersucharticles.Ihavecreatedalegendinmymind—andconsequentlyIbelieveitwiththeutmostpertinacity—thatthelateMr.Sweeneywasaticket-porterundertheHonourableSocietyofGray’sInn,andthat,inconsiderationofhislongandvaluableservices,Mrs.Sweeneywasappointedtoherpresentpost.For, though devoid ofpersonalcharms, Ihaveobserved this lady toexercisea fascinationover theelderlyticker-portermind(particularlyunderthegateway,andincornersandentries), which I can only refer to her being one of the fraternity, yet notcompetingwith it.Allthatneedbesaidconcerningthissetofchambers,issaid,whenIhaveaddedthatitisinalargedoublehouseinGray’sInn-square,verymuchoutofrepair,andthattheouterportalisornamentedinahideousmannerwithcertainstoneremains,whichhavetheappearanceofthedismemberedbust,torso,andlimbsofapetrifiedbencher.Indeed, I look upon Gray’s Inn generally as one of the most depressinginstitutionsinbrickandmortar,knowntothechildrenofmen.Cananythingbemoredreary than itsaridSquare,SaharaDesertof the law,with theuglyold tiled-topped tenements, the dirtywindows, the bills To Let, To Let, thedoor-postsinscribedlikegravestones,thecrazygatewaygivinguponthefilthyLane, the scowling, iron-barred prison-like passage into Verulam-buildings,the mouldy red-nosed ticket-porters with little coffin plates, and why withaprons, the dry, hard, atomy-like appearance of thewhole dust-heap?Whenmyuncommercial travels tend to this dismal spot,my comfort is its ricketystate. Imagination gloats over the fulness of time when the staircases shallhavequitetumbleddown—theyaredailywearingintoanill-savouredpowder,buthavenotquitetumbleddownyet—whenthelastoldprolixbencheralloftheoldentime,shallhavebeengotoutofanupperwindowbymeansofaFireLadder,andcarriedoff to theHolbornUnion;whenthe lastclerkshallhaveengrossed the last parchment behind the last splash on the last of themud-stained windows, which, all through the miry year, are pilloried out ofrecognition inGray’s Inn-lane. Then, shall a squalid little trench,with rankgrassandapumpinit, lyingbetweenthecoffee-houseandSouth-square,bewholly given up to cats and rats, and not, as now, have its empire dividedbetweenthoseanimalsandafewbrieflessbipeds—surelycalledtotheBarbyvoicesofdeceivingspirits,seeingthat theyarewantedtherebynomortal—

who glance down, with eyes better glazed than their casements, from theirdreary and lacklustre rooms.Then shall thewayNor’Westward, now lyingundera shortgrimcolonnadewhere in summer-timepounce flies from law-stationering windows into the eyes of laymen, be choked with rubbish andhappily become impassable. Then shall the gardens where turf, trees, andgravelwearalegalliveryofblack,runrank,andpilgrimsgotoGorhamburytoseeBacon’seffigyashesat,andnotcomehere(whichintruththeyseldomdo)toseewherehewalked.Then,inaword,shalltheold-establishedvendorofperiodicalssitaloneinhislittlecribofashopbehindtheHolbornGate,likethat lumberingMariusamongtheruinsofCarthage,whohassatheavyonathousandmillionofsimiles.AtoneperiodofmyuncommercialcareerImuchfrequentedanothersetofchambersinGray’sInn-square.Theywerewhatisfamiliarlycalled‘atopset,’andalltheeatablesanddrinkablesintroducedintothemacquiredaflavourofCockloft.IhaveknownanunopenedStrasbourgpâtéfreshfromFortnumandMason’s,todrawinthiscocklofttonethroughitscrockerydish,andbecomepenetratedwithcocklofttothecoreofitsinmosttruffleinthree-quartersofanhour.This,however,wasnotthemostcuriousfeatureofthosechambers;that,consistedintheprofoundconvictionentertainedbymyesteemedfriendParkle(theirtenant)thattheywereclean.Whetheritwasaninbornhallucination,orwhetheritwasimpartedtohimbyMrs.Miggotthelaundress,Inevercouldascertain.But,Ibelievehewouldhavegonetothestakeuponthequestion.Now,theyweresodirtythatIcouldtakeoffthedistinctestimpressionofmyfigureonanyarticleoffurniturebymerelylounginguponitforafewmoments;anditusedtobeaprivateamusementofminetoprintmyselfoff—ifImayusetheexpression—allovertherooms.ItwasthefirstlargecirculationIhad.AtothertimesIhaveaccidentallyshakenawindowcurtainwhileinanimatedconversationwithParkle,andstrugglinginsectswhichwerecertainlyred,andwerecertainlynotladybirds,havedroppedonthebackofmyhand.YetParklelivedinthattopsetyears,boundbodyandsoultothesuperstitionthattheywereclean.Heusedtosay,whencongratulateduponthem,‘Well,theyarenotlikechambersinonerespect,youknow;theyareclean.’Concurrently,hehadanideawhichhecouldneverexplain,thatMrs.MiggotwasinsomewayconnectedwiththeChurch.Whenhewasinparticularlygoodspirits,heusedtobelievethatadeceaseduncleofhershadbeenaDean;whenhewaspoorlyandlow,hebelievedthatherbrotherhadbeenaCurate.IandMrs.Miggot(shewasagenteelwoman)wereonconfidentialterms,butIneverknewhertocommitherselftoanydistinctassertiononthesubject;shemerelyclaimedaproprietorshipintheChurch,bylookingwhenitwasmentioned,asifthereferenceawakenedtheslumberingPast,andwerepersonal.ItmayhavebeenhisamiableconfidenceinMrs.Miggot’sbetterdaysthatinspiredmyfriendwithhisdelusion

respectingthechambers,butheneverwaveredinhisfidelitytoitforamoment,thoughhewallowedindirtsevenyears.Twoofthewindowsofthesechamberslookeddownintothegarden;andwehave sat up there togethermany a summer evening, saying how pleasant itwas, and talking of many things. To my intimacy with that top set, I amindebtedforthreeofmyliveliestpersonalimpressionsofthelonelinessoflifeinchambers.Theyshallfollowhere,inorder;first,second,andthird.First.MyGray’sInnfriend,onatime,hurtoneofhislegs,anditbecameseriouslyinflamed.Notknowingofhisindisposition,Iwasonmywaytovisithimasusual,onesummerevening,whenIwasmuchsurprisedbymeetingalivelyleechinField-court,Gray’sInn,seeminglyonhiswaytotheWestEndofLondon.Astheleechwasalone,andwasofcourseunabletoexplainhisposition,evenifhehadbeeninclinedtodoso(whichhehadnottheappearanceofbeing),Ipassedhimandwenton.TurningthecornerofGray’sInn-square,Iwasbeyondexpressionamazedbymeetinganotherleech—alsoentirelyalone,andalsoproceedinginawesterlydirection,thoughwithlessdecisionofpurpose.Ruminatingonthisextraordinarycircumstance,andendeavouringtorememberwhetherIhadeverread,inthePhilosophicalTransactionsoranyworkonNaturalHistory,ofamigrationofLeeches,Iascendedtothetopset,pastthedrearyseriesofclosedouterdoorsofofficesandanemptysetortwo,whichintervenedbetweenthatloftyregionandthesurface.Enteringmyfriend’srooms,Ifoundhimstretcheduponhisback,likePrometheusBound,withaperfectlydementedticket-porterinattendanceonhiminsteadoftheVulture:whichhelplessindividual,whowasfeebleandfrightened,andhad(myfriendexplainedtome,ingreatcholer)beenendeavouringforsomehourstoapplyleechestohisleg,andasyethadonlygotontwooutoftwenty.To this Unfortunate’s distraction between a dampcloth onwhich he had placed the leeches to freshen them, and thewrathfuladjurationsofmy friend to ‘Stick ’emon, sir!’IreferredthephenomenonIhadencountered:theratherastwofinespecimenswereatthatmomentgoingoutatthedoor,whileageneralinsurrectionoftherestwasinprogressonthetable.Afterawhileourunitedeffortsprevailed,and,whentheleechescameoffandhadrecoveredtheirspirits,wecarefullytiedthemupinadecanter.ButIneverheardmoreofthemthanthattheywereallgonenextmorning,andthattheOut-of-dooryoungmanofBickle,BushandBodger,onthegroundfloor,hadbeenbittenandbloodedbysomecreaturenotidentified.Theynever‘took’onMrs.Miggot,thelaundress;but,Ihavealwayspreservedfresh,thebeliefthatsheunconsciouslycarriedseveralabouther,untiltheygraduallyfoundopeningsinlife.Second.OnthesamestaircasewithmyfriendParkle,andonthesamefloor,

therelivedamanoflawwhopursuedhisbusinesselsewhere,andusedthosechambersashisplaceofresidence.Forthreeorfouryears,Parkleratherknewofhimthanknewhim,butafterthat—forEnglishmen—shortpauseofconsideration,theybegantospeak.Parkleexchangedwordswithhiminhisprivatecharacteronly,andknewnothingofhisbusinessways,ormeans.Hewasamanagooddealabouttown,butalwaysalone.Weusedtoremarktooneanother,thatalthoughweoftenencounteredhimintheatres,concert-rooms,andsimilarpublicplaces,hewasalwaysalone.Yethewasnotagloomyman,andwasofadecidedlyconversationalturn;insomuchthathewouldsometimesofaneveningloungewithacigarinhismouth,halfinandhalfoutofParkle’srooms,anddiscussthetopicsofthedaybythehour.Heusedtohintontheseoccasionsthathehadfourfaultstofindwithlife;firstly,thatitobligedamantobealwayswindinguphiswatch;secondly,thatLondonwastoosmall;thirdly,thatitthereforewantedvariety;fourthly,thattherewastoomuchdustinit.Therewassomuchdustinhis ownfadedchambers,certainly,thattheyremindedmeofasepulchre,furnishedinpropheticanticipationofthepresenttime,whichhadnewlybeenbroughttolight,afterhavingremainedburiedafewthousandyears.Onedry,hotautumneveningattwilight,thisman,beingthenfiveyearsturnedoffifty,lookedinuponParkleinhisusualloungingway,withhiscigarinhismouthasusual,andsaid,‘Iamgoingoutoftown.’Asheneverwentoutoftown,Parklesaid,‘Ohindeed!At last?’‘Yes,’sayshe,‘atlast.Forwhatisamantodo?Londonissosmall!IfyougoWest,youcometoHounslow.IfyougoEast,youcometoBow.IfyougoSouth,there’sBrixtonorNorwood.IfyougoNorth,youcan’tgetridofBarnet.Then,themonotonyofallthestreets,streets,streets—andofalltheroads,roads,roads—andthedust,dust,dust!’Whenhehadsaidthis,hewishedParkleagoodevening,butcamebackagainandsaid,withhiswatchinhishand,‘Oh,Ireallycannotgoonwindingupthiswatchoverandoveragain;Iwishyouwouldtakecareofit.’So,Parklelaughedandconsented,andthemanwentoutoftown.Themanremainedoutoftownsolong,thathisletter-boxbecamechoked,andnomoreletterscouldbegotintoit,andtheybegantobeleftatthelodgeandtoaccumulatethere.Atlastthehead-porterdecided,onconferencewiththesteward,tousehismaster-keyandlookintothechambers,andgivethemthebenefitofawhiffofair.Then,itwasfoundthathehadhangedhimselftohisbedstead,andhadleftthiswrittenmemorandum:‘Ishouldprefertobecutdownbymyneighbourandfriend(ifhewillallowmetocallhimso),H.Parkle,Esq.’ ThiswasanendofParkle’soccupancyofchambers.Hewentintolodgingsimmediately.Third.WhileParklelivedinGray’sInn,andImyselfwasuncommerciallypreparingfortheBar—whichisdone,aseverybodyknows,byhavingafrayedoldgownputoninapantrybyanoldwomaninachronicstateofSaint

Anthony’sfireanddropsy,and,sodecorated,boltingabaddinnerinapartyoffour,whereofeachindividualmistruststheotherthree—Isay,whilethesethingswere,therewasacertainelderlygentlemanwholivedinacourtoftheTemple,andwasagreatjudgeandloverofportwine.Everydayhedinedathisclubanddrankhisbottleortwoofportwine,andeverynightcamehometotheTempleandwenttobedinhislonelychambers.Thishadgoneonmanyyearswithoutvariation,whenonenighthehadafitoncominghome,andfellandcuthisheaddeep,butpartlyrecoveredandgropedaboutinthedarktofindthedoor.Whenhewasafterwardsdiscovered,dead,itwasclearlyestablishedbythemarksofhishandsabouttheroomthathemusthavedoneso.Now,thischancedonthenightofChristmasEve,andoverhimlivedayoungfellowwhohadsistersandyoungcountryfriends,andwhogavethemalittlepartythatnight,inthecourseofwhichtheyplayedatBlindman’sBuff.Theyplayedthatgame,fortheirgreatersport,bythelightofthefireonly;andonce,whentheywereallquietlyrustlingandstealingabout,andtheblindmanwastryingtopickouttheprettiestsister(forwhichIamfarfromblaminghim),somebodycried,Hark!ThemanbelowmustbeplayingBlindman’sBuffbyhimselfto-night!Theylistened,andtheyheardsoundsofsomeonefallingaboutandstumblingagainstfurniture,andtheyalllaughedattheconceit,andwentonwiththeirplay,morelight-heartedandmerrythanever.Thus,thosetwosodifferentgamesoflifeanddeathwereplayedouttogether,blindfolded,inthetwosetsofchambers.Sucharetheoccurrences,which,comingtomyknowledge, imbuedmelongagowithastrongsenseof the lonelinessofchambers.Therewasa fantasticillustrationtomuchthesamepurposeimplicitlybelievedbyastrangesortofmannowdead,whomIknewwhen Ihadnotquitearrivedat legalyearsofdiscretion,thoughIwasalreadyintheuncommercialline.Thiswasamanwho,thoughnotmorethanthirty,hadseentheworldindiversirreconcilablecapacities—hadbeenanofficer inaSouthAmericanregimentamongotheroddthings—buthadnotachievedmuchinanywayoflife,andwas in debt, and in hiding.Heoccupied chambersof thedreariest nature inLyonsInn;hisname,however,wasnotuponthedoor,ordoor-post,butinlieuofitstoodthenameofafriendwhohaddiedinthechambers,andhadgivenhimthefurniture.Thestoryaroseoutofthefurniture,andwastothiseffect:-Let the formerholderof the chambers,whosenamewas still upon thedooranddoor-post,beMr.Testator.Mr.TestatortookasetofchambersinLyonsInnwhenhehadbutveryscantyfurnitureforhisbedroom,andnoneforhissitting-room.Hehadlivedsomewintrymonthsinthiscondition,andhadfounditverybareandcold.Onenight,pastmidnight,whenhesatwritingandstillhadwritingtodothatmust

bedonebeforehewenttobed,hefoundhimselfoutofcoals.Hehadcoalsdown-stairs,buthadneverbeentohiscellar;howeverthecellar-keywasonhismantelshelf,andifhewentdownandopenedthecellaritfitted,hemightfairlyassumethecoalsinthatcellartobehis.Astohislaundress,shelivedamongthecoal-waggonsandThameswatermen—fortherewereThameswatermenatthattime—insomeunknownrat-holebytheriver,downlanesandalleysontheothersideoftheStrand.Astoanyotherpersontomeethimorobstructhim,LyonsInnwasdreaming,drunk,maudlin,moody, betting,brooding over bill-discounting or renewing—asleep or awake, minding itsownaffairs.Mr.Testatortookhiscoal-scuttleinonehand,hiscandleandkeyintheother,anddescendedtothedismallestundergrounddensofLyonsInn,where the late vehicles in the streets became thunderous, and all thewater-pipesintheneighbourhoodseemedtohaveMacbeth’sAmenstickingintheirthroats,andtobetryingtogetitout.Aftergropinghereandthereamonglowdoorstonopurpose,Mr.Testatoratlengthcametoadoorwitharustypadlockwhichhiskeyfitted.Gettingthedooropenwithmuchtrouble,andlookingin,hefound,nocoals,butaconfusedpileoffurniture.Alarmedbythisintrusionon anotherman’s property, he locked the door again, found his own cellar,filledhisscuttle,andreturnedup-stairs.Butthefurniturehehadseen,ranoncastorsacrossandacrossMr.Testator’smindincessantly,when,inthechillhouroffiveinthemorning,hegottobed.Heparticularlywantedatabletowriteat,andatableexpresslymadetobewrittenat,hadbeenthepieceoffurnitureintheforegroundoftheheap.Whenhislaundressemergedfromherburrowinthemorningtomakehiskettleboil,heartfullyleduptothesubjectofcellarsandfurniture;butthetwoideashadevidently no connexion in her mind.When she left him, and he sat at hisbreakfast, thinking about the furniture, he recalled the rusty state of thepadlock,andinferredthatthefurnituremusthavebeenstoredinthecellarsfora longtime—wasperhapsforgotten—ownerdead,perhaps?After thinking itover,afewdays,inthecourseofwhichhecouldpumpnothingoutofLyonsInn about the furniture, he became desperate, and resolved to borrow thattable.Hedidso,thatnight.Hehadnothadthetablelong,whenhedeterminedtoborrowaneasy-chair;hehadnothadthatlong,whenhemadeuphismindtoborrowabookcase;then,acouch;then,acarpetandrug.Bythattime,hefelt he was ‘in furniture stepped in so far,’ as that it could be no worse toborrow it all.Consequently, he borrowed it all, and locked up the cellar forgood. He had always locked it, after every visit. He had carried up everyseparatearticleinthedeadofthenight,and,atthebest,hadfeltaswickedasaResurrectionMan. Every article was blue and furry when brought into hisrooms,andhehadhad,inamurderousandguiltysortofway,topolishitupwhileLondonslept.

Mr.Testatorlivedinhisfurnishedchamberstwoorthreeyears,ormore,andgraduallylulledhimselfintotheopinionthatthefurniturewashisown.Thiswas his convenient state ofmindwhen, late one night, a step came up thestairs,andahandpassedoverhisdoorfeelingforhisknocker,andthenonedeep and solemn rap was rapped that might have been a spring in Mr.Testator’seasy-chairtoshoothimoutofit;sopromptlywasitattendedwiththateffect.Withacandle inhishand,Mr.Testatorwent to thedoor,and found there,avery pale and very tall man; a man who stooped; a man with very highshoulders,averynarrowchest,andaveryrednose;ashabby-genteelman.Hewaswrappedinalongthread-bareblackcoat,fastenedupthefrontwithmorepins than buttons, and under his arm he squeezed an umbrella without ahandle,as ifhewereplayingbagpipes.Hesaid, ‘Iaskyourpardon,butcanyou tell me—’ and stopped; his eyes resting on some object within thechambers.‘Can I tell you what?’ asked Mr. Testator, noting his stoppage with quickalarm.‘Iaskyourpardon,’saidthestranger,‘but—thisisnottheinquiryIwasgoingtomake—doIseeinthere,anysmallarticleofpropertybelongingtome?’Mr.Testatorwasbeginningtostammerthathewasnotaware—whenthevisitorslippedpasthim,intothechambers.There,inagoblinwaywhichfrozeMr.Testatortothemarrow,heexamined,first,thewriting-table,andsaid,‘Mine;’then,theeasy-chair,andsaid,‘Mine;’then,thebookcase,andsaid,‘Mine;’then,turnedupacornerofthecarpet,and said, ‘Mine!’ in aword, inspected every item of furniture from the cellar, in succession, andsaid,‘Mine!’Towardstheendofthisinvestigation,Mr.Testatorperceivedthathewassoddenwithliquor,andthattheliquorwasgin.Hewasnotunsteadywith gin, either in his speech or carriage; but hewas stiff with gin in bothparticulars.Mr.Testatorwas inadreadful state, for (according tohismakingoutof thestory) the possible consequences of what he had done in recklessness andhardihood,flasheduponhimintheirfulnessforthefirsttime.Whentheyhadstoodgazingatoneanotherforalittlewhile,hetremulouslybegan:‘Sir,Iamconsciousthatthefullestexplanation,compensation,andrestitution,areyourdue.Theyshallbeyours.Allowme toentreat that,without temper,withoutevennaturalirritationonyourpart,wemayhavealittle—’‘Dropofsomethingtodrink,’interposedthestranger.‘Iamagreeable.’

Mr.Testator had intended to say, ‘a little quiet conversation,’ butwithgreatrelief ofmind adopted the amendment.He produced a decanter of gin, andwasbustlingaboutforhotwaterandsugar,whenhefoundthathisvisitorhadalready drunk half of the decanter’s contents.With hotwater and sugar thevisitordranktheremainderbeforehehadbeenanhourinthechambersbythechimes of the church of St.Mary in the Strand; and during the process hefrequentlywhisperedtohimself,‘Mine!’Thegingone,andMr.Testatorwonderingwhatwastofollowit,thevisitorroseandsaid,withincreasedstiffness,‘Atwhathourofthemorning,sir,willitbeconvenient?’Mr.Testatorhazarded,‘Atten?’‘Sir,’saidthevisitor,‘atten,tothemoment,Ishallbehere.’HethencontemplatedMr.Testatorsomewhatatleisure,andsaid,‘Godblessyou!Howisyourwife?’Mr.Testator(whoneverhadawife)repliedwithmuchfeeling,‘Deeplyanxious,poorsoul,butotherwisewell.’Thevisitorthereuponturnedandwentaway,andfelltwiceingoingdown-stairs.Fromthathourhewasneverheardof.Whetherhewasaghost,oraspectralillusionofconscience,oradrunkenmanwhohadnobusinessthere,orthedrunkenrightfulownerofthefurniture,withatransitorygleamofmemory;whetherhegotsafehome,orhadnotimetogetto;whetherhediedofliquorontheway,orlivedinliquoreverafterwards;heneverwasheardofmore.Thiswasthestory,receivedwiththefurnitureandheldtobeassubstantial,byitssecondpossessorinanuppersetofchambersingrimLyonsInn.Itistoberemarkedofchambersingeneral,thattheymusthavebeenbuiltforchambers,tohavetherightkindofloneliness.Youmaymakeagreatdwelling-houseverylonely,butisolatingsuitesofroomsandcallingthemchambers,butyoucannotmakethetruekindofloneliness.Indwelling-houses,therehavebeenfamilyfestivals;childrenhavegrowninthem,girlshavebloomedintowomeninthem,courtshipsandmarriageshavetakenplaceinthem.Truechambersneverwereyoung,childish,maidenly; never haddollsinthem,orrocking-horses,orchristenings,orbetrothals,orlittlecoffins.Let Gray’s Inn identify the child who first touched hands and hearts withRobinsonCrusoe,inanyoneofitsmany‘sets,’andthatchild’slittlestatue,inwhitemarblewithagoldeninscription,shallbeatitsservice,atmycostandcharge,asadrinking fountain for thespirit, to freshen its thirstysquare.LetLincoln’sproducefromallitshouses,atwentiethoftheprocessionderivablefrom any dwelling-house one-twentieth of its age, of fair young brideswhomarriedforloveandhope,notsettlements,andalltheVice-Chancellorsshallthenceforward be kept in nosegays for nothing, on application to thewriterhereof. It is not denied that on the terrace of theAdelphi, or in any of thestreets of that subterranean-stable-haunted spot, or about Bedford-row, orJames-street of that ilk (a grewsome place), or anywhere among the

neighbourhoodsthathavedonefloweringandhaveruntoseed,youmayfindChambers replete with the accommodations of Solitude, Closeness, andDarkness, where you may be as low-spirited as in the genuine article, andmightbeaseasilymurdered,withtheplacidreputationofhavingmerelygonedowntothesea-side.But,themanywatersoflifedidrunmusicalinthosedrychannels once;—among the Inns, never. The only popular legend known inrelation to any one of the dull family of Inns, is a darkOldBaileywhisperconcerningClement’s, and importing how the black creaturewho holds thesun-dialthere,wasanegrowhoslewhismasterandbuiltthedismalpileoutof the contents of his strong box—for which architectural offence alone heoughttohavebeencondemnedtoliveinit.But,whatpopulacewouldwastefancyuponsuchaplace,oronNewInn,StapleInn,Barnard’sInn,oranyoftheshabbycrew?Thegenuinelaundress,too,isaninstitutionnottobehadinitsentiretyoutofandawayfromthegenuineChambers.Again,itisnotdeniedthatyoumayberobbed elsewhere. Elsewhere you may have—for money—dishonesty,drunkenness,dirt,laziness,andprofoundincapacity.Buttheveritableshining-red-faced shameless laundress; the true Mrs. Sweeney—in figure, colour,texture,andsmell,liketheolddampfamilyumbrella;thetip-topcomplicatedabominationofstockings,spirits,bonnet,limpness,looseness,andlarceny;isonly tobedrawnat thefountain-head.Mrs.Sweeney isbeyond thereachofindividualart.Itrequirestheunitedeffortsofseveralmentoensurethatgreatresult,anditisonlydevelopedinperfectionunderanHonourableSocietyandinanInnofCourt.

CHAPTERXV—NURSE’SSTORIESTherearenotmanyplacesthatIfinditmoreagreeabletorevisitwhenIaminan idle mood, than some places to which I have never been. For, myacquaintancewiththosespotsisofsuchlongstanding,andhasripenedintoanintimacyofsoaffectionateanature,thatItakeaparticularinterestinassuringmyselfthattheyareunchanged.I neverwas in RobinsonCrusoe’s Island, yet I frequently return there. Thecolony he established on it soon faded away, and it is uninhabited by anydescendantsof thegraveandcourteousSpaniards,orofWillAtkinsand theothermutineers,andhasrelapsedintoitsoriginalcondition.Notatwigofitswicker houses remains, its goats have long run wild again, its screamingparrotswoulddarken thesunwithacloudofmanyflamingcolours ifagunwerefiredthere,nofaceiseverreflectedinthewatersofthelittlecreekwhichFriday swam across when pursued by his two brother cannibals withsharpened stomachs. After comparing notes with other travellers who have

similarlyrevisitedtheIslandandconscientiouslyinspectedit,Ihavesatisfiedmyself that it contains no vestige of Mr. Atkins’s domesticity or theology,thoughhis trackon thememorable eveningofhis landing to set his captainashore,whenhewasdecoyedaboutandroundaboutuntilitwasdark,andhisboat was stove, and his strength and spirits failed him, is yet plainly to betraced.Soisthehill-toponwhichRobinsonwasstruckdumbwithjoywhenthereinstatedcaptainpointedtotheship,ridingwithinhalfamileoftheshore,thatwastobearhimaway,inthenine-and-twentiethyearofhisseclusioninthatlonelyplace.Soisthesandybeachonwhichthememorablefootstepwasimpressed, and where the savages hauled up their canoes when they cameashore for thosedreadful public dinners,which led to a dancingworse thanspeech-making. So is the cavewhere the flaring eyes of the old goatmadesuchagoblinappearanceinthedark.SoisthesiteofthehutwhereRobinsonlivedwiththedogandtheparrotandthecat,andwhereheenduredthosefirstagonies of solitude, which—strange to say—never involved any ghostlyfancies;acircumstancesoveryremarkable,thatperhapsheleftoutsomethinginwriting his record?Round hundreds of such objects, hidden in the densetropical foliage, the tropicalseabreaksevermore;andover themthe tropicalsky,savingintheshortrainyseason,shinesbrightandcloudless.Neither,wasIeverbelatedamongwolves,onthebordersofFranceandSpain;nor,did I ever,whennightwasclosing inand thegroundwascoveredwithsnow,drawupmylittlecompanyamongsomefelledtreeswhichservedasabreastwork,andtherefirea trainofgunpowdersodexterously thatsuddenlywehadthreeorfourscoreblazingwolvesilluminatingthedarknessaroundus.Nevertheless,Ioccasionallygobacktothatdismalregionandperformthefeatagain;when indeed to smell the singeingand the fryingof thewolvesafire,and to see them setting one another alight as they rush and tumble, and tobeholdthemrollinginthesnowvainlyattemptingtoputthemselvesout,andtoheartheirhowlingstakenupbyalltheechoesaswellasbyalltheunseenwolveswithinthewoods,makesmetremble.Iwas never in the robbers’ cave,whereGilBlas lived, but I often go backthereandfindthetrap-doorjustasheavytoraiseasitusedtobe,whilethatwickedolddisabledBlacklieseverlastinglycursinginbed.IwasneverinDonQuixote’sstudy,wherehereadhisbooksofchivalryuntilheroseandhackedatimaginarygiants,andthenrefreshedhimselfwithgreatdraughtsofwater,yetyoucouldn’tmoveabookinitwithoutmyknowledge,orwithmyconsent.Iwasnever(thankHeaven)incompanywiththelittleoldwomanwhohobbledoutofthechestandtoldthemerchantAbudahtogoinsearchoftheTalismanofOromanes,yetImakeitmybusinesstoknowthatsheiswellpreservedandasintolerableasever.IwasneverattheschoolwheretheboyHoratioNelsongotoutofbedtostealthepears:notbecausehewantedany,

butbecauseeveryotherboywasafraid:yetIhaveseveraltimesbeenbacktothisAcademy,toseehimletdownoutofwindowwithasheet.SowithDamascus,andBagdad,andBrobingnag(whichhasthecuriousfateofbeingusuallymisspeltwhenwritten),andLilliput,andLaputa,andtheNile,andAbyssinia,andtheGanges,andtheNorthPole,andmanyhundredsofplaces—Iwasneveratthem,yetitisanaffairofmylifetokeepthemintact,andIamalwaysgoingbacktothem.But, when I was in Dullborough one day, revisiting the associations ofmychildhoodasrecordedinpreviouspagesofthesenotes,myexperienceinthiswise was made quite inconsiderable and of no account, by the quantity ofplaces and people—utterly impossible places and people, but none the lessalarminglyreal—that I foundIhadbeen introduced tobymynursebefore Iwassixyearsold,andusedtobeforcedtogobacktoatnightwithoutatallwantingtogo.Ifweallknewourownminds(inamoreenlargedsensethanthe popular acceptation of that phrase), I suspectwe should find our nursesresponsibleformostofthedarkcornersweareforcedtogobackto,againstourwills.Thefirstdiabolicalcharacterwhointrudedhimselfonmypeacefulyouth(asIcalledtomindthatdayatDullborough),wasacertainCaptainMurderer.Thiswretchmusthavebeenanoff-shootoftheBlueBeardfamily,butIhadnosuspicionoftheconsanguinityinthosetimes.Hiswarningnamewouldseemtohaveawakenednogeneralprejudiceagainsthim,forhewasadmittedintothebestsocietyandpossessedimmensewealth.CaptainMurderer’smissionwasmatrimony,andthegratificationofacannibalappetitewithtenderbrides.Onhismarriagemorning,healwayscausedbothsidesofthewaytochurchtobeplantedwithcuriousflowers;andwhenhisbridesaid,‘DearCaptainMurderer,Ieversawflowerslikethesebefore:whataretheycalled?’heanswered,‘TheyarecalledGarnishforhouse-lamb,’andlaughedathisferociouspracticaljokeinahorridmanner,disquietingthemindsofthenoblebridalcompany,withaverysharpshowofteeth,thendisplayedforthefirsttime.Hemadeloveinacoachandsix,andmarriedinacoachandtwelve,andallhishorsesweremilk-whitehorseswithoneredspotonthebackwhichhecausedtobehiddenbytheharness.For,thespotwouldcomethere,thougheveryhorsewasmilk-whitewhenCaptainMurdererboughthim.Andthespotwasyoungbride’sblood.(TothisterrificpointIamindebtedformyfirstpersonalexperienceofashudderandcoldbeadsontheforehead.)WhenCaptainMurdererhadmadeanendoffeastingandrevelry,andhaddismissedthenobleguests,andwasalonewithhiswifeonthedaymonthaftertheirmarriage,itwashiswhimsicalcustomtoproduceagoldenrolling-pinandasilverpie-board.Now,therewasthisspecialfeatureintheCaptain’scourtships,thathealwaysaskediftheyoungladycouldmakepie-crust;and

ifshecouldn’tbynatureoreducation,shewastaught.Well.WhenthebridesawCaptainMurdererproducethegoldenrolling-pinandsilverpie-board,sherememberedthis,andturnedupherlaced-silksleevestomakeapie.TheCaptainbroughtoutasilverpie-dishofimmensecapacity,andtheCaptainbroughtoutflourandbutterandeggsandallthingsneedful,excepttheinsideofthepie;ofmaterialsforthestapleofthepieitself,theCaptainbroughtoutnone.Thensaidthelovelybride,‘DearCaptainMurderer,whatpieisthistobe?’Hereplied,‘Ameatpie.’Thensaidthelovelybride,‘DearCaptainMurderer,Iseenomeat.’TheCaptainhumorouslyretorted,‘Lookintheglass.’Shelookedintheglass,butstillshesawnomeat,andthentheCaptainroaredwithlaughter,andsuddenlyfrowninganddrawinghissword,badeherrolloutthecrust.Sosherolledoutthecrust,droppinglargetearsuponitallthetimebecausehewassocross,andwhenshehadlinedthedishwithcrustandhadcutthecrustallreadytofitthetop,theCaptaincalledout,‘Iseethemeatintheglass!’Andthebridelookedupattheglass,justintimetoseetheCaptaincuttingherheadoff;andhechoppedherinpieces,andpepperedher,andsaltedher,andputherinthepie,andsentittothebaker’s,andateitall,andpickedthebones.CaptainMurdererwentoninthisway,prosperingexceedingly,untilhecameto choose a bride from two twin sisters,andatfirstdidn’tknowwhichtochoose.For,thoughonewasfairandtheotherdark,theywerebothequallybeautiful.Butthefairtwinlovedhim,andthedarktwinhatedhim,sohechosethefairone.Thedarktwinwouldhavepreventedthemarriageifshecould,butshecouldn’t;however,onthenightbeforeit,muchsuspectingCaptainMurderer,shestoleoutandclimbedhisgardenwall,andlookedinathiswindowthroughachinkintheshutter,andsawhimhavinghisteethfiledsharp.Nextdayshelistenedallday,andheardhimmakehisjokeaboutthehouse-lamb.Andthatdaymonth,hehadthepasterolledout,andcutthefairtwin’sheadoff,andchoppedherinpieces,andpepperedher,andsaltedher,andputherinthepie,andsentittothebaker’s,andateitall,andpickedthebones.Now,thedarktwinhadhadhersuspicionsmuchincreasedbythefilingoftheCaptain’steeth,andagainbythehouse-lambjoke.Puttingallthingstogetherwhenhegaveoutthathersisterwasdead,shedivinedthetruth,anddeterminedtoberevenged.So,shewentuptoCaptainMurderer’shouse,andknockedattheknockerandpulledatthebell,andwhentheCaptaincametothedoor,said:‘DearCaptainMurderer,marrymenext,forIalwayslovedyouandwasjealousofmysister.’TheCaptaintookitasacompliment,andmadeapoliteanswer,andthemarriagewasquicklyarranged.Onthenightbeforeit,thebrideagainclimbedtohiswindow,andagainsawhimhavinghisteethfiledsharp.Atthissightshelaughedsuchaterriblelaughatthechinkinthe

shutter,thattheCaptain’sbloodcurdled,andhesaid:‘Ihopenothinghasdisagreedwithme!’Atthat,shelaughedagain,astillmoreterriblelaugh,andtheshutterwasopenedandsearchmade,butshewasnimblygone,andtherewasnoone.Nextdaytheywenttochurchinacoachandtwelve,andweremarried.Andthatdaymonth,sherolledthepie-crustout,andCaptainMurderercutherheadoff,andchoppedherinpieces,andpepperedher,andsaltedher,andputherinthepie,andsentittothebaker’s,andateitall,andpickedthebones.Butbeforeshebegantorolloutthepasteshehadtakenadeadlypoisonofamost awful character, distilled from toads’ eyes and spiders’ knees; andCaptainMurderer had hardly pickedher last bone,whenhe began to swell,and to turn blue, and to be all over spots, and to scream. And he went onswellingandturningbluer,andbeingmorealloverspotsandscreaming,untilhe reached from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall; and then, at oneo’clockinthemorning,heblewupwithaloudexplosion.Atthesoundofit,allthemilk-whitehorsesinthestablesbroketheirhaltersandwentmad,andthen they galloped over everybody in CaptainMurderer’s house (beginningwiththefamilyblacksmithwhohadfiledhisteeth)untilthewholeweredead,andthentheygallopedaway.Hundreds of times did I hear this legend of CaptainMurderer, inmy earlyyouth,andaddedhundredsoftimeswasthereamentalcompulsionuponmeinbed, to peep in at hiswindowas thedark twinpeeped, and to revisit hishorriblehouse,andlookathiminhisblueandspottyandscreamingstage,ashereachedfromfloortoceilingandfromwalltowall.TheyoungwomanwhobroughtmeacquaintedwithCaptainMurdererhadafiendishenjoymentofmyterrors,andusedtobegin,Iremember—asasortofintroductoryoverture—byclawing the air with both hands, and uttering a long low hollow groan. Soacutely did I suffer from this ceremony in combination with this infernalCaptain,thatIsometimesusedtopleadIthoughtIwashardlystrongenoughandoldenoughtohearthestoryagainjustyet.But,sheneversparedmeonewordof it, and indeed commanded the awful chalice tomy lips as theonlypreservativeknowntoscienceagainst‘TheBlackCat’—aweirdandglaring-eyedsupernaturalTom,whowasreputed toprowlabout theworldbynight,suckingthebreathofinfancy,andwhowasendowedwithaspecialthirst(asIwasgiventounderstand)formine.Thisfemalebard—mayshehavebeenrepaidmydebtofobligationtoherinthematterofnightmaresandperspirations!—reappearsinmymemoryasthedaughterofashipwright.HernamewasMercy,thoughshehadnoneonme.Therewassomethingofa shipbuilding flavour in the following story. As italwaysrecurs tomeinavagueassociationwithcalomelpills, Ibelieve it to

havebeenreservedfordullnightswhenIwaslowwithmedicine.Therewasonceashipwright,andhewroughtinaGovernmentYard,andhisnamewasChips.Andhisfather’snamebeforehimwasChips,andhisfather’snamebeforehimwasChips,andtheywereallChipses.AndChipsthefatherhadsoldhimselftotheDevilforanironpotandabusheloftenpennynailsandhalfatonofcopperandaratthatcouldspeak;andChipsthegrandfatherhadsoldhimselftotheDevilforanironpotandabusheloftenpennynailsandhalfatonofcopperandaratthatcouldspeak;andChipsthegreat-grandfatherhaddisposedofhimselfinthesamedirectiononthesameterms;andthebargainhadruninthefamilyforalong,longtime.So,oneday,whenyoungChipswasatworkintheDockSlipallalone,downinthedarkholdofanoldSeventy-fourthatwashaledupforrepairs,theDevilpresentedhimself,andremarked:‘ALemonhaspips,AndaYardhasships,AndI’llhaveChips!’(I don’t knowwhy, but this fact of theDevil’s expressinghimself in rhymewaspeculiarlytryingtome.)Chipslookedupwhenheheardthewords,andtherehesawtheDevilwithsaucereyesthatsquintedonaterriblegreatscale,and thatstruckoutsparksofbluefirecontinually.Andwheneverhewinkedhiseyes,showersofbluesparkscameout,andhiseyelashesmadeaclatteringlikeflintsandsteelsstrikinglights.Andhangingoveroneofhisarmsbythehandlewasanironpot,andunderthatarmwasabusheloftenpennynails,andunder his other arm was half a ton of copper, and sitting on one of hisshoulderswasaratthatcouldspeak.So,theDevilsaidagain:‘ALemonhaspips,AndaYardhasships,AndI’llhaveChips!’(TheinvariableeffectofthisalarmingtautologyonthepartoftheEvilSpiritwastodeprivemeofmysensesforsomemoments.)So,Chipsansweredneveraword,butwentonwithhiswork.‘Whatareyoudoing,Chips?’saidtheratthatcouldspeak.‘Iamputtinginnewplankswhereyouandyourganghaveeatenoldaway,’saidChips.‘Butwe’lleatthemtoo,’saidtheratthatcouldspeak;‘andwe’llletinthewateranddrownthecrew,andwe’lleatthemtoo.’Chips,beingonlyashipwright,andnotaMan-of-war’sman,said,‘Youarewelcometoit.’Buthecouldn’tkeephiseyesoffthehalfatonofcopperor

the bushel of tenpenny nails; for nails and copper are a shipwright’ssweethearts,andshipwrightswillrunawaywiththemwhenevertheycan.So,theDevilsaid,‘Iseewhatyouarelookingat,Chips.Youhadbetterstrikethebargain.Youknowtheterms.Yourfatherbeforeyouwaswellacquaintedwiththem, and sowereyour grandfather andgreat-grandfather before him.’SaysChips,‘I likethecopper,andI likethenails,andIdon’tmindthepot,butIdon’tliketherat.’SaystheDevil,fiercely,‘Youcan’thavethemetalwithouthim—andhe’sacuriosity.I’mgoing.’Chips,afraidoflosingthehalfatonofcopperandthebushelofnails,thensaid,‘Giveushold!’So,hegotthecopperandthenailsandthepotandtheratthatcouldspeak,andtheDevilvanished.Chipssoldthecopper,andhesoldthenails,andhewouldhavesoldthepot;butwheneverheoffereditforsale,theratwasinit,andthedealersdroppedit,andwouldhavenothing tosay to thebargain.So,Chips resolved tokill therat,and,beingatworkintheYardonedaywithagreatkettleofhotpitchononesideofhimandtheironpotwiththeratinitontheother,heturnedthescaldingpitchintothepot,andfilleditfull.Then,hekepthiseyeuponittillitcooled and hardened, and then he let it stand for twenty days, and then heheatedthepitchagainandturneditbackintothekettle,andthenhesankthepotinwaterfortwentydaysmore,andthenhegotthesmelterstoputitinthefurnace for twenty days more, and then they gave it him out, red hot, andlooking like red-hot glass insteadof iron-yet therewas the rat in it, just thesameasever!Andthemomentitcaughthiseye,itsaidwithajeer:‘ALemonhaspips,AndaYardhasships,AndI’llhaveChips!’(ForthisRefrainIhadwaitedsinceitslastappearance,withinexpressiblehorror,whichnowculminated.)Chipsnowfeltcertaininhis own mind thatthe ratwouldstick tohim; the rat,answeringhis thought, said, ‘Iwill—likepitch!’Now,astheratleapedoutofthepotwhenithadspoken,andmadeoff,Chipsbegantohopethatitwouldn’tkeepitsword.But,aterriblethinghappenednextday.For,whendinner-timecame,andtheDock-bellrangtostrikework,heputhisruleintothelongpocketatthesideofhistrousers,andtherehefoundarat—notthatrat,butanotherrat.Andinhishat,hefoundanother;andinhispocket-handkerchief,another;andinthesleevesofhiscoat,whenhepulleditontogotodinner,twomore.AndfromthattimehefoundhimselfsofrightfullyintimatewithalltheratsintheYard, thattheyclimbeduphislegswhenhewasatwork,andsatonhistoolswhileheusedthem.Andtheycouldallspeaktooneanother,andheunderstoodwhattheysaid.Andthey

gotintohislodging,andintohisbed,andintohisteapot,andintohisbeer,andintohisboots.Andhewasgoingtobemarriedtoacorn-chandler’sdaughter;andwhenhegaveheraworkboxhehadhimselfmadeforher,aratjumpedoutofit;andwhenheputhisarmroundherwaist,aratclungabouther;sothemarriagewasbrokenoff,thoughthebannswerealreadytwiceputup—whichtheparishclerkwellremembers,for,ashehandedthebooktotheclergymanforthesecondtimeofasking,alargefatratranovertheleaf.(Bythistimeaspecialcascadeofratswasrollingdownmyback,andthewholeofmysmalllisteningpersonwasoverrunwiththem.At intervals ever since, I have beenmorbidly afraid of my own pocket, lest my exploring hand should find aspecimenortwoofthosevermininit.)YoumaybelievethatallthiswasveryterribletoChips;butevenallthiswasnottheworst.Heknewbesides,whattheratsweredoing,wherevertheywere.So,sometimeshewouldcryaloud,whenhewasathisclubatnight,‘Oh!Keeptheratsoutoftheconvicts’burying-ground!Don’tletthemdothat!’Or,‘There’soneofthematthecheesedown-stairs!’Or,‘There’stwoofthemsmellingatthebabyinthegarret!’Or,otherthingsofthatsort.Atlast,hewasvotedmad,andlosthisworkintheYard,andcouldgetnootherwork.But,KingGeorgewantedmen,sobeforeverylonghegotpressedforasailor.Andsohewastakenoffinaboatoneeveningtohisship,lyingatSpithead,readytosail.Andsothefirstthinghemadeoutinherashegotnearher,wasthefigure-headoftheoldSeventy-four,wherehehadseentheDevil.ShewascalledtheArgonaut,andtheyrowedrightunderthebowspritwherethefigure-headoftheArgonaut,withasheepskininhishandandabluegownon,waslookingouttosea;andsittingstaringonhisforeheadwastheratwhocouldspeak,andhisexactwordswerethese:‘Chipsahoy!Oldboy!We’veprettywelleatthemtoo,andwe’lldrownthecrew,andwilleatthemtoo!’(HereIalwaysbecameexceedinglyfaint,andwouldhaveaskedforwater,butthatIwasspeechless.)TheshipwasboundfortheIndies;andifyoudon’tknowwherethatis,yououghttoit,andangelswillneverloveyou.(HereIfeltmyselfanoutcastfromafuturestate.)Theshipsetsailthatverynight,andshesailed,andsailed,andsailed.Chips’sfeelingsweredreadful.Nothingeverequalledhisterrors.Nowonder.Atlast,onedayheaskedleavetospeaktotheAdmiral.TheAdmiralgiv’ leave. Chips went down on his knees in the Great State Cabin. ‘YourHonour,unlessyourHonour,withoutamoment’slossoftime,makessailforthenearestshore,thisisadoomedship,andhernameistheCoffin!’‘Youngman,yourwordsareamadman’swords.’‘YourHonourno;theyarenibblingusaway.’‘They?’‘YourHonour,themdreadfulrats.Dustandhollownesswheresolidoakoughttobe!Ratsnibblingagraveforeverymanonboard!Oh!DoesyourHonourloveyourLadyandyourprettychildren?’‘Yes,my

man,tobesure.’‘Then,forGod’ssake,makeforthenearestshore,foratthispresentmomenttheratsareallstoppingintheirwork, and are all lookingstraighttowardsyouwithbareteeth,andareallsayingtooneanotherthatyoushallnever,never,never,never,seeyourLadyandyourchildrenmore.’‘Mypoorfellow,youareacaseforthedoctor.Sentry,takecareofthisman!’So,hewasbledandhewasblistered,andhewasthisandthat,forsixwholedaysandnights.So,thenheagainaskedleavetospeaktotheAdmiral.TheAdmiralgiv’ leave. He went down on his knees in the Great State Cabin.‘Now,Admiral,youmustdie!You tooknowarning;youmustdie!Theratsare never wrong in their calculations, and they make out that they’ll bethrough,attwelveto-night.So,youmustdie!—Withmeandalltherest!’Andsoattwelveo’clocktherewasagreatleakreportedintheship,andatorrentofwaterrushedinandnothingcouldstopit,andtheyallwentdown,everylivingsoul.Andwhattherats—beingwater-rats—leftofChips,atlastfloatedtoshore,andsittingonhimwasanimmenseovergrownrat,laughing,thatdivedwhenthecorpsetouchedthebeachandnevercameup.Andtherewasadealofseaweedontheremains.Andifyougetthirteenbitsofseaweed,anddrythemandburntheminthefire,theywillgoofflikeinthesethirteenwordsasplainasplaincanbe:‘ALemonhaspips,AndaYardhasships,AndI’vegotChips!’Thesamefemalebard—descended,possibly,fromthoseterribleoldScaldswhoseemtohaveexistedfortheexpresspurposeofaddlingthebrainsofmankindwhentheybegintoinvestigatelanguages—madeastandingpretencewhichgreatlyassistedinforcingmebacktoanumberofhideousplacesthatIwouldbyallmeanshaveavoided.Thispretencewas,thatallherghoststorieshadoccurredtoherownrelations.Politenesstowardsameritoriousfamily,therefore,forbademydoubtingthem,andtheyacquiredanairofauthenticationthatimpairedmydigestivepowersforlife.Therewasanarrativeconcerninganunearthlyanimalforebodingdeath,whichappearedintheopenstreettoaparlour-maidwho‘wenttofetchthebeer’forsupper:first(asInowrecallit)assumingthelikenessofablackdog,andgraduallyrisingonitshind-legsandswellingintothesemblanceofsomequadrupedgreatlysurpassingahippopotamus:whichapparition—notbecauseIdeemeditintheleastimprobable,butbecauseIfeltittobereallytoolargetobear—Ifeeblyendeavouredtoexplainaway.But,onMercy’sretortingwithwoundeddignitythattheparlour-maidwasherownsister-in-law,Iperceivedtherewasnohope,andresignedmyselftothiszoologicalphenomenonasoneofmymany

pursuers.Therewasanothernarrativedescribingtheapparitionofayoungwomanwhocameoutofaglass-caseandhauntedanotheryoungwomanuntiltheotheryoungwomanquestioneditandelicitedthatitsbones(Lord!Tothinkofitsbeingsoparticularaboutitsbones!)wereburiedundertheglass-case,whereassherequiredthemtobeinterred,witheveryUndertakingsolemnityuptotwenty-fourpoundten,inanotherparticularplace.ThisnarrativeIconsidered—Ihadapersonalinterestindisproving,becausewehadglass-casesathome,andhow,otherwise,wasItobeguaranteedfromtheintrusionofyoungwomenrequiringmetoburythemuptotwenty-fourpoundten,whenIhadonlytwopenceaweek?Butmyremorselessnursecutthegroundfromundermytenderfeet,byinformingmethatShewastheotheryoungwoman;andIcouldn’tsay‘Idon’tbelieveyou;’itwasnotpossible.Such are a few of the uncommercial journeys that I was forced to make,againstmywill,whenIwasveryyoungandunreasoning.Andreally,astothelatterpartofthem,itisnotsoverylongago—nowIcometothinkofit—thatIwasaskedtoundertakethemonceagain,withasteadycountenance.

CHAPTERXVI—ARCADIANLONDONBeing in a humour for complete solitude and uninterrupted meditation thisautumn,IhavetakenalodgingforsixweeksinthemostunfrequentedpartofEngland—inaword,inLondon.The retreatintowhichIhavewithdrawnmyself,isBond-street.FromthislonelyspotImakepilgrimagesintothesurroundingwilderness,andtraverseextensivetractsoftheGreatDesert.Thefirstsolemnfeelingofisolationovercome,thefirstoppressiveconsciousnessofprofoundretirementconquered,Ienjoythatsenseoffreedom,andfeelrevivingwithinmethatlatentwildnessoftheoriginalsavage,whichhasbeen(uponthewholesomewhatfrequently)noticedbyTravellers.Mylodgingsareatahatter’s—myownhatter’s.Afterexhibitingnoarticlesinhiswindowforsomeweeks,butsea-sidewide-awakes,shooting-caps,andachoiceofroughwaterproofhead-gearforthemoorsandmountains,hehasputupontheheadsofhisfamilyasmuchofthisstockastheycouldcarry,andhastaken them off to the Isle of Thanet. His young man alone remains—andremains alone in the shop.The youngman has let out the fire atwhich theironsareheated,and,savinghisstrongsenseofduty,Iseenoreasonwhyheshouldtaketheshuttersdown.Happily forhimself and forhiscountry theyoungman isaVolunteer;mosthappily for himself,orIthinkhewouldbecomethepreyofasettledmelancholy.For,tolivesurroundedbyhumanhats,andalienatedfromhuman

headstofitthemon,issurelyagreatendurance.But,theyoungman,sustainedbypractisinghisexercise,andbyconstantlyfurbishinguphisregulationplume(itisunnecessarytoobservethat,asahatter, he is in acock’s-feathercorps),isresigned,anduncomplaining.OnaSaturday,whenhecloses early and gets his Knickerbockers on, he is even cheerful. I amgratefully particular in this reference to him, because he is my companionthroughmanypeacefulhours.My hatter has a desk up certain steps behind his counter, enclosed like theclerk’s desk at Church. I shut myself into this place of seclusion, afterbreakfast, andmeditate.At such times, I observe theyoungman loading animaginaryriflewiththegreatestprecision,andmaintainingamostgallinganddestructive fire upon the national enemy. I thank him publicly for hiscompanionshipandhispatriotism.Thesimplecharacterofmylife,andthecalmnatureofthescenesbywhichIam surrounded, occasion me to rise early. I go forth in my slippers, andpromenade thepavement. It ispastoral to feel the freshnessof theair in theuninhabited town, and to appreciate the shepherdess character of the fewmilkwomenwhopurveysolittlemilkthatitwouldbeworthnobody’swhiletoadulterateit,ifanybodywerelefttoundertakethetask.Onthecrowdedsea-shore,thegreatdemandformilk,combinedwiththestronglocaltemptationofchalk, would betray itself in the lowered quality of the article. In ArcadianLondonIderiveitfromthecow.TheArcadiansimplicityofthemetropolisaltogether,andtheprimitivewaysintowhichithasfalleninthisautumnalGoldenAge,makeitentirelynewtome.Withinafewhundredyardsofmyretreat,isthehouseofafriendwhomaintainsamostsumptuousbutler.Inever,untilyesterday,sawthatbutleroutofsuperfineblackbroadcloth.Untilyesterday,Ineversawhimoffduty,neversawhim(heisthebestofbutlers)withtheappearanceofhavinganymindforanythingbutthegloryofhismasterandhismaster’sfriends.Yesterdaymorning,walkinginmyslippersnearthehouseofwhichheisthepropandornament—ahousenowawasteofshutters—Iencounteredthatbutler,alsoinhisslippers,andinashootingsuitofonecolour,andinalow-crownedstraw-hat,smokinganearlycigar.Hefeltthatwehadformerlymetinanotherstateofexistence,andthatweweretranslatedintoanewsphere.Wiselyandwell,hepassedmewithoutrecognition.Underhisarmhecarriedthemorningpaper,andshortlyafterwardsIsawhimsittingonarailinthepleasantopenlandscapeofRegent-street,perusingitathiseaseundertheripeningsun.Mylandlordhavingtakenhiswholeestablishmenttobesalteddown,Iamwaitedonbyanelderlywomanlabouringunderachronicsniff,who,atthe

shadowyhourofhalf-pastnineo’clockofeveryevening,givesadmittanceatthestreetdoortoameagreandmouldyoldmanwhomIhaveneveryetseendetachedfromaflatpintofbeerinapewterpot.Themeagreandmouldyoldmanisherhusband,andthepairhave a dejected consciousness that they arenotjustifiedinappearingonthesurfaceoftheearth.TheycomeoutofsomeholewhenLondonemptiesitself,andgoinagainwhenitfills.IsawthemarriveontheeveningwhenImyselftookpossession,andtheyarrivedwiththeflatpintofbeer,andtheirbedinabundle.Theoldmanisaweakoldman,andappearedtometogetthebeddownthekitchenstairsbytumblingdownwithanduponit.Theymaketheirbedinthelowestandremotestcornerofthebasement,andtheysmellofbed,andhavenopossessionbutbed:unlessitbe(whichIratherinferfromanunder-currentofflavourinthem)cheese.Iknowtheirname,throughthechanceofhavingcalledthewife’sattention,athalf-pastnineonthesecondeveningofouracquaintance,tothecircumstanceoftherebeingsomeoneatthehousedoor;whensheapologeticallyexplained,‘It’sonlyMr.Klem.’WhatbecomesofMr.Klemallday,orwhenhegoesout,orwhy,isamysteryIcannotpenetrate;butathalf-pastnineheneverfailstoturnuponthedoor-stepwiththeflatpintofbeer.Andthepintofbeer,flatasitis,issomuchmoreimportantthanhimself,thatitalwaysseemstomyfancyasifithadfoundhimdrivellinginthestreetandhadhumanelybroughthimhome.Inmakinghiswaybelow,Mr.Klemnevergoesdownthemiddleofthepassage,likeanotherChristian,butshufflesagainstthewallasifentreatingmetotakenoticethatheisoccupyingaslittlespaceaspossibleinthehouse;andwheneverIcomeuponhimfacetoface,hebacksfrommeinfascinatedconfusion.ThemostextraordinarycircumstanceIhavetracedinconnexionwiththisagedcouple,is,thatthereisaMissKlem,theirdaughter,apparentlytenyearsolderthaneitherofthem,whohasalsoabedandsmellsofit,andcarriesitabouttheearthatduskandhidesitindesertedhouses.IcameintothispieceofknowledgethroughMrs.Klem’sbeseechingmetosanctiontheshelteringofMissKlemunderthatroofforasinglenight,‘betweenhertakin’careoftheupperpartinPallMallwhichthefamilyofhisback,anda’ouseinSerjameses-street,whichthefamilyofleavestowngter-morrer.’Igavemygraciousconsent(havingnothingthatIknowoftodowithit),andintheshadowyhoursMissKlembecameperceptibleonthedoor-step,wrestlingwithabedinabundle.WhereshemadeitupforthenightIcannotpositivelystate,but,Ithink,inasink.Iknowthatwiththeinstinctofareptileoraninsect,shestoweditandherselfawayindeepobscurity.IntheKlemfamily,Ihavenoticedanotherremarkablegiftofnature,andthatisapowertheypossessofconvertingeverythingintoflue.Suchbrokenvictualsastheytakebystealth,appear(whateverthenatureoftheviands)invariablytogenerateflue;andeventhenightlypintofbeer,insteadofassimilatingnaturally,strikesmeasbreakingoutinthatform,equallyontheshabbygownofMrs.Klem,

andthethreadbarecoatofherhusband.Mrs.Klemhasnoideaofmyname—astoMr.Klemhehasnoideaofanything—andonlyknowsmeashergoodgentleman.Thus,ifdoubtfulwhetherIaminmyroomorno,Mrs.Klemtapsatthedoorandsays,‘Ismygoodgentlemanhere?’Or,ifamessengerdesiringtoseemewereconsistentwithmysolitude,shewouldshowhiminwith‘Hereismygoodgentleman.’Ifindthistobeagenericcustom.For,Imeanttohaveobservedbeforenow,thatinitsArcadiantimeallmypartofLondonisindistinctlypervaded by theKlemspecies.Theycreepaboutwithbeds,andgotobedinmilesofdesertedhouses.Theyholdnocompanionshipexceptthatsometimes,afterdark,twoofthemwillemergefromoppositehouses,andmeetinthemiddleoftheroadason neutral ground, or will peep from adjoining houses over an interposingbarrier of area railings, and compare a few reserved mistrustful notesrespectingtheirgoodladiesorgoodgentlemen.ThisIhavediscoveredinthecourseofvarioussolitaryramblesIhavetakenNorthwardfrommyretirement,along the awful perspectives of Wimpole-street, Harley-street, and similarfrowningregions.Theireffectwouldbescarcelydistinguishablefromthatofthe primeval forests, but for the Klem stragglers; these may be dimlyobserved,whentheheavyshadowsfall,flittingtoandfro,puttingupthedoor-chain, taking in thepintofbeer, lowering likephantomsat thedarkparlourwindows,orsecretlyconsortingundergroundwiththedust-binandthewater-cistern.IntheBurlingtonArcade,Iobserve,withpeculiarpleasure,aprimitivestateofmannerstohavesupersededthebanefulinfluencesofultracivilisation.Nothingcansurpasstheinnocenceoftheladies’shoe-shops,theartificial-flowerrepositories,andthehead-dressdepots.Theyareinstrangehandsatthistimeofyear—handsofunaccustomedpersons,whoareimperfectlyacquaintedwiththepricesofthegoods,andcontemplatethemwithunsophisticateddelightandwonder.ThechildrenofthesevirtuouspeopleexchangefamiliaritiesintheArcade,andtempertheasperityofthetwotallbeadles.Theiryouthfulprattleblendsinanunwontedmannerwiththeharmoniousshadeofthescene,andthegeneraleffectis,asofthevoicesofbirdsinagrove.Inthishappyrestorationofthegoldentime,ithasbeenmyprivilegeeventoseethebiggerbeadle’swife.Shebroughthimhisdinnerinabasin,andheateitinhisarm-chair,andafterwardsfellasleeplikeasatiatedchild.AtMr.Truefitt’s,theexcellenthairdresser’s,theyarelearningFrenchtobeguilethetime;andeventhefewsolitariesleftonguardatMr.Atkinson’s,theperfumer’sroundthecorner(generallythemostinexorablegentlemaninLondon,andthemostscornfulofthree-and-sixpence),condescendalittle,astheydrowsilybideorrecalltheirturnforchasingtheebbingNeptuneontheribbedsea-sand.FromMessrs.HuntandRoskell’s,thejewellers,allthings

areabsentbutthepreciousstones,andthegoldandsilver,andthesoldierlypensioneratthedoorwithhisdecoratedbreast.Imightstandnightanddayforamonthtocome,inSaville-row,withmytongueout,yetnotfindadoctortolookatitforloveormoney.Thedentists’instrumentsarerustingintheirdrawers,andtheirhorriblecoolparlours,wherepeoplepretendtoreadtheEvery-DayBookandnottobeafraid,aredoingpenancefortheirgrimnessinwhitesheets.Thelight-weightofshrewdappearance,withoneeyealwaysshutup,asifhewereeatingasharpgooseberryinallseasons,whousuallystandsatthegatewayofthelivery-stablesonverylittlelegsunderaverylargewaistcoat,hasgonetoDoncaster.Ofsuchundesigningaspectishisguilelessyardnow,withitsgravelandscarletbeans,andtheyellowBreakhousedunderaglassroofinacorner,thatIalmostbelieveIcouldnotbetakeninthere,ifItried.Intheplacesofbusinessofthegreattailors,thecheval-glassesaredimanddustyforlackofbeinglookedinto.Rangesofbrownpapercoatandwaistcoat bodies look as funereal as if theywere the hatchments of thecustomerswithwhosenamestheyareinscribed;themeasuringtapeshangidleonthewall;theorder-taker,leftonthehopelesschanceofsomeonelookingin,yawnsinthelastextremityoverthebookofpatterns,asifheweretryingtoreadthatentertaininglibrary.ThehotelsinBrook-streethavenooneinthem,and the staffs of servants stare disconsolately for next season out of all thewindows. The veryman who goes about like an erect Turtle, between twoboardsrecommendatoryoftheSixteenShillingTrousers, isawareofhimselfasahollowmockery,andeatsfilbertswhileheleanshishindershellagainstawall.Amongthesetranquillisingobjects,itismydelighttowalkandmeditate.Soothedbythereposearoundme,Iwanderinsensiblytoconsiderabledistances,andguidemyselfbackbythestars.Thus,Ienjoythecontrastofafewstillpartiallyinhabitedandbusyspotswhereallthelightsarenotfled,whereallthegarlandsarenotdead,whenceallbutIhavenotdeparted.Then,doesitappeartomethatinthisagethreethingsareclamorouslyrequiredofManinthemiscellaneousthoroughfaresofthemetropolis.Firstly,thathehavehisbootscleaned.Secondly,thatheeatapennyice.Thirdly,thathegethimselfphotographed.ThendoIspeculate,Whathavethoseseam-wornartistsbeenwhostandatthephotographdoorsinGreekcaps,sampleinhand,andmysteriouslysalutethepublic—thefemalepublicwithapressingtenderness—tocomeinandbe‘took’?Whatdidtheydowiththeirgreasyblandishments,beforetheeraofcheapphotography?Ofwhatclassweretheirpreviousvictims,andhowvictimised?Andhowdidtheyget,andhowdidtheypayfor,thatlargecollectionoflikenesses,allpurportingtohavebeentakeninside,withthetakingofnoneofwhichhadthatestablishmentanymoretodothanwiththetakingofDelhi?

But,thesearesmalloases,andIamsoonbackagaininmetropolitanArcadia.ItismyimpressionthatmuchofitssereneandpeacefulcharacterisattributabletotheabsenceofcustomaryTalk.HowdoIknowbuttheremaybesubtleinfluencesinTalk,tovexthesoulsofmenwhodon’thearit?HowdoIknowbutthatTalk,five,ten,twentymilesoff,maygetintotheairanddisagreewithme?IfIrisefrommybed,vaguelytroubledandweariedandsickofmylife,inthesessionofParliament,whoshallsaythatmynoblefriend,myrightreverendfriend,myrighthonourablefriend,myhonourablefriend,myhonourableandlearnedfriend,ormyhonourableandgallantfriend,maynotberesponsibleforthateffectuponmynervoussystem?ToomuchOzoneintheair,Iaminformedandfullybelieve(thoughIhavenoideawhatitis),wouldaffectmeinamarvellouslydisagreeableway;whymaynottoomuchTalk?Idon’tseeorheartheOzone;Idon’tseeorheartheTalk.AndthereissomuchTalk;somuchtoomuch;suchloudcry,andsuchscantsupplyofwool;suchadealoffleecing,andsolittlefleece!Hence,intheArcadianseason,IfinditadelicioustriumphtowalkdowntodesertedWestminster,andseetheCourtsshutup;towalkalittlefurtherandseetheTwoHousesshutup;tostandintheAbbeyYard,liketheNewZealanderofthegrandEnglishHistory(concerningwhichunfortunateman,awholerookeryofmares’nestsisgenerallybeingdiscovered),andgloatupontheruinsofTalk.Returningtomyprimitivesolitudeandlyingdowntosleep,mygratefulheartexpandswiththeconsciousnessthatthereisnoadjournedDebate,noministerialexplanation,nobodytogivenoticeofintentiontoaskthenobleLordattheheadofherMajesty’sGovernmentfive-and-twentybootlessquestionsinone,notermtimewithlegalargument,noNisiPriuswitheloquentappealtoBritishJury;thattheairwillto-morrow,andto-morrow,andto-morrow,remainuntroubledbythissuperabundantgeneratingofTalk.Inaminordegreeitisadelicioustriumphtometogointotheclub,andseethecarpetsup,andtheBoresandtheotherdustdispersedtothefourwinds.Again,NewZealander-like,Istandonthecoldhearth,andsayinthesolitude,‘HereIwatchedBoreA1,withvoicealwaysmysteriouslylowandheadalwaysmysteriouslydrooped,whisperingpoliticalsecretsintotheearsofAdam’sconfidingchildren.Accursedbehismemoryforeverandaday!’But,Ihaveallthistimebeencomingtothepoint,thatthehappynatureofmyretirementismostsweetlyexpressedinitsbeingtheabodeofLove.Itis,asitwere, an inexpensiveAgapemone: nobody’s speculation: everybody’s profit.The one great result of the resumption of primitive habits, and (convertibleterms)thenothavingmuchtodo,is,theaboundingofLove.TheKlemspeciesare incapableof thesofteremotions;probably, in that lownomadicrace,thesofteremotionshavealldegeneratedintoflue.But,withthisexception,allthesharersofmyretreatmakelove.

IhavementionedSaville-row.WeallknowtheDoctor’sservant.Weallknowwhatarespectablemanheis,whataharddryman,whatafirmman,whataconfidentialman:howheletsusintothewaiting-room,likeamanwhoknowsminutelywhatisthematterwithus,butfromwhomtherackshouldnotwringthesecret.Intheprosaic“season,”hehasdistinctlytheappearanceofamanconsciousofmoneyinthesavingsbank,andtakinghisstandonhisrespectabilitywithbothfeet.Atthattimeitisasimpossibletoassociatehimwithrelaxation,oranyhumanweakness,asitistomeethiseyewithoutfeelingguiltyofindisposition.IntheblestArcadiantime,howchanged!Ihaveseenhim,inapepper-and-saltjacket—jacket—anddrabtrousers,withhisarmroundthewaistofabootmaker’shousemaid,smilinginopenday.IhaveseenhimatthepumpbytheAlbany,unsolicitedlypumpingfortwofairyoungcreatures,whosefiguresastheybentovertheircans,were—ifImaybeallowedanoriginalexpression—amodelforthesculptor.IhaveseenhimtryingthepianointheDoctor’sdrawing-roomwithhisforefinger,andhaveheardhimhummingtunesinpraiseoflovelywoman.Ihaveseenhimseatedonafire-engine,andgoing(obviouslyinsearchofexcitement)toafire.Isawhim,onemoonlighteveningwhenthepeaceandpurityofourArcadianwestwereattheirheight,polkwiththelovelydaughterofacleanerofgloves,fromthe door-steps of his own residence, across Saville-row, round by Clifford-street and Old Burlington-street, back to Burlington-gardens. Is this theGoldenAgerevived,orIronLondon?The Dentist’s servant.Isthatmannomysterytous,notypeofinvisiblepower?Thetremendousindividualknows(whoelsedoes?)whatisdonewiththeextractedteeth;heknowswhatgoesoninthelittleroomwheresomethingisalwaysbeingwashedorfiled;heknowswhatwarmspicyinfusionisputintothecomfortabletumblerfromwhichwerinseourwoundedmouth,withagapinitthatfeelsafootwide;heknowswhetherthethingwespitintoisafixturecommunicatingwiththeThames,orcouldbeclearedawayforadance;heseesthehorribleparlourwheretherearenopatientsinit,andhecouldreveal,ifhewould,whatbecomesoftheEvery-DayBookthen.TheconvictionofmycowardconsciencewhenIseethatmaninaprofessionallight,is,thatheknowsallthestatisticsofmyteethandgums,mydoubleteeth,mysingleteeth,mystoppedteeth,andmysound.InthisArcadianrest,Iamfearlessofhimasofaharmless,powerlesscreatureinaScotchcap,whoadoresayoungladyinavoluminouscrinoline,ataneighbouringbilliard-room,andwhosepassionwouldbeuninfluencedifeveryoneofherteethwerefalse.Theymaybe.Hetakesthemallontrust.In secluded corners of the place of my seclusion, there are little shopswithdrawn from public curiosity,andnevertwotogether,whereservants’

perquisitesarebought.Thecookmaydisposeofgreaseatthesemodestandconvenientmarts;thebutler,ofbottles;thevaletandlady’smaid,ofclothes;mostservants,indeed,ofmostthingstheymayhappentolayholdof.Ihavebeentoldthatinsternertimeslovingcorrespondence,otherwiseinterdicted,maybemaintainedbyletterthroughtheagencyofsomeoftheseusefulestablishments.IntheArcadianautumn,nosuchdeviceisnecessary.Everybodyloves,andopenlyandblamelesslyloves.Mylandlord’syoungmanlovesthewholeofonesideofthewayofOldBond-street,andisbelovedseveraldoorsupNewBond-streetbesides.IneverlookoutofwindowbutIseekissingofhandsgoingonallaroundme.Itisthemorningcustomtoglidefromshoptoshopandexchangetendersentiments;itistheeveningcustomforcouplestostandhandinhandathousedoors,orroam,linkedinthatflowerymanner,throughtheunpeopledstreets.Thereisnothingelsetodobutlove;andwhatthereistodo,isdone.Inunisonwiththispursuit,achastesimplicityobtainsinthedomestichabitsofArcadia.Itsfewscatteredpeopledineearly,livemoderately,supsocially,andsleepsoundly.ItisrumouredthattheBeadlesoftheArcade,frombeingthemortalenemiesofboys,havesignedwithtearsanaddresstoLordShaftesbury,andsubscribedtoaraggedschool.Nowonder!For,theymightturntheirheavymacesintocrooksandtendsheepintheArcade,tothepurlingofthewater-cartsastheygivethethirstystreetsmuchmoretodrinkthantheycancarry.AhappyGoldenAge,andaserenetranquillity.Charmingpicture,butitwillfade.Theironagewillreturn,Londonwillcomebacktotown,ifIshowmytonguetheninSaville-rowforhalfaminuteIshallbeprescribedfor,theDoctor’smanandtheDentist’smanwillthenpretendthatthesedaysofunprofessionalinnocenceneverexisted.WhereMr.andMrs.Klemandtheirbedwillbeatthattime,passeshumanknowledge;butmyhatterhermitagewillthenknowthemnomore,norwillitthenknowme.ThedeskatwhichIhavewrittenthesemeditationswillretributivelyassistatthemakingoutofmyaccount,andthewheelsofgorgeouscarriagesandthehoofsofhigh-steppinghorseswillcrushthesilenceoutofBond-street—willgrindArcadiaaway,andgiveittotheelementsingranitepowder.

CHAPTERXVII—THEITALIANPRISONERTherisingoftheItalianpeoplefromundertheirunutterablewrongs,andthetardyburstofdayuponthemafterthelonglongnightofoppressionthathasdarkenedtheirbeautifulcountry,havenaturallycausedmymindtodwelloftenof late on my own small wanderings in Italy. Connected with them, is acurious little drama, in which the character I myself sustained was so very

subordinatethatImayrelateitsstorywithoutanyfearofbeingsuspectedofself-display.Itisstrictlyatruestory.I am newly arrived one summer evening, in a certain small town on theMediterranean.Ihavehadmydinnerattheinn,andIandthemosquitoesarecomingoutintothestreetstogether.ItisfarfromNaples;butabright,brown,plumplittlewoman-servantat the inn, isaNeapolitan,and issovivaciouslyexpert in panto-mimic action, that in the single moment of answering myrequest tohaveapairof shoescleanedwhich Ihave leftup-stairs, shepliesimaginarybrushes,andgoescompletelythroughthemotionsofpolishingtheshoes up, and laying them at my feet. I smile at the brisk little woman inperfect satisfaction with her briskness; and the brisk little woman, amiablypleasedwithmebecause I ampleasedwith her, claps her hands and laughsdelightfully.Weareintheinnyard.Asthelittlewoman’sbrighteyessparkleon the cigarette I am smoking, Imake bold to offer her one; she accepts itnonethelessmerrily,becauseItouchamostcharminglittledimpleinherfatcheek, with its light paper end. Glancing up at the many green lattices toassureherself that themistress isnot lookingon, the littlewoman thenputshertwolittledimplearmsa-kimbo,andstandsontiptoetolighthercigaretteat mine. ‘And now, dear little sir,’ says she, puffing out smoke in a mostinnocent and cherubic manner, ‘keep quite straight on, take the first to therightandprobablyyouwillseehimstandingathisdoor.’I gave a commission to ‘him,’ and I have been inquiring about him. I havecarried the commission about Italy several months. Before I left England,therecame tomeonenightacertaingenerousandgentleEnglishnobleman(heisdeadinthesedayswhenIrelatethestory,andexileshavelosttheirbestBritish friend),with this request: ‘Whenever you come to such a town,willyou seek out one Giovanni Carlavero, who keeps a little wine-shop there,mention my name to him suddenly, and observe how it affects him?’ Iacceptedthetrust,andamonmywaytodischargeit.Thesiroccohasbeenblowingallday,anditisahotunwholesomeeveningwithnocoolsea-breeze.Mosquitoesandfire-fliesarelivelyenough,butmostothercreaturesarefaint.Thecoquettishairsofprettyyoungwomeninthetiniestandwickedestofdolls’strawhats,wholeanoutatopenedlatticeblinds,arealmosttheonlyairsstirring.Veryuglyandhaggardoldwomenwithdistaffs,andwithagreytowuponthemthatlooksasiftheywerespinningouttheirownhair(Isupposetheywereoncepretty,too,butitisverydifficulttobelieveso),sitonthefootwayleaningagainsthousewalls.Everybodywhohascomeforwatertothefountain,staysthere,andseemsincapableofanysuchenergeticideaasgoinghome.Vespersareover,thoughnotsolongbutthatIcansmelltheheavyresinousincenseasIpassthechurch.Noman

seemstobeatwork,savethecoppersmith.InanItaliantownheisalwaysatwork,andalwaysthumpinginthedeadliestmanner.Ikeepstraighton,andcomeinduetimetothefirstontheright:anarrowdullstreet,whereIseeawell-favouredmanofgoodstatureandmilitarybearing,inagreatcloak,standingatadoor.Drawingnearertothisthreshold,Iseeitisthethresholdofasmallwine-shop;andIcanjustmakeout,inthedimlight,theinscriptionthatitiskeptbyGiovanniCarlavero.I touchmyhat to the figure in thecloak,andpass in, anddrawa stool toalittletable.Thelamp(justsuchanotherastheydigoutofPompeii)islighted,buttheplaceisempty.Thefigureinthecloakhasfollowedmein,andstandsbeforeme.‘Themaster?’‘Atyourservice,sir.’‘Pleasetogivemeaglassofthewineofthecountry.’Heturnstoalittlecounter,togetit.Ashisstrikingfaceispale,andhisactionisevidentlythatofanenfeebledman,IremarkthatIfearhehasbeenill.Itisnotmuch,hecourteouslyandgravelyanswers, thoughbadwhileit lasts: thefever.Ashesetsthewineonthelittletable,tohismanifestsurpriseIlaymyhandonthe back of his, look him in the face, and say in a low voice: ‘I am anEnglishman,andyouareacquaintedwitha friendofmine.Doyourecollect—?’andImentionedthenameofmygenerouscountryman.Instantly,heuttersa loudcry,bursts into tears,and fallsonhiskneesatmyfeet,claspingmylegsinbothhisarmsandbowinghisheadtotheground.Someyearsago,thismanatmyfeet,whoseover-fraughtheartisheavingasifitwouldburstfromhisbreast,andwhosetearsarewetuponthedressIwear,was agalley-slave in theNorthof Italy.Hewas a political offender, havingbeenconcernedinthethenlastrising,andwassentencedtoimprisonmentforlife.Thathewouldhavediedinhischains,iscertain,butforthecircumstancethattheEnglishmanhappenedtovisithisprison.ItwasoneofthevileoldprisonsofItaly,andapartofitwasbelowthewatersoftheharbour.Theplaceofhisconfinementwasanarchedunder-groundandunder-watergallery,withagrill-gateattheentrance,throughwhichitreceivedsuchlightandairasitgot.Itsconditionwasinsufferablyfoul,andastrangercouldhardlybreatheinit,orseeinitwiththeaidofatorch.Attheupperend

ofthisdungeon,andconsequentlyintheworstposition,asbeingthefurthestremovedfromlightandair,theEnglishmanfirstbeheldhim,sittingonanironbedstead to which he was chained by a heavy chain. His countenanceimpressedtheEnglishmenashavingnothingincommonwiththefacesofthemalefactorswithwhomhewasassociated,andhetalkedwithhim,andlearnthowhecametobethere.WhentheEnglishmanemergedfromthedreadfuldenintothelightofday,heaskedhisconductor,thegovernorofthejail,whyGiovanniCarlaverowasputintotheworstplace?‘Becauseheisparticularlyrecommended,’wasthestringentanswer.‘Recommended,thatistosay,fordeath?’‘Excuseme;particularlyrecommended,’wasagaintheanswer.‘Hehasabadtumourinhisneck,nodoubtoccasionedbythehardshipofhismiserablelife.Ifhecontinuestobeneglected,andheremainswhereheis,itwillkillhim.’‘Excuseme,Icandonothing.Heisparticularlyrecommended.’TheEnglishmanwasstayinginthattown,andhewenttohishomethere;butthefigureofthismanchainedtothebedsteadmadeitnohome,anddestroyedhisrestandpeace.HewasanEnglishmanofanextraordinarilytenderheart,andhecouldnotbearthepicture.Hewentbacktotheprisongrate;wentbackagainandagain,andtalkedtothemanandcheeredhim.Heusedhisutmostinfluencetogetthemanunchainedfromthebedstead,wereitonlyforeversoshortatimeintheday,andpermittedtocometothegrate.Itlookalongtime,buttheEnglishman’sstation,personalcharacter,andsteadinessofpurpose,woreoutoppositionsofar,andthatgracewasatlastaccorded.Throughthebars,whenhecouldthusgetlightuponthetumour,theEnglishmanlancedit,anditdidwell,andhealed.Hisstronginterestintheprisonerhadgreatlyincreasedbythistime,andheformedthedesperateresolutionthathewouldexerthisutmostself-devotionandusehisutmostefforts,togetCarlaveropardoned.Iftheprisonerhadbeenabrigandandamurderer,ifhehadcommittedeverynon-politicalcrimeintheNewgateCalendarandoutofit,nothingwouldhavebeeneasierthanforamanofanycourtorpriestlyinfluencetoobtainhisrelease.Asitwas,nothingcouldhavebeenmoredifficult.Italianauthorities,andEnglishauthoritieswhohadinterestwiththem,alikeassuredtheEnglishmanthathisobjectwashopeless.Hemetwithnothingbutevasion,refusal,andridicule.Hispoliticalprisonerbecameajokeintheplace.ItwasespeciallyobservablethatEnglishCircumlocution,andEnglishSocietyonits

travels,wereashumorousonthesubjectasCircumlocutionandSocietymaybeonanysubjectwithoutlossofcaste.But,theEnglishmanpossessed(andproveditwellinhislife)acourageveryuncommonamongus:hehadnottheleastfearofbeingconsideredabore,inagoodhumanecause.Sohewentonpersistentlytrying,andtrying,andtrying,togetGiovanniCarlaveroout.Thatprisonerhadbeenrigorouslyre-chained,afterthetumouroperation,anditwasnotlikelythathismiserablelifecouldlastverylong.One day, when all thetownknewabouttheEnglishmanandhispoliticalprisoner,therecametotheEnglishman,acertainsprightlyItalianAdvocateofwhomhehadsomeknowledge;andhemadethisstrangeproposal.‘GivemeahundredpoundstoobtainCarlavero’srelease.IthinkIcangethimapardon,withthatmoney.ButIcannottellyouwhatIamgoingtodowiththemoney,normustyoueveraskmethequestionifIsucceed,normustyoueverask me for an account of the money if I fail.’ The Englishman decided tohazard the hundred pounds. He did so, and heard not another word of thematter.Forhalfayearandmore,theAdvocatemadenosign,andneveronce‘tookon’ inanyway, tohave the subjectonhismind.TheEnglishmanwasthenobligedtochangehisresidencetoanotherandmorefamoustownintheNorth of Italy.He parted from the poor prisonerwith a sorrowful heart, asfromadoomedmanforwhomtherewasnoreleasebutDeath.TheEnglishmanlivedinhisnewplaceofabodeanotherhalf-yearandmore,andhadnotidingsofthewretchedprisoner.Atlength,oneday,hereceivedfromtheAdvocateacool,concise,mysteriousnote,tothiseffect.‘Ifyoustillwishtobestowthatbenefituponthemaninwhomyouwereonceinterested,sendmefiftypoundsmore,andIthinkitcanbeensured.’Now,theEnglishmanhadlongsettledinhismindthattheAdvocatewasaheartlesssharper,whohadpreyeduponhiscredulityandhisinterestinanunfortunatesufferer.So,hesatdownandwroteadryanswer,givingtheAdvocatetounderstandthathewaswisernowthanhehadbeenformerly,andthatnomoremoneywasextractablefromhispocket.Helivedoutsidethecitygates,somemileortwofromthepost-office,andwasaccustomedtowalkintothecitywithhislettersandpostthemhimself.Onalovelyspringday,whentheskywasexquisitelyblue,andtheseaDivinelybeautiful,hetookhisusualwalk,carryingthislettertotheAdvocateinhispocket.Ashewentalong,hisgentleheartwasmuchmovedbythelovelinessoftheprospect,andbythethoughtoftheslowlydyingprisonerchainedtothebedstead,forwhomtheuniversehadnodelights.Ashedrewnearerandnearertothecitywherehewastoposttheletter,hebecameveryuneasyinhismind.Hedebatedwithhimself,wasitremotelypossible,afterall,thatthissumoffiftypoundscouldrestorethefellow-creaturewhomhepitiedsomuch,

andforwhomhehadstrivensohard,toliberty?HewasnotaconventionallyrichEnglishman—veryfarfromthat—but,hehadasparefiftypoundsatthebanker’s.Heresolvedtoriskit.Withoutdoubt,GODhasrecompensedhimfortheresolution.Hewent to thebanker’s, andgot abill for the amount, and enclosed it in aletter to the Advocate that I wish I could have seen. He simply told theAdvocatethathewasquiteapoorman,andthathewassensibleitmightbeagreatweaknessinhimtopartwithsomuchmoneyonthefaithofsovagueacommunication; but, that there it was, and that he prayed the Advocate tomakeagooduseofit.Ifhedidotherwisenogoodcouldevercomeofit,anditwouldlieheavyonhissouloneday.Within aweek, the Englishmanwas sitting at his breakfast, when he heardsomesuppressedsoundsofagitationonthestaircase,andGiovanniCarlaveroleapedintotheroomandfelluponhisbreast,afreeman!ConsciousofhavingwrongedtheAdvocateinhisownthoughts,theEnglishmanwrotehimanearnestandgratefulletter,avowingthefact,andentreatinghimtoconfidebywhatmeansandthroughwhatagencyhehadsucceededsowell.TheAdvocatereturnedforanswerthroughthepost,‘Therearemanythings,asyouknow,inthisItalyofours,thataresafestandbestnotevenspokenof—farlesswrittenof.Wemaymeetsomeday,andthenImaytellyouwhatyouwanttoknow;nothere,andnow.’But,thetwoneverdidmeetagain.TheAdvocatewasdeadwhentheEnglishmangavememytrust;and how the man had been set free, remained as great a mystery to theEnglishman,andtothemanhimself,asitwastome.But,Iknewthis:-herewastheman,thissultrynight,onhiskneesatmyfeet,because I was the Englishman’s friend; herewere his tears uponmy dress;herewerehissobschokinghisutterance;herewerehiskissesonmyhands,becausetheyhadtouchedthehandsthathadworkedouthisrelease.Hehadnoneedtotellmeitwouldbehappinesstohimtodieforhisbenefactor;IdoubtifIeversawreal,sterling,ferventgratitudeofsoul,beforeorsince.Hewasmuchwatchedand suspected,he said, andhadhadenough todo tokeephimselfoutoftrouble.This,andhisnothavingprosperedinhisworldlyaffairs, had led to his having failed in his usual communications to theEnglishman 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 hadrecovered,andhisfeverhadlefthim,andhehadboughtalittlevineyard,andwould Icarry tohisbenefactor the firstof itswine?Ay, that Iwould(I toldhimwithenthusiasm),andnotadropofitshouldbespilledorlost!

Hehadcautiouslyclosedthedoorbeforespeakingofhimself,andhadtalkedwith such excess of emotion, and in a provincial Italian so difficult tounderstand,thatIhadmorethanoncebeenobligedtostophim,andbeghimtohavecompassiononmeandbeslowerandcalmer.Bydegreeshebecameso,andtranquillywalkedbackwithmetothehotel.There,IsatdownbeforeIwent tobedandwrotea faithfulaccountofhim to theEnglishman:which Iconcluded by saying that I would bring the wine home, against anydifficulties,everydrop.Earlynextmorning,whenIcameoutatthehoteldoortopursuemyjourney,IfoundmyfriendwaitingwithoneofthoseimmensebottlesinwhichtheItalianpeasantsstoretheirwine—abottleholdingsomehalf-dozengallons—boundroundwithbasket-workforgreatersafetyonthejourney.Iseehimnow,inthebrightsunshine,tearsofgratitudeinhiseyes,proudlyinvitingmyattentiontothiscorpulentbottle.(At the street-comer hard by, two high-flavoured,able-bodiedmonks—pretending to talk together,butkeeping theirfourevileyesuponus.)Howthebottlehadbeengotthere,didnotappear;butthedifficultyofgettingitintotheramshacklevetturinocarriageinwhichIwasdeparting,wassogreat,andittookupsomuchroomwhenitwasgotin,thatIelectedtositoutside.ThelastIsawofGiovanniCarlaverowashisrunningthroughthetownbythesideofthejinglingwheels,claspingmyhandasIstretcheditdownfromthebox,chargingmewithathousandlastlovinganddutifulmessagestohisdearpatron,andfinallylookinginatthebottleasitreposedinside,withanadmirationofitshonourablewayoftravellingthatwasbeyondmeasuredelightful.And now, what disquiet of mind this dearly-beloved and highly-treasuredBottlebegantocostme,nomanknows.Itwasmypreciouschargethroughalongtour,and,forhundredsofmiles,Ineverhaditoffmymindbydayorbynight.Overbad roads—and theyweremany—Iclung to itwithaffectionatedesperation.Upmountains,Ilookedinatitandsawithelplesslytiltingoveronitsback,withterror.Atinnumerableinndoorswhentheweatherwasbad,Iwasobliged tobeput intomyvehiclebefore theBottlecouldbegot in,andwasobliged tohave theBottle liftedoutbeforehumanaidcouldcomenearme.TheImpofthesamename,exceptthathisassociationswereallevilandthese associations were all good, would have been a less troublesometravellingcompanion.ImighthaveservedMr.Cruikshankasasubject foranew illustration of the miseries of the Bottle. The National TemperanceSocietymighthavemadeapowerfulTractofme.The suspicions that attached to this innocent Bottle,greatlyaggravatedmydifficulties.Itwasliketheapple-pieinthechild’sbook.Parmapoutedatit,

Modenamockedit,Tuscanytackledit,Naplesnibbledit,Romerefusedit,Austriaaccusedit,Soldierssuspectedit,Jesuitsjobbedit.IcomposedaneatOration,developingmyinoffensiveintentionsinconnexionwiththisBottle,anddelivereditinan infinityofguard-houses,atamultitudeoftowngates,andoneverydrawbridge,angle,andrampart,ofacompletesystemoffortifications.Fiftytimesaday,IgotdowntoharangueaninfuriatedsoldieryabouttheBottle.ThroughthefilthydegradationoftheabjectandvileRomanStates,IhadasmuchdifficultyinworkingmywaywiththeBottle,asifithadbottledupacompletesystemofhereticaltheology.IntheNeapolitancountry,whereeverybodywasaspy,asoldier,apriest,oralazzarone,theshamelessbeggarsofallfourdenominationsincessantlypouncedontheBottleandmadeitapretextforextortingmoneyfromme.Quires—quiresdoIsay?Reams—offormsillegiblyprintedonwhity-brownpaperwerefilledupabouttheBottle,anditwasthesubjectofmorestampingandsandingthanIhadeverseenbefore.Inconsequenceofwhichhazeofsand,perhaps,itwasalwaysirregular,andalwayslatentwithdismalpenaltiesofgoingbackornotgoingforward,whichwereonlytobeabatedbythesilvercrossingofabasehand,pokedshirtlessoutofaraggeduniformsleeve.Underalldiscouragements,however,IstucktomyBottle,andheldfirmtomyresolutionthateverydropofitscontentsshouldreachtheBottle’sdestination.Thelatterrefinementcostmeaseparateheapoftroublesonitsownseparateaccount.WhatcorkscrewsdidIseethemilitarypowerbringoutagainstthatBottle;whatgimlets,spikes,diviningrods,gauges,andunknowntestsandinstruments!Atsomeplaces,theypersistedindeclaringthatthewinemustnotbepassed,withoutbeingopenedandtasted;I,pleadingtothecontrary,usedthentoarguethequestionseatedontheBottlelesttheyshouldopenitinspiteofme.InthesouthernpartsofItalymoreviolentshrieking,face-making,andgesticulating,greatervehemenceofspeechandcountenanceandaction,wentonaboutthatBottlethanwouldattendfiftymurdersina northernlatitude.Itraisedimportantfunctionariesoutoftheirbeds,inthedeadofnight.Ihaveknownhalf-a-dozenmilitarylanternstodispersethemselvesatallpointsofagreatsleepingPiazza,eachlanternsummoningsomeofficialcreaturetogetup,putonhiscocked-hatinstantly,andcomeandstoptheBottle.ItwascharacteristicthatwhilethisinnocentBottlehadsuchimmensedifficultyingettingfromlittletowntotown,SignorMazziniandthefierycrossweretraversingItalyfromendtoend.Still,IstucktomyBottle,likeanyfineoldEnglishgentlemanalloftheoldentime. The more the Bottle was interfered with, the stauncher I became (ifpossible) in my first determination that my countryman should have itdeliveredtohimintact,asthemanwhomhehadsonoblyrestoredtolifeandlibertyhaddeliveredittome.IfeverIhadbeenobstinateinmydays—andI

mayhavebeen, say,onceor twice—Iwasobstinate about theBottle.But, Imade it a rule always to keep a pocket full of small coin at its service, andnever tobeoutof temper in itscause.Thus,IandtheBottlemadeourway.Oncewehadabreak-down; rather abadbreak-down,ona steephighplacewiththeseabelowus,onatempestuouseveningwhenitblewgreatguns.Weweredrivingfourwildhorsesabreast,Southernfashion,andtherewassomelittle difficulty in stopping them. I was outside, and not thrown off; but nowordscandescribemy feelingswhen I saw theBottle—travelling inside,asusual—burst the door open, and roll obesely out into the road. A blessedBottlewithacharmedexistence,hetooknohurt,andwerepaireddamage,andwentontriumphant.AthousandrepresentationsweremadetomethattheBottlemustbeleftatthisplace,orthat,andcalledforagain.Ineveryieldedtooneofthem,andneverparted from theBottle, on any pretence, consideration, threat, or entreaty. IhadnofaithinanyofficialreceiptfortheBottle,andnothingwouldinducemetoacceptone.TheseunmanageablepoliticsatlastbroughtmeandtheBottle,stilltriumphant,toGenoa.There,Itookatenderandreluctantleaveofhimforafewweeks,andconsignedhimtoatrustyEnglishcaptain,tobeconveyedtothePortofLondonbysea.While the Bottle was on his voyage to England, I read the ShippingIntelligence as anxiously as if I had been an underwriter. There was somestormyweatherafterImyselfhadgottoEnglandbywayofSwitzerlandandFrance,andmymindgreatlymisgavemethattheBottlemightbewrecked.Atlasttomygreatjoy,Ireceivednoticeofhissafearrival,andimmediatelywentdown to Saint Katharine’s Docks, and found him in a state of honourablecaptivityintheCustomHouse.The wine was mere vinegar when I set it down before the generousEnglishman—probably ithadbeensomething likevinegarwhenI took itupfromGiovanniCarlavero—butnotadropof itwasspilledorgone.And theEnglishman toldme,withmuch emotion in his face and voice, that he hadnever tasted wine that seemed to him so sweet and sound. And longafterwards, theBottle graced his table.And the last time I saw him in thisworldthatmisseshim,hetookmeasideinacrowd,tosay,withhisamiablesmile: ‘Wewere talkingofyouonly to-dayatdinner, and Iwishedyouhadbeenthere,forIhadsomeClaretupinCarlavero’sBottle.’

CHAPTERXVIII—THECALAISNIGHTMAILIt is an unsettled question with me whether I shall leave Calais somethinghandsomeinmywill,orwhetherIshall leaveitmymalediction.Ihateitso

much, and yet I am always so very glad to see it, that I am in a state ofconstant indecision on this subject. When I first made acquaintance withCalais, it was as amaundering youngwretch in a clammy perspiration anddripping saline particles, who was conscious of no extremities but the onegreat extremity, sea-sickness—whowas amerebilious torso,with amislaidheadachesomewhereinitsstomach—whohadbeenputintoahorribleswinginDoverHarbour,andhadtumbledgiddilyoutofitontheFrenchcoast,ortheIsleofMan,oranywhere.Timeshavechanged,andnowIenterCalaisself-reliantandrational.Iknowwhereit isbeforehand,Ikeepalookoutforit,Irecognise its landmarks when I see any of them, I am acquainted with itsways,andIknow—andIcanbear—itsworstbehaviour.MalignantCalais!Low-lyingalligator,evadingtheeyesightanddiscouraginghope!Dodgingflatstreak,nowonthisbow,nowonthat,nowanywhere,noweverywhere,nownowhere!InvainCapeGrinez,comingfranklyforthintothesea,exhortsthefailingtobestoutofheartandstomach:sneakingCalais,pronebehinditsbar,invitesemeticallytodespair.Evenwhenitcannolongerquiteconcealitselfinitsmuddydock,ithasanevilwayoffallingoff,hasCalais,whichismorehopelessthanitsinvisibility.Thepierisallbutonthebowsprit,andyouthinkyouarethere—roll,roar,wash!—Calaishasretiredmilesinland,andDoverhasburstouttolookforit.Ithasalastdipandslideinitscharacter,hasCalais,tobeespeciallycommandedtotheinfernalgods.Thriceaccursedbethatgarrison-town,whenitdivesundertheboat’skeel,andcomes up a league or two to the right, with the packet shivering andsplutteringandstaringaboutforit!NotbutwhatIhavemyanimositiestowardsDover.IparticularlydetestDoverfortheself-complacencywithwhichitgoestobed.Italwaysgoestobed(whenIamgoingtoCalais)withamorebrilliantdisplayoflampandcandlethananyothertown.Mr.andMrs.Birmingham,hostandhostessoftheLordWardenHotel,aremymuchesteemedfriends,buttheyaretooconceitedaboutthecomfortsofthatestablishmentwhentheNightMailisstarting.Iknowitisagoodhousetostayat,andIdon’twantthefactinsisteduponinallitswarmbrightwindowsatsuchanhour.IknowtheWardenisastationaryedificethatneverrollsorpitches,andIobjecttoitsbigoutlineseemingtoinsistuponthatcircumstance,and,asitwere,tocomeovermewithit,whenIamreelingonthedeckoftheboat.BeshrewtheWardenlikewise,forobstructingthatcorner,andmakingthewindsoangryasitrushesround.ShallInotknowthatitblowsquitesoonenough,withouttheofficiousWarden’sinterference?AsIwaithereonboardthenightpacket,fortheSouth-EasternTraintocomedownwiththeMail,Doverappearstometobeilluminatedforsomeintensely

aggravatingfestivityinmypersonaldishonour.Allitsnoisessmackoftauntingpraisesoftheland,anddispraisesofthegloomysea,andofmeforgoingonit.Thedrumsupontheheightshavegonetobed,orIknowtheywouldrattletauntsagainstmeforhavingmyunsteadyfootingonthisslipperydeck.ThemanygaseyesoftheMarineParadetwinkleinanoffensivemanner,asifwithderision.ThedistantdogsofDoverbarkatmeinmymisshapenwrappers,asifIwereRichardtheThird.Ascreech,abell,andtworedeyescomeglidingdowntheAdmiraltyPierwitha smoothness ofmotion renderedmore smoothbytheheavingoftheboat.Theseamakesnoisesagainstthepier,asifseveralhippopotamiwerelappingatit,andwerepreventedbycircumstancesoverwhichtheyhadnocontrolfromdrinkingpeaceably.We,theboat,becomeviolentlyagitated—rumble,hum,scream,roar,andestablishanimmensefamilywashing-dayateachpaddle-box.Brightpatchesbreakoutinthetrainasthedoorsofthepost-officevansareopened,andinstantlystoopingfigureswithsacksupontheirbacksbegintobebeheldamongthepiles,descendingasitwouldseeminghostlyprocessiontoDavyJones’sLocker.Thepassengerscomeonboard;afewshadowyFrenchmen,withhatboxesshaped like thestoppersofgiganticcase-bottles;afewshadowyGermansinimmensefurcoatsandboots;afewshadowyEnglishmenpreparedfortheworstandpretendingnottoexpectit.Icannotdisguisefrommyuncommercialmindthemiserablefactthatweareabodyofoutcasts;thattheattendantsonusareasscantinnumberasmayservetogetridofuswiththeleastpossibledelay;thattherearenonight-loungersinterestedinus;thattheunwillinglampsshiverandshudderatus;thatthesoleobject is to commit us to the deep and abandon us. Lo, the two red eyesglaring in increasingdistance, and then thevery train itself hasgone tobedbeforeweareoff!Whatisthemoralsupportderivedbysomesea-goingamateursfromanumbrella?WhydocertainvoyagersacrosstheChannelalwaysputupthatarticle,andholditupwithagrimandfiercetenacity?Afellow-creaturenearme—whomIonlyknowtobeafellow-creature,becauseofhisumbrella:withoutwhichhemightbeadarkbitofcliff,pier,orbulkbead—clutches thatinstrumentwithadesperategrasp,thatwillnotrelaxuntilhelandsatCalais.Isthereanyanalogy,incertainconstitutions,betweenkeepinganumbrellaup,andkeepingthespiritsup?A hawser thrown on board with a flop replies‘Standby!’‘Standby,below!’‘Half a turn a head!’‘Half a turn a head!’‘Halfspeed!’‘Halfspeed!’‘Port!’‘Port!’‘Steady!’‘Steady!’‘Goon!’‘Goon!’Astoutwoodenwedgedriveninatmyrighttempleandoutatmyleft,afloatingdepositoflukewarmoilinmythroat,andacompressionofthebridge

ofmynoseinabluntpairofpincers,—thesearethepersonalsensationsbywhichIknowweareoff,andbywhichIshallcontinuetoknowituntilIamonthesoilofFrance.Mysymptomshavescarcelyestablishedthemselvescomfortably,whentwoorthreeskatingshadowsthathavebeentryingtowalkorstand,getflungtogether,andothertwoorthreeshadowsintarpaulinslidewiththemintocornersandcoverthemup.ThentheSouthForelandlightsbegintohiccupatusinawaythatbodesnogood.ItisataboutthisperiodthatmydetestationofCalaisknowsnobounds.InwardlyIresolveafreshthatIneverwillforgivethathatedtown.Ihavedonesobefore,manytimes,butthatispast.Letmeregisteravow.ImplacableanimositytoCalaiseverm-thatwasanawkwardsea, and the funnel seemsofmyopinion,foritgivesacomplainingroar.ThewindblowsstifflyfromtheNor-East,thesearunshigh,weshipadealofwater,thenightisdarkandcold,andtheshapelesspassengerslieaboutinmelancholybundles,asiftheyweresortedoutforthelaundress;butformyownuncommercialpartIcannotpretendthatIammuchinconveniencedbyanyofthesethings.Ageneralhowling,whistling,flopping,gurgling,andscooping,Iamawareof,andageneralknockingaboutofNature;buttheimpressionsIreceiveareveryvague.Inasweetfainttemper,somethinglikethesmellofdamagedoranges,IthinkIshouldfeellanguidlybenevolentifIhadtime.Ihavenottime,becauseIamunderacuriouscompulsiontooccupymyselfwiththeIrishmelodies.‘Richandrarewerethegemsshewore,’istheparticularmelodytowhichIfindmyselfdevoted.Isingittomyselfinthemostcharmingmannerandwiththegreatestexpression.Nowandthen,Iraisemyhead(Iamsittingonthehardestofwetseats,inthemostuncomfortableofwetattitudes,butIdon’tmindit,)andnoticethatIamawhirlingshuttlecockbetweenafierybattledoreofalighthouseontheFrenchcoastandafierybattledoreofalighthouseontheEnglishcoast;butIdon’tnoticeitparticularly,excepttofeelenvenomedinmyhatredofCalais.ThenIgoonagain,‘Richandrarewerethege-emsshe-e-e-ewore,Andabrightgoldringonherwa-andshebo-ore,ButOherbeautywasfa-a-a-a-rbeyond’—Iamparticularlyproudofmyexecutionhere,whenIbecomeawareofanotherawkwardshockfromthesea,andanotherprotestfromthefunnel,andafellow-creatureatthepaddle-boxmoreaudiblyindisposedthanIthinkheneedbe—‘Hersparklinggems,orsnow-whitewand,ButOher beauty was fa-a-a-a-a-r beyond’—another awkward one here, and the fellow-creaturewith theumbrella 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 selfishlyaudible,bump,roar,wash,whitewand.’AsmyexecutionoftheIrishmelodiespartakesofmyimperfectperceptionsof

whatisgoingonaroundme,sowhatisgoingonaroundmebecomessomethingelsethanwhatitis.Thestokersopenthefurnacedoorsbelow,tofeedthefires,andIamagainontheboxoftheoldExeterTelegraphfastcoach,andthatisthelightoftheforeverextinguishedcoach-lamps,andthegleamonthehatchesandpaddle-boxesistheirgleamoncottagesandhaystacks,andthemonotonousnoiseoftheenginesisthesteadyjingleofthesplendidteam.Anon,theintermittentfunnelroarofprotestateveryviolentroll,becomestheregularblastofahighpressureengine,andIrecognisetheexceedinglyexplosivesteamerinwhichIascendedtheMississippiwhentheAmericancivilwarwasnot,andwhenonlyitscauseswere.Afragmentofmastonwhichthelightofalanternfalls,anendofrope,andajerkingblockorso,becomesuggestiveofFranconi’sCircusatPariswhereIshallbethisverynightmayhap(foritmustbemorningnow),andtheydancetotheself-sametimeandtuneasthetrainedsteed,BlackRaven.Whatmaybethespecialityofthesewavesastheycomerushingon,Icannotdesertthepressingdemandsmadeuponmebythegemsshewore,toinquire,buttheyarechargedwithsomethingaboutRobinsonCrusoe,andIthinkitwasinYarmouthRoadsthathefirstwentaseafaringandwasnearfoundering(whataterrificsoundthatwordhadformewhenIwasaboy!)inhisfirstgaleofwind.Still,throughallthis,Imustaskher(whowassheIwonder!)forthefiftiethtime,andwithouteverstopping,Doesshenotfeartostray,Soloneandlovelythroughthisbleakway,AndareErin’ssonssogoodorsocold,Asnottobetemptedbymorefellow-creaturesatthepaddle-boxorgold?SirKnightIfeelnottheleastalarm,NosonofErinwilloffermeharm,Forthoughtheylovefellow-creaturewithumbrelladownagainandgoldenstore,SirKnighttheywhatatremendousonelovehonourandvirtuemore:ForthoughtheyloveStewardswithabull’seyebright,they’lltroubleyouforyourticket,sir-roughpassageto-night!Ifreelyadmitittobeamiserablepieceofhumanweaknessandinconsistency,butInosoonerbecomeconsciousofthoselastwordsfromthestewardthanIbegintosoftentowardsCalais.WhereasIhavebeenvindictivelywishingthatthoseCalaisburgherswhocameoutoftheirtownbyashortcutintotheHistoryofEngland,withthosefatalropesroundtheirnecksbywhichtheyhavesincebeentowedintosomanycartoons,hadallbeenhangedonthespot,Inowbegintoregardthemashighlyrespectableandvirtuoustradesmen.Lookingaboutme,IseethelightofCapeGrinezwellasternoftheboatonthedavitstoleeward,andthelightofCalaisHarbourundeniablyatitsoldtricks,butstillaheadandshining.SentimentsofforgivenessofCalais,nottosayofattachmenttoCalais,begintoexpandmybosom.IhaveweaknotionsthatIwillstaythereadayortwoonmywayback.Afadedandrecumbentstrangerpausing inaprofoundreverieover the rimofabasin,asksmewhatkindofplaceCalaisis?Itellhim(Heavenforgiveme!)averyagreeableplaceindeed

—ratherhillythanotherwise.Sostrangelygoesthetime,andonthewholesoquickly—thoughstillIseemtohavebeenonboardaweek—thatIambumped,rolled,gurgled,washedandpitched intoCalaisHarbour before hermaiden smile has finally lighted herthrough theGreen Isle,When blest for ever is shewho relied,On enteringCalais at the top of the tide. Forwe have not to land to-night down amongthose slimy timbers—covered with green hair as if it were the mermaids’favouritecombing-place—whereonecrawlstothesurfaceofthejetty, likeastranded shrimp, butwe go steaming up the harbour to theRailwayStationQuay.Andaswego,theseawashesinandoutamongpilesandplanks,withdeadheavybeatsandinquiteafuriousmanner(whereofweareproud),andthelampsshakeinthewind,andthebellsofCalaisstrikingOneseemtosendtheir vibrations struggling against troubled air, as we have come strugglingagainst troubled water. And now, in the sudden relief and wiping of faces,everybodyonboardseemstohavehadaprodigiousdouble-toothout,andtobethisveryinstantfreeoftheDentist’shands.Andnowweallknowforthefirsttimehowwetandcoldweare,andhowsaltweare;andnowIloveCalaiswithmyheartofhearts!‘HôtelDessin!’(butinthisonecaseitisnotavocalcry;itisbutabrightlustreintheeyesofthecheeryrepresentativeofthatbestofinns).‘HôtelMeurice!’‘HôteldeFrance!’‘HôteldeCalais!’‘TheRoyalHotel,Sir,Angaisheouse!’‘YougoingtoParry,Sir?’‘Yourbaggage, registair froo,Sir?’Blessye,myTouters,blessye,mycommissionaires,blessye,myhungry-eyedmysteriesincapsofamilitaryform,whoarealwayshere,dayornight,fairweatherorfoul,seekinginscrutablejobswhichIneverseeyouget!Blessye,myCustomHouseofficersingreenandgrey;permitmetograspthewelcomehandsthatdescendintomytravelling-bag,oneoneachside,andmeetatthebottomtogivemychangeoflinenapeculiarshakeup,asifitwereameasureofchafforgrain!Ihavenothingtodeclare,MonsieurleDouanier,exceptthatwhenIceasetobreathe,Calaiswillbefoundwrittenonmyheart.Noarticle liable tolocal duty haveIwithme,Monsieurl’Officierdel’Octroi,unlesstheoverflowingofabreastdevotedtoyourcharmingtownshouldbeinthatwisechargeable.Ah!seeatthegangwaybythetwinklinglantern,mydearestbrotherandfriend,heonceofthePassportOffice,hewhocollectsthenames!Mayhebeforeverchangelessinhisbuttonedblacksurtout,withhisnote-bookinhishand,andhistallblackhat,surmountinghisround,smiling,patientface!Letusembrace,mydearestbrother.Iamyoursàtoutjamais—forthewholeofever.Calaisupanddoingattherailwaystation,andCalaisdownanddreaminginitsbed;Calaiswithsomethingof‘anancientandfish-likesmell’aboutit,and

Calaisblownandsea-washedpure;CalaisrepresentedattheBuffetbysavouryroast fowls, hot coffee, cognac, and Bordeaux; and Calais representedeverywhere by flitting persons with a monomania for changing money—thoughInevershallbeabletounderstandinmypresentstateofexistencehowtheylivebyit,butIsupposeIshould,ifIunderstoodthecurrencyquestion—Calaisengros,andCalaisendétail,forgiveonewhohasdeeplywrongedyou.—Iwasnotfullyawareofitontheotherside,butImeantDover.Ding,ding!To the carriages, gentlemen the travellers.Ascendthen,gentlementhetravellers,forHazebroucke,Lille,Douai,Bruxelles,Arras,Amiens,andParis!I,humblerepresentativeoftheuncommercialinterest,ascendwiththerest.Thetrainislightto-night,andIsharemycompartmentwithbuttwofellow-travellers;one,acompatriotinanobsoletecravat,whothinksitaquiteunaccountablethingthattheydon’tkeep‘Londontime’onaFrenchrailway,andwhoismadeangrybymymodestlysuggestingthepossibilityofParistimebeingmoreintheirway;theother,ayoungpriest,withaverysmallbirdinaverysmallcage,whofeedsthesmallbirdwithaquill,andthenputshimupinthenetworkabovehishead,whereheadvancestwittering,tohisfrontwires,andseemstoaddressmeinanelectioneeringmanner.Thecompatriot(whocrossedintheboat,andwhomIjudgetobesomepersonofdistinction,ashewasshutup,likeastatelyspeciesofrabbit,inaprivatehutchondeck)andtheyoungpriest(whojoinedusatCalais)aresoonasleep,andthenthebirdandIhaveitalltoourselves.Astormynightstill;anightthatsweepsthewiresoftheelectrictelegraphwithawild and fitful hand; a night so very stormy,with the added storm of thetrain-progress through it, that when the Guard comes clambering round tomarktheticketswhileweareatfullspeed(areallyhorribleperformanceinanexpress train, though he holds on to the openwindowby his elbows in themostdeliberatemanner),hestandsinsuchawhirlwindthatIgriphimfastbythecollar,andfeelitnexttomanslaughtertolethimgo.Still,whenheisgone,the small, small bird remains at his front wires feebly twittering to me—twitteringandtwittering,until,leaningbackinmyplaceandlookingathimindrowsyfascination,Ifindthatheseemstojogmymemoryaswerushalong.Uncommercialtravels(thusthesmall,smallbird)havelainintheiridlethriftlesswaythroughallthisrangeofswampanddyke,asthroughmanyotheroddplaces;andabouthere,asyouverywellknow,arethequeeroldstonefarm-houses,approachedbydrawbridges,andthewindmillsthatyougetatbyboats.Here,arethelandswherethewomenhoeanddig,paddlingcanoe-wisefromfieldtofield,andherearethecabaretsandotherpeasant-houseswherethestonedove-cotesinthelitteredyardsareasstrongaswarders’towersinoldcastles.Here,arethelongmonotonousmilesofcanal,

withthegreatDutch-builtbargesgarishlypainted,andthetowinggirls,sometimesharnessedbythe forehead, sometimes by the girdle and theshoulders, not a pleasant sight to see. Scattered through this country aremightyworks ofVAUBAN,whom you know about, and regiments of suchcorporals asyouheardofonceupona time, andmanyablue-eyedBebelle.Through these flat districts, in the shining summer days, walk those long,grotesque files of young novices in enormous shovel-hats, whom yourememberblackeningthegroundcheckeredbytheavenuesofleafytrees.Andnow thatHazebroucke slumbers certainkilometres ahead, recall the summereveningwhenyourdustyfeetstrollingupfromthestationtendedhap-hazardtoaFair there,where theoldest inhabitantswerecirclingroundandroundabarrel-organ on hobby-horses, with the greatest gravity, and where theprincipalshowintheFairwasaReligiousRichardson’s—literally,onitsownannouncement ingreat letters,THEATRERELIGIEUX.Inwhich improvingTemple, the dramatic representationwas of ‘all the interesting events in thelifeofourLord,fromtheMangertotheTomb;’theprincipalfemalecharacter,without any reservation or exception, being at the moment of your arrival,engagedintrimmingtheexternalModerators(asitwasgrowingdusk),whilethenextprincipalfemalecharactertookthemoney,andtheYoungSaintJohndisportedhimselfupsidedownontheplatform.Lookingupatthispointtoconfirmthesmall,smallbirdineveryparticularhehasmentioned,Ifindhehasceasedtotwitter,andhasputhisheadunderhiswing.Therefore,inmydifferentwayIfollowthegoodexample.

CHAPTERXIX—SOMERECOLLECTIONSOFMORTALITYI had parted from the small bird at somewhere about four o’clock in themorning,whenhehadgotoutatArras,andhadbeenreceivedbytwoshovel-hats inwaiting at the station,who presented an appropriately ornithologicaland crow-like appearance. My compatriot and I had gone on to Paris; mycompatriot enlightening me occasionally with a long list of the enormousgrievancesofFrenchrailwaytravelling:everyoneofwhich,asIamasinner,was perfectly new to me, though I have as much experience of Frenchrailwaysasmostuncommercials. Ihad lefthimat the terminus (throughhisconviction, against all explanation and remonstrance, that his baggage-ticketwashispassenger-ticket),insistinginaveryhightempertothefunctionaryonduty,thatinhisownpersonalidentityhewasfourpackagesweighingsomanykilogrammes—asifhehadbeenCassimBaba!Ihadbathedandbreakfasted,andwasstrollingonthebrightquays.Thesubjectofmymeditationswasthequestion whether it is positively in the essence and nature of things, as acertain school of Britons would seem to think it, that a Capital must beensnaredandenslavedbefore it canbemadebeautiful:when I liftedupmy

eyesandfoundthatmyfeet,strayinglikemymind,hadbroughtmetoNotre-Dame.That is tosay,Notre-Damewasbeforeme,but therewasa largeopenspacebetween us. A very little while gone, I had left that space covered withbuildingsdenselycrowded;andnowitwasclearedforsomenewwonder inthewayofpublicStreet,Place,Garden,Fountain,orallfour.OnlytheobscenelittleMorgue,slinkingonthebrinkoftheriverandsoontocomedown,wasleftthere,lookingmortallyashamedofitself,andsupremelywicked.Ihadbutglanced at this old acquaintance, when I beheld an airy procession cominground in frontofNotre-Dame,past thegreathospital. Ithad somethingofaMasaniellolook,withflutteringstripedcurtainsinthemidstofit,anditcamedancingroundthecathedralintheliveliestmanner.IwasspeculatingonamarriageinBlouse-life,oraChristening,orsomeotherdomestic festivitywhich Iwould see out,when I found, from the talk of aquick rush of Blouses past me, that it was a Body coming to theMorgue.Having never before chanced upon this initiation, I constituted myself aBlouselikewise,andranintotheMorguewiththerest.Itwasaverymuddyday,andwetookinaquantityofmirewithus,andtheprocessioncominginupon our heels brought a quantitymore. The processionwas in the highestspirits,andconsistedofidlerswhohadcomewiththecurtainedlitterfromitsstarting-place,andofallthereinforcementsithadpickedupbytheway.Itsetthe litter down in the midst of the Morgue, and then two Custodiansproclaimed aloud that we were all ‘invited’ to go out. This invitation wasrenderedthemorepressing,ifnotthemoreflattering,byourbeingshovedout,andthefolding-gatesbeingbarreduponus.ThosewhohaveneverseentheMorgue,mayseeitperfectly,bypresentingtothemselvesonindifferentlypavedcoach-houseaccessiblefromthestreetbyapairoffolding-gates;ontheleftofthecoach-house,occupyingitswidth,anylarge London tailor’s or linendraper’s plate-glass window reaching to theground;within thewindow, on two rowsof inclined plane,what the coach-househastoshow;hangingabove,likeirregularstalactitesfromtheroofofacave,aquantityofclothes—theclothesof thedeadandburiedshowsof thecoach-house.WehadbeenexcitedinthehighestdegreebyseeingtheCustodianspullofftheircoatsandtuckuptheirshirt-sleeves,astheprocessioncamealong.Itlookedsointerestinglylikebusiness.Shutoutinthemuddystreet,wenowbecamequiteravenoustoknowallaboutit.Wasitriver,pistol,knife,love,gambling,robbery,hatred,howmanystabs,howmanybullets,freshordecomposed,suicideormurder?Allwedgedtogether,andallstaringatoneanotherwithourheadsthrustforward,wepropoundedtheseinquiriesanda

hundredmoresuch.Imperceptibly,itcametobeknownthatMonsieurthetallandsallowmasonyonder,wasacquaintedwiththefacts.WouldMonsieurthetallandsallowmason,surgedatbyanewwaveofus,havethegoodnesstoimpart?Itwasbutapooroldman,passingalongthestreetunderoneofthenewbuildings,onwhomastonehadfallen,andwhohadtumbleddead.Hisage?Anotherwavesurgedupagainstthetallandsallowmason,andourwavesweptonandbroke,andhewasanyagefromsixty-fivetoninety.An old man was not much: moreover, we could have wished he had beenkilledbyhumanagency—hisown,orsomebodyelse’s:thelatter,preferable—but our comfort was, that he had nothing about him to lead to hisidentification, and that his people must seek him here. Perhaps they werewaitingdinner forhimevennow?We liked that.Such of us as had pocket-handkerchiefs took a slow, intense, protracted wipe at our noses, and thencrammedourhandkerchiefs into thebreastofourblouses.Othersofuswhohadnohandkerchiefsadministeredasimilarrelieftoouroverwroughtminds,bymeans of prolonged smears orwipes of ourmouths on our sleeves.Onemanwithagloomymalformationofbrow—ahomicidalworkerinwhite-lead,to judge from his blue tone of colour, and a certain flavour of paralysispervading him—got his coat-collar between his teeth, and bit at it with anappetite.Severaldecentwomenarrivedupon theoutskirtsof thecrowd,andpreparedtolaunchthemselvesintothedismalcoach-housewhenopportunityshould come; among them, a pretty young mother, pretending to bite theforefingerofherbaby-boy,keptitbetweenherrosylipsthatitmightbehandyforguidingtopointattheshow.Meantime,allfaceswereturnedtowardsthebuilding,andwemenwaitedwithafixedandsternresolution:-forthemostpartwithfoldedarms.Surely,itwastheonlypublicFrenchsighttheseuncommercialeyeshadseen,atwhichtheexpectantpeopledidnotformenqueue.Buttherewasnosuchorderofarrangementhere;nothingbutageneraldeterminationtomakearushforit,andadispositiontoobjecttosomeboyswhohadmountedonthetwostonepostsbythehingesofthegates,withthedesignofswoopinginwhenthehingesshouldturn.Now,theyturned,andwerushed!Great pressure, and a scream or two fromthefront.Then a laugh or two, some expressions of disappointment, and aslackeningofthepressureandsubsidenceofthestruggle.—Oldmannotthere.‘Butwhatwouldyouhave?’theCustodianreasonablyargues,ashelooksoutathislittledoor.‘Patience, patience!Wemakehistoilette,gentlemen.Hewillbeexposedpresently.Itisnecessarytoproceedaccordingtorule.Histoiletteisnotmadeallatablow.Hewillbeexposedingoodtime,gentlemen,ingoodtime.’Andsoretires,smoking,withawaveofhissleevelessarmtowardsthewindow,importing,‘Entertainyourselvesinthemeanwhilewith

theothercuriosities.FortunatelytheMuseumisnotemptyto-day.’WhowouldhavethoughtofpublicficklenessevenattheMorgue?Butthereitwas,onthatoccasion.Threelatelypopulararticlesthathadbeenattractinggreatlywhenthelitterwasfirstdescriedcomingdancingroundthecornerbythegreatcathedral, were so completely deposed now, that nobody save twolittlegirls(oneshowingthemtoadoll)wouldlookat them.Yetthechiefofthe three, the article in the front row, had received jagged injury of the lefttemple;andtheothertwointhebackrow,thedrownedtwolyingsidebysidewith their heads very slightly turned towards each other, seemed to becomparingnotesaboutit.Indeed,thosetwoofthebackrowweresofurtiveofappearance,andso(intheirpuffedway)assassinatinglyknowingastotheoneofthefront,thatitwashardtothinkthethreehadnevercometogetherintheirlives,andwereonlychancecompanionsafterdeath.Whetherorno thiswasthegeneral,asitwastheuncommercial,fancy,itisnottobedisputedthatthegroup had drawn exceedingly within ten minutes. Yet now, the inconstantpublic turned its back upon them, and even leaned its elbows carelesslyagainstthebaroutsidethewindowandshookoffthemudfromitsshoes,andalsolentandborrowedfireforpipes.Custodianre-entersfromhisdoor.‘Againonce,gentlemen,youareinvited—’Nofurtherinvitationnecessary.Readydashintothestreet.Toilettefinished.Oldmancomingout.Thistime,theinterestwasgrowntoohottoadmitoftolerationoftheboysonthe stone posts. The homicidalwhite-leadworkermade a pounce upon oneboywhowas hoisting himself up, and brought him to earth amidst generalcommendation. Closely stowed as we were, we yet formed into groups—groupsofconversation,withoutseparationfromthemass—todiscusstheoldman.Rivalsofthetallandsallowmasonsprangintobeing,andhereagainwaspopular inconstancy. These rivals attracted audiences, and were greedilylistenedto;andwhereastheyhadderivedtheirinformationsolelyfromthetallandsallowone,officiousmembersofthecrowdnowsoughttoenlightenhimontheirauthority.Changedbythissocialexperienceintoaniron-visagedandinveteratemisanthrope,themasonglaredatmankind,andevidentlycherishedin his breast thewish that thewhole of the present company could changeplaceswiththedeceasedoldman.Andnowlistenersbecameinattentive,andpeoplemadeastartforwardataslightsound,andanunholyfirekindledinthepubliceye,andthosenextthegatesbeatatthemimpatiently,asiftheywereofthecannibalspeciesandhungry.Againthehingescreaked,andwerushed.Disorderlypressureforsometimeensuedbeforetheuncommercialunitgotfiguredintothefrontrowofthesum.Itwasstrangetoseesomuchheatanduproarseethingaboutonepoorspare,

white-hairedoldman,quietforevermore.Hewascalmoffeatureandundisfigured,ashelayonhisback—havingbeenstruckuponthehinderpartofhishead,andthrownforward—andsomethinglikeatearortwohadstartedfromtheclosedeyes,andlaywetupontheface.Theuncommercialinterest,satedataglance,directeditselfuponthestrivingcrowdoneithersideandbehind:wonderingwhetheronemighthaveguessed,fromtheexpressionofthosefacesmerely,whatkindofsighttheywerelookingat.Thedifferencesofexpressionwerenotmany.Therewasalittlepity,butnotmuch,andthatmostlywithaselfishtouchinit—aswhowouldsay,‘ShallI,poorI,looklikethat,whenthetimecomes!’Therewasmoreofasecretlybroodingcontemplationandcuriosity,as‘ThatmanIdon’tlike,andhavethegrudgeagainst;wouldsuchbehisappearance,ifsomeone—nottomentionnames—byanychancegavehimanknock?’Therewasawolfishstareattheobject,inwhichhomicidalwhite-leadworkershoneconspicuous.Andtherewasamuchmoregeneral,purposeless,vacantstaringatit—likelookingatwaxwork,withoutacatalogue,andnotknowingwhattomakeofit.Butalltheseexpressionsconcurredinpossessingtheoneunderlyingexpressionoflookingatsomethingthatcouldnotreturnalook.Theuncommercialnoticehadestablishedthisasveryremarkable,whenanewpressureallatoncecomingupfromthestreetpinionedhimignominiously,andhurriedhimintothearms(nowsleevedagain)oftheCustodiansmokingathisdoor,andansweringquestions,betweenpuffs,withacertainplacidmeritoriousairofnotbeingproud,thoughhighinoffice.Andmentioningpride,itmaybeobserved,bytheway,thatonecouldnotwellhelpinvestingtheoriginalsoleoccupantofthefrontrowwithanairdepreciatoryofthelegitimateattractionofthepooroldman:whilethetwointhesecondrowseemedtoexultatthissupersededpopularity.PacingpresentlyroundthegardenoftheTowerofSt.JacquesdelaBoucherie,andpresentlyagaininfrontoftheHôteldeVille,Icalledtomindacertaindesolateopen-airMorguethatIhappenedtolightuponinLondon,onedayinthehardwinterof1861,andwhichseemedasstrangetome,atthetimeofseeingit,asifIhadfounditinChina.Towardsthathourofawinter’safternoonwhenthelamp-lightersarebeginningtolightthelampsinthestreetsalittlebeforetheyarewanted,becausethedarknessthickensfastandsoon,IwaswalkinginfromthecountryonthenorthernsideoftheRegent’sPark—hardfrozenanddeserted—whenIsawanemptyHansomcabdriveuptothelodgeatGloucester-gate,andthedriverwithgreatagitationcalltothemanthere:whoquicklyreachedalongpolefromatree,and,deftlycollaredbythedriver,jumpedtothestepofhislittleseat,andsotheHansomrattledoutatthegate,gallopingovertheiron-boundroad.Ifollowedrunning,thoughnotsofastbutthatwhenIcametotheright-handCanalBridge,nearthecross-pathtoChalkFarm,theHansomwasstationary,thehorsewassmokinghot,the

longpolewasidleontheground,andthedriverandthepark-keeperwerelookingoverthebridgeparapet.Lookingovertoo,Isaw,lyingonthetowing-pathwithherfaceturneduptowardsus,awoman,deadadayortwo,andunderthirty,asIguessed,poorlydressedinblack.Thefeetwerelightlycrossedattheankles,andthedarkhair,allpushedbackfromtheface,asthoughthathadbeenthelastactionofherdesperatehands,streamedovertheground.Dabbledallabouther,wasthewaterandthebrokenicethathaddroppedfromherdress,andhadsplashedasshewasgotout.Thepolicemanwhohadjustgotherout,andthepassingcostermongerwhohadhelpedhim,werestandingnearthebody;thelatterwiththatstareatitwhichIhavelikenedtobeingatawaxworkexhibitionwithoutacatalogue;theformer,lookingoverhisstock,withprofessionalstiffnessandcoolness,inthedirectioninwhichthebearershehadsentforwereexpected.Sodreadfullyforlorn,sodreadfullysad,sodreadfullymysterious,thisspectacleofourdearsisterheredeparted!Abargecameup,breakingthefloatingiceandthesilence,andawomansteeredit.Themanwiththehorsethattowedit,caredsolittleforthebody,thatthestumblinghoofshadbeenamongthehair,andthetow-ropehadcaughtandturnedthehead,beforeourcryofhorrortookhimtothebridle.Atwhichsoundthesteeringwomanlookedupatusonthebridge,withcontemptunutterable,andthenlookingdownatthebodywithasimilarexpression—asifitweremadeinanotherlikenessfromherself,hadbeeninformedwithotherpassions,hadbeenlostbyotherchances,hadhadanothernaturedraggeddowntoperdition—steeredaspurningstreakofmudatit,andpassedon.A better experience, but also of theMorgue kind, in which chance happilymademeusefulinaslightdegree,arosetomyremembranceasItookmywaybytheBoulevarddeSébastopoltothebrighterscenesofParis.Thethinghappened,sayfive-and-twentyyearsago.Iwasamodestyounguncommercialthen,andtimidandinexperienced.Manysunsandwindshavebrownedmeintheline,butthoseweremypaledays.Havingnewlytakentheleaseofahouseinacertaindistinguishedmetropolitanparish—ahousewhichthenappearedtometobeafrightfullyfirst-classFamilyMansion,involvingawfulresponsibilities—IbecamethepreyofaBeadle.IthinktheBeadlemusthaveseenmegoinginorcomingout,andmusthaveobservedthatItotteredundertheweightofmygrandeur.OrhemayhavebeeninhidingunderstrawwhenIboughtmyfirsthorse(inthedesirablestable-yardattachedtothefirst-classFamilyMansion),andwhenthevendorremarkedtome,inanoriginalmanner,onbringinghimforapproval,takinghisclothoffandsmackinghim,‘There,Sir!There’saOrse!’AndwhenIsaidgallantly,‘Howmuchdoyouwantforhim?’andwhenthevendorsaid,‘Nomorethansixtyguineas,fromyou,’andwhenIsaidsmartly,‘Whynotmorethansixtyfromme?’Andwhen

hesaidcrushingly,‘Becauseuponmysoulandbodyhe’dbeconsideredcheapatseventy,byonewhounderstoodthesubject—butyoudon’t.’—Isay,theBeadlemayhavebeeninhidingunderstraw,whenthisdisgracebefellme,orhemayhavenotedthatIwastoorawandyounganAtlastocarrythefirst-classFamilyMansioninaknowingmanner.Bethisasitmay,theBeadledidwhatMelancholydidtotheyouthinGray’sElegy—hemarkedmeforhisown.AndthewayinwhichtheBeadledidit,wasthis:hesummonedmeasaJurymanonhisCoroner’sInquests.InmyfirstfeverishalarmIrepaired‘forsafetyandforsuccour’—likethosesagaciousNorthernshepherdswho,havinghadnopreviousreasonwhatevertobelieveinyoungNorval,veryprudentlydidnotoriginatethehazardousideaofbelievinginhim—toadeephouseholder.ThisprofoundmaninformedmethattheBeadlecountedonmybuyinghimoff;onmybribinghimnottosummon me; and that if I would attend an Inquest with a cheerfulcountenance,andprofessalacrity in thatbranchofmycountry’sservice, theBeadlewouldbedisheartened,andwouldgiveupthegame.I roused my energies, and the next time the wily Beadle summoned me, Iwent. The Beadle was the blankest Beadle I have ever looked on when Ianswered tomyname; andhis discomfiture gaveme courage to go throughwithit.Wewereimpanelledtoinquireconcerningthedeathofaverylittlemiteofachild.Itwas theoldmiserablestory.Whether themotherhadcommitted theminoroffenceofconcealingthebirth,orwhethershehadcommittedthemajoroffenceofkilling thechild,was thequestiononwhichwewerewanted.Wemustcommitherononeofthetwoissues.TheInquestcameoffintheparishworkhouse,andIhaveyetalivelyimpressionthatIwasunanimouslyreceivedbymybrotherJurymenasabrotheroftheutmostconceivableinsignificance.Also,thatbeforewebegan,abrokerwhohadlatelycheatedmefearfullyinthematterofapairofcard-tables,wasfortheutmostrigourofthelaw.Irememberthatwesatinasortofboard-room,onsuchverylargesquarehorse-hairchairsthatIwonderedwhatraceofPatagonianstheyweremadefor;andfurther,thatanundertakergavemehiscardwhenwewereinthefullmoralfreshnessofhavingjustbeensworn,as‘aninhabitantthatwasnewlycomeintotheparish,andwaslikelytohaveayoungfamily.’ThecasewasthenstatedtousbytheCoroner,andthenwewentdown-stairs—ledbytheplottingBeadle—toviewthebody.Fromthatdaytothis,thepoorlittlefigure,onwhichthatsoundinglegalappellationwasbestowed,haslaininthesameplaceandwiththesamesurroundings,tomythinking.Inakindofcryptdevotedtothewarehousingoftheparochialcoffins,andinthemidstofaperfectPanoramaofcoffinsofallsizes,itwas

stretchedonabox;themotherhadputitinherbox—thisbox—almostassoonasitwasborn,andithadbeenpresentlyfoundthere.Ithadbeenopened,andneatlysewnup,andregardedfromthatpointofview,itlookedlikeastuffedcreature.Itrestedonacleanwhitecloth,withasurgicalinstrumentorsoathand,andregardedfromthatpointofview,itlookedasiftheclothwere‘laid,’andtheGiantwerecomingtodinner.Therewasnothingrepellentaboutthepoorpieceofinnocence,anditdemandedamereformoflookingat.So,welookedatanoldpauperwhowasgoingaboutamongthecoffinswithafootrule,asifhewereacaseofSelf-Measurement;andwelookedatoneanother;andwesaidtheplacewaswellwhitewashedanyhow;andthenourconversationalpowersasaBritishJuryflagged,andtheforemansaid,‘Allright,gentlemen?Backagain,Mr.Beadle!’Themiserableyoungcreaturewhohadgivenbirthtothischildwithinaveryfew days, and who had cleaned the cold wet door-steps immediatelyafterwards,wasbroughtbeforeuswhenweresumedourhorse-hairchairs,andwaspresentduringtheproceedings.Shehadahorse-hairchairherself,beingveryweakandill;andIrememberhowsheturnedtotheunsympatheticnursewhoattendedher,andwhomighthavebeenthefigure-headofapauper-ship,andhowshehidherfaceandsobsandtearsuponthatwoodenshoulder.Iremember,too,howhardhermistresswasuponher(shewasaservant-of-all-work),andwithwhatacruelpertinacitythatpieceofVirtuespunherthreadofevidencedouble,byintertwistingitwiththesternestthreadofconstruction.Smittenhardbytheterriblelowwailfromtheutterlyfriendlessorphangirl,whichneverceasedduringthewholeinquiry,Itookhearttoaskthiswitnessaquestionortwo,whichhopefullyadmittedofananswerthatmightgiveafavourableturntothecase.Shemadetheturnaslittlefavourableasitcouldbe,butitdidsomegood,andtheCoroner,whowasnoblypatientandhumane(hewasthelateMr.Wakley),castalookofstrongencouragementinmydirection.Then,wehadthedoctorwhohadmadetheexamination,andtheusualtestsastowhetherthechildwasbornalive;buthewasatimid,muddle-headeddoctor,andgotconfusedandcontradictory,andwouldn’tsaythis,andcouldn’tanswerforthat,andtheimmaculatebrokerwastoomuchforhim,andoursideslidbackagain.However,Itriedagain,andtheCoronerbackedmeagain,forwhichIeverafterwardsfeltgratefultohimasIdonowtohismemory;andwegotanotherfavourableturn,outofsomeotherwitness,somememberofthefamilywithastrongprepossessionagainstthesinner;andIthinkwehadthedoctorbackagain;andIknowthattheCoronersummedupforourside,andthatIandmyBritishbrothersturnedroundtodiscussourverdict,andgetourselvesintogreatdifficultieswithourlargechairsandthebroker.AtthatstageofthecaseItriedhardagain,beingconvincedthatIhadcauseforit;andatlastwefoundfortheminoroffenceofonlyconcealingthebirth;andthepoordesolatecreature,whohadbeentakenoutduringour

deliberation,beingbroughtinagaintobetoldoftheverdict,thendroppeduponherkneesbeforeus,withprotestationsthatwewereright—protestationsamongthemostaffectingthatIhaveeverheardinmylife—andwascarriedawayinsensible.(In private conversation after thiswas all over, theCoroner showedme hisreasonsasatrainedsurgeon,forperceivingit tobeimpossiblethat thechildcould,underthemostfavourablecircumstances,havedrawnmanybreaths,inthe very doubtful case of its having ever breathed at all; this, owing to thediscovery of some foreignmatter in thewindpipe, quite irreconcilablewithmanymomentsoflife.)Whentheagonisedgirlhadmadethosefinalprotestations,Ihadseenherface,anditwasinunisonwithherdistractedheartbrokenvoice,anditwasverymoving.Itcertainlydidnotimpressmebyanybeautythatithad,andifIeverseeitagaininanotherworldIshallonlyknowitbythehelpofsomenewsenseorintelligence.Butitcametomeinmysleepthatnight,andIselfishlydismisseditinthemostefficientwayIcouldthinkof.Icausedsomeextracaretobetakenofherintheprison,andcounseltoberetainedforherdefencewhenshewas triedat theOldBailey;andhersentencewas lenient,andherhistoryandconductprovedthatitwasright.IndoingthelittleIdidforher,Iremember to have had the kind help of some gentle-hearted functionary towhomIaddressedmyself—butwhatfunctionaryIhavelongforgotten—whoIsupposewasofficiallypresentattheInquest.I regard this as a very notable uncommercial experience, because this goodcameofaBeadle.Andtothebestofmyknowledge,information,andbelief,itistheonlygoodthateverdidcomeofaBeadlesincethefirstBeadleputonhiscocked-hat.

CHAPTERXX—BIRTHDAYCELEBRATIONSIt came intomymind that Iwould recall in these notes a few of themanyhostelries I have rested at in the course ofmy journeys; and, indeed, I hadtaken up my pen for the purpose, when I was baffled by an accidentalcircumstance. Itwas the having to leave off, towish the owner of a certainbright face that looked in at my door, ‘many happy returns of the day.’Thereuponanewthoughtcameintomymind,drivingitspredecessorout,andIbegantorecall—insteadofInns—thebirthdaysthatIhaveputupat,onmywaytothispresentsheetofpaper.Icanverywellrememberbeingtakenouttovisitsomepeach-facedcreaturein a blue sash, and shoes to correspond, whose life I supposed to consistentirelyofbirthdays.Uponseed-cake,sweetwine,andshiningpresents, that

glorifiedyoungpersonseemed tome tobeexclusively reared.AtsoearlyastageofmytravelsdidIassistattheanniversaryofhernativity(andbecomeenamouredofher),thatIhadnotyetacquiredthereconditeknowledgethatabirthdayisthecommonpropertyofallwhoareborn,butsupposedittobeaspecial gift bestowed by the favouring Heavens on that one distinguishedinfant.Therewasnoothercompany,andwesat ina shadybower—underatable, as my better (or worse) knowledge leads me to believe—and wereregaled with saccharine substances and liquids, until it was time to part. Abitterpowderwasadministeredtomenextmorning,andIwaswretched.Onthewhole,aprettyaccurateforeshadowingofmymorematureexperiencesinsuchwise!Thencamethetimewhen,inseparablefromone’sownbirthday,wasacertainsenseofmerit,aconsciousnessofwell-earneddistinction.When I regardedmy birthday as a graceful achievement of my own, a monument of myperseverance, independence, and good sense, redounding greatly to myhonour.ThiswasatabouttheperiodwhenOlympiaSquiresbecameinvolvedintheanniversary.Olympiawasmostbeautiful(ofcourse),andIlovedhertothatdegree,thatIusedtobeobligedtogetoutofmylittlebedinthenight,expresslytoexclaimtoSolitude,‘O,OlympiaSquires!’VisionsofOlympia,clothedentirelyinsage-green,fromwhichIinferadefectivelyeducatedtasteonthepartofherrespectedparents,whowerenecessarilyunacquaintedwiththeSouthKensingtonMuseum,stillarisebeforeme.Truthissacred,andthevisionsarecrownedbyashiningwhitebeaverbonnet,impossiblysuggestiveofalittlefemininepostboy.MymemorypresentsabirthdaywhenOlympiaandIweretakenbyanunfeelingrelative—somecrueluncle,orthelike—toaslowtorturecalledanOrrery.TheterribleinstrumentwassetupatthelocalTheatre,andIhadexpressedaprofanewishinthemorningthatitwasaPlay:forwhichaseriousaunthadprobedmyconsciencedeep,andmypocketdeeper,byreclaimingabestowedhalf-crown.ItwasavenerableandashabbyOrrery,atleastonethousandstarsandtwenty-fivecometsbehindtheage.Nevertheless,itwasawful.Whenthelow-spiritedgentlemanwithawandsaid,‘Ladiesandgentlemen’(meaningparticularlyOlympiaandme),‘thelightsareabouttobeputout,butthereisnottheslightestcauseforalarm,’itwasveryalarming.Thentheplanetsandstarsbegan.Sometimestheywouldn’tcomeon,sometimestheywouldn’tgooff,sometimestheyhadholesinthem,andmostlytheydidn’tseemtobegoodlikenesses.Allthistimethegentlemanwiththewandwasgoingoninthedark(tappingawayattheheavenlybodiesbetweenwhiles,likeawearisomewoodpecker),aboutasphererevolvingonitsownaxiseighthundredandninety-seventhousandmillionsoftimes—ormiles—intwohundredandsixty-threethousandfivehundredandtwenty-fourmillionsofsomethingelses,untilIthoughtifthiswasabirthdayitwerebetternevertohavebeenborn.Olympia,also,became

muchdepressed,andwebothslumberedandwokecross,andstillthegentlemanwasgoingoninthedark—whetherupinthestars,ordownonthestage,itwouldhavebeenhardtomakeout,ifithadbeenworthtrying—cypheringawayaboutplanesoforbits,tosuchaninfamousextentthatOlympia,stungtomadness,actuallykickedme.Aprettybirthdayspectacle,whenthelightswereturnedupagain,andalltheschoolsinthetown(includingtheNational,whohadcomeinfornothing,andservethemright,fortheywerealwaysthrowingstones)werediscoveredwithexhaustedcountenances,screwingtheirknucklesintotheireyes,orclutchingtheirheadsofhair.AprettybirthdayspeechwhenDr.SleekoftheCity-Freebobbeduphispowderedheadinthestage-box,andsaidthatbeforethisassemblydispersedhereallymustbegtoexpresshisentireapprovalofalectureasimproving,asinforming,asdevoidofanythingthatcouldcallablushintothecheekofyouth,asanyithadeverbeenhislottoheardelivered.Aprettybirthdayaltogether,whenAstronomycouldn’tleavepoorSmallOlympiaSquiresandmealone,butmustputanendtoourloves!For,wenevergotoverit;thethreadbareOrreryoutworeourmutualtenderness;themanwiththewandwastoomuchfortheboywiththebow.WhenshallIdisconnectthecombinedsmellsoforanges,brownpaper,andstraw,fromthoseotherbirthdaysatschool,whenthecominghampercastsitsshadowbefore,andwhenaweekofsocialharmony—shallIaddofadmiringandaffectionatepopularity—leduptothatInstitution?Whatnoblesentimentswereexpressedtomeinthedaysbeforethehamper,whatvowsoffriendshipweresworntome,whatexceedinglyoldknivesweregivenme,whatgenerousavowalsofhavingbeeninthewrongemanatedfromelseobstinatespiritsonceenrolledamongmyenemies!Thebirthdayofthepottedgameandguavajelly,isstillmadespecialtomebythenobleconductofBullyGlobson.LettersfromhomehadmysteriouslyinquiredwhetherIshouldbemuchsurprisedanddisappointedifamongthetreasuresinthecominghamperIdiscoveredpottedgame,andguavajellyfromtheWesternIndies.Ihadmentionedthosehintsinconfidencetoafewfriends,andhadpromisedtogiveaway,asInowseereasontobelieve,ahandsomecoveyofpartridgespotted,andaboutahundredweightofguavajelly.ItwasnowthatGlobson,Bullynomore,soughtmeoutintheplayground.Hewasabigfatboy,withabigfatheadandabigfatfist,andatthebeginningofthatHalfhadraisedsuchabumponmyforeheadthatIcouldn’tgetmyhatofstateon,togotochurch.Hesaidthatafteranintervalofcoolreflection(fourmonths)henowfeltthisblowtohavebeenanerrorofjudgment,andthathewishedtoapologiseforthesame.Notonlythat,butholdingdownhisbigheadbetweenhistwobighandsinorderthatImightreachitconveniently,herequestedme,asanactofjusticewhichwouldappeasehisawakenedconscience,toraisearetributivebumpuponit,inthepresenceofwitnesses.ThishandsomeproposalImodestlydeclined,and

hethenembracedme,andwewalkedawayconversing.WeconversedrespectingtheWestIndiaIslands,and,inthepursuitofknowledgeheaskedmewithmuchinterestwhetherinthecourseofmyreadingIhadmetwithanyreliabledescriptionofthemodeofmanufacturingguavajelly;orwhetherIhadeverhappenedtotastethatconserve,whichhehadbeengiventounderstandwasofrareexcellence.Seventeen,eighteen,nineteen,twenty;andthenwiththewaningmonthscameaneveraugmentingsenseofthedignityoftwenty-one.HeavenknowsIhadnothingto‘comeinto,’savethebarebirthday,andyetIesteemeditasagreatpossession.Inowandthenpavedthewaytomystateofdignity,bybeginningapropositionwiththecasualwords,‘saythatamanoftwenty-one,’orbytheincidentalassumptionofafactthatcouldnotsanelybedisputed,as,‘forwhenafellowcomestobeamanoftwenty-one.’Igaveapartyontheoccasion.Shewasthere.ItisunnecessarytonameHer,moreparticularly;ShewasolderthanI,andhadpervadedeverychinkandcreviceofmymindforthreeorfouryears.IhadheldvolumesofImaginaryConversationswithhermotheronthesubjectofourunion,andIhadwrittenlettersmoreinnumberthanHoraceWalpole’s,tothatdiscreetwoman,solicitingherdaughter’shandinmarriage.Ihadneverhadtheremotestintentionofsendinganyofthoseletters;buttowritethem,andafterafewdaystearthemup,hadbeenasublimeoccupation.Sometimes,Ihadbegun‘HonouredMadam.IthinkthataladygiftedwiththosepowersofobservationwhichIknowyoutopossess,andendowedwiththosewomanlysympathieswiththeyoungandardentwhichitweremorethanheresytodoubt,canscarcelyhavefailedtodiscoverthatIloveyouradorabledaughter,deeply,devotedly.’InlessbuoyantstatesofmindIhadbegun,‘Bearwithme,DearMadam,bearwithadaringwretchwhoisabouttomakeasurprisingconfessiontoyou,whollyunanticipatedbyyourself,andwhichhebeseechesyoutocommittotheflamesassoonasyouhavebecomeawaretowhatatoweringheighthismadambitionsoars.’Atothertimes—periodsofprofoundmentaldepression,whenShehadgoneouttoballswhereIwasnot—thedrafttooktheaffectingformofapapertobeleftonmytableaftermydeparturetotheconfinesoftheglobe.Asthus:‘ForMrs.Onowenever,theselineswhenthehandthattracesthemshallbefaraway.IcouldnotbearthedailytortureofhopelesslylovingthedearonewhomIwillnotname.BroilingonthecoastofAfrica,orcongealingontheshoresofGreenland,Iamfarfarbettertherethanhere.’(Inthissentimentmycoolerjudgmentperceivesthatthefamilyofthebelovedobjectwouldhavemostcompletelyconcurred.)‘IfIeveremergefromobscurity,andmynameiseverheraldedbyFame,itwillbeforherdearsake.IfIeveramassGold,itwillbetopouritatherfeet.ShouldIontheotherhandbecomethepreyofRavens—’Idoubt if Ieverquitemadeupmymindwhatwas tobedone inthataffectingcase;Itried‘thenitisbetterso;’butnotfeelingconvincedthatit

wouldbebetterso,Ivacillatedbetweenleavingallelseblank,whichlookedexpressiveandbleak,orwindingupwith‘Farewell!’Thisfictitiouscorrespondenceofmineistoblamefortheforegoingdigression.Iwasabouttopursuethestatementthatonmytwenty-firstbirthdayIgaveaparty,andShewasthere.Itwasabeautifulparty.Therewasnotasingleanimateorinanimateobjectconnectedwithit(exceptthecompanyandmyself)thatIhadeverseenbefore.Everythingwashired,andthemercenariesinattendancewereprofoundstrangerstome.Behindadoor,inthecrumbypartofthenightwhenwine-glassesweretobefoundinunexpectedspots,IspoketoHer—spokeouttoHer.Whatpassed,Icannotasa man of honour reveal. She was all angelical gentleness, but a word wasmentioned—a short and dreadfulword of three letters, beginningwith aB-which,asIremarkedatthemoment,‘scorchedmybrain.’Shewentawaysoonafterwards,andwhenthehollowthrong(thoughtobesureitwasnofaultoftheirs)dispersed,Iissuedforth,withadissipatedscorner,and,asImentionedexpresslytohim,‘soughtoblivion.’Itwasfound,withadreadfulheadacheinit,but itdidn’t last;for, intheshaminglightofnextday’snoon,Iraisedmyheavyheadinbed,lookingbacktothebirthdaysbehindme,andtrackingthecircle by which I had got round, after all, to the bitter powder and thewretchednessagain.Thisreactionarypowder(takensolargelybythehumanraceIaminclinedtoregarditastheUniversalMedicineoncesoughtforinLaboratories)iscapableofbeingmadeupinanotherformforbirthdayuse.Anybody’slong-lostbrotherwilldoilltoturnuponabirthday.IfIhadalong-lostbrotherIshouldknowbeforehandthathewouldproveatremendousfraternalfailureifheappointedtorushintomyarmsonmybirthday.ThefirstMagicLanternIeversaw,wassecretlyandelaboratelyplannedtobethegreateffectofaveryjuvenilebirthday;butitwouldn’tact,anditsimagesweredim.MyexperienceofadultbirthdayMagicLanternsmaypossiblyhavebeenunfortunate,buthascertainlybeensimilar.Ihaveanillustrativebirthdayinmyeye:abirthdayofmy friend Flipfield, whose birthdays had long been remarkable as socialsuccesses.Therehadbeennothingsetorformalaboutthem;Flipfieldhavingbeen accustomed merely to say, two or three days before, ‘Don’t forget tocomeanddine,oldboy,accordingtocustom;’—Idon’tknowwhathesaidtothe ladieshe invited,but Imaysafelyassume itnot tohavebeen ‘oldgirl.’Thoseweredelightfulgatherings,andwereenjoyedbyallparticipators.Inanevil 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, forFlipfield vaguely informed me that he had turned up ‘on the banks of theGanges’—speaking of him as if he had beenwashed ashore. The Long-lostwascominghome,andFlipfieldmadeanunfortunatecalculation,basedonthe

well-known regularity of the P. and O. Steamers, that matters might be socontrived as that the Long-lost should appear in the nick of time on his(Flipfield’s)birthday.Delicacycommanded that I should repress thegloomyanticipationswithwhichmysoulbecame fraughtwhen Iheardof thisplan.Thefataldayarrived,andweassembledinforce.Mrs.Flipfieldseniorformedaninterestingfeatureinthegroup,withablue-veinedminiatureofthelateMr.Flipfieldroundherneck,inanoval,resemblingatartfromthepastrycook’s:hishairpowdered,andthebrightbuttonsonhiscoat,evidentlyverylike.ShewasaccompaniedbyMissFlipfield, theeldestofhernumerous family,whoheldherpocket-handkerchieftoherbosominamajesticmanner,andspoketoallofus(noneofushadeverseenherbefore),inpiousandcondoningtones,ofallthequarrelsthathadtakenplaceinthefamily,fromherinfancy—whichmust havebeen a long time ago—down to that hour.TheLong-lost did notappear. Dinner, half an hour later than usual, was announced, and still noLong-lost.Wesatdowntotable.TheknifeandforkoftheLong-lostmadeavacuum inNature, andwhen the champagne came round for the first time,Flipfieldgavehimupfortheday,andhadthemremoved.ItwasthenthattheLong-lostgainedtheheightofhispopularitywiththecompany;formyownpart, I felt convinced that I lovedhimdearly.Flipfield’sdinners areperfect,andhe is theeasiestandbestofentertainers.Dinnerwentonbrilliantly,andthemore theLong-lostdidn’tcome, themorecomfortablewegrew,and themore highlywe thought of him.Flipfield’s ownman (who has a regard forme)was in the act of strugglingwith an ignorant stipendiary, towrest fromhim the wooden leg of a Guinea-fowl which he was pressing on myacceptance,andtosubstituteasliceofthebreast,whenaringingatthedoor-bellsuspendedthestrife.Ilookedroundme,andperceivedthesuddenpallorwhichIknewmyownvisagerevealed,reflectedinthefacesofthecompany.Flipfieldhurriedlyexcusedhimself,wentout,wasabsentforaboutaminuteortwo,andthenre-enteredwiththeLong-lost.IbegtosaydistinctlythatifthestrangerhadbroughtMontBlancwithhim,orhadcomeattendedbyaretinueofeternalsnows,hecouldnothavechilledthecircle to the marrow in a more efficient manner. Embodied Failure satenthroned upon the Long-lost’s brow, and pervaded him to his Long-lostboots.InvainMrs.Flipfieldsenior,openingherarms,exclaimed,‘MyTom!’andpressedhisnoseagainstthecounterfeitpresentmentofhisotherparent.InvainMissFlipfield,inthefirsttransportsofthisre-union,showedhimadintuponhermaidenlycheek,andaskedhimifherememberedwhenhedidthatwith thebellows?We, the bystanders,were overcome, but overcomeby thepalpable,undisguisable,utter,andtotalbreak-downoftheLong-lost.NothinghecouldhavedonewouldhavesethimrightwithusbuthisinstantreturntotheGanges.Intheverysamemomentsitbecameestablishedthatthefeelingwasreciprocal,andthattheLong-lostdetestedus.Whenafriendofthefamily

(notmyself,uponmyhonour),wishingtoset thingsgoingagain,askedhim,whilehepartookofsoup—askedhimwithanamiabilityofintentionbeyondallpraise,butwithaweaknessofexecutionopentodefeat—whatkindofriverheconsideredtheGanges,theLong-lost,scowlingatthefriendofthefamilyoverhisspoon,asoneofanabhorrentrace,replied,‘Why,ariverofwater,Isuppose,’ and spoonedhis soup intohimselfwithamalignancyofhandandeyethatblightedtheamiablequestioner.Notanopinioncouldbeelicitedfromthe Long-lost, in unison with the sentiments of any individual present. HecontradictedFlipfielddead,beforehehadeatenhissalmon.Hehadnoidea—or affected to have no idea—that it was his brother’s birthday, and on thecommunicationofthatinterestingfacttohim,merelywantedtomakehimoutfouryearsolderthanhewas.Hewasanantipatheticalbeing,withapeculiarpower and gift of treading on everybody’s tenderest place. They talk inAmericaofaman’s‘Platform.’IshoulddescribethePlatformoftheLong-lostasaPlatformcomposedofotherpeople’scorns,onwhichhehadstumpedhisway,withallhismightandmain,tohispresentposition.Itisneedlesstoaddthat Flipfield’s great birthday went by the board, and that he was a wreckwhenIpretendedatpartingtowishhimmanyhappyreturnsofit.ThereisanotherclassofbirthdaysatwhichIhavesofrequentlyassisted,thatImayassumesuchbirthdaystobeprettywellknowntothehumanrace.MyfriendMayday’sbirthdayisanexample.Theguestshavenoknowledgeofoneanotherexceptonthatonedayintheyear,andareannuallyterrifiedforaweekbytheprospectofmeetingoneanotheragain.Thereisafictionamongusthatwehaveuncommonreasonsforbeingparticularlylivelyandspiritedontheoccasion,whereasdeepdespondencyisnophrasefortheexpressionofourfeelings.Butthewonderfulfeatureofthecaseis,thatweareintacitaccordancetoavoidthesubject—tokeepitasfaroffaspossible,aslongaspossible—andtotalkaboutanythingelse,ratherthanthejoyfulevent.ImayevengosofarastoassertthatthereisadumbcompactamongusthatwewillpretendthatitisNOTMayday’sbirthday.AmysteriousandgloomyBeing,whoissaidtohavegonetoschoolwithMayday,andwhoissolankandleanthatheseriouslyimpugnstheDietaryoftheestablishmentatwhichtheywerejointlyeducated,alwaysleadsus,asImaysay,totheblock,bylayinghisgrislyhandonadecanterandbeggingustofillourglasses.ThedevicesandpretencesthatIhaveseenputinpracticetodeferthefatalmoment,andtointerposebetween thismanandhispurpose, are innumerable. I haveknowndesperate guests, when they saw the grisly hand approaching the decanter,wildlytobegin,withoutanyantecedentwhatsoever,‘Thatremindsme—’andto plunge into long stories. When at last the hand and the decanter cometogether,ashudder,apalpableperceptibleshudder,goesroundthetable.WereceivethereminderthatitisMayday’sbirthday,asifitweretheanniversaryofsomeprofounddisgracehehadundergone,andwesoughttocomforthim.

And when we have drunk Mayday’s health, and wished him many happyreturns, we are seized for some moments with a ghastly blitheness, anunnaturallevity,asifwewereinthefirstflushedreactionofhavingundergoneasurgicaloperation.Birthdaysofthisspecieshaveapublicaswellasaprivatephase.My‘boyhood’shome,’Dullborough,presentsacaseinpoint.AnImmortalSomebodywaswantedinDullborough,todimpleforadaythestagnantfaceofthewaters;hewasratherwantedbyDullboroughgenerally,andmuchwantedbytheprincipalhotel-keeper.TheCountyhistorywaslookedupforalocallyImmortalSomebody,buttheregisteredDullboroughworthieswereallNobodies. In this state of things, it is hardly necessary to record thatDullborough did what every man does when he wants to write a book ordeliveralecture,andisprovidedwithallthematerialsexceptasubject.ItfellbackuponShakespeare.NosoonerwasitresolvedtocelebrateShakespeare’sbirthdayinDullborough,thanthepopularityoftheimmortalbardbecamesurprising.Youmighthavesupposedthefirsteditionofhisworkstohavebeenpublishedlastweek,andenthusiasticDullboroughtohavegothalfthroughthem.(Idoubt,bytheway,whetherithadeverdonehalfthat,butthatisaprivateopinion.)A younggentlemanwithasonnet, theretentionofwhichfor twoyearshadenfeebledhis mind and undermined his knees, got the sonnet into the DullboroughWarden,andgainedflesh.PortraitsofShakespearebrokeoutinthebookshopwindows,andourprincipalartistpaintedalargeoriginalportraitinoilsforthedecorationofthedining-room.ItwasnotintheleastlikeanyoftheotherPortraits,andwasexceedinglyadmired,theheadbeingmuchswollen.AttheInstitution,theDebatingSocietydiscussedthenewquestion,WastheresufficientgroundforsupposingthattheImmortalShakespeareeverstoledeer?Thiswasindignantlydecidedbyanoverwhelmingmajorityinthenegative;indeed,therewasbutonevoteonthePoachingside,andthatwasthevoteoftheoratorwhohadundertakentoadvocateit,andwhobecamequiteanobnoxiouscharacter—particularlytotheDullborough‘roughs,’whowereaboutaswellinformedonthematterasmostotherpeople.Distinguishedspeakerswereinviteddown,andverynearlycame(butnotquite).Subscriptionswereopened,andcommitteessat,anditwouldhavebeenfarfromapopularmeasureintheheightoftheexcitement,tohavetoldDullboroughthatitwasn’tStratford-upon-Avon.Yet,afterallthesepreparations,whenthegreatfestivitytookplace,andtheportrait,elevatedaloft, surveyed the company as if it were in danger of springing amine ofintellect and blowing itself up, it did undoubtedly happen, according to theinscrutablemysteries of things, that nobody could be induced, not to say totouch upon Shakespeare, but to comewithin amile of him, until the crack

speakerofDullboroughrosetoproposetheimmortalmemory.Whichhedidwiththeperplexingandastonishingresultthatbeforehehadrepeatedthegreatnamehalf-a-dozentimes,orhadbeenuponhislegsasmanyminutes,hewasassailedwithageneralshoutof‘Question.’

CHAPTERXXI—THESHORT-TIMERS‘Within somany yards of thisCovent-garden lodging ofmine, aswithin somany yards of Westminster Abbey, Saint Paul’s Cathedral, the Houses ofParliament, thePrisons, theCourtsofJustice,all the Institutions thatgovernthe land, I can find—must find, whether I will or no—in the open streets,shameful instances of neglect of children, intolerable toleration of theengenderment of paupers, idlers, thieves, races of wretched and destructivecripples both in body and mind, a misery to themselves, a misery to thecommunity,adisgracetocivilisation,andanoutrageonChristianity.—Iknowit tobeafactaseasyofdemonstrationasanysuminanyof theelementaryrules of arithmetic, that if the State would begin its work and duty at thebeginning, and would with the strong hand take those children out of thestreets,whiletheyareyetchildren,andwiselytrainthem,itwouldmakethema part of England’s glory, not its shame—of England’s strength, not itsweakness—wouldraisegoodsoldiersandsailors,andgoodcitizens,andmanygreatmen,outoftheseedsofitscriminalpopulation.YetIgoonbearingwiththe enormity as if it were nothing, and I go on reading the ParliamentaryDebatesasif theyweresomething,andIconcernmyselffarmoreaboutonerailway-bridgeacrossapublicthoroughfare,thanaboutadozengenerationsofscrofula, ignorance,wickedness, prostitution, poverty, and felony. I can slipoutatmydoor,inthesmallhoursafteranymidnight,and,inonecircuitofthepurlieusofCovent-gardenMarket,canbeholdastateofinfancyandyouth,asvileasifaBourbonsatupontheEnglishthrone;agreatpoliceforcelookingonwithauthoritytodonomorethanworryandhuntthedreadfulverminintocorners,andthereleavethem.WithinthelengthofafewstreetsIcanfindaworkhouse,mismanagedwiththatdullshort-sightedobstinacythatitsgreatestopportunitiesastothechildrenitreceivesarelost,andyetnotafarthingsavedtoanyone.But thewheelgoes round,and round,and round;andbecause itgoesround—soIamtoldbythepolitestauthorities—itgoeswell.’ThusIreflected,onedayintheWhitsunweeklastpast,asIfloateddowntheThames among the bridges, looking—not inappropriately—at the drags thatwere hanging up at certain dirty stairs to hook the drowned out, and at thenumerousconveniencesprovidedtofacilitatetheirtumblingin.Myobject inthat uncommercial journey called up another train of thought, and it ran asfollows:

‘When I was at school, one of seventy boys, I wonder by what secretunderstanding our attention began to wander when we had pored over ourbooks for some hours. I wonder by what ingenuity we brought on thatconfusedstateofmindwhensensebecamenonsense,whenfigureswouldn’twork,whendeadlanguageswouldn’tconstrue,whenlivelanguageswouldn’tbespoken,whenmemorywouldn’tcome,whendulnessandvacancywouldn’tgo.Icannotrememberthatweeverconspiredtobesleepyafterdinner,orthatwe ever particularlywanted to be stupid, and to have flushed faces and hotbeating heads, or to find blank hopelessness and obscurity this afternoon inwhatwouldbecomeperfectlyclearandbright in the freshnessof to-morrowmorning.We suffered for these things, and theymade usmiserable enough.Neither do I remember thatwe ever bound ourselves by any secret oath orothersolemnobligation,tofindtheseatsgettingtoohardtobesatuponafteracertain time; or to have intolerable twitches in our legs, rendering usaggressiveandmaliciouswiththosemembers;ortobetroubledwithasimilaruneasinessinourelbows,attendedwithfisticconsequencestoourneighbours;or to carry two pounds of lead in the chest, four pounds in the head, andseveralactiveblue-bottlesineachear.Yet,forcertain,wesufferedunderthosedistresses,andwerealwayschargedatforlabouringunderthem,asifwehadbroughtthemon,ofourowndeliberateactanddeed.Astothementalportionofthembeingmyownfault inmyowncase—Ishouldliketoaskanywell-trained and experienced teacher, not to say psychologist. And as to thephysicalportion—IshouldliketoaskPROFESSOROWEN.’It happened that I had a small bundle of paperswithme, onwhat is called‘TheHalf-TimeSystem’inschools.ReferringtooneofthosepapersIfoundthat the indefatigableMR.CHADWICKhad been beforehandwithme, andhadalreadyaskedProfessorOwen:whohadhandsomelyrepliedthatIwasnottoblame,butthat,beingtroubledwithaskeleton,andhavingbeenconstitutedaccordingtocertainnaturallaws,Iandmyskeletonwereunfortunatelyboundby those laws even in school—and had comported ourselves accordingly.Much comforted by the good Professor’s being on my side, I read on todiscoverwhethertheindefatigableMr.Chadwickhadtakenupthementalpartofmyafflictions. I found thathehad,and thathehadgainedonmybehalf,SIRBENJAMINBRODIE,SIRDAVIDWILKIE,SIRWALTERSCOTT,andthecommonsenseofmankind.ForwhichIbegMr.Chadwick,ifthisshouldmeethiseye,toacceptmywarmacknowledgments.Up to that time I had retained amisgiving that the seventy unfortunates ofwhomIwasone,musthavebeen,withoutknowingit,leaguedtogetherbythespiritofevilinasortofperpetualGuyFawkesPlot,togropeaboutinvaultswith dark lanterns after a certain period of continuous study. But now themisgivingvanished,andIfloatedonwithaquietedmindtoseetheHalf-Time

Systeminaction.Forthatwasthepurposeofmyjourney,bothbysteamboaton the Thames, and by very dirty railway on the shore. To which lastinstitution, I beg to recommend the legal use of coke as engine-fuel, ratherthan the illegal use of coal; the recommendation is quite disinterested, for Iwas most liberally supplied with small coal on the journey, for which nochargewasmade. Ihadnotonlymyeyes,nose,andears filled,butmyhat,andallmypockets,andmypocket-book,andmywatch.TheV.D.S.C.R.C.(orVeryDirtyandSmallCoalRailwayCompany)deliveredme close to my destination, and I soon found the Half-Time Systemestablished in spacious premises, and freely placed at my convenience anddisposal.WhatwouldIseefirstoftheHalf-TimeSystem?IchoseMilitaryDrill.‘Atten-tion!’Instantlyahundredboysstoodforthinthepavedyardasoneboy;bright,quick,eager,steady,watchfulforthelookofcommand,instantandreadyfortheword.Notonlywastherecompleteprecision—completeaccordtotheeyeandtotheear—butanalertnessinthedoingofthethingwhichdeprivedit,curiously,ofitsmonotonousormechanicalcharacter.Therewasperfectuniformity,andyetanindividualspiritandemulation.Nospectatorcoulddoubtthattheboyslikedit.Withnon-commissionedofficersvaryingfromayardtoayardandahalfhigh,theresultcouldnotpossiblyhavebeenattainedotherwise.Theymarched,andcounter-marched,andformedinlineandsquare,andcompany,andsinglefileanddoublefile,andperformedavarietyofevolutions;allmostadmirably.Inrespectofanairofenjoyableunderstandingofwhattheywereabout,whichseemstobeforbiddentoEnglishsoldiers,theboysmighthavebeensmallFrenchtroops.Whentheyweredismissedandthebroadswordexercise,limitedtoamuchsmallernumber,succeeded,theboyswhohadnopartinthatnewdrill,eitherlookedonattentively,ordisportedthemselvesinagymnasiumhardby.Thesteadinessofthebroadswordboysontheirshortlegs,andthefirmnesswithwhichtheysustainedthedifferentpositions,wastrulyremarkable.The broadsword exercise over, suddenly there was great excitement and arush.NavalDrill!Inthecornerofthegroundstoodadeckedmimicship,withrealmasts,yards,and sails—mainmast seventy feet high. At the word of command from theSkipperofthisship—amahogany-facedOldSalt,withtheindispensablequidinhischeek,thetruenauticalroll,andallwonderfullycomplete—theriggingwascoveredwitha swarmofboys:one, the first to spring into the shrouds,outstrippingalltheothers,andrestingonthetruckofthemain-topmastinnotime.

Andnowwestoodouttosea,inamostamazingmanner;theSkipperhimself,thewholecrew,theUncommercial,andallhandspresent,implicitlybelievingthat therewasnot amoment to lose, that thewindhad that instant choppedroundandsprungupfair,andthatwewereawayonavoyageroundtheworld.Getallsailuponher!Withawill,mylads!Layoutuponthemain-yardthere!Lookaliveat theweather earring!Cheery,myboys!Letgo the sheet,now!Standbyatthebraces,you!Withawill,aloft there!Belay,starboardwatch!Fifer!Comeaft,fifer,andgive’ematune!Forthwith,springsupfifer,fifeinhand—smallestboyeverseen—biglumpontemple,havinglatelyfallendownonapaving-stone—gives ’ema tunewithallhismightandmain.Hoo-roar,fifer! With a will, my lads! Tip ’em a livelier one, fifer! Fifer tips ’em alivelier one, and excitement increases. Shake ’em out,my lads!Well done!There you have her! Pretty, pretty!Every rag upon her she can carry,windrightastarn,andshipcuttingthroughthewaterfifteenknotsanhour!Atthisfavourablemomentofhervoyage,Igavethealarm‘Amanoverboard!’(onthegravel),buthewasimmediatelyrecovered,nonetheworse.Presently,IobservedtheSkipperoverboard,butforboretomentionit,asheseemedinnowisedisconcertedbytheaccident.Indeed,IsooncametoregardtheSkipperasanamphibiouscreature,forhewassoperpetuallyplungingoverboardtolookupatthehandsaloft,thathewasoftenerinthebosomoftheoceanthanondeck.Hisprideinhiscrewonthoseoccasionswasdelightful,andtheconventionalunintelligibilityofhisordersintheearsofuncommerciallandlubbersandloblollyboys,thoughtheywerealwaysintelligibletothecrew,washardlylesspleasant.Butwecouldn’texpecttogooninthiswayforever;dirtyweathercameon,andthenworseweather,andwhenweleastexpecteditwegotintotremendousdifficulties.Screwlooseinthechartperhaps—somethingcertainlywrongsomewhere—butherewewerewithbreakersahead,mylads,drivingheadon,slaponaleeshore!TheSkipperbroachedthisterrificannouncementinsuchgreatagitation,thatthesmallfifer,notfifeingnow,butstandinglookingonnearthewheelwithhisfifeunderhisarm,seemedforthemomentquiteunboyed,thoughhespeedilyrecoveredhispresenceofmind.Inthetryingcircumstancesthatensued,theSkipperandthecrewprovedworthyofoneanother.TheSkippergotdreadfullyhoarse,butotherwisewasmasterofthesituation.Themanatthewheeldidwonders;allhands(exceptthefifer)wereturneduptowearship;andIobservedthefifer,whenwewereatourgreatestextremity,torefertosomedocumentinhiswaistcoat-pocket,whichIconceivedtobehiswill.Ithinkshestruck.Iwasnotmyselfconsciousofanycollision,butIsawtheSkippersoveryoftenwashedoverboardandbackagain,thatIcouldonlyimputeittothebeatingoftheship.Iamnotenoughofaseamantodescribethemanoeuvresbywhichweweresaved,buttheymadetheSkipperveryhot(Frenchpolishinghismahoganyface)andthecrewverynimble,andsucceededtoamarvel;for,

withinafewminutesofthefirstalarm,wehadworeshipandgotheroff,andwerealla-tauto—whichIfeltverygratefulfor:notthatIknewwhatitwas,butthatIperceivedthatwehadnotbeenalla-tautolately.Landnowappearedonourweather-bow,andweshapedourcourseforit,havingthewindabeam,andfrequentlychanging themanat thehelm, inorder thateverymanmighthavehisspell.Weworkedintoharbourunderprosperouscircumstances,andfurled our sails, and squared our yards, and made all ship-shape andhandsome, and so our voyage ended.When I complimented the Skipper atpartingonhisexertionsandthoseofhisgallantcrew,heinformedmethatthelatterwereprovided for theworst, allhandsbeing taught to swimanddive;andheaddedthattheableseamanatthemain-topmasttruckespecially,coulddiveasdeepashecouldgohigh.The next adventure that befellme inmy visit to the Short-Timers,wasthesuddenapparitionofamilitaryband.Ihadbeeninspectingthehammocksofthecrewofthegoodship,whenIsawwithastonishmentthatseveralmusicalinstruments,brazenandofgreatsize,appearedtohavesuddenlydevelopedtwolegseach,andtobetrottingaboutayard.AndmyastonishmentwasheightenedwhenIobservedalargedrum, that had previously been leaninghelplessagainstawall,takingupastoutpositiononfourlegs.Approachingthisdrumandlookingoverit,Ifoundtwoboysbehindit(itwastoomuchforone),andthenIfoundthateachofthebrazeninstrumentshadbroughtoutaboy,andwasgoingtodiscoursesweetsounds.Theboys—notomittingthefifer,nowplayinganewinstrument—weredressedinneatuniform,andstoodupinacircleattheirmusic-stands,likeanyotherMilitaryBand.Theyplayedamarchortwo,andthenwehadCheerboys,Cheer,andthenwehadYankeeDoodle,andwefinished,asinloyaldutybound,withGodsavetheQueen.Theband’sproficiencywasperfectlywonderful,anditwasnotatallwonderfulthatthewholebodycorporateofShort-Timerslistenedwithfacesoftheliveliestinterestandpleasure.WhathappenednextamongtheShort-Timers?As if thebandhadblownmeintoagreatclass-roomoutoftheirbrazentubes,inagreatclass-roomIfoundmyselfnow,withthewholechoralforceofShort-Timerssingingthepraisesofasummer’sdaytotheharmonium,andmysmallbuthighlyrespectedfriendthefiferblazingawayvocally,asifhehadbeensavinguphiswindforthelasttwelvemonth; also thewhole crew of the good shipNameless swarming upanddown the scale as if theyhadnever swarmedup anddown the rigging.Thisdone,wethrewourwholepowerintoGodblessthePrinceofWales,andblessedhisRoyalHighnesstosuchanextentthat,formyownUncommercialpart,Igaspedagainwhenitwasover.Themomentthiswasdone,weformed,withsurpassingfreshness,intohollowsquares,andfelltoworkatorallessonsasifweneverdid,andhadneverthoughtofdoing,anythingelse.

Letaveilbedrawnovertheself-committalsintowhichtheUncommercialTravellerwouldhavebeenbetrayedbutforadiscreetreticence,coupledwithanairofabsolutewisdomonthepartofthatartfulpersonage.Takethesquareoffive,multiplyitbyfifteen,divideitbythree,deducteightfromit,addfourdozentoit,givemetheresultinpence,andtellmehowmanyeggsIcouldgetforitatthreefarthingsapiece.Theproblemishardlystated,whenadozensmallboyspouroutanswers.Somewide,someverynearlyright,someworkedasfarastheygowithsuchaccuracy,asatoncetoshowwhatlinkofthechainhasbeendroppedinthehurry.Forthemoment,nonearequiteright;butbeholdalabouringspiritbeatingthebuttonsonitscorporealwaistcoat,inaprocessofinternalcalculation,andknittinganaccidentalbumponitscorporealforeheadinaconcentrationofmentalarithmetic!Itismyhonourablefriend(ifhewillallowmetocallhimso)thefifer.Withrightarmeagerlyextendedintokenofbeinginspiredwithananswer,andwithrightlegforemost,thefifersolvesthemystery:thenrecallsbotharmandleg,andwithbumpinambushawaitsthenextposer.Takethesquareofthree,multiplyitbyseven,divideitbyfour,addfiftytoit,takethirteenfromit,multiplyitbytwo,doubleit,givemetheresultinpence,andsayhowmanyhalfpence.Wiseastheserpentisthefourfeetofperformeronthenearestapproachtothatinstrument,whoserightarminstantlyappears,andquenchesthisarithmeticalfire.TellmesomethingaboutGreatBritain,tellmesomethingaboutitsprincipalproductions,tellmesomethingaboutitsports,tellmesomethingaboutitsseasandrivers,tellmesomethingaboutcoal,iron,cotton,timber,tin,andturpentine.Thehollowsquarebristleswithextendedrightarms;buteverfaithfultofactisthefifer,everwiseastheserpentistheperformeronthatinstrument,everprominentlybuoyantandbrilliantareallmembersoftheband.Iobservetheplayerofthecymbalstodashatasoundinganswernowandthenratherthannotcutinatall;butItakethattobeinthewayofhisinstrument.Allthesequestions,andmanysuch,areputonthespurofthemoment,andbyonewhohasneverexaminedtheseboys.TheUncommercial,invitedtoaddanother,falteringlydemandshowmanybirthdaysamanbornonthetwenty-ninthofFebruarywillhavehadoncompletinghisfiftiethyear?Ageneralperceptionoftrapandpitfallinstantlyarises,andthefiferisseentoretirebehindthecorduroysofhisnextneighbours,asperceivingspecialnecessityforcollectinghimselfandcommuningwithhismind.Meanwhile,thewisdomoftheserpentsuggeststhatthemanwillhavehadonlyonebirthdayinallthattime,forhowcananymanhavemorethanone,seeingthatheisbornonceanddiesonce?TheblushingUncommercialstandscorrected,andamendstheformula.Ponderingensues,twoorthreewronganswersareoffered,andCymbalsstrikesup‘Six!’butdoesn’tknowwhy.ThenmodestlyemergingfromhisAcademicGroveofcorduroysappearsthefifer,rightarmextended,rightlegforemost,bumpirradiated.‘Twelve,andtwoover!’

ThefeminineShort-Timerspassedasimilarexamination,andverycreditablytoo.Wouldhavedonebetterperhaps,withalittlemoregenialityonthepartoftheirpupil-teacher;foracoldeye,myyoungfriend,andahard,abruptmanner,arenotbyanymeansthepowerfulenginesthatyourinnocencesupposesthemtobe.Bothgirlsandboyswroteexcellently,fromcopyanddictation;bothcouldcook;bothcouldmendtheirownclothes;bothcouldcleanupeverythingabouttheminanorderlyandskilfulway,the girls havingwomanlyhouseholdknowledge superadded.Order andmethodbegan in thesongs of the Infant School which I visited likewise, and theywere even intheir dwarf degree to be found in the Nursery, where the Uncommercialwalking-stickwas carried offwith acclamations, andwhere ‘theDoctor’—amedical gentleman of two, who took his degree on the night when he wasfound at an apothecary’s door—did the honours of the establishment withgreaturbanityandgaiety.These have long been excellent schools; long before the days of the Short-Time.Ifirstsawthem,twelveorfifteenyearsago.ButsincetheintroductionoftheShort-Timesystemithasbeenprovedherethateighteenhoursaweekofbook-learningaremoreprofitablethanthirty-six,andthatthepupilsarefarquickerandbrighterthanofyore.Thegoodinfluencesofmusiconthewholebodyofchildrenhavelikewisebeensurprisinglyproved.Obviouslyanotherofthe immense advantages of the Short-Time system to the cause of goodeducation is the great diminution of its cost, and of the period of time overwhich itextends.The last isamost importantconsideration,aspoorparentsarealwaysimpatienttoprofitbytheirchildren’slabour.Itwillbeobjected:Firstly,thatthisisallverywell,butspeciallocaladvantagesandspecialselectionofchildrenmustbenecessarytosuchsuccess.Secondly,thatthisisallverywell,butmustbeveryexpensive.Thirdly,thatthisisallverywell,butwehavenoproofoftheresults,sir,noproof.Onthefirstheadoflocaladvantagesandspecialselection.WouldLimehouseHolebepickedoutforthesiteofaChildren’sParadise?Orwouldthelegitimateandillegitimatepauperchildrenofthelong-shorepopulationofsuchariversidedistrict,beregardedasunusuallyfavourablespecimenstoworkwith?YettheseschoolsareatLimehouse,andarethePauperSchoolsoftheStepneyPauperUnion.Onthesecondheadofexpense.Wouldsixpenceaweekbeconsideredaverylargecostfortheeducationofeachpupil,includingallsalariesofteachersandrationsofteachers?Butsupposingthecostwerenotsixpenceaweek,notfivepence?itisFOURPENCE-HALFPENNY.

Onthethirdheadofnoproof,sir,noproof.IsthereanyproofinthefactsthatPupilTeachersmoreinnumber,andmorehighlyqualified,havebeenproducedhereundertheShort-TimesystemthanundertheLong-Timesystem?ThattheShort-Timers,inawritingcompetition,beattheLong-Timersofafirst-classNationalSchool?Thatthesailor-boysareinsuchdemandformerchantships,thatwhereas,beforetheyweretrained,10l.premiumusedtobegivenwitheachboy—toooftentosomegreedybruteofadrunkenskipper,whodisappearedbeforethetermofapprenticeshipwasout,iftheill-usedboydidn’t—captainsofthebestcharacternowtaketheseboysmorethanwillingly,withnopremiumatall?ThattheyarealsomuchesteemedintheRoyalNavy,whichtheyprefer,‘becauseeverythingissoneatandcleanandorderly’?Or,isthereanyproofinNavalcaptainswriting‘YourlittlefellowsareallthatIcandesire’?Or,isthereanyproofinsuchtestimonyasthis:‘Theownerofavesselcalledattheschool,andsaidthatashisshipwasgoingdownChannelonherlastvoyage,withoneoftheboysfromtheschoolonboard,thepilotsaid,“Itwouldbeaswelliftheroyalwerelowered;Iwishitweredown.”Withoutwaitingforanyorders,andunobservedbythepilot,thelad,whomtheyhadtakenonboardfromtheschool,instantlymountedthemastandloweredtheroyal,andatthenextglanceofthepilottothemasthead,heperceivedthatthesailhadbeenletdown.Heexclaimed,“Who’sdonethatjob?”The owner, whowas on board, said, “That was thelittlefellowwhomIputonboardtwodaysago.”Thepilotimmediatelysaid,“Why,wherecouldhehavebeenbroughtup?”Theboyhadneverseentheseaorbeenonarealshipbefore’?Or,isthereanyproofintheseboysbeingingreaterdemandforRegimentalBandsthantheUnioncanmeet?Or,inninety-eightofthemhavinggoneintoRegimentalBandsinthreeyears?Or,intwelveofthembeinginthebandofoneregiment?Or,inthecolonelofthatregimentwriting,‘Wewantsixmoreboys;theyareexcellentlads’?Or,inoneoftheboyshavingrisentobeband-corporalinthesameregiment?Or,inemployersofallkindschorusing,‘Giveusdrilledboys,fortheyareprompt,obedient,andpunctual’?OtherproofsIhavemyselfbeheldwiththeseUncommercialeyes,thoughIdonotregardmyselfashavingarighttorelateinwhatsocialpositionstheyhaveseenrespectedmenandwomenwhowereoncepauperchildrenoftheStepneyUnion.Intowhatadmirablesoldiersothersoftheseboyshavethecapabilitiesforbeingturned,Ineednotpointout.Manyofthemarealwaysambitiousofmilitaryservice;andonceuponatimewhenanoldboycamebacktoseetheoldplace,acavalrysoldierallcomplete,withhisspurson,suchayearningbrokeouttogetintocavalryregimentsandwearthosesublimeappendages,thatitwasoneofthegreatestexcitementseverknownintheschool.Thegirlsmakeexcellentdomesticservants,andatcertainperiodscomeback,ascoreor

twoatatime,toseetheoldbuilding,andtotaketeawiththeoldteachers,andtoheartheoldband,andtoseetheoldshipwithhermaststoweringupabovetheneighbouringroofsandchimneys.Astothephysicalhealthoftheseschools,itissoexceptionallyremarkable(simplybecausethesanitaryregulationsareasgoodastheothereducationalarrangements),thatwhenMr.TUFNELL,theInspector,firststateditinareport,hewassupposed,inspiteofhishighcharacter,tohavebeenbetrayedintosomeextraordinarymistakeorexaggeration.Inthemoralhealthoftheseschools—wherecorporalpunishmentisunknown—Truthfulnessstandshigh.Whentheshipwasfirsterected,theboyswereforbiddentogoaloft,untilthenets,whicharenowalwaysthere,werestretchedasaprecautionagainstaccidents.Certainboys,intheireagerness,disobeyedtheinjunction,gotoutofwindowintheearlydaylight,andclimbedtothemasthead.Oneboyunfortunatelyfell,andwaskilled.Therewasnoclueto theothers;butall theboyswereassembled,andthechairmanoftheBoardaddressedthem.‘Ipromisenothing;youseewhatadreadfulthinghashappened;youknowwhatagraveoffenceitisthathasledtosuchaconsequence;Icannotsaywhatwillbedonewiththeoffenders;but,boys,youhavebeentrainedhere,aboveallthings,torespectthetruth.Iwantthe truth. Who are the delinquents?’ Instantly, the whole number of boysconcerned,separatedfromtherest,andstoodout.Now,theheadandheartofthatgentleman(itisneedlesstosay,agoodheadandagoodheart)havebeendeeplyinterestedintheseschoolsformanyyears,and are so still; and the establishment is very fortunate in amost admirablemaster,andmoreovertheschoolsoftheStepneyUnioncannothavegottobewhat they are,without theStepneyBoardofGuardianshavingbeen earnestand humane men strongly imbued with a sense of their responsibility. Butwhatonesetofmencandointhiswise,anothersetofmencando;andthisisanobleexample toallotherBodiesandUnions,andanobleexample to theState. Followed, and enlarged upon by its enforcement on bad parents, itwould clear London streets of themost terrible objects they smite the sightwith—myriads of little children who awfully reverse Our Saviour’s words,andarenotoftheKingdomofHeaven,butoftheKingdomofHell.Clear the public streets of such shame, and the public conscience of suchreproach?Ah!Almostprophetic,surely,thechild’sjingle:Whenwillthatbe,SaythebellsofStep-ney!

CHAPTERXXII—BOUNDFORTHEGREATSALTLAKEBeholdmeonmywaytoanEmigrantShip,onahotmorningearlyinJune.

MyroadliesthroughthatpartofLondongenerallyknowntotheinitiatedas‘DownbytheDocks.’DownbytheDocks,ishometoagoodmanypeople—totoomany,ifImayjudgefromtheoverflowoflocalpopulationinthestreets—butmynoseinsinuatesthatthenumbertowhomitisSweetHomemightbeeasilycounted.DownbytheDocks,isaregionIwouldchooseasmypointofembarkationaboardshipifIwereanemigrant.Itwouldpresentmyintentiontome in such a sensible light; itwould showme somany things to be runawayfrom.DownbytheDocks,theyeatthelargestoystersandscattertheroughestoyster-shells,knowntothedescendantsofSaintGeorgeandtheDragon.DownbytheDocks,theyconsumetheslimiestofshell-fish,whichseemtohavebeenscrapedoffthecopperbottomsofships.DownbytheDocks,thevegetablesatgreen-grocers’doorsacquireasalineandascalylook,asiftheyhadbeencrossedwithfishandseaweed.DownbytheDocks,they‘boardseamen’attheeating-houses,thepublic-houses,theslop-shops,thecoffee-shops,thetally-shops,allkindsofshopsmentionableandunmentionable—boardthem,asitwere,inthepiraticalsense,makingthembleedterribly,andgivingnoquarter.DownbytheDocks,theseamenroaminmid-streetandmid-day,theirpocketsinsideout,andtheirheadsnobetter.DownbytheDocks,thedaughtersofwave-rulingBritanniaalsorove,cladinsilkenattire,withuncoveredtressesstreaminginthebreeze,bandannakerchiefsfloatingfromtheirshoulders,andcrinolinenotwanting.DownbytheDocks,youmayheartheIncomparableJoeJacksonsingtheStandardofEngland,withahornpipe,anynight;oranydaymayseeatthewaxwork,forapennyandnowaiting,himaskilledthepolicemanatActonandsufferedforit.DownbytheDocks,youmaybuypolonies,saveloys,andsausagepreparationsvarious,ifyouarenotparticularwhattheyaremadeofbesidesseasoning.DownbytheDocks,thechildrenofIsraelcreepintoanygloomycribsandentriestheycanhire,andhangslopsthere—pewterwatches,sou’-westerhats,waterproofoveralls—‘firthtratearticleth,Thjack.’DownbytheDocks,suchdealersexhibitingonaframeacompletenauticalsuitwithouttherefinementofawaxenvisageinthehat,presenttheimaginarywearerasdroopingattheyard-arm,withhisseafaringandearthfaringtroublesover.DownbytheDocks,theplacardsintheshopsapostrophisethecustomer,knowinghimfamiliarlybeforehand,as,‘Lookhere,Jack!’‘Here’syoursort,mylad!’‘Tryoursea-goingmixed,attwoandnine!’‘TherightkitfortheBritishtar!’‘Shipahoy!’‘Splicethemain-brace,brother!’‘Come,cheerup,mylads.We’vethebestliquorshere,Andyou’llfindsomethingnewInourwonderfulBeer!’DownbytheDocks,thepawnbrokerlendsmoneyonUnion-Jackpocket-handkerchiefs,onwatcheswithlittleshipspitchingforeandaftonthedial,ontelescopes,nauticalinstrumentsincases,andsuch-like.DownbytheDocks,theapothecarysetsupinbusinessonthewretchedestscale—chieflyonlint

andplasterforthestrappingofwounds—andwithnobrightbottles,andwithnolittledrawers.DownbytheDocks,theshabbyundertaker’sshopwillburyyoufornexttonothing,aftertheMalayorChinamanhasstabbedyoufornothingatall:soyoucanhardlyhopetomakeacheaperend.DownbytheDocks,anybodydrunkwillquarrelwithanybodydrunkorsober,andeverybodyelsewillhaveahandinit,andontheshortestnoticeyoumayrevolveinawhirlpoolofredshirts,shaggybeards,wildheadsofhair,baretattooedarms,Britannia’sdaughters,malice,mud,maundering,andmadness.DownbytheDocks,scrapingfiddlesgointhepublic-housesalldaylong,and,shrillabovetheirdinandall thedin,risesthescreechingofinnumerableparrotsbroughtfromforeignparts,whoappeartobeverymuchastonishedbywhattheyfindonthesenativeshoresofours.Possiblytheparrotsdon’tknow,possiblytheydo,thatDownbytheDocksistheroadtothePacificOcean,withitslovelyislands,wherethesavagegirlsplaitflowers,andthesavageboyscarvecocoa-nutshells,andthegrimblindidolsmuseintheirshadygrovestoexactlythesamepurposeasthepriestsandchiefs.Andpossiblytheparrotsdon’tknow, possibly they do, that the noble savage is a wearisomeimpostorwhereverheis,andhasfivehundredthousandvolumesofindifferentrhyme,andnoreason,toanswerfor.Shadwellchurch!PleasantwhispersoftherebeingafresherairdowntheriverthandownbytheDocks,gopursuingoneanother,playfully,inandoutoftheopeningsinitsspire.Giganticinthebasinjustbeyondthechurch,loomsmyEmigrant Ship: her name, theAmazon.Her figure-head is not disfigured asthosebeauteous founders of the race of strong-mindedwomen are fabled tohavebeen,fortheconvenienceofdrawingthebow;butIsympathisewiththecarver:AflatteringcarverwhomadeithiscareTocarvebustsastheyoughttobe—notastheywere.MyEmigrantShipliesbroadside-ontothewharf.Twogreatgangwaysmadeofsparsandplanksconnectherwiththewharf;andupanddownthesegangways,perpetuallycrowdingtoandfroandinandout,likeants,aretheEmigrantswhoaregoingtosailinmyEmigrantShip.Somewithcabbages,somewithloavesofbread,somewithcheeseandbutter,somewithmilkandbeer,somewithboxes,beds,andbundles,somewithbabies—nearlyallwithchildren—nearlyallwithbran-newtincansfortheirdailyallowanceofwater,uncomfortablysuggestiveofatinflavourinthedrink.To and fro, up anddown, aboard and ashore, swarming here and there and everywhere, myEmigrants.AndstillastheDock-Gateswingsuponitshinges,cabsappear,andcartsappear,andvansappear,bringingmoreofmyEmigrants,withmore

cabbages,moreloaves,morecheeseandbutter,moremilkandbeer,moreboxes,beds,andbundles,moretincans,andonthoseshippinginvestmentsaccumulatedcompoundinterestofchildren.IgoaboardmyEmigrantShip.Igofirsttothegreatcabin,andfinditintheusualconditionofaCabinatthatpass.Perspiringlandsmen,withloosepapers,andwithpensandinkstands,pervadeit;andthegeneralappearanceofthingsisasifthelateMr.Amazon’sfuneralhadjustcomehomefromthecemetery,andthedisconsolateMrs.Amazon’strusteesfoundtheaffairsingreatdisorder,andwerelookinghighandlowforthewill.Igooutonthepoop-deck,forair,andsurveyingtheemigrantsonthedeckbelow(indeedtheyarecrowdedallaboutme,uptheretoo),findmorepensandinkstandsinaction,andmorepapers,andinterminablecomplicationrespectingaccountswithindividualsfortincansandwhatnot.Butnobodyisinanill-temper,nobodyistheworsefordrink,nobodyswearsanoathorusesacoarseword,nobodyappearsdepressed,nobodyisweeping,anddownuponthedeckineverycornerwhereitispossibletofindafewsquarefeettokneel,crouch,orliein,people,ineveryunsuitableattitudeforwriting,arewritingletters.Now,IhaveseenemigrantshipsbeforethisdayinJune.AndthesepeoplearesostrikinglydifferentfromallotherpeopleinlikecircumstanceswhomIhaveever seen, that I wonder aloud, ‘What would a stranger suppose theseemigrantstobe!’Thevigilant,brightfaceoftheweather-brownedcaptainoftheAmazonisatmy shoulder, and he says, ‘What, indeed! The most of these came aboardyesterdayevening.TheycamefromvariouspartsofEnglandinsmallpartiesthat had never seen one another before. Yet they had not been a couple ofhours on board, when they established their own police, made their ownregulations, and set their own watches at all the hatchways. Before nineo’clock,theshipwasasorderlyandasquietasaman-of-war.’I looked aboutme again, and saw the letter-writing going onwith themostcuriouscomposure.Perfectlyabstractedinthemidstofthecrowd;whilegreatcaskswereswingingaloft,andbeingloweredintothehold;whilehotagentswere hurrying up and down, adjusting the interminable accounts;while twohundredstrangersweresearchingeverywherefortwohundredotherstrangers,and were asking questions about them of two hundred more; while thechildren played up and down all the steps, and in and out among all thepeople’s legs, andwere beheld, to the general dismay, toppling over all thedangerousplaces;theletter-writerswroteoncalmly.Onthestarboardsideofthe ship, a grizzledmandictated a long letter to anothergrizzledman in animmense fur cap:which letterwas of so profound a quality, that it becamenecessary for the amanuensis at intervals to take off his fur cap in both his

hands,fortheventilationofhisbrain,andstareathimwhodictated,asamanofmanymysterieswhowasworthlookingat.Onthelar-boardside,awomanhadcoveredabelaying-pinwithawhiteclothtomakeaneatdeskofit,andwas sitting on a little box, writing with the deliberation of a bookkeeper.Down,uponherbreastontheplanksofthedeckatthiswoman’sfeet,withherheaddivinginunderabeamofthebulwarksonthatside,asaneligibleplaceofrefugeforhersheetofpaper,aneatandprettygirlwroteforagoodhour(she fainted at last), only rising to the surfaceoccasionally for a dipof ink.Alongsidetheboat,closetomeonthepoop-deck,anothergirl,afresh,well-growncountrygirl,waswritinganother letteron thebaredeck.Later in theday, when this self-same boat was filled with a choir who sang glees andcatchesforalongtime,oneofthesingers,agirl,sangherpartmechanicallyallthewhile,andwrotealetterinthebottomoftheboatwhiledoingso.‘A strangerwould be puzzled to guess the right name for these people,Mr.Uncommercial,’saysthecaptain.‘Indeedhewould.’‘Ifyouhadn’tknown,couldyoueverhavesupposed—?’‘HowcouldI!Ishouldhavesaidtheywereintheirdegree,thepickandflowerofEngland.’‘SoshouldI,’saysthecaptain.‘Howmanyarethey?’‘Eighthundredinroundnumbers.’Iwentbetween-decks,wherethefamilieswithchildrenswarmedinthedark,whereunavoidableconfusionhadbeencausedbythelastarrivals,andwheretheconfusionwasincreasedbythelittlepreparationsfordinnerthatweregoingonineachgroup.Afewwomenhereandthere,hadgotlost,andwerelaughingatit,andaskingtheirwaytotheirownpeople,oroutondeckagain.Afewofthepoorchildrenwerecrying;butotherwisetheuniversalcheerfulnesswasamazing.‘Weshallshakedownbyto-morrow.’‘Weshallcomeallrightinadayorso.’‘Weshallhavemorelightatsea.’SuchphrasesIheardeverywhere,asIgropedmywayamongchestsandbarrelsandbeamsandunstowedcargoandring-boltsandEmigrants,downtothelower-deck,andthenceuptothelightofdayagain,andtomyformerstation.Surely, an extraordinary people in their power of self-abstraction! All theformer letter-writers were still writing calmly, andmanymore letter-writershadbrokenoutinmyabsence.Aboywithabagofbooks inhishandanda

slate under his arm, emerged from below, concentrated himself in myneighbourhood (espying a convenient skylight for his purpose), andwent toworkatasumasifhewerestonedeaf.Afatherandmotherandseveralyoungchildren,onthemaindeckbelowme,hadformedafamilycircleclosetothefoot of the crowded restless gangway, where the children made a nest forthemselves in a coil of rope, and the father and mother, she suckling theyoungest, discussed family affairs as peaceably as if they were in perfectretirement.Ithinkthemostnoticeablecharacteristicintheeighthundredasamass,wastheirexemptionfromhurry.Eighthundredwhat?‘Geese,villain?’EIGHT HUNDREDMORMONS.I,UncommercialTravellerforthefirmofHumanInterestBrothers,hadcomeaboardthisEmigrantShiptoseewhatEighthundredLatter-daySaintswerelike,andIfoundthem(totheroutandoverthrowofallmyexpectations)likewhatInowdescribewithscrupulousexactness.The Mormon Agentwhohadbeenactiveingettingthemtogether,andinmakingthecontractwithmyfriendstheownersoftheshiptotakethemasfarasNewYorkontheirwaytotheGreatSaltLake,waspointedouttome.Acompactly-made handsomeman in black, rather short,with rich brown hairandbeard,andclearbrighteyes.Fromhisspeech,IshouldsethimdownasAmerican.Probably,amanwhohad‘knockedabouttheworld’prettymuch.Amanwithafrankopenmanner,andunshrinkinglook;withalamanofgreatquickness.IbelievehewaswhollyignorantofmyUncommercialindividuality,andconsequentlyofmyimmenseUncommercialimportance.UNCOMMERCIAL.Theseareaveryfinesetofpeopleyouhavebroughttogetherhere.MORMONAGENT.Yes,sir,theyareaveryfinesetofpeople.UNCOMMERCIAL(lookingabout).Indeed,IthinkitwouldbedifficulttofindEighthundredpeopletogetheranywhereelse,andfindsomuchbeautyandsomuchstrengthandcapacityforworkamongthem.MORMON AGENT (not looking about, but looking steadily atUncommercial). I think so.—We sent out about a thousand more, yes’day,fromLiverpool.UNCOMMERCIAL.Youarenotgoingwiththeseemigrants?MORMONAGENT.No,sir.Iremain.UNCOMMERCIAL.ButyouhavebeenintheMormonTerritory?

MORMONAGENT.Yes;IleftUtahaboutthreeyearsago.UNCOMMERCIAL.Itissurprisingtomethatthesepeopleareallsocheery,andmakesolittleoftheimmensedistancebeforethem.MORMONAGENT.Well,yousee;manyof’emhavefriendsoutatUtah,andmanyof’emlookforwardtomeetingfriendsontheway.UNCOMMERCIAL.Ontheway?MORMONAGENT.Thisway’tis.Thisshiplands’eminNewYorkCity.ThentheygoonbyrailrightawaybeyondSt.Louis,tothatpartoftheBanksoftheMissouriwheretheystrikethePlains.There,waggonsfromthesettlementmeet’emtobear’emcompanyontheirjourney’cross-twelvehundredmilesabout.Industriouspeoplewhocomeouttothesettlementsoongetwaggonsoftheirown,andsothefriendsofsomeofthesewillcomedownintheirownwaggonstomeet’em.Theylookforwardtothat,greatly.UNCOMMERCIAL.OntheirlongjourneyacrosstheDesert,doyouarmthem?MORMONAGENT.Mostlyyouwouldfindtheyhavearmsofsomekindoranotheralreadywiththem.SuchashadnotarmsweshouldarmacrossthePlains,forthegeneralprotectionanddefence.UNCOMMERCIAL.WillthesewaggonsbringdownanyproducetotheMissouri?MORMONAGENT.Well,sincethewarbrokeout,we’vetakentogrowingcotton,andthey’lllikelybringdowncottontobeexchangedformachinery.Wewantmachinery.Alsowehavetakentogrowingindigo,whichisafinecommodityforprofit.IthasbeenfoundthattheclimateonthefurthersideoftheGreatSaltLakesuitswellforraisingindigo.UNCOMMERCIAL.IamtoldthatthesepeoplenowonboardareprincipallyfromtheSouthofEngland?MORMONAGENT.AndfromWales.That’strue.UNCOMMERCIAL.DoyougetmanyScotch?MORMONAGENT.Notmany.UNCOMMERCIAL.Highlanders,forinstance?MORMONAGENT.No, notHighlanders.Theyain’tinterestedenoughinuniversalbrotherhoodandpeaceandgoodwill.

UNCOMMERCIAL.Theoldfightingbloodisstronginthem?MORMONAGENT.Well,yes.Andbesides;they’venofaith.UNCOMMERCIAL(whohasbeenburning toget at theProphet JoeSmith,andseemstodiscoveranopening).Faithin—!MORMONAGENT(fartoomanyforUncommercial).Well.—Inanything!Similarlyonthissamehead,theUncommercialunderwentdiscomfiturefroma Wiltshire labourer: a simple, fresh-coloured farm-labourer, of eight-and-thirty,whoatonetimestoodbesidehimlookingonatnewarrivals,andwithwhomheheldthisdialogue:UNCOMMERCIAL.Wouldyoumindmyaskingyouwhatpartofthecountryyoucomefrom?WILTSHIRE.Notabit.Theer!(exultingly) I’ve worked all my life o’SalisburyPlain,rightundertheshaddero’Stonehenge.Youmightn’tthinkit,butIhaive.UNCOMMERCIAL.Andapleasantcountrytoo.WILTSHIRE.Ah!’Tisapleasantcountry.UNCOMMERCIAL.Haveyouanyfamilyonboard?WILTSHIRE.Two children, boy and gal.Iamawidderer,Iam,andI’mgoingoutalongermyboyandgal.That’smygal,andshe’safinegalo’sixteen(pointingoutthegirlwhoiswritingbytheboat).I’llgoandfetchmyboy.I’dliketoshowyoumyboy.(HereWiltshiredisappears,andpresentlycomesbackwithabig,shyboyoftwelve,inasuperabundanceofboots,whoisnotatallgladtobepresented.)Heisafineboytoo,andaboyfurtowork!(Boyhavingundutifullybolted,Wiltshiredropshim.)UNCOMMERCIAL.Itmustcostyouagreatdealofmoneytogosofar,threestrong.WILTSHIRE.Apowerofmoney.Theer!Eightshillenaweek,eightshillenaweek,eightshillenaweek,putbyoutoftheweek’swagesforeversolong.UNCOMMERCIAL.Iwonderhowyoudidit.WILTSHIRE(recognisinginthisakindredspirit).Seetheernow!IwonderhowIdoneit!Butwhatwithabito’subscriptionheer,andwhatwithabito’helptheer,itweredoneatlast,thoughIdon’thardlyknowhow.Thenitwere

unfort’netforus,yousee,aswegotkep’inBristolsolong—nighafortnight,itwere—onaccountsofamistakewi’BrotherHalliday.Swaller’dupmoney,itdid,whenwemighthavecomestraighton.UNCOMMERCIAL (delicately approaching Joe Smith).YouareoftheMormonreligion,ofcourse?WILTSHIRE(confidently).Oyes,I’maMormon.(Thenreflectively.)I’maMormon.(Then,lookingroundtheship,feignstodescryaparticularfriendinanemptyspot,andevadestheUncommercialforevermore.)Afteranoontidepausefordinner,duringwhichmyEmigrantswerenearlyallbetween-decks,andtheAmazonlookeddeserted,ageneralmustertookplace.ThemusterwasfortheceremonyofpassingtheGovernmentInspectorandtheDoctor.Those authorities held their temporary state amidships, by a caskortwo;and,knowingthatthewholeEighthundredemigrantsmustcomefacetoface with them, I took my station behind the two. They knew nothingwhateverofme, I believe, andmy testimony to theunpretendinggentlenessandgoodnaturewithwhichtheydischargedtheirduty,maybeofthegreaterworth.TherewasnottheslightestflavouroftheCircumlocutionOfficeabouttheirproceedings.Theemigrantswerenowallondeck.Theyweredenselycrowdedaft,andswarmeduponthepoop-decklikebees.TwoorthreeMormonagentsstoodreadytohandthemontotheInspector,andtohandthemforwardwhentheyhadpassed.Bywhatsuccessfulmeans,aspecialaptitudefororganisationhadbeeninfusedintothesepeople,Iam,ofcourse,unabletoreport.ButIknowthat,evennow,therewasnodisorder,hurry,ordifficulty.Allbeingready,thefirstgrouparehandedon.Thatmemberofthepartywhoisentrustedwiththepassenger-ticketforthewhole,hasbeenwarnedbyoneoftheagentstohaveitready,andhereitisinhishand.Ineveryinstancethroughthewholeeighthundred,withoutanexception,thispaperisalwaysready.INSPECTOR (reading the ticket).Jessie Jobson, Sophronia Jobson, JessieJobsonagain,Matilda Jobson,WilliamJobson, Jane Jobson,Matilda Jobsonagain, Brigham Jobson, Leonardo Jobson, and Orson Jobson.Areyouallhere?(glancingattheparty,overhisspectacles).JESSIEJOBSONNUMBERTWO.Allhere,sir.Thisgroupiscomposedofanoldgrandfatherandgrandmother,theirmarriedsonandhiswife, and their familyof children.Orson Jobson is a little childasleepinhismother’sarms.TheDoctor,withakindwordorso, liftsupthe

cornerof themother’sshawl, looksat thechild’s face,and touches the littleclenchedhand.IfwewereallaswellasOrsonJobson,doctoringwouldbeapoorprofession.INSPECTOR.Quite right, Jessie Jobson.Takeyourticket,Jessie,andpasson.Andawaytheygo.Mormonagent,skilfulandquiet,handsthemon.Mormonagent,skilfulandquiet,handsnextpartyup.INSPECTOR(readingticketagain).SusannahCleverlyandWilliamCleverly.Brotherandsister,eh?SISTER(youngwomanofbusiness,hustlingslowbrother).Yes,sir.INSPECTOR.Very good, Susannah Cleverly.Takeyourticket,Susannah,andtakecareofit.Andawaytheygo.INSPECTOR (taking ticket again).Sampson Dibble and Dorothy Dibble(surveyingaveryoldcoupleoverhis spectacles,with somesurprise).Yourhusbandquiteblind,Mrs.Dibble?MRS.DIBBLE.Yes,sir,hebestone-blind.MR.DIBBLE(addressingthemast).Yes,sir,Ibestone-blind.INSPECTOR.That’sabadjob.Takeyourticket,Mrs.Dibble,anddon’tloseit,andpasson.DoctortapsMr.Dibbleontheeyebrowwithhisforefinger,andawaytheygo.INSPECTOR(takingticketagain).AnastatiaWeedle.ANASTATIA (a pretty girl, in a bright Garibaldi, this morning elected byuniversalsuffragetheBeautyoftheShip).Thatisme,sir.INSPECTOR.Goingalone,Anastatia?ANASTATIA (shaking her curls).IamwithMrs.Jobson,sir,butI’vegotseparatedforthemoment.INSPECTOR.Oh!YouarewiththeJobsons?Quite right.That’lldo,MissWeedle.Don’tloseyourticket.Awayshegoes,andjoinstheJobsonswhoarewaitingforher,andstoopsand

kisses Brigham Jobson—who appears to be considered too young for thepurpose,by severalMormons rising twenty,whoare lookingon.Beforeherextensive skirts have departed from the casks, a decentwidow stands therewithfourchildren,andsotherollgoes.The faces of someof theWelshpeople, amongwhom thereweremanyoldpersons,were certainly the least intelligent. Some of these emigrantswouldhave bungled sorely, but for the directing hand that was always ready. Theintelligenceherewasunquestionablyofaloworder,andtheheadswereofapoor type.Generally thecasewas the reverse.Thereweremanyworn facesbearingtracesofpatientpovertyandhardwork,andtherewasgreatsteadinessof purpose andmuch undemonstrative self-respect among this class. A fewyoungmenweregoingsingly.Severalgirlsweregoing,twoorthreetogether.These latter I found it very difficult to refer back, in my mind, to theirrelinquished homes and pursuits. Perhaps they were more like countrymilliners,andpupilteachersrathertawdrilydressed,thananyotherclassesofyoungwomen. Inoticed,amongmany littleornamentsworn,more thanonephotograph-brooch of the Princess of Wales, and also of the late PrinceConsort.Somesinglewomenoffromthirtytoforty,whomonemightsupposetobeembroiderers,orstraw-bonnet-makers,wereobviouslygoingoutinquestofhusbands,asfinerladiesgotoIndia.Thattheyhadanydistinctnotionsofapluralityofhusbandsorwives,Idonotbelieve.Tosupposethefamilygroupsofwhomthemajorityofemigrantswerecomposed,polygamicallypossessed,wouldbetosupposeanabsurdity,manifesttoanyonewhosawthefathersandmothers.Ishouldsay(Ihadnomeansofascertainingthefact)thatmostfamiliarkindsofhandicrafttradeswererepresentedhere.Farm-labourers,shepherds,andthelike,hadtheirfullshareofrepresentation,butIdoubtiftheypreponderated.Itwasinterestingtoseehowtheleadingspiritinthefamilycircleneverfailedtoshowitself,eveninthesimpleprocessofansweringtothenamesastheywerecalled,andcheckingofftheownersofthenames.Sometimesitwasthefather,muchoftenerthemother,sometimesaquicklittlegirlsecondorthirdinorderofseniority.Itseemedtooccurforthefirsttimetosomeheavyfathers,whatlargefamilies theyhad;and theireyesrolledabout,during thecallingof thelist,asiftheyhalfmisdoubtedsomeotherfamilytohavebeensmuggledintotheir own.Among all the fine handsome children, I observed but two withmarks upon their necks that were probably scrofulous. Out of the wholenumber of emigrants, but one old womanwas temporarily set aside by thedoctor,onsuspicionoffever;butevensheafterwardsobtainedacleanbillofhealth.Whenallhad‘passed,’andtheafternoonbegantowearon,ablackbox

becamevisibleondeck,whichboxwasinchargeofcertainpersonagesalsoinblack,ofwhomonlyonehadtheconventionalairofanitinerantpreacher.Thisboxcontainedasupplyofhymn-books,neatlyprintedandgotup,publishedatLiverpool,andalsoinLondonatthe‘Latter-DaySaints’BookDepôt,30,Florence-street.’Somecopieswerehandsomelybound;theplainerwerethemoreinrequest,andmanywerebought.Thetitleran:‘SacredHymnsandSpiritualSongsfortheChurchofJesusChurchofLatter-DaySaints.’ThePreface,datedManchester,1840,ranthus:-‘TheSaintsinthiscountryhavebeenverydesirousforaHymnBookadaptedtotheirfaithandworship,thattheymightsingthetruthwithanunderstandingheart,andexpresstheirpraise,joy,andgratitudeinsongsadaptedtotheNewandEverlastingCovenant.Inaccordancewiththeirwishes,wehaveselectedthefollowingvolume,whichwehopewillproveacceptableuntilagreatervarietycanbeadded.Withsentimentsofhighconsiderationandesteem,wesubscribeourselvesyourbrethrenintheNewandEverlastingCovenant,BRIGHAMYOUNG,PARLEYP.PRATT,JOHNTAYLOR.’Fromthisbook—bynomeansexplanatorytomyselfoftheNewandEverlastingCovenant,andnotatallmakingmyheartanunderstandingoneonthesubjectofthatmystery—ahymnwassung,whichdidnotattractanygreatamountofattention,andwassupportedbyaratherselectcircle.Butthechoirintheboatwasverypopularandpleasant;andtherewastohavebeenaBand,onlytheCornetwaslateincomingonboard.Inthecourseoftheafternoon,amotherappearedfromshore,insearchofherdaughter,‘whohadrunawaywiththeMormons.’ShereceivedeveryassistancefromtheInspector,butherdaughterwasnotfoundtobeonboard.Thesaintsdidnotseemtome,particularlyinterestedinfindingher.Towardsfiveo’clock, thegalleybecamefullof tea-kettles,andanagreeablefragranceofteapervadedtheship.Therewasnoscramblingorjostlingforthehotwater,noillhumour,noquarrelling.AstheAmazonwastosailwiththenexttide,andasitwouldnotbehighwaterbeforetwoo’clockinthemorning,Ileftherwithherteainfullaction,andheridleSteamTuglyingby,deputingsteamandsmokeforthetimebeingtotheTea-kettles.IafterwardslearnedthataDespatchwassenthomebythecaptainbeforehestruckoutintothewideAtlantic,highlyextollingthebehaviouroftheseEmigrants,andtheperfectorderandproprietyofalltheirsocialarrangements.WhatisinstoreforthepoorpeopleontheshoresoftheGreatSaltLake,whathappydelusionstheyarelabouringundernow,onwhatmiserableblindnesstheireyesmaybeopenedthen,Idonotpretendtosay.ButIwentonboardtheirshiptobeartestimonyagainstthemiftheydeservedit,asIfullybelievedtheywould;tomygreatastonishmenttheydidnotdeserveit;andmypredispositionsandtendenciesmustnotaffectmeasanhonestwitness.Iwent

overtheAmazon’sside,feelingitimpossibletodenythat,sofar,someremarkableinfluencehadproducedaremarkableresult,whichbetterknowninfluenceshaveoftenmissed.**AfterthisUncommercialJourneywasprinted,IhappenedtomentiontheexperienceitdescribestoLordHoughton.Thatgentlemanthenshowedmeanarticleofhiswriting,inTheEdinburghReviewforJanuary,1862,whichishighlyremarkableforitsphilosophical and literary research concerning theseLatter-DaySaints.Ifindinitthefollowingsentences:-‘TheSelectCommitteeoftheHouseofCommonsonemigrantshipsfor1854summonedtheMormonagentandpassenger-brokerbeforeit,andcametotheconclusionthatnoshipsunder the provisions of the “Passengers Act” could be depended upon forcomfortandsecurityinthesamedegreeasthoseunderhisadministration.TheMormon ship is a Family under strong and accepted discipline, with everyprovisionforcomfort,decorumandinternalpeace.’

CHAPTERXXIII—THECITYOFTHEABSENTWhenIthinkIdeserveparticularlywellofmyself,andhaveearnedtherighttoenjoyalittletreat,IstrollfromCovent-gardenintotheCityofLondon,afterbusiness-hours there, on aSaturday, or—better yet—onaSunday, and roamabout itsdesertednooksandcorners.It isnecessaryto thefullenjoymentofthesejourneysthat theyshouldbemadeinsummer-time,forthentheretiredspotsthatIlovetohaunt,areattheiridlestanddullest.Agentlefallofrainisnotobjectionable, andawarmmist setsoffmy favourite retreats todecidedadvantage.Amongthese,CityChurchyardsholdahighplace.SuchstrangechurchyardshideintheCityofLondon;churchyardssometimessoentirelydetachedfromchurches,alwayssopresseduponbyhouses;sosmall,sorank,sosilent,soforgotten,exceptbythefewpeoplewhoeverlookdownintothemfromtheirsmokywindows.AsIstandpeepinginthroughtheirongatesandrails,Icanpeeltherustymetaloff,likebarkfromanoldtree.Theillegibletombstonesarealllop-sided,thegrave-moundslosttheirshapeintherainsofahundredyearsago,theLombardyPoplarorPlane-Treethatwasonceadrysalter’sdaughterandseveralcommon-councilmen,haswitheredlikethoseworthies,anditsdepartedleavesaredustbeneathit.Contagionofslowruinoverhangstheplace.Thediscolouredtiledroofsoftheenvironingbuildingsstandsoawry,thattheycanhardlybeproofagainstanystressofweather.Oldcrazystacksofchimneysseemtolookdownastheyoverhang,dubiouslycalculatinghowfartheywillhavetofall.Inanangleofthewalls,whatwasoncethetool-houseofthegrave-diggerrotsaway,encrustedwithtoadstools.Pipesandspoutsforcarryingofftherainfromtheencompassinggables,brokenor

feloniouslycutforoldleadlongago,nowlettheraindripandsplashasitlist,upontheweedyearth.Sometimesthereisarustypumpsomewherenear,and,asIlookinattherailsandmeditate,Ihearitworkingunderanunknownhandwithacreakingprotest:asthoughthedepartedinthechurchyardurged,‘Letusliehereinpeace;don’tsuckusupanddrinkus!’Oneofmybestbelovedchurchyards,IcallthechurchyardofSaintGhastlyGrim;touchingwhatmeningeneralcallit,Ihavenoinformation.ItliesattheheartoftheCity,andtheBlackwallRailwayshrieksatitdaily.Itisasmallsmallchurchyard,withaferocious,strong,spikedirongate,likeajail.Thisgateisornamentedwithskullsandcross-bones,largerthanthelife,wroughtinstone;butitlikewisecameintothemindofSaintGhastlyGrim,thattostickironspikesa-topofthestoneskulls,asthoughtheywereimpaled,wouldbeapleasantdevice.Thereforetheskullsgrinalofthorribly,thrustthroughandthroughwithironspears.Hence,thereisattractionofrepulsionformeinSaintGhastlyGrim,and,havingoftencontemplateditinthedaylightandthedark,Ioncefeltdrawntowardsitinathunderstormatmidnight.‘Why not?’Isaid,inself-excuse.‘IhavebeentoseetheColosseumbythelightofthemoon;isitworsetogotoseeSaintGhastlyGrimbythelightofthelightning?’IrepairedtotheSaintinahackneycab,andfoundtheskullsmosteffective,havingtheairofapublicexecution,andseeming,asthelightningflashed,towinkandgrinwiththepainofthespikes.Havingnootherpersontowhomtoimpartmysatisfaction,Icommunicatedittothedriver.Sofarfrombeingresponsive,hesurveyedme—hewasnaturallyabottled-nosed,red-facedman—withablanchedcountenance.Andashedrovemeback,heeverandagainglancedinoverhisshoulderthroughthelittlefrontwindowofhiscarriage,asmistrustingthatIwasafareoriginallyfromagraveinthechurchyardofSaintGhastlyGrim,whomighthaveflittedhomeagainwithoutpaying.Sometimes,thequeerHallofsomequeerCompanygivesuponachurchyardsuchasthis,and,whentheLiverydine,youmayhearthem(ifyouarelookinginthroughtheironrails,whichyouneverarewhenIam)toastingtheirownWorshipfulprosperity.Sometimes,awholesalehouseofbusiness,requiringmuchroomforstowage,willoccupyoneortwoorevenallthreesidesoftheenclosingspace,andthebacksofbalesofgoodswilllumberupthewindows,asiftheywereholdingsomecrowdedtrade-meetingofthemselveswithin.Sometimes,thecommandingwindowsareallblank,andshownomoresignoflifethanthegravesbelow—notsomuch,fortheytellofwhatonceuponatimewaslifeundoubtedly.SuchwasthesurroundingofoneCitychurchyardthatIsawlastsummer,onaVolunteeringSaturdayeveningtowardseightoftheclock,whenwithastonishmentIbeheldanoldoldmanandanoldoldwomaninit,makinghay.Yes,ofalloccupationsinthisworld,makinghay!

ItwasaveryconfinedpatchofchurchyardlyingbetweenGracechurch-streetandtheTower,capableofyielding,sayanapronfulofhay.Bywhatmeanstheoldoldmanandwomanhadgotintoit,withanalmosttoothlesshay-makingrake,Icouldnotfathom.Noopenwindowwaswithinview;nowindowatallwaswithinview,sufficientlynearthegroundtohaveenabledtheiroldlegstodescendfromit;therustychurchyard-gatewaslocked,themouldychurchwaslocked.Gravelyamongthegraves,theymadehay,allalonebythemselves.TheylookedlikeTimeandhiswife.Therewasbuttheonerakebetweenthem,andtheybothhadholdofitinapastorally-lovingmanner,andtherewashayontheoldwoman’sblackbonnet,asiftheoldmanhadrecentlybeenplayful.Theoldmanwasquiteanobsoleteoldman,inknee-breechesandcoarsegreystockings,andtheoldwomanworemittenslikeuntohisstockingsin textureand incolour.They tooknoheedofmeas I lookedon,unable toaccountforthem.Theoldwomanwasmuchtoobrightforapew-opener,theoldmanmuchtoomeekforabeadle.Onanoldtombstoneintheforegroundbetween me and them, were two cherubim; but for those celestialembellishments being represented as having no possible use for knee-breeches, stockings, ormittens, I should have compared themwith the hay-makers,andsoughtalikeness.Icoughedandawoketheechoes,butthehay-makers never looked at me. They used the rake with a measured action,drawingthescantycroptowardsthem;andsoIwasfaintoleavethemunderthreeyardsandahalfofdarkeningsky,gravelymakinghayamongthegraves,allalonebythemselves.PerhapstheywereSpectres,andIwantedaMedium.In another City churchyard of similar cramped dimensions, I saw, thatselfsamesummer,twocomfortablecharitychildren.Theyweremakinglove—tremendousproofof thevigourof that immortalarticle, for theywere in thegraceful uniform underwhichEnglishCharity delights to hide herself—andthey were overgrown, and their legs (his legs at least, for I am modestlyincompetent to speak of hers) were as much in the wrong as mere passiveweaknessofcharactercanrender legs.O itwasa leadenchurchyard,butnodoubtagoldengroundtothoseyoungpersons!IfirstsawthemonaSaturdayevening,and,perceivingfromtheiroccupationthatSaturdayeveningwastheirtrysting-time, I returned that evening se’nnight, and renewed thecontemplationof them.They came there to shake the bits ofmattingwhichwerespreadinthechurchaisles,andtheyafterwardsrolledthemup,herollinghisend,she rollinghers,until theymet,andover the twooncedividednowunited rolls—sweet emblem!—gave and received a chaste salute. It was sorefreshingtofindoneofmyfadedchurchyardsbloomingintoflowerthus,thatIreturnedasecondtime,andathird,andultimatelythisbefell:-Theyhadleftthechurchdooropen,intheirdustingandarranging.Walkingintolookatthechurch,Ibecameaware,bythedimlight,ofhiminthepulpit,ofherinthereading-desk,ofhimlookingdown,ofherlookingup,exchangingtender

discourse.Immediatelybothdived,andbecameasitwerenon-existentonthissphere.WithanassumptionofinnocenceIturnedtoleavethesacrededifice,whenanobeseformstoodintheportal,puffilydemandingJoseph,orindefaultofJoseph,Celia.Takingthismonsterbythesleeve,andluringhimforthonpretenceofshowinghimwhomhesought,IgavetimefortheemergenceofJosephandCelia,whopresentlycametowardsusinthechurchyard,bendingunderdustymatting,apictureofthrivingandunconsciousindustry.ItwouldbesuperfluoustohintthatIhaveeversincedeemedthistheproudestpassageinmylife.Butsuchinstances,oranytokensofvitality,arerareindeedinmyCitychurchyards.Afewsparrowsoccasionallytrytoraisealivelychirrupintheirsolitarytree—perhaps,astakingadifferentviewofwormsfromthatentertainedbyhumanity—buttheyareflatandhoarseofvoice,liketheclerk,theorgan,thebell,theclergyman,andalltherestoftheChurch-workswhentheyarewoundupforSunday.Cagedlarks,thrushes,orblackbirds,hanginginneighbouringcourts,pourforththeirstrainspassionately,asscentingthetree,tryingtobreakout,andseeleavesagainbeforetheydie,buttheirsongisWillow,Willow—ofachurchyardcast.Solittlelightlivesinsidethechurchesofmychurchyards,when the twoareco-existent, that it isoftenonlybyanaccidentandafterlongacquaintancethatIdiscovertheirhavingstainedglassinsomeoddwindow.Thewesteringsunslantsintothechurchyardbysomeunwontedentry,afewprismatictearsdroponanoldtombstone,andawindowthatIthoughtwasonlydirty,isforthemomentallbejewelled.Thenthelightpassesandthecoloursdie.Thougheventhen,ifthereberoomenoughformetofallbacksofarasthatIcangazeuptothetopoftheChurchTower,Iseetherustyvanenewburnished,andseemingtolookoutwithajoyfulflashovertheseaofsmokeatthedistantshoreofcountry.Blinkingoldmenwhoareletoutofworkhousesbythehour,haveatendencytositonbitsofcopingstoneinthesechurchyards,leaningwithbothhandsontheirsticksandasthmaticallygasping.Themoredepressedclassofbeggarstoo,bringhitherbrokenmeats,andmunch.Iamonnoddingtermswithameditativeturncockwholingersinoneofthem,andwhomIsuspectofaturnforpoetry;therather,ashelooksoutoftemperwhenhegivesthefire-plugadisparagingwrenchwiththatlargetuning-forkofhiswhichwouldwearouttheshoulderofhiscoat,butforaprecautionarypieceofinlaidleather.Fire-ladders,whichIamsatisfiednobodyknowsanythingabout,andthekeysofwhichwerelostinancienttimes,moulderawayinthelargerchurchyards,undereaveslikewoodeneyebrows;andsoremovedarethosecornersfromthehauntsofmenandboys,thatonceonafifthofNovemberIfounda‘Guy’trustedtotakecareofhimselfthere,whilehisproprietorshadgonetodinner.OftheexpressionofhisfaceIcannotreport,becauseitwasturnedtothewall;

buthisshruggedshouldersandhistenextendedfingers,appearedtodenotethathehadmoralisedinhislittlestrawchaironthemysteryofmortalityuntilhegaveitupasabadjob.Youdonotcomeuponthesechurchyardsviolently;thereareshapesoftransitionintheneighbourhood.Anantiquatednewsshop,orbarber’sshop,apparentlybereftofcustomersintheearlierdaysofGeorgetheThird,wouldwarnmetolookoutforone,ifanydiscoveriesinthisrespectwereleftformetomake.Averyquietcourt,incombinationwithanunaccountabledyer’sandscourer’s,wouldpreparemeforachurchyard.Anexceedinglyretiringpublic-house,withabagatelle-boardshadilyvisibleinasawdustyparlourshapedlikeanomnibus,andwithashelfofpunch-bowlsinthebar,wouldapprisemethatI stoodnearconsecratedground.A ‘Dairy,’exhibiting in itsmodestwindowoneverylittlemilk-canandthreeeggs,wouldsuggest tomethecertaintyoffinding the poultry hard by, pecking at my forefathers. I first inferred thevicinityofSaintGhastlyGrim, fromacertainairofextra reposeandgloompervadingavaststackofwarehouses.Fromthehushoftheseplaces,itiscongenialtopassintothehushedresortsofbusiness.DownthelanesIliketoseethecartsandwaggonshuddledtogetherin repose, the cranes idle, and the warehouses shut. Pausing in the alleysbehindtheclosedBanksofmightyLombard-street,itgivesoneasgoodasarichfeelingtothinkofthebroadcounterswitharimalongtheedge,madefortellingmoneyouton,thescalesforweighingpreciousmetals,theponderousledgers,and,aboveall,thebrightcoppershovelsforshovellinggold.WhenIdrawmoney,itneverseemssomuchmoneyaswhenitisshovelledatmeoutof a bright copper shovel. I like to say, ‘In gold,’ and to see seven poundsmusically pouring out of the shovel, like seventy; the Bank appearing toremarktome—Iitaliciseappearing—‘ifyouwantmoreofthisyellowearth,wekeepitinbarrowsatyourservice.’Tothinkofthebanker’sclerkwithhisdeftfingerturningthecrispedgesoftheHundred-PoundNoteshehastakeninafatrolloutofadrawer,isagaintoheartherustlingofthatdelicioussouth-cashwind.‘Howwillyouhaveit?’IonceheardthisusualquestionaskedataBank Counter of an elderly female, habited in mourning and steeped insimplicity, who answered, open-eyed, crook-fingered, laughing withexpectation, ‘Anyhow!’ Calling these things to mind as I stroll among theBanks, Iwonderwhether the other solitary Sundayman I pass, has designsupontheBanks.Fortheinterestandmysteryofthematter,Ialmosthopehemayhave,andthathisconfederatemaybeatthismomenttakingimpressionsofthekeysoftheironclosetsinwax,andthatadelightfulrobberymaybeincourse of transaction.AboutCollege-hill,Mark-lane, and so on towards theTower,andDockward, thedesertedwine-merchants’cellarsare finesubjectsfor consideration; but the deserted money-cellars of the Bankers, and their

plate-cellars, and their jewel-cellars, what subterranean regions of theWonderful Lamp are these!And again: possibly some shoeless boy in rags,passedthroughthisstreetyesterday,forwhomitisreservedtobeaBankerinthefulnessoftime,andtobesurpassingrich.Suchreverseshavebeen,sincethedaysofWhittington;andwere, longbefore. Iwant toknowwhether theboyhasanyforeglitteringofthatglitteringfortunenow,whenhetreadsthesestones, hungry.Much as I also want to know whether the next man to behangedatNewgateyonder,hadanysuspicionuponhimthathewasmovingsteadily towards that fate,when he talked somuch about the lastmanwhopaidthesamegreatdebtatthesamesmallDebtors’Door.Whereareallthepeoplewhoonbusyworking-dayspervadethesescenes?Thelocomotivebanker’sclerk,whocarriesablackportfoliochainedtohimbyachainofsteel,whereishe?Doeshegotobedwithhischainon—tochurchwithhischainon—ordoeshelayitby?Andifhelaysitby,whatbecomesofhisportfoliowhenheisunchainedforaholiday?Thewastepaperbasketsoftheseclosedcounting-houseswouldletmeintomanyhintsofbusinessmattersifIhadtheexplorationofthem;andwhatsecretsoftheheartshouldIdiscoveronthe‘pads’oftheyoungclerks—thesheetsofcartridge-paperandblotting-paperinterposedbetweentheirwritingandtheirdesks!Padsaretakenintoconfidenceonthetenderestoccasions,andoftentimeswhenIhavemadeabusinessvisit,andhavesentinmynamefromtheouteroffice,haveIhaditforcedonmydiscursivenoticethattheofficiatingyounggentlemanhasoverandoveragaininscribedAMELIA,ininkofvariousdates,oncornersofhispad.Indeed,thepadmayberegardedasthelegitimatemodernsuccessoroftheoldforest-tree:whereontheseyoungknights(havingnoattainableforestnearerthanEpping)engravethenamesoftheirmistresses.Afterall,itisamoresatisfactoryprocessthancarving,andcanbeoftenerrepeated.SothesecourtsintheirSundayrestarecourtsofLoveOmnipotent(Irejoicetobethinkmyself),dryastheylook.AndhereisGarraway’s,boltedandshutteredhardandfast!Itispossibletoimaginethemanwhocutsthesandwiches,onhisbackinahayfield;itispossibletoimaginehisdesk,likethedeskofaclerkatchurch,withouthim;butimaginationisunabletopursuethemenwhowaitatGarraway’salltheweekforthemenwhonevercome.WhentheyareforciblyputoutofGarraway’sonSaturdaynight—whichtheymustbe,fortheyneverwouldgooutoftheirownaccord—wheredotheyvanishuntilMondaymorning?OnthefirstSundaythatIeverstrayedhere,Iexpectedtofindthemhoveringabouttheselanes,likerestlessghosts,andtryingtopeepintoGarraway’sthroughchinksintheshutters,ifnotendeavouringtoturnthelockofthedoorwithfalsekeys,picks,andscrew-drivers.Butthewonderis,thattheygocleanaway!AndnowIthinkofit,thewonderis,thateveryworking-daypervaderofthesescenesgoescleanaway.Themanwhosellsthedogs’collarsandthelittletoycoal-scuttles,feelsunder

asgreatanobligationtogoafaroff,asGlynandCo.,orSmith,Payne,andSmith.Thereisanoldmonastery-cryptunderGarraway’s(Ihavebeeninitamongtheportwine),andperhapsGarraway’s,takingpityonthemouldymenwhowaitinitspublic-roomalltheirlives,givesthemcoolhouse-roomdownthereoverSundays;butthecatacombsofPariswouldnotbelargeenoughtoholdtherestofthemissing.ThischaracteristicofLondonCitygreatlyhelpsitsbeingthequaintplaceitisintheweeklypauseofbusiness,andgreatlyhelpsmySundaysensationinitofbeingtheLastMan.Inmysolitude,theticket-portersbeingallgonewiththerest,Iventuretobreathetothequietbricksandstonesmyconfidentialwondermentwhyaticket-porter,whoneverdoesanyworkwithhishands,isboundtowearawhiteapron,andwhyagreatEcclesiasticalDignitary,whoneverdoesanyworkwithhishandseither,isequallyboundtowearablackone.

CHAPTERXXIV—ANOLDSTAGE-COACHINGHOUSEBeforethewaitresshadshutthedoor,Ihadforgottenhowmanystage-coachesshe said used to change horses in the town every day. But it was of littlemoment; anyhighnumberwoulddo aswell as another. It had been a greatstage-coaching town in the great stage-coaching times, and the ruthlessrailwayshadkilledandburiedit.ThesignofthehousewastheDolphin’sHead.Whyonlyhead,Idon’tknow;for the Dolphin’s effigy at full length, and upside down—as a Dolphin isalwaysboundtobewhenartisticallytreated,thoughIsupposeheissometimesright sideupward inhisnaturalcondition—graced the sign-board.Thesign-boardchafeditsrustyhooksoutsidethebow-windowofmyroom,andwasashabbywork.No visitor could have denied that the Dolphin was dying byinches,butheshowednobrightcolours.Hehadonceservedanothermaster;there was a newer streak of paint below him, displaying with inconsistentfreshnessthelegend,ByJ.MELLOWS.My door opened again, and J. Mellows’s representative came back. I hadaskedherwhatIcouldhavefordinner,andshenowreturnedwiththecounterquestion,whatwouldIlike?AstheDolphinstoodpossessedofnothingthatIdolike,Iwasfaintoyieldtothesuggestionofaduck,whichIdon’tlike.J.Mellows’srepresentativewasamournfulyoungwomanwitheyesusceptibleofguidance, andoneuncontrollableeye;which latter, seeming towander inquest of stage-coaches, deepened themelancholy inwhich theDolphinwassteeped.ThisyoungwomanhadbutshutthedooronretiringagainwhenIbethoughtmeofadding tomyorder, thewords, ‘withnicevegetables.’Lookingoutat

the door to give them emphatic utterance, I found her already in a state ofpensivecatalepsyinthedesertedgallery,pickingherteethwithapin.AttheRailwayStationsevenmilesoff,IhadbeenthesubjectofwonderwhenIorderedaflyinwhichtocomehere.AndwhenIgavethedirection‘TotheDolphin’sHead,’Ihadobservedanominousstareonthecountenanceof thestrongyoungmaninvelveteen,whowastheplatformservantoftheCompany.Hehadalsocalled tomydriver atparting, ‘All ri-ight!Don’t hangyourselfwhenyougetthere,Geo-o-rge!’inasarcastictone,forwhichIhadentertainedsometransitorythoughtsofreportinghimtotheGeneralManager.Ihadnobusinessinthetown—Ineverhaveanybusinessinanytown—butIhadbeencaughtbythefancythatIwouldcomeandlookatitinitsdegeneracy.MypurposewasfitlyinauguratedbytheDolphin’sHead,whicheverywhereexpressedpastcoachfulnessandpresentcoachlessness.Colouredprintsofcoaches,starting,arriving,changinghorses,coachesinthesunshine,coachesinthesnow,coachesinthewind,coachesinthemistandrain,coachesontheKing’sbirthday,coachesinallcircumstancescompatiblewiththeirtriumphandvictory,butneverintheactofbreakingdownoroverturning,pervadedthehouse.Oftheseworksofart,some,framedandnotglazed,hadholesinthem;thevarnishofothershadbecomesobrownandcracked,thattheylookedlikeoverdonepie-crust;thedesignsofotherswerealmostobliteratedbythefliesofmanysummers.Brokenglasses,damagedframes,lop-sidedhanging,andconsignmentofincurablecripplestoplacesofrefugeindarkcorners,attestedthedesolationoftherest.TheoldroomonthegroundfloorwherethepassengersoftheHighflyerusedtodine,hadnothinginitbutawretchedshowoftwigsandflower-potsinthebroadwindowtohidethenakednessoftheland,andinacornerlittleMellows’sperambulator,withevenitsparasol-headturneddespondentlytothewall.Theotherroom,wherepost-horsecompanyusedtowaitwhilerelaysweregettingreadydowntheyard,stillhelditsground,butwasasairlessasIconceiveahearsetobe:insomuchthatMr.Pitt,hanginghighagainstthepartition(withspotsonhimlikeportwine,thoughitismysterioushowportwineevergotsquirtedupthere),hadgoodreasonforperkinghisnoseandsniffing.Thestopperlesscruetsonthespindle-shankedsideboardwereinamiserablydejectedstate:theanchovysaucehavingturnedbluesomeyearsago,andthecayennepepper(withascoopinitlikeasmallmodelofawoodenleg)havingturnedsolid.Theoldfraudulentcandleswhichwerealwaysbeingpaidforandneverused,wereburntoutatlast;buttheirtallstiltsofcandlesticksstilllingered,andstilloutragedthehumanintellectbypretendingtobesilver.ThemouldyoldunreformedBoroughMember,withhisrighthandbuttonedupinthebreastofhiscoat,andhisbackcharacteristicallyturnedonbalesofpetitionsfromhisconstituents,wastheretoo;andthepokerwhichneverhadbeenamongthe

fire-irons,lestpost-horsecompanyshouldoverstirthefire,wasnotthere,asofold.Pursuing my researches in the Dolphin’s Head, I found it sorely shrunken.WhenJ.Mellowscameintopossession,hehadwalledoffhalfthebar,whichwasnowatobacco-shopwithitsownentranceintheyard—theoncegloriousyardwherethepostboys,whipinhandandalwaysbuttoningtheirwaistcoatsat the last moment, used to come running forth to mount and away. A‘ScientificShoeing—Smith andVeterinarySurgeon,’ had further encroachedupontheyard;andagrimlysatiricaljobber,whoannouncedhimselfashavingto Let ‘A neat one-horse fly, and a one-horse cart,’ had established hisbusiness, himself, andhis family, in apart of the extensive stables.Anotherpart was lopped clean off from the Dolphin’s Head, and now comprised achapel, a wheelwright’s, and a Young Men’s Mutual Improvement andDiscussionSociety (ina loft): thewhole formingaback lane.Noaudacioushandhadpluckeddownthevanefromthecentralcupolaofthestables,butithad grown rusty and stuck atN-Nil:while the score or two of pigeons thatremainedtruetotheirancestraltraditionsandtheplace,hadcollectedinarowontheroof-ridgeoftheonlyouthouseretainedbytheDolphin,wherealltheinside pigeons tried to push the outside pigeon off. This I accepted asemblematicalofthestruggleforpostandplaceinrailwaytimes.Saunteringforthintothetown,bywayofthecoveredandpillaredentrancetotheDolphin’sYard,onceredolentofsoupandstable-litter,nowredolentofmustydisuse,Ipacedthestreet.Itwasahotday,andthelittlesun-blindsoftheshopswerealldrawndown,andthemoreenterprisingtradesmenhadcausedtheir’Prenticestotricklewateron the pavement appertaining to theirfrontage. It looked as if theyhadbeen shedding tears for the stage-coaches,anddryingtheirineffectualpocket-handkerchiefs.Suchweaknesswouldhavebeenexcusable;forbusinesswas—asonedejectedporkmanwhokeptashopwhich refused to reciprocate the compliment by keeping him, informedme—‘bitter bad.’Most of the harness-makers and corn-dealers were gone thewayofthecoaches,butitwasapleasantrecognitionoftheeternalprocessionofChildrendownthatoldoriginalsteepIncline,theValleyoftheShadow,thatthosetradesmenweremostlysucceededbyvendorsofsweetmeatsandcheaptoys. The opposition house to theDolphin, once famous as theNewWhiteHart,hadlongcollapsed.Inafitofabjectdepression,ithadcastwhitewashonits windows, and boarded up its front door, and reduced itself to a sideentrance;buteventhathadprovedaworldtoowidefortheLiteraryInstitutionwhichhadbeenitslastphase;fortheInstitutionhadcollapsedtoo,andoftheambitiouslettersofitsinscriptionontheWhiteHart’sfront,allhadfallenoffbutthese:

LYINST-suggestiveofLamentablyInsolvent.Astotheneighbouringmarket-place,itseemedtohavewhollyrelinquishedmarketing,tothedealerincrockerywhosepotsandpansstraggledhalfacrossit,andtotheCheapJackwhosatwithfoldedarmsontheshaftsofhiscart,superciliouslygazingaround;hisvelveteenwaistcoat,evidentlyharbouringgravedoubtswhetheritwasworthhiswhiletostayanightinsuchaplace.The church bells began to ring as I left this spot, but they by no meansimproved thecase, for theysaid, inapetulantway,andspeakingwithsomedifficultyintheirirritation,WHAT’S-be-come-of-THE-coach-ES!’Norwouldthey(Ifoundonlistening)evervarytheiremphasis,saveinrespectofgrowingmore sharp and vexed, but invariablywent on, ‘WHAT’S-be-come-of-THE-coach-ES!’—always beginning the inquiry with an unpolite abruptness.Perhapsfromtheirelevationtheysawtherailway,anditaggravatedthem.Coming upon a coachmaker’s workshop, I began to look about me with arevivedspirit, thinking thatperchance Imightbehold theresomeremainsoftheoldtimesofthetown’sgreatness.Therewasonlyonemanatwork—adryman,grizzled,andfaradvancedinyears,buttallandupright,who,becomingaware of me looking on, straightened his back, pushed up his spectaclesagainst his brown-paper cap, and appeared inclined to defyme. Towhom Ipacificallysaid:‘Goodday,sir!’‘What?’saidhe.‘Goodday,sir.’He seemed to consider about that, and not to agree withme.—‘Was you alookingforanything?’hethenasked,inapointedmanner.‘Iwaswonderingwhethertherehappenedtobeanyfragmentofanoldstage-coachhere.’‘Isthatall?’‘That’sall.’‘No,thereain’t.’Itwasnowmyturntosay‘Oh!’andIsaidit.Notanotherworddidthedryandgrizzledmansay,butbent tohisworkagain. In thecoach-makingdays, the

coach-painters had tried their brushes on a post beside him; and quite aCalendarofdepartedglorieswastobereaduponit,inblueandyellowandredandgreen,someinchesthick.Presentlyhelookedupagain.‘Youseemtohaveadealoftimeonyourhands,’washisquerulousremark.Iadmittedthefact.‘Ithinkit’sapityyouwasnotbroughtuptosomething,’saidhe.IsaidIthoughtsotoo.Appearing tobe informedwithan idea,he laiddownhisplane (for itwasaplanehewasatworkwith),pusheduphisspectaclesagain,andcametothedoor.‘Wouldapo-shaydoforyou?’heasked.‘IamnotsurethatIunderstandwhatyoumean.’‘Wouldapo-shay,’saidthecoachmaker,standingclosebeforeme,andfoldinghisarmsinthemannerofacross-examiningcounsel—‘wouldapo-shaymeettheviewsyouhaveexpressed?Yes,orno?’‘Yes.’‘Thenyoukeepstraightalongdown there tillyouseeone.You’llseeone ifyougofurenough.’With that, he turnedme by the shoulder in the direction Iwas to take, andwentinandresumedhisworkagainstabackgroundofleavesandgrapes.For,although he was a soured man and a discontented, his workshop was thatagreeablemixtureoftownandcountry,streetandgarden,whichisoftentobeseeninasmallEnglishtown.Iwentthewayhehadturnedme,andIcametotheBeer-shopwiththesignofTheFirstandLast,andwasoutofthetownontheoldLondonroad.IcametotheTurnpike,andIfoundit,initssilentway,eloquentrespectingthechangethathadfallenontheroad.TheTurnpike-housewasallovergrownwithivy;andtheTurnpike-keeper,unabletogetalivingoutofthetolls,pliedthetradeof a cobbler. Not only that, but his wife sold ginger-beer, and, in the verywindowofespialthroughwhichtheToll-takersofoldtimesusedwithawetobehold the grand London coaches coming on at a gallop, exhibited for salelittlebarber’s-polesofsweetstuffinastickylantern.Thepoliticaleconomyofthemasteroftheturnpikethusexpresseditself.

‘How goes turnpike business, master?’ said I to him, as he sat in his littleporch,repairingashoe.‘Itdon’tgoatall,master,’saidhetome.‘It’sstopped.’‘That’sbad,’saidI.‘Bad?’herepeated.Andhepointedtooneofhissunburntdustychildrenwhowasclimbingtheturnpike-gate,andsaid,extendinghisopenrighthandinremonstrancewithUniversalNature.‘Fiveon’em!’‘ButhowtoimproveTurnpikebusiness?’saidI.‘There’saway,master,’saidhe,withtheairofonewhohadthoughtdeeplyonthesubject.‘Ishouldliketoknowit.’‘Layatolloneverythingascomesthrough;layatollonwalkers.Layanothertolloneverythingasdon’tcomethrough;layatollonthemasstopsathome.’‘Wouldthelastremedybefair?’‘Fair? Them as stops at home, could come through if they liked; couldn’tthey?’‘Saytheycould.’‘Toll ’em. If they don’t come through, it’s their look out. Anyways,—Toll’em!’Finding itwasas impossible toarguewith this financialgeniusas ifhehadbeenChancelloroftheExchequer,andconsequentlytherightmanintherightplace,Ipassedonmeekly.Mymind now began tomisgiveme that the disappointed coach-maker hadsentme on awild-goose errand, and that therewas no post-chaise in thoseparts.Butcomingwithinviewofcertainallotment-gardensbytheroadside,Iretracted the suspicion, and confessed that I haddonehiman injustice.For,thereIsaw,surely,thepoorestsuperannuatedpost-chaiseleftonearth.Itwasapost-chaisetakenoff itsaxletreeandwheels,andplumpeddownontheclayeysoilamongaraggedgrowthofvegetables.Itwasapost-chaisenotevenset straightupon theground,but tiltedover,as if ithad fallenoutofaballoon. It was a post-chaise that had been a long time in those decayedcircumstances, and against which scarlet beanswere trained. It was a post-chaise patched and mended with old tea-trays, or with scraps of iron that

lookedlikethem,andboardedupastothewindows,buthavingAKNOCKERontheoff-sidedoor.Whetheritwasapost-chaiseusedastool-house,summer-house,ordwelling-house,Icouldnotdiscover,fortherewasnobodyathomeatthepost-chaisewhenIknocked,butitwascertainlyusedforsomething,andlockedup.Inthewonderofthisdiscovery,Iwalkedroundandroundthepost-chaise many times, and sat down by the post-chaise, waiting for furtherelucidation.Nonecame.Atlast,ImademywaybacktotheoldLondonroadby the further end of the allotment-gardens, and consequently at a pointbeyondthatfromwhichIhaddiverged.Ihadtoscramblethroughahedgeanddownasteepbank,andInearlycamedowna-topofalittlesparemanwhosatbreakingstonesbytheroadside.Hestayedhishammer,andsaid,regardingmemysteriouslythroughhisdarkgogglesofwire:‘Areyouaware,sir,thatyou’vebeentrespassing?’‘I turned out of the way,’ said I, in explanation, ‘to look at that odd post-chaise.Doyouhappentoknowanythingaboutit?’‘Iknowitwasmanyayearupontheroad,’saidhe.‘SoIsupposed.Doyouknowtowhomitbelongs?’Thestone-breakerbenthisbrowsandgogglesoverhisheapofstones,asifhewereconsideringwhetherheshouldanswerthequestionornot.Then, raisinghisbarredeyestomyfeaturesasbefore,hesaid:‘Tome.’Beingquiteunpreparedforthereply,Ireceiveditwithasufficientlyawkward‘Indeed!Dearme!’PresentlyIadded,‘Doyou—’Iwasgoingtosay‘livethere,’butitseemedsoabsurdaquestion,thatIsubstituted‘livenearhere?’Thestone-breaker,whohadnotbrokenafragmentsincewebegantoconverse,thendidasfollows.Heraisedhimselfbypoisinghisfingeronhishammer,andtookhiscoat,onwhichhehadbeenseated,overhisarm.HethenbackedtoaneasierpartofthebankthanthatbywhichIhadcomedown,keepinghisdarkgogglessilentlyuponmeallthetime,andthenshoulderedhishammer,suddenlyturned,ascended,andwasgone.Hisfacewassosmall,andhisgogglesweresolarge,thatheleftmewhollyuninformedastohiscountenance;butheleftmeaprofoundimpressionthatthecurvedlegsIhadseenfrombehindashevanished,werethelegsofanoldpostboy.ItwasnotuntilthenthatInoticedhehadbeenworkingbyagrass-grownmilestone,whichlookedlikeatombstoneerectedoverthegraveoftheLondonroad.

Mydinner-hourbeingcloseathand,Ihadnoleisuretopursuethegogglesorthesubjectthen,butmademywaybacktotheDolphin’sHead.InthegatewayI found J.Mellows, looking at nothing, and apparently experiencing that itfailedtoraisehisspirits.‘Idon’tcareforthetown,’saidJ.Mellows,whenIcomplimentedhimonthesanitaryadvantages itmayormaynotpossess; ‘Iwish Ihadnever seen thetown!’‘Youdon’tbelongtoit,Mr.Mellows?’‘Belongtoit!’repeatedMellows.‘IfIdidn’tbelongtoabetterstyleoftownthanthis,I’dtakeanddrownmyselfinapail.’ItthenoccurredtomethatMellows,havingsolittletodo, was habitually thrown back on his internalresources—bywhichImeantheDolphin’scellar.‘What we want,’ said Mellows, pulling off his hat, and making as if heemptieditofthelastloadofDisgustthathadexudedfromhisbrain,beforeheputitonagainforanotherload;‘whatwewant,isaBranch.ThePetitionfortheBranchBillisinthecoffee-room.Wouldyouputyournametoit?Everylittlehelps.’Ifoundthedocumentinquestionstretchedoutflatonthecoffee-roomtablebytheaidofcertainweightsfromthekitchen,andIgaveittheadditionalweightofmyuncommercialsignature.Tothebestofmybelief,Iboundmyselftothemodeststatementthatuniversaltraffic,happiness,prosperity,andcivilisation,togetherwithunboundednational triumph incompetitionwith the foreigner,wouldinfalliblyflowfromtheBranch.Havingachievedthisconstitutionalfeat,IaskedMr.Mellowsifhecouldgracemydinnerwithapintofgoodwine?Mr.Mellowsthusreplied.‘IfIcouldn’tgiveyouapintofgoodwine,I’d—there!—I’dtakeanddrownmyselfinapail.ButIwasdeceivedwhenIboughtthisbusiness,andthestockwashiggledy-piggledy,andIhaven’tyettastedmywayquitethroughitwithaviewtosortingit.Therefore,ifyouorderonekindandgetanother,changetillit comes right. Forwhat,’ saidMellows, unloading his hat as before, ‘whatwould you or any gentleman do, if you ordered one kind of wine andwasrequiredtodrinkanother?Why,you’d(andnaturallyandproperly,havingthefeelingsofagentleman),you’dtakeanddrownyourselfinapail!’

CHAPTERXXV—THEBOILEDBEEFOFNEWENGLANDTheshabbinessofourEnglishcapital,ascomparedwithParis,Bordeaux,

Frankfort,Milan,Geneva—almostanyimportanttownonthecontinentofEurope—Ifindverystrikingafteranabsenceofanydurationinforeignparts.LondonisshabbyincontrastwithEdinburgh,withAberdeen,withExeter,withLiverpool,withabrightlittletownlikeBurySt.Edmunds.LondonisshabbyincontrastwithNewYork,withBoston,withPhiladelphia.Indetail,onewouldsayitcanrarelyfailtobeadisappointingpieceofshabbiness,toastrangerfromanyofthoseplaces.ThereisnothingshabbierthanDrury-lane,inRomeitself.ThemeannessofRegent-street,setagainstthegreatlineofBoulevardsinParis,isasstrikingastheabortiveuglinessofTrafalgar-square,setagainstthegallantbeautyofthePlacedelaConcorde.Londonisshabbybydaylight,andshabbierbygaslight.NoEnglishmanknowswhatgaslightis,untilheseestheRuedeRivoliandthePalaisRoyalafterdark.ThemassofLondonpeopleareshabby.Theabsenceofdistinctivedresshas,nodoubt,somethingtodowithit.TheportersoftheVintners’Company,thedraymen, and the butchers, are about the only people who wear distinctivedresses;andeventhesedonotwearthemonholidays.Wehavenothingwhichforcheapness,cleanliness,convenience,orpicturesqueness,cancomparewiththebeltedblouse.Astoourwomen;—nextEasterorWhitsuntide,lookatthebonnetsattheBritishMuseumortheNationalGallery,andthinkoftheprettywhiteFrenchcap,theSpanishmantilla,ortheGenoesemezzero.Probablytherearenotmoresecond-handclothessoldinLondonthaninParis,andyetthemassoftheLondonpopulationhaveasecond-handlookwhichisnottobedetectedonthemassoftheParisianpopulation.IthinkthisismainlybecauseaParisianworkmandoesnotintheleasttroublehimselfaboutwhatiswornbyaParisianidler,butdressesinthewayofhisownclass,andforhisowncomfort.InLondon,onthecontrary,thefashionsdescend;andyouneverfullyknowhowinconvenientorridiculousafashionis,untilyouseeitinitslastdescent. Itwasbut theother day, on a race-course, that I observed fourpeople inabarouchederivinggreatentertainment fromthecontemplationoffour people on foot.The four people on footwere twoyoungmen and twoyoungwomen;thefourpeopleinthebaroucheweretwoyoungmenandtwoyoungwomen.Thefouryoungwomenweredressedinexactlythesamestyle;the four young men were dressed in exactly the same style. Yet the twocouplesonwheelswereasmuchamusedbythetwocouplesonfoot,asiftheywerequiteunconsciousofhavingthemselvessetthosefashions,orofbeingatthatverymomentengagedinthedisplayofthem.IsitonlyinthematterofclothesthatfashiondescendshereinLondon—andconsequentlyinEngland—andthenceshabbinessarises?Letusthinkalittle,andbejust.The‘BlackCountry’roundaboutBirmingham,isaveryblackcountry;butisitquiteasblackasithasbeenlatelypainted?Anappalling

accidenthappenedatthePeople’sParknearBirmingham,thislastJuly,whenitwascrowdedwithpeoplefromtheBlackCountry—anappallingaccidentconsequentonashamefullydangerousexhibition.DidtheshamefullydangerousexhibitionoriginateinthemoralblacknessoftheBlackCountry,andintheBlackPeople’speculiarloveoftheexcitementattendantongreatpersonalhazard,whichtheylookedonat,butinwhichtheydidnotparticipate?LightismuchwantedintheBlackCountry.Oweareallagreedonthat.But,wemustnotquiteforgetthecrowdsofgentlefolkswhosettheshamefullydangerousfashion,either.WemustnotquiteforgettheenterprisingDirectorsofanInstitutionvauntingmightyeducationalpretences,whomadethelowsensationasstrongastheypossiblycouldmakeit,byhangingtheBlondinropeashighastheypossiblycouldhangit.Allthis mustnotbeeclipsedintheBlacknessoftheBlackCountry.Thereservedseatshighupbytherope,theclearedspacebelowit,sothatnooneshouldbesmashedbuttheperformer,thepretenceofslippingandfallingoff,thebasketsforthefeetandthesackfor thehead, thephotographseverywhere,andthevirtuousindignation nowhere—all this must not be wholly swallowed up in theblacknessofthejet-blackcountry.WhatsoeverfashionissetinEngland,iscertaintodescend.Thisisatextforaperpetualsermononcareinsettingfashions.Whenyoufindafashionlowdown,lookbackforthetime(itwillneverbefaroff)whenitwasthefashionhighup.Thisisthetextforaperpetualsermononsocialjustice.FromimitationsofEthiopianSerenaders,toimitationsofPrince’scoatsandwaistcoats,youwillfindtheoriginalmodelinSt.James’sParish.WhentheSerenadersbecometiresome,tracethembeyondtheBlackCountry;whenthecoatsandwaistcoatsbecomeinsupportable,referthemtotheirsourceintheUpperToadyRegions.Gentlemen’sclubswereoncemaintainedforpurposesofsavagepartywarfare;workingmen’sclubsofthesamedayassumedthesamecharacter.Gentlemen’sclubsbecameplacesofquietinoffensiverecreation;workingmen’sclubsbegantofollowsuit.Ifworkingmenhaveseemedratherslowtoappreciateadvantagesofcombinationwhichhavesavedthepocketsofgentlemen,andenhancedtheircomforts,itisbecauseworkingmencouldscarcely,forwantofcapital,originatesuchcombinationswithouthelp;andbecausehelphasnotbeenseparablefromthatgreatimpertinence,Patronage.Theinstinctiverevoltofhisspiritagainstpatronage,isaqualitymuchtoberespectedintheEnglishworkingman.Itisthebaseofthebaseofhisbestqualities.Norisitsurprisingthatheshouldbeundulysuspiciousofpatronage,andsometimesresentfulofitevenwhereitisnot,seeingwhatafloodofwashytalkhasbeenletlooseonhisdevotedhead,orwithwhatcomplacentcondescensionthesamedevotedheadhasbeensmoothedand

patted.Itisaprooftomeofhisself-controlthatheneverstrikesoutpugilistically,rightandleft,whenaddressedasoneof‘Myfriends,’or‘Myassembledfriends;’thathedoesnotbecomeinappeasable,andrunamucklikeaMalay,wheneverheseesabipedinbroadclothgettingonaplatformtotalktohim;thatanypretenceofimprovinghismind,doesnotinstantlydrivehimoutofhismind,andcausehimtotosshisobligingpatronlikeamadbull.For,howoftenhaveIheardtheunfortunateworkingmanlectured,asifhewerealittlecharity-child,humidastohisnasaldevelopment,strictlyliteralastohisCatechism,andcalledbyProvidencetowalkallhisdaysinastationinliferepresentedonfestiveoccasionsbyamugofwarmmilk-and-waterandabun!Whatpopgunsofjokeshavetheseearstingledtohearletoffathim,whatasininesentiments,whatimpotentconclusions,whatspelling-bookmoralities,whatadaptationsoftheorator’sinsufferabletediousnesstotheassumedlevelofhisunderstanding!Ifhissledge-hammers,hisspades andpick-axes, his saws and chisels, his paint-pots and brushes, his forges,furnaces,andengines,thehorsesthathedroveathiswork,andthemachinesthatdrovehimathiswork,wereall toys inone littlepaperbox, andhe thebaby who played with them, he could not have been discoursed to, moreimpertinently and absurdly than I have heard him discoursed to timesinnumerable. Consequently, not being a fool or a fawner, he has come toacknowledge his patronage by virtually saying: ‘Let me alone. If youunderstandme no better than that, sir andmadam, letme alone.Youmeanverywell,Idaresay,butIdon’tlikeit,andIwon’tcomehereagaintohaveanymoreofit.’Whateverisdoneforthecomfortandadvancementoftheworkingmanmustbesofardonebyhimselfasthatitismaintainedbyhimself.Andtheremustbeinitnotouchofcondescension,noshadowofpatronage.Inthegreatworkingdistricts,thistruthisstudiedandunderstood.WhentheAmericancivilwarrendereditnecessary,firstinGlasgow,andafterwardsinManchester,thattheworkingpeopleshouldbeshownhowtoavailthemselvesoftheadvantagesderivablefromsystem,andfromthecombinationofnumbers,inthepurchaseandthecookingoftheirfood,thistruthwasaboveallthingsborneinmind.Thequickconsequencewas, that suspicion and reluctancewerevanquished,andthattheeffortresultedinanastonishingandacompletesuccess.SuchthoughtspassedthroughmymindonaJulymorningofthissummer,asIwalked towardsCommercialStreet (notUncommercialStreet),Whitechapel.The Glasgow andManchester system had been lately set a-going there, bycertaingentlemenwhofeltaninterestinitsdiffusion,andIhadbeenattractedbythefollowinghand-billprintedonrose-colouredpaper:

SELF-SUPPORTINGCOOKINGDEPÔTFORTHEWORKINGCLASSESCommercial-street,Whitechapel,WhereAccommodationisprovidedforDiningcomfortably300Personsatatime.Openfrom7A.M.till7P.M.PRICES.AllArticlesoftheBESTQUALITY.CupofTeaorCoffeeOnePennyBreadandButterOnePennyBreadandCheeseOnePennySliceofbreadOnehalf-pennyorOnePennyBoiledEggOnePennyGingerBeerOnePennyTheaboveArticlesalwaysready.Besidestheabovemaybehad,from12to3o’clock,BowlofScotchBrothOnePennyBowlofSoupOnePennyPlateofPotatoesOnePennyPlateofMincedBeefTwopencePlateofColdBeefTwopencePlateofColdHamTwopencePlateofPlumPuddingorRiceOnePennyAs the Economy of Cooking depends greatly upon the simplicity of thearrangementswithwhichagreatnumberofpersonscanbeservedatonetime,theUpperRoomofthisEstablishmentwillbeespeciallysetapartforaPUBLICDINNEREVERYDAYFrom12till3o’clock,ConsistingofthefollowingDishes:BowlofBroth,orSoup,PlateofColdBeeforHam,PlateofPotatoes,

PlumPudding,orRice.FIXEDCHARGE4.5d.THEDAILYPAPERSPROVIDED.N.B.—This Establishment is conducted on the strictest business principles,with the full intention of making it self-supporting, so that every one mayfrequentitwithafeelingofperfectindependence.TheassistanceofallfrequentingtheDepôtisconfidentlyexpectedincheckinganything interfering with the comfort, quiet, and regularity of theestablishment.PleasedonotdestroythisHandBill,buthandittosomeotherpersonwhomitmayinterest.TheSelf-SupportingCookingDepôt (not a verygoodname, andonewouldrathergiveitanEnglishone)hadhiredanewly-builtwarehousethatitfoundto let; therefore itwasnotestablished inpremisesspeciallydesignedfor thepurpose. But, at a small cost they were exceedingly well adapted to thepurpose: being light, well ventilated, clean, and cheerful. They consisted ofthree large rooms. That on the basement storywas the kitchen; that on theground floor was the general dining-room; that on the floor above was theUpper Room referred to in the hand-bill, where the Public Dinner atfourpence-halfpennyaheadwasprovidedeveryday.Thecookingwasdone,withmucheconomyofspaceandfuel,byAmericancooking-stoves,andbyyoungwomennotpreviously,broughtupascooks;thewallsandpillarsofthetwo dining-rooms were agreeably brightened with ornamental colours; thetables were capable of accommodating six or eight persons each; theattendantswereallyoungwomen,becominglyandneatlydressed,anddressedalike.Ithinkthewholestaffwasfemale,withtheexceptionofthestewardormanager.Myfirstinquiriesweredirectedtothewagesofthisstaff;because,ifanyestablishmentclaimingtobeself-supporting,liveuponthespoliationofanybodyoranything,orekeoutafeebleexistencebypoormouthsandbeggarlyresources(astoomanyso-calledMechanics’Institutionsdo),ImakeboldtoexpressmyUncommercialopinionthatithasnobusinesstolive,andhadbetterdie.Itwasmadecleartomebytheaccountbooks,thateverypersonemployedwasproperlypaid.Mynextinquiriesweredirectedtothequalityoftheprovisionspurchased,andtothetermsonwhichtheywerebought.Itwasmadeequallycleartomethatthequalitywastheverybest,andthatallbillswerepaidweekly.Mynextinquiriesweredirectedtothe

balance-sheetforthelasttwoweeks—onlythethirdandfourthoftheestablishment’scareer.Itwasmadeequallycleartome, that after everythingboughtwaspaid for, and after eachweekwas chargedwith its full shareofwages, rentand taxes,depreciationofplant inuse,and interestoncapitalattherateoffourpercent.perannum,thelastweekhadyieldedaprofitof(inroundnumbers)onepoundten;andthepreviousweekaprofitofsixpoundsten.BythistimeIfeltthatIhadahealthyappetiteforthedinners.Ithadjuststrucktwelve,andaquicksuccessionoffaceshadalreadybeguntoappearatalittlewindowinthewallofthepartitionedspacewhereIsatlookingoverthebooks.Withinthislittlewindow,likeapay-boxatatheatre,aneatandbriskyoungwomanpresidedtotakemoneyandissuetickets.Everyonecominginmusttakeaticket.Eitherthefourpence-halfpennyticketfortheupperroom(themostpopularticket,Ithink),orapennyticketforabowlofsoup,or asmanypenny tickets asheor shechoose tobuy.For threepennyticketsonehadquiteawiderangeofchoice.Aplateofcoldboiledbeefandpotatoes;oraplateofcoldhamandpotatoes;oraplateofhotmincedbeefandpotatoes;orabowlofsoup,breadandcheese,andaplateofplum-pudding.Touchingwhattheyshouldhave,somecustomersontakingtheirseatsfellintoa reverie—became mildly distracted—postponed decision, and said inbewilderment,theywouldthinkofit.OneoldmanInoticedwhenIsatamongthe tables in the lower room, who was startled by the bill of fare, and satcontemplating itas if itweresomethingofaghostlynature.Thedecisionoftheboyswasasrapidastheirexecution,andalwaysincludedpudding.Therewereseveralwomenamongthediners,andseveralclerksandshopmen.Therewerecarpentersandpaintersfromtheneighbouringbuildingsunderrepair,andtherewerenauticalmen,andtherewere,asonedinerobservedtome,‘someofmostsorts.’Someweresolitary,somecametwotogether,somedinedinpartiesofthreeorfour,orsix.Thelattertalkedtogether,butassuredlynoonewaslouderthanatmyclubinPall-Mall.Oneyoungfellowwhistledinratherashrillmannerwhilehewaitedforhisdinner,butIwasgratifiedtoobservethathedidsoinevidentdefianceofmyUncommercialindividuality.Quiteagreeingwithhim,onconsideration,thatIhadnobusinesstobethere,unlessIdinedliketherest,‘Iwentin,’asthephraseis,forfourpence-halfpenny.The room of the fourpence-halfpenny banquet had, like the lower room, acounterinit,onwhichwererangedagreatnumberofcoldportionsreadyfordistribution.Behindthiscounter,thefragrantsoupwassteamingindeepcans,and the best-cooked of potatoes were fished out of similar receptacles.Nothingtoeatwastouchedwithhishand.Everywaitresshadherowntablestoattend to.As soon as she sawa newcustomer seat himself at oneof her

tables,shetookfromthecounterallhisdinner—hissoup,potatoes,meat,andpudding—pileditupdexterouslyinhertwohands,setitbeforehim,andtookhisticket.Thisservingofthewholedinneratonce,hadbeenfoundgreatlytosimplifythebusinessofattendance,andwasalsopopularwiththecustomers: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, puttingsoupattheendthedayafterto-morrow,andringingsimilarchangesonmeatand pudding. The rapidity with which every new-comer got served, wasremarkable;andthedexteritywithwhichthewaitresses(quitenewtotheartamonth before) discharged their duty, was as agreeable to see, as the neatsmartnesswithwhichtheyworetheirdressandhaddressedtheirhair.IfIseldomsawbetterwaiting,soIcertainlyneveratebettermeat,potatoes,orpudding.Andthesoupwasanhonestandstoutsoup,withriceandbarleyinit,and‘littlemattersfortheteethtotouch,’ashadbeenobservedtomebymyfriendbelowstairsalreadyquoted.Thedinner-service,too,wasneitherconspicuouslyhideousforHighArtnorforLowArt,butwasofapleasantandpureappearance.Concerningtheviandsandtheircookery,onelastremark.IdinedatmyclubinPall-Mallaforesaid,afewdaysafterwards,forexactlytwelvetimesthemoney,andnothalfaswell.Thecompanythickenedafteroneo’clockstruck,andchangedprettyquickly.Althoughexperienceoftheplacehadbeensorecentlyattainable,andalthoughtherewasstillconsiderablecuriosityoutinthestreetandabouttheentrance,thegeneraltonewasasgoodascouldbe,andthecustomersfelleasilyintothewaysof theplace. Itwasclear tome,however, that theywere there tohavewhat theypaid for, and to be on an independent footing.To the best ofmyjudgment, they might be patronised out of the building in a month. Withjudiciousvisiting,andbydintofbeingquestioned,readto,andtalkedat,theymightevenbegotridof(forthenextquarterofacentury)inhalfthetime.Thisdisinterestedandwisemovementisfraughtwithsomanywholesomechangesinthelivesoftheworkingpeople,andwithsomuchgoodinthewayofovercomingthatsuspicionwhichourownunconsciousimpertinencehasengendered,thatitisscarcelygracioustocriticisedetailsasyet;therather,becauseitisindisputablethatthemanagersoftheWhitechapelestablishmentmostthoroughlyfeelthattheyareupontheirhonourwiththecustomers,astotheminutestpointsofadministration.But,althoughtheAmericanstovescannotroast,theycansurelyboilonekindofmeataswellasanother,andneednotalwayscircumscribetheirboilingtalentswithinthelimitsofhamandbeef.Themostenthusiasticadmirerofthosesubstantials,wouldprobablynotobjecttooccasionalinconstancyinrespectofporkandmutton:or,especiallyincoldweather,toalittleinnocenttriflingwithIrishstews,meatpies,and

toadsinholes.AnotherdrawbackontheWhitechapelestablishment,istheabsenceofbeer.Regardedmerelyasaquestionofpolicy,itisveryimpolitic,ashavingatendencytosendtheworkingmentothepublic-house,whereginisreportedtobesold.But,thereisamuchhighergroundonwhichthisabsenceofbeerisobjectionable.Itexpressesdistrustoftheworkingman.ItisafragmentofthatoldmantleofpatronageinwhichsomanyestimableThugs,sodarklywanderingupanddownthemoralworld,aresworntomufflehim.Goodbeerisagoodthingforhim,hesays,andhelikesit;theDepôtcouldgiveithimgood,andhenowgetsitbad.WhydoestheDepôtnotgiveithimgood?Becausehewouldgetdrunk.WhydoestheDepôtnotlethimhaveapintwithhisdinner,whichwouldnotmakehimdrunk?Becausehemighthavehadanotherpint,oranothertwopints,beforehecame.Now,thisdistrustisanaffront,isexceedinglyinconsistentwiththeconfidencethemanagersexpressintheirhand-bills,andisatimidstopping-short upon thestraight highway. It is unjust and unreasonable, also. It is unjust, because itpunishes the soberman for theviceof thedrunkenman. It is unreasonable,because any one at all experienced in such things knows that the drunkenworkman does not get drunkwhere he goes to eat and drink, butwhere hegoes to drink—expressly to drink.To suppose that theworkingman cannotstate thisquestion tohimselfquiteasplainlyas I state ithere, is tosupposethatheisababy,andisagaintotellhimintheoldwearisome,condescending,patronisingwaythathemustbegoody-poody,anddoasheistoldy-poldy,andnotbeamanny-pannyor avoter-poter,but foldhishandy-pandys, andbeachildy-pildy.IfoundfromtheaccountsoftheWhitechapelSelf-SupportingCookingDepôt,thateveryarticlesoldinit,evenatthepricesIhavequoted,yieldsacertainsmallprofit!Individualspeculatorsareofcoursealreadyinthefield,andareofcoursealreadyappropriatingthename.Theclassesforwhosebenefittherealdepôtsaredesigned,willdistinguishbetweenthetwokindsofenterprise.

CHAPTERXXVI—CHATHAMDOCKYARDTherearesomesmallout-of-the-waylandingplacesontheThamesandtheMedway,whereIdomuchofmysummeridling.Runningwaterisfavourabletoday-dreams,andastrongtidalriveristhebestofrunningwaterformine.Iliketowatchthegreatshipsstandingouttoseaorcominghomerichlyladen,theactivelittlesteam-tugsconfidentlypuffingwiththemtoandfromthesea-horizon,thefleetofbargesthatseemtohavepluckedtheirbrownandrussetsailsfromtheripetreesinthelandscape,theheavyoldcolliers,lightinballast,flounderingdownbeforethetide,thelightscrewbarksandschoonersimperiouslyholdingastraightcoursewhiletheotherspatientlytackandgoabout,theyachtswiththeirtinyhullsandgreatwhitesheetsofcanvas,the

littlesailing-boatsbobbingtoandfroontheirerrandsofpleasureorbusiness,and—asitisthenatureoflittlepeopletodo—makingaprodigiousfussabouttheirsmallaffairs.Watchingtheseobjects,Istillamundernoobligationtothinkaboutthem,orevensomuchastoseethem,unlessitperfectlysuitsmyhumour.AslittleamIobligedtoheartheplashandflopofthetide,therippleatmyfeet,theclinkingwindlassafaroff,orthehummingsteam-shippaddlesfurtherawayyet.These,withthecreakinglittlejettyonwhichIsit,andthegaunthigh-watermarksandlow-watermarksinthemud,andthebrokencauseway,andthebrokenbank,andthebrokenstakesandpilesleaningforwardasiftheywerevainoftheirpersonalappearanceandlookingfortheirreflectioninthewater,willmeltintoanytrainoffancy.Equallyadaptabletoanypurposeortonone,aretheposturingsheepandkineuponthemarshes,thegullsthatwheelanddiparoundme,thecrows(welloutofgunshot)goinghomefromtherichharvest-fields,theheronthathasbeenouta-fishingandlooksasmelancholy,upthereinthesky,asifithadn’tagreedwith him.Everythingwithintherangeofthesenseswill,bytheaidoftherunningwater,lenditselftoeverythingbeyondthatrange,andworkintoadrowsywhole,notunlikeakindoftune,butforwhichthereisnoexactdefinition.Oneoftheselanding-placesisnearanoldfort(IcanseetheNoreLightfromitwithmypocket-glass),fromwhichfortmysteriouslyemergesaboy,towhomIammuchindebtedforadditionstomyscantystockofknowledge.Heisayoungboy,withanintelligentfaceburnttoadustcolourbythesummersun,andwithcrisphairofthesamehue.HeisaboyinwhomIhaveperceivednothingincompatiblewithhabitsofstudiousinquiryandmeditation,unlessanevanescentblackeye(Iwasdelicateofinquiringhowoccasioned)shouldbesoconsidered.TohimamIindebtedforabilitytoidentifyaCustom-houseboatatanydistance,andforacquaintancewithalltheformsandceremoniesobservedbyahomeward-boundIndiamancominguptheriver,whentheCustom-houseofficersgoaboardher.Butforhim,Imightneverhaveheardof‘thedumb-ague,’respectingwhichmaladyIamnowlearned.HadIneversatathisfeet,ImighthavefinishedmymortalcareerandneverknownthatwhenIseeawhitehorseonabarge’ssail,thatbargeisalimebarge.Forprecioussecretsinreferencetobeer,amIlikewisebeholdentohim,involvingwarningagainstthebeerofacertainestablishment,byreasonofitshavingturnedsourthroughfailureinpointofdemand:thoughmyyoungsageisnotofopinionthatsimilardeteriorationhasbefallentheale.Hehasalsoenlightenedmetouchingthemushroomsofthemarshes,andhasgentlyreprovedmyignoranceinhavingsupposedthemtobeimpregnatedwithsalt.Hismannerofimpartinginformation,isthoughtful,andappropriatetothescene.Ashereclinesbesideme,hepitchesintotheriver,alittlestoneorpieceofgrit,andthendelivershimselforacularly,asthoughhespokeoutofthecentreofthespreadingcirclethatitmakesinthewater.Henever

improvesmymindwithoutobservingthisformula.Withthewiseboy—whomIknowbynoothernamethantheSpiritoftheFort—Irecentlyconsortedonabreezydaywhentheriverleapedaboutusandwasfulloflife.IhadseenthesheavedcorncarryinginthegoldenfieldsasIcamedown to the river; and the rosy farmer, watching his labouring-men in thesaddleonhiscob,hadtoldmehowhehadreapedhistwohundredandsixtyacresof long-strawed corn lastweek, andhowabetterweek’sworkhehadneverdoneinallhisdays.Peaceandabundancewereonthecountry-side inbeautiful forms and beautiful colours, and the harvest seemed even to besailing out to grace the never-reaped sea in the yellow-laden barges thatmellowedthedistance.ItwasonthisoccasionthattheSpiritoftheFort,directinghisremarkstoacertainfloatingironbatterylatelylyinginthatreachoftheriver,enrichedmymindwithhisopinionsonnavalarchitecture,andinformedmethathewouldliketobeanengineer.IfoundhimuptoeverythingthatisdoneinthecontractinglinebyMessrs.PetoandBrassey—cunning in the article ofconcrete—mellow in the matter of iron—great on the subject of gunnery.Whenhespokeofpile-drivingandsluice-making,heleftmenotalegtostandon,andIcanneversufficientlyacknowledgehis forbearancewithme inmydisabledstate.Whilehethusdiscoursed,heseveraltimesdirectedhiseyestoonedistantquarterofthelandscape,andspokewithvaguemysteriousaweof‘theYard.’Ponderinghislessonsafterwehadparted,IbethoughtmethattheYardwasoneofourlargepublicDockyards,andthatitlayhiddenamongthecropsdowninthedipbehindthewindmills,asifitmodestlykeptitselfoutofviewinpeacefultimes,andsoughttotroublenoman.TakenwiththismodestyonthepartoftheYard,IresolvedtoimprovetheYard’sacquaintance.My good opinion of theYard’s retiring characterwas not dashed by nearerapproach.Itresoundedwiththenoiseofhammersbeatinguponiron;andthegreat sheds or slips under which the mighty men-of-war are built, loomedbusiness-likewhen contemplated from theopposite sideof the river.Forallthat,however,theYardmadenodisplay,butkeptitselfsnugunderhill-sidesofcorn-fields,hop-gardens,andorchards;itsgreatchimneyssmokingwithaquiet—almosta lazy—air, likegiantssmoking tobacco;and thegreatShearsmoored off it, lookingmeekly and inoffensively out of proportion, like theGiraffe of themachinery creation.The store of cannon on the neighbouringgun-wharf,hadaninnocenttoy-likeappearance,andtheonered-coatedsentryondutyoverthemwasameretoyfigure,withaclock-workmovement.Asthehotsunlightsparkledonhimhemighthavepassedfortheidenticallittlemanwhohadthelittlegun,andwhosebulletstheyweremadeoflead,lead,lead.CrossingtheriverandlandingattheStairs,whereadriftofchipsandweed

hadbeentryingtolandbeforemeandhadnotsucceeded,buthadgotintoacornerinstead,Ifoundtheverystreetpoststobecannon,andthearchitecturalornamentstobeshells.AndsoIcametotheYard,whichwasshutuptightandstrongwithgreatfoldedgates,likeanenormouspatentsafe.Thesegatesdevouringme,IbecamedigestedintotheYard;andithad,atfirst,aclean-sweptholidayair,asifithadgivenoverworkuntilnextwar-time.Thoughindeedaquantityofhempforropewastumblingoutofstore-houses,eventhere,whichwouldhardlybelyinglikesomuchhayonthewhitestonesiftheYardwereasplacidasitpretended.Ding,Clash,Dong,BANG,Boom,Rattle,Clash,BANG,Clink,BANG,Dong,BANG,Clatter,BANGBANGBANG!Whatonearthisthis!Thisis,orsoonwillbe,theAchilles,ironarmour-platedship.Twelvehundredmenareworkingathernow;twelvehundredmenworkingonstagesoverhersides,overherbows,overherstern,underherkeel,betweenherdecks,downinherhold,withinherandwithout,crawlingandcreepingintothefinestcurvesofherlineswhereveritispossibleformentotwist.Twelvehundredhammerers,measurers,caulkers,armourers,forgers,smiths,shipwrights;twelvehundreddingers,clashers,dongers,rattlers,clinkers,bangersbangersbangers!YetallthisstupendousuproararoundtherisingAchillesisasnothingtothereverberationswithwhichtheperfectedAchillesshallresounduponthedreadfuldaywhenthefullworkisinhandforwhichthisisbutnoteofpreparation—thedaywhenthescuppersthatarenowfittinglikegreat,dry,thirstyconduit-pipes,shallrunred.Allthesebusyfiguresbetweendecks,dimlyseenbendingattheirworkinsmokeandfire,areasnothingtothefiguresthatshalldoworkhereofanotherkindinsmokeandfire,thatday.Thesesteam-workedenginesalongside,helpingtheshipbytravellingtoandfro,andwaftingtonsofironplatesabout,asthoughtheyweresomanyleavesoftrees,wouldberentlimbfromlimbiftheystoodbyherforaminutethen.TothinkthatthisAchilles,monstrouscompoundofirontankandoakenchest,caneverswimorroll!Tothinkthatanyforceofwindandwavecouldeverbreakher!TothinkthatwhereverIseeaglowingred-hotironpointthrustoutofhersidefromwithin—asIdonow,there,andthere,andthere!—andtwowatchingmenonastagewithout,withbaredarmsandsledge-hammers,strikeatitfiercely,andrepeattheirblowsuntilitisblackandflat,Iseearivetbeingdrivenhome,ofwhichtherearemanyineveryironplate,andthousandsuponthousandsintheship!TothinkthatthedifficultyIexperienceinappreciatingtheship’ssizewhenIamonboard,arisesfromherbeingaseriesofirontanksandoakenchests,sothatinternallysheiseverfinishingandeverbeginning,andhalfofhermightbesmashed,andyettheremaininghalfsufficeandbesound.Then,togooverthesideagainanddownamongtheoozeandwettothebottomofthedock,inthedepthsofthesubterraneanforestofdog-shoresandstaysthatholdherup,andtoseetheimmensemassbulgingoutagainst

theupperlight,andtaperingdowntowardsme,is,withgreatpainsandmuchclambering,toarriveatanimpossibilityofrealisingthatthisisashipatall,andtobecomepossessedbythefancythatitisanenormousimmovableedificesetupinanancientamphitheatre(say,thatatVerona),andalmostfillingit!Yetwhatwouldeventhesethingsbe,withoutthetributaryworkshopsandthemechanicalpowersforpiercingtheironplates—fourinchesandahalfthick—forrivets,shapingthemunderhydraulicpressuretothefinesttaperingturnsoftheship’slines,andparingthemaway,withknivesshapedlikethebeaksofstrongandcruelbirds,tothenicestrequirementsofthedesign!Thesemachinesoftremendousforce,soeasilydirectedbyoneattentivefaceandpresidinghand,seemtometohaveinthemsomethingoftheretiringcharacteroftheYard.‘Obedientmonster,pleasetobitethismassofironthroughandthrough,atequaldistances,wheretheseregularchalk-marksare,allround.’Monsterlooksatitswork,andliftingitsponderoushead,replies,‘Idon’tparticularlywanttodoit;butifitmustbedone—!’Thesolidmetalwrigglesout,hotfromthemonster’scrunchingtooth,anditisdone.‘Dutifulmonster,observethisothermassofiron.Itisrequiredtobeparedaway,accordingtothisdelicatelylesseningandarbitraryline,whichpleasetolookat.’Monster(whohasbeeninareverie)bringsdownitsblunthead,and,muchinthemannerofDoctorJohnson,closelylooksalongtheline—veryclosely,beingsomewhatnear-sighted.‘Idon’tparticularlywanttodoit;butif itmust be done—!’Monster takes another near-sighted look, takesaim, and the tortured piecewrithes off, and falls, a hot, tight-twisted snake,among the ashes. Themaking of the rivets is merely a pretty round game,playedbyamanandaboy,whoputred-hotbarleysugarinaPopeJoanboard,andimmediatelyrivetsfalloutofwindow;butthetoneofthegreatmachinesisthetoneofthegreatYardandthegreatcountry:‘Wedon’tparticularlywanttodoit;butifitmustbedone—!’How such a prodigious mass as the Achilles can ever be held by suchcomparativelylittleanchorsasthoseintendedforherandlyingnearherhere,isamysteryofseamanshipwhichIwillrefertothewiseboy.Formyownpart,Ishouldassoonhavethoughtoftetheringanelephanttoatent-peg,orthelargerhippopotamusintheZoologicalGardenstomyshirt-pin.Yonderintheriver,alongsideahulk,lietwoofthisship’shollowironmasts.Theyarelargeenoughfortheeye,Ifind,andsoareallherotherappliances.Iwonderwhyonlyheranchorslooksmall.Ihavenopresenttimetothinkaboutit,forIamgoingtoseetheworkshopswheretheymakeall theoarsusedintheBritishNavy.Apretty largepileofbuilding, I opine, and a pretty long job! As to the building, I am soondisappointed,becausetheworkisalldoneinoneloft.Andastoalongjob—what is this?Two rather largemangleswitha swarmofbutterflieshovering

overthem?Whatcantherebeinthemanglesthatattractsbutterflies?Drawingnearer, Idiscern that thesearenotmangles,but intricatemachines,setwithknivesandsawsandplanes,whichcutsmoothandstraighthere,andslantwise there, andnowcut such a depth, andnowmiss cutting altogether,according to the predestined requirements of the pieces of wood that arepushedonbelow them:eachofwhichpieces is tobeanoar, and is roughlyadapted to that purpose before it takes its final leave of far-off forests, andsailsforEngland.LikewiseIdiscernthatthebutterfliesarenottruebutterflies,butwoodenshavings,which,beingspirtedupfromthewoodbytheviolenceofthemachinery,andkeptinrapidandnotequalmovementbytheimpulseofits rotation on the air, flutter and play, and rise and fall, and conductthemselves as like butterflies as heart could wish. Suddenly the noise andmotion cease, and the butterflies drop dead. An oar has beenmade since Icamein,wantingtheshapedhandle.AsquicklyasIcanfollowitwithmyeyeand thought, the sameoar is carried to a turning lathe.Awhirl and aNick!Handlemade.Oarfinished.Theexquisitebeautyandefficiencyofthismachineryneednoillustration,buthappentohaveapointedillustrationto-day.Apairofoarsofunusualsizechancetobewantedforaspecialpurpose,andtheyhavetobemadebyhand.Sidebysidewiththesubtleandfacilemachine,andsidebysidewiththefast-growingpileofoarsonthefloor,amanshapesoutthesespecialoarswithanaxe.Attendedbynobutterflies,andchippinganddinting, by comparison asleisurely as if he were a labouring Pagan getting them ready against hisdeceaseatthreescoreandten,totakewithhimasapresenttoCharonforhisboat, theman (agedabout thirty)plieshis task.Themachinewouldmakearegulationoarwhilethemanwipeshisforehead.Themanmightbeburiedinamoundmadeof thestripsof thin,broad,woodenribbontornfromthewoodwhirled into oars as the minutes fall from the clock, before he had done aforenoon’sworkwithhisaxe.PassingfromthiswonderfulsighttotheShipsagain—formyheart,astotheYard,iswheretheshipsare—Inoticecertainunfinishedwoodenwallsleftseasoningonthestocks,pendingthesolutionofthemeritsofthewoodandironquestion,andhavinganairofbidingtheirtimewithsurlyconfidence.Thenamesoftheseworthiesaresetupbesidethem,togetherwiththeircapacityinguns—acustomhighlyconducivetoeaseandsatisfactioninsocialintercourse,ifitcouldbeadaptedtomankind.Byaplankmoregracefullypendulousthansubstantial,Imakeboldtogoaboardatransportship(ironscrew)justsentinfromthecontractor’syardtobeinspectedandpassed.Sheisaverygratifyingexperience,inthesimplicityandhumanityofherarrangementsfortroops,inherprovisionforlightandairandcleanliness,and

inhercareforwomenandchildren.Itoccurstome,asIexploreher,thatIwouldrequireahandsomesumofmoneytogoaboardher,atmidnightbytheDockyardbell,andstayaboardalonetillmorning;forsurelyshemustbehauntedbyacrowdofghostsofobstinateoldmartinets,mournfullyflappingtheircherubicepaulettesoverthechangedtimes.ThoughstillwemaylearnfromtheastoundingwaysandmeansinourYardsnow,morehighlythanevertorespecttheforefatherswhogottosea,andfoughtthesea,andheldthesea,withoutthem.Thisremembranceputtingmeinthebestoftemperswithanoldhulk,verygreenastohercopper,andgenerallydimandpatched,Ipulloffmyhattoher.Whichsalutationacallowanddowny-facedyoungofficerofEngineers,goingbyatthemoment,perceiving,appropriates—andtowhichheismostheartilywelcome,Iamsure.Having been torn to pieces (in imagination) by the steam circular saws,perpendicularsaws,horizontalsaws,andsawsofeccentricaction, Icometothe sauntering part of my expedition, and consequently to the core of myUncommercialpursuits.Everywhere,asIsaunterupanddowntheYard,Imeetwithtokensofitsquietandretiringcharacter.Thereisagravityuponitsredbrickofficesandhouses,astaidpretenceofhavingnothingworthmentioningtodo,anavoidanceofdisplay,whichIneversawoutofEngland.ThewhitestonesofthepavementpresentnoothertraceofAchillesandhistwelvehundredbangingmen(notoneofwhomstrikesanattitude)thanafewoccasionalechoes.Butforawhisperintheairsuggestiveofsawdustandshavings,theoar-makingandthesawsofmanymovementsmightbemilesaway.Downbelowhere,isthegreatreservoirofwaterwheretimberissteepedinvarioustemperatures,asapartofitsseasoningprocess.Aboveit,onatramroadsupportedbypillars,isaChineseEnchanter’sCar,whichfishesthelogsup,whensufficientlysteeped,androllssmoothlyawaywiththemtostackthem.WhenIwasachild(theYardbeingthenfamiliartome)IusedtothinkthatIshouldliketoplayatChineseEnchanter,andtohavethatapparatusplacedatmydisposalforthepurposebyabeneficentcountry.IstillthinkthatIshouldratherliketotrytheeffectofwritingabookinit.Itsretirementiscomplete,andtogoglidingtoandfroamongthestacksoftimberwouldbeaconvenientkindoftravellinginforeigncountries—amongtheforestsofNorthAmerica,thesoddenHondurasswamps,thedarkpinewoods,theNorwegianfrosts,andthetropicalheats,rainyseasons,andthunderstorms.Thecostlystoreoftimberisstackedandstowedawayinsequesteredplaces,withthepervadingavoidanceofflourishoreffect.Itmakesaslittleofitselfaspossible,andcallstonoone‘Comeandlookatme!’Andyetitispickedoutfromthetreesoftheworld;pickedoutforlength,pickedoutforbreadth,pickedoutforstraightness,pickedoutforcrookedness,chosenwithaneyetoeveryneedofshipandboat.Strangely

twistedpieceslieabout,preciousinthesightofshipwrights.Saunteringthroughthesegroves,Icomeuponanopengladewhereworkmenareexaminingsometimberrecentlydelivered.Quiteapastoralscene,withabackgroundofriverandwindmill!and no more likeWar than the AmericanStatesareatpresentlikeanUnion.Saunteringamongtheropemaking,Iamspunintoastateofblissfulindolence,whereinmyropeoflifeseemstobesountwistedbytheprocessasthatIcanseebacktoveryearlydaysindeed,whenmybaddreams—theywerefrightful,thoughmymorematureunderstandinghasnevermadeoutwhy—wereofaninterminable sort of ropemaking, with long minute filaments for strands,which, when they were spun home together close to my eyes, occasionedscreaming. Next, I walk among the quiet lofts of stores—of sails, spars,rigging,ships’boats—determinedtobelievethatsomebodyinauthoritywearsagirdleandbendsbeneath theweightofamassivebunchofkeys,and that,whensuchathingiswanted,hecomestellinghiskeyslikeBlueBeard,andopenssuchadoor.Impassiveasthelongloftslook,lettheelectricbatterysenddowntheword,andtheshuttersanddoorsshallflyopen,andsuchafleetofarmedships,under steamandunder sail, shallburst forthaswill charge theoldMedway—where themerry Stuart let theDutch come,while his not somerrysailorsstarvedinthestreets—withsomethingworthlookingattocarrytothesea.ThusIidleroundtotheMedwayagain,whereitisnowfloodtide;and I find the river evincing a strong solicitude to force away into the drydockwhereAchillesiswaitedonbythetwelvehundredbangers,withintenttobearthewholeawaybeforetheyareready.Tothelast,theYardputsaquietfaceuponit;forImakemywaytothegatesthrougha littlequietgroveof trees, shading thequaintestofDutch landing-places,where the leaf-speckledshadowofa shipwright justpassingawayatthefurtherendmightbetheshadowofRussianPeterhimself.So,thedoorsofthegreatpatent safeat last closeuponme,and I takeboatagain: somehow,thinking as the oars dip, of braggart Pistol and his brood, and of the quietmonstersoftheYard,withtheir‘Wedon’tparticularlywanttodoit;butifitmustbedone—!’Scrunch.

CHAPTERXXVII—INTHEFRENCH-FLEMISHCOUNTRY‘It isneitheraboldnoradiversifiedcountry,’said I tomyself, ‘thiscountrywhichisthree-quartersFlemish,andaquarterFrench;yetithasitsattractionstoo.Thoughgreatlinesofrailwaytraverseit,thetrainsleaveitbehind,andgopuffingofftoParisandtheSouth,toBelgiumandGermany,totheNorthernSea-CoastofFrance,andtoEngland,andmerelysmokeitalittleinpassing.Then I don’t know it, and that is a good reason for being here; and I can’t

pronouncehalfthelongqueernamesIseeinscribedovertheshops,andthatisanothergoodreasonforbeinghere,sinceIsurelyoughttolearnhow.’Inshort,Iwas‘here,’andIwantedanexcusefornotgoingawayfromhere,andImadeittomysatisfaction,andstayedhere.WhatpartinmydecisionwasbornebyMonsieurP.Salcy,isofnomoment,thoughIowntoencounteringthatgentleman’snameonaredbillonthewall,beforeImadeupmymind.MonsieurP.Salcy,‘parpermissiondeM.leMaire,’hadestablishedhistheatreinthewhitewashedHôteldeVille,onthestepsofwhichillustriousedificeIstood.AndMonsieurP.Salcy,privilegeddirectorofsuchtheatre,situatein‘thefirsttheatricalarrondissementofthedepartmentoftheNorth,’invitedFrench-Flemishmankindtocomeandpartakeoftheintellectualbanquetprovidedbyhisfamilyofdramaticartists,fifteensubjectsinnumber.‘LaFamilleP.SALCY,composéed’artistesdramatiques,aunombrede15sujets.’Neitheraboldnoradiversifiedcountry,Isayagain,andwithalanuntidycountry,butpleasantenoughtoridein,whenthepavedroadsovertheflatsandthroughthehollows,arenottoodeepinblackmud.Acountrysosparelyinhabited,thatIwonderwherethepeasantswhotillandsowandreaptheground,canpossiblydwell,andalsobywhatinvisibleballoonstheyareconveyedfromtheirdistanthomesintothefieldsatsunriseandbackagainatsunset.Theoccasionalfewpoorcottagesandfarmsinthisregion,surelycannotaffordsheltertothenumbersnecessarytothecultivation,albeittheworkisdonesoverydeliberately,thatononelongharvestdayIhaveseen,intwelvemiles,abouttwiceasmanymenandwomen(alltold)reapingandbinding.YethaveIseenmorecattle,moresheep,morepigs,andallinbettercase,thanwherethereis purer French spoken, and also better ricks—roundswellingpeg-topricks,wellthatched;notashapelessbrownheap,likethetoastofaGiant’stoast-and-water,pinnedtotheearthwithoneoftheskewersoutofhiskitchen.Agoodcustomtheyhaveabouthere,likewise,ofprolongingtheslopingtiledroofoffarmorcottage,sothatitoverhangsthreeorfourfeet,carryingoffthewet,andmakingagooddrying-placewhereintohangupherbs,orimplements,orwhatnot.Abettercustomthanthepopularoneofkeepingtherefuse-heapandpuddleclosebeforethehousedoor:which,althoughIpaintmydwellingneversobrightlyblue(anditcannotbetooblueforme,hereabouts),willbringfeverinsidemydoor.WonderfulpoultryoftheFrench-Flemishcountry,whytakethetroubletobepoultry?Whynotstopshortateggsintherisinggeneration,anddieoutandhavedonewithit?ParentsofchickenshaveIseenthisday,followedbytheirwretchedyoungfamilies,scratchingnothingoutofthemudwithanair—totteringaboutonlegssoscraggyandweak,thatthevaliantworddrumsticksbecomesamockerywhenappliedtothem,andthecrowofthelordandmasterhasbeena

meredejectedcaseofcroup.CartshaveIseen,andotheragriculturalinstruments,unwieldy,dislocated,monstrous.Poplar-treesbythethousandfringethefieldsandfringetheendoftheflatlandscape,sothatIfeel,lookingstraightonbeforeme,asif,whenIpasstheextremestfringeonthelowhorizon,Ishalltumbleoverintospace.Littlewhitewashedblackholesofchapels,withbarreddoorsandFlemishinscriptions,aboundatroadsidecorners,andoftentheyaregarnishedwithasheafofwoodencrosses,likechildren’sswords;or,intheirdefault,somehollowoldtreewithasaintroostinginit,issimilarlydecorated,orapolewithaverydiminutivesaintenshrinedaloftinasortofsacredpigeon-house.Notthatwearedeficientinsuchdecorationinthetownhere,for,overatthechurchyonder,outsidethebuilding,isascenicrepresentationoftheCrucifixion,builtupwitholdbricksandstones,andmadeoutwithpaintedcanvasandwoodenfigures:thewholesurmountingthedustyskullofsomeholypersonage(perhaps),shutupbehindalittleashyirongrate,asifitwereoriginallyputtheretobecooked,andthefirehadlonggoneout.Awindmillycountrythis,thoughthewindmillsaresodampandrickety,thattheynearlyknockthemselvesofftheirlegsateveryturnoftheirsails,andcreakinloudcomplaint.Aweavingcountry,too,forinthewaysidecottagestheloomgoeswearily—rattleandclick,rattleandclick—and,lookingin,Iseethepoorweavingpeasant,manorwoman,bendingatthework,whilethechild,workingtoo,turnsalittlehand-wheelputuponthegroundtosuititsheight.An unconscionable monster, the loom in a smalldwelling,assertinghimselfungenerouslyasthebread-winner,straddlingoverthechildren’s strawbeds, cramping the family in spaceandair, andmakinghimself generally objectionable and tyrannical.Heistributary,too,touglymillsandfactoriesandbleaching-grounds,risingoutofthesluicedfieldsinanabruptbareway,disdaining,likehimself,tobeornamentaloraccommodating.Surroundedbythesethings,hereIstoodonthestepsoftheHôteldeVille,persuadedtoremainbytheP.Salcyfamily,fifteendramaticsubjectsstrong.TherewasaFairbesides.Thedoublepersuasionbeingirresistible,andmyspongebeingleftbehindatthelastHotel,Imadethetourofthelittletowntobuyanother.Inthesmallsunnyshops—mercers,opticians,anddruggist-grocers,withhereandthereanemporiumof religious images—thegravestofold spectacled Flemish husbands and wives sat contemplating one anotheracross bare counters, while the wasps, who seemed to have taken militarypossessionofthetown,andtohaveplaceditunderwasp-martiallaw,executedwarlikemanoeuvres in thewindows.Other shops thewasps had entirely tothemselves,andnobodycaredandnobodycamewhenIbeatwithafive-francpieceupontheboardofcustom.WhatIsoughtwasnomoretobefoundthanifIhadsoughtanuggetofCaliforniangold:soIwent,spongeless,topasstheeveningwiththeFamilyP.Salcy.

ThemembersoftheFamilyP.Salcyweresofatandsolikeoneanother—fathers,mothers,sisters,brothers,uncles,andaunts—thatIthinkthelocalaudienceweremuchconfusedabouttheplotofthepieceunderrepresentation,andtothelastexpectedthateverybodymustturnouttobethelong-lostrelativeofeverybodyelse.TheTheatrewasestablishedonthetopstoryoftheHôteldeVille,andwasapproachedbyalongbarestaircase,whereon,inanairysituation,oneoftheP.SalcyFamily—astoutgentlemanimperfectlyrepressedbyabelt—tookthemoney.Thisoccasionedthegreatestexcitementoftheevening;for,nosoonerdidthecurtainriseontheintroductoryVaudeville,andrevealinthepersonoftheyounglover(singingaveryshortsongwithhiseyebrows)apparentlytheverysameidenticalstoutgentlemanimperfectlyrepressedbyabelt,thaneverybodyrushedouttothepaying-place,toascertainwhetherhecouldpossiblyhaveputonthatdress-coat,thatclearcomplexion,andthosearchedblackvocaleyebrows,insoshortaspaceoftime.Itthenbecamemanifestthatthiswasanotherstoutgentlemanimperfectlyrepressedbyabelt:towhom,beforethespectatorshadrecoveredtheirpresenceofmind,enteredathirdstoutgentlemanimperfectlyrepressedbyabelt,exactlylikehim.Thesetwo‘subjects,’makingwiththemoney-takerthreeoftheannouncedfifteen,fellintoconversationtouchingacharmingyoungwidow:who,presentlyappearing,provedtobeastoutladyaltogetherirrepressiblebyanymeans—quiteaparallelcasetotheAmericanNegro—fourthofthefifteensubjects,andsisterofthefifthwhopresidedoverthecheck-department.Ingoodtimethewholeofthefifteensubjectsweredramaticallypresented,andwehadtheinevitableMaMère,MaMère!andalsotheinevitablemalédictiond’unpère,andlikewisetheinevitableMarquis,andalsotheinevitableprovincialyoungman,weak-mindedbutfaithful,whofollowedJulietoParis,andcriedandlaughedandchokedallatonce.Thestorywaswroughtoutwiththehelpofavirtuousspinning-wheelinthebeginning,avicioussetofdiamondsinthemiddle,andarheumaticblessing(whicharrivedbypost)fromMaMèretowardstheend;thewholeresultinginasmallswordinthebodyofoneofthestoutgentlemenimperfectlyrepressedbyabelt,fiftythousandfrancsperannumandadecorationtotheotherstoutgentlemanimperfectlyrepressedbyabelt,andanassurancefromeverybodytotheprovincialyoungmanthatifhewerenotsupremelyhappy—whichheseemedtohavenoreasonwhateverforbeing—heoughttobe.Thisaffordedhimafinalopportunityofcryingandlaughingandchokingallatonce,andsentthe audience home sentimentally delighted.Audiencemore attentive orbetterbehavedtherecouldnotpossiblybe,thoughtheplacesofsecondrankintheTheatreoftheFamilyP.SalcyweresixpenceeachinEnglishmoney,andtheplacesoffirstrankashilling.Howthefifteensubjectsevergotsofatuponit,thekindHeavensknow.What gorgeous china figures of knights and ladies, gilded till they gleamed

again,ImighthaveboughtattheFairforthegarnitureofmyhome,ifIhadbeenaFrench-Flemishpeasant,andhadhadthemoney!Whatshiningcoffee-cups and saucers Imight havewon at the turntables, if I had had the luck!Ravishing perfumery also, and sweetmeats, Imight have speculated in, or Imighthave fired forprizesatamultitudeof littledolls inniches,andmighthave hit the doll of dolls, and won francs and fame. Or, being a French-Flemishyouth,Imighthavebeendrawninahand-cartbymycompeers,totiltfor municipal rewards at the water-quintain; which, unless I sent my lancecleanthroughthering,emptiedafullbucketoverme;tofendoffwhich,thecompetitorsworegrotesqueoldscarecrowhats.Or,beingFrench-Flemishmanorwoman,boyorgirl,Imighthavecircledallnightonmyhobby-horseinastately cavalcade of hobby-horses four abreast, interspersed with triumphalcars, going round and round and round and round,we the goodly companysinging a ceaseless chorus to the music of the barrel-organ, drum, andcymbals.On thewhole, notmoremonotonous than theRing inHyde Park,London, andmuchmerrier; for when do the circling company sing chorus,there, to thebarrel-organ,whendotheladiesembracetheirhorsesroundtheneckwithbotharms,whendo thegentlemen fan the ladieswith the tailsoftheirgallantsteeds?Onalltheserevolvingdelights,andontheirownespeciallampsandChinese lanterns revolvingwith them, the thoughtfulweaver-facebrightens,and theHôteldeVilleshedsan illuminated lineofgaslight:whileabove it, theEagle ofFrance, gas-outlined and apparently afflictedwith theprevailing infirmities thathave lightedon thepoultry, is inaveryundecidedstate of policy, and as a birdmoulting. Flags flutter all around. Such is theprevailinggaiety that thekeeperof theprisonsitson thestonestepsoutsidetheprison-door, tohavea lookat theworld that isnot lockedup;while thatagreeableretreat,thewine-shopoppositetotheprisonintheprison-alley(itssign La Tranquillité, because of its charming situation), resounds with thevoicesoftheshepherdsandshepherdesseswhoresorttherethisfestivenight.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. Amagnificent sight itwas, to behold him in his blouse, a feeble little jog-trotrustic,sweptalongbythewindoftwoimmensegendarmes,incocked-hatsforwhich the street was hardly wide enough, each carrying a bundle of stolenpropertythatwouldnothaveheldhisshoulder-knot,andclankingasabrethatdwarfedtheprisoner.‘Messieurs et Mesdames, I present to you at this Fair, as a mark of myconfidenceinthepeopleofthisso-renownedtown,andasanactofhomagetotheirgoodsenseand fine taste,theVentriloquist,theVentriloquist!Further,MessieursetMesdames,IpresenttoyoutheFace-Maker,thePhysiognomist,thegreatChangerofCountenances,whotransformsthefeaturesthatHeavenhasbestoweduponhimintoanendlesssuccessionofsurprisingand

extraordinaryvisages,comprehending,MessieursetMesdames,allthecontortions,energeticandexpressive,ofwhichthehumanfaceiscapable,andallthepassionsofthehumanheart,asLove,Jealousy,Revenge,Hatred,Avarice,Despair!Hihi!Hoho!Lulu!Comein!’Tothiseffect,withanoccasionalsmiteuponasonorouskindoftambourine—bestowedwithawill,asifitrepresentedthepeoplewhowon’tcomein—holdsforthamanofloftyandseveredemeanour;amaninstatelyuniform,gloomywiththeknowledgehepossessesoftheinnersecretsofthebooth.‘Comein,comein!Youropportunitypresentsitselfto-night;to-morrowitwillbegoneforever.To-morrowmorningbytheExpressTraintherailroadwillreclaimtheVentriloquistandtheFace-Maker!AlgeriawillreclaimtheVentriloquistandtheFace-Maker!Yes!Forthehonouroftheircountrytheyhaveacceptedpropositionsofamagnitudeincredible,toappearinAlgeria.Seethemforthelasttimebeforetheirdeparture!Wegotocommenceontheinstant.Hihi!Hoho!Lulu!Comein!Takethemoneythatnowascends,Madame;butafterthat,nomore,forwecommence!Comein!’Nevertheless,theeyesbothofthegloomySpeakerandofMadamereceivingsous in amuslinbower, survey the crowdpretty sharply after the ascendingmoneyhasascended,todetectanylingeringsousattheturning-point.‘Comein,comein!Isthereanymoremoney,Madame,onthepointofascending?Ifso,wewaitforit.Ifnot,wecommence!’Theoratorlooksbackoverhisshouldertosayit,lashingthespectatorswiththeconvictionthathebeholdsthroughthefoldsofthedraperyintowhichheisabouttoplunge,theVentriloquistandtheFace-Maker.Severalsousburstoutofpockets,andascend.‘Comeup,then,Messieurs!’exclaimsMadameinashrillvoice,andbeckoningwithabejewelledfinger.‘Comeup!Thispresses.Monsieurhascommandedthattheycommence!’MonsieurdivesintohisInterior,andthelasthalf-dozenofusfollow.HisInterioriscomparativelysevere;hisExterioralso.AtrueTempleofArtneedsnothingbutseats,drapery,asmalltablewithtwomoderatorlampshangingoverit,andanornamentallooking-glassletintothewall.Monsieurinuniformgetsbehindthetableandsurveysuswithdisdain,hisforeheadbecomingdiabolicallyintellectualunderthemoderators.‘MessieursetMesdames,IpresenttoyoutheVentriloquist.HewillcommencewiththecelebratedExperienceofthebeeinthewindow.Thebee,apparentlytheveritablebeeofNature,willhoverinthewindow,andabouttheroom.HewillbewithdifficultycaughtinthehandofMonsieurtheVentriloquist—hewillescape—hewillagainhover—atlengthhewillberecapturedbyMonsieurtheVentriloquist,andwillbewithdifficultyputintoabottle.Achievethen,Monsieur!’HeretheproprietorisreplacedbehindthetablebytheVentriloquist,whoisthinandsallow,andofaweaklyaspect.Whilethebeeisinprogress,MonsieurtheProprietorsitsapartonastool,immersedindarkandremotethought.Themomentthebeeisbottled,he

stalksforward,eyesusgloomilyasweapplaud,andthenannounces,sternlywavinghishand:‘ThemagnificentExperienceofthechildwiththewhooping-cough!’Thechilddisposedof,hestartsupasbefore.‘The superbandextraordinaryExperienceofthedialoguebetweenMonsieurTatambourinhisdining-room,andhisdomestic,Jerome,inthecellar;concludingwiththesongstersofthegrove,andtheConcertofdomesticFarm-yardanimals.’Allthisdone,andwelldone,MonsieurtheVentriloquistwithdraws,andMonsieurtheFace-Makerburstsin,asifhisretiring-roomwereamilelonginsteadofayard.A corpulent little man in a large white waistcoat, with a comiccountenance, and with a wig in his hand.Irreverentdispositiontolaugh,instantlycheckedbythetremendousgravityoftheFace-Maker,whointimatesinhisbowthatifweexpectthatsortofthingwearemistaken.Averylittleshaving-glasswithalegbehinditishandedin,andplacedonthetablebeforetheFace-Maker.‘MessieursetMesdames,withnootherassistancethanthismirrorandthiswig,Ishallhavethehonourofshowingyouathousandcharacters.’Asapreparation,theFace-Makerwithbothhandsgougeshimself,andturnshismouthinsideout.Hethenbecomesfrightfullygraveagain,andsaystotheProprietor,‘Iamready!’Proprietorstalksforthfrombalefulreverie,andannounces‘TheYoungConscript!’Face-Makerclapshiswigon,hindsidebefore,looksintheglass,andappearsaboveitasaconscriptsoveryimbecile,andsquintingsoextremelyhard,thatIshouldthinktheStatewouldnevergetanygoodofhim.Thunders of applause.Face-Maker dipsbehind the looking-glass, bringshisownhairforward,ishimselfagain,isawfullygrave.‘A distinguished inhabitant of the Faubourg St. Germain.’Face-Makerdips,rises,issupposedtobeaged,blear-eyed,toothless,slightlypalsied,supernaturallypolite,evidentlyofnoblebirth.‘TheoldestmemberoftheCorpsofInvalidesonthefête-dayofhismaster.’Face-Makerdips, rises,wearsthewigononeside,hasbecomethefeeblestmilitaryboreinexistence,and(itisclear)wouldliefrightfullyabouthispastachievements,ifhewerenotconfinedtopantomime.‘TheMiser!’Face-Maker dips, rises, clutchesabag,andeveryhairofthewigisonendtoexpressthathelivesincontinualdreadofthieves.‘TheGeniusofFrance!’Face-Makerdips,rises,wigpushedbackandsmoothedflat,littlecocked-hat(artfullyconcealedtillnow)puta-topofit,Face-Maker’swhitewaistcoatmuchadvanced,Face-Maker’slefthandinbosomofwhitewaistcoat,Face-Maker’srighthandbehindhisback.Thunders.ThisisthefirstofthreepositionsoftheGeniusofFrance.Inthesecondposition,theFace-Makertakessnuff;inthethird,rollsuphisfighthand,andsurveysillimitablearmiesthroughthatpocket-glass.TheFace-Makerthen,byputtingouthistongue,andwearingthewignohowinparticular,becomestheVillageIdiot.Themostremarkablefeatureinthewholeofhisingeniousperformance,is,thatwhateverhedoestodisguisehimself,hastheeffectofrenderinghimrathermorelikehimselfthanhewasat

first.There were peep-shows in this Fair, and I had the pleasure of recognisingseveralfieldsofglorywithwhichIbecamewellacquaintedayearortwoagoas Crimean battles, now doing duty asMexican victories. The change wasneatlyeffectedbysomeextrasmokingoftheRussians,andbypermittingthecamp followers free range in the foreground to despoil the enemy of theiruniforms.AsnoBritishtroopshadeverhappenedtobewithinsightwhentheartisttookhisoriginalsketches,itfollowedfortunatelythatnonewereinthewaynow.TheFairwoundupwithaball.Respectingtheparticularnightoftheweekonwhichtheballtookplace,Ideclinetocommitmyself;merelymentioningthatitwasheldinastable-yardsoveryclosetotherailway,thatitwasamercythelocomotivedidnotsetfiretoit.(InScotland,Isuppose,itwouldhavedoneso.)There,inatentprettilydecoratedwithlooking-glassesandamyriadoftoyflags,thepeopledancedallnight.Itwasnotanexpensiverecreation,thepriceofadoubleticketforacavalierandladybeingoneandthreepenceinEnglishmoney,andevenofthatsmallsumfivepencewasreclaimablefor‘consommation:’whichwordIventuretotranslateintorefreshmentsofnogreaterstrength,atthestrongest,thanordinarywinemadehot,withsugarandlemoninit.Itwasaballofgreatgoodhumourandofgreatenjoyment,though very many of the dancers must have been as poor as the fifteensubjectsoftheP.SalcyFamily.Inshort,nothavingtakenmyownpetnationalpintpotwithmetothisFair,IwasverywellsatisfiedwiththemeasureofsimpleenjoymentthatitpouredintothedullFrench-Flemishcountrylife.Howdullthatis,Ihadanopportunityofconsidering—whentheFairwasover—whenthetri-colouredflagswerewithdrawnfromthewindowsofthehousesonthePlacewheretheFairwasheld—whenthewindowswerecloseshut,apparentlyuntilnextFair-time—whentheHôteldeVillehadcutoffitsgasandputawayitseagle—whenthetwopaviours,whomItaketoformtheentirepavingpopulationofthetown,wererammingdownthestoneswhichhadbeenpulledupfortheerectionofdecorativepoles—whenthejailerhadslammedhisgate,andsulkilylockedhimselfinwithhischarges.Butthen,asIpacedtheringwhichmarkedthetrackofthedepartedhobby-horsesonthemarket-place,ponderinginmymindhowlongsomehobby-horsesdoleavetheirtracksinpublicways,andhowdifficulttheyaretoerase,myeyesweregreetedwithagoodlysight.IbeheldfourmalepersonagesthoughtfullypacingthePlacetogether,inthesunlight,evidentlynotbelongingtothetown,andhavinguponthemacertainloosecosmopolitanairofnotbelongingtoanytown.Onewascladinasuitofwhitecanvas,anotherinacapandblouse,thethirdinanoldmilitaryfrock,

thefourthinashapelessdressthatlookedasifithadbeenmadeoutofoldumbrellas.Allworedust-colouredshoes.Myheartbeathigh;for,inthosefourmalepersonages,althoughcomplexionlessandeyebrowless,IbeheldfoursubjectsoftheFamilyP.Salcy.Blue-beardedthoughtheywere,andbereftoftheyouthfulsmoothnessofcheekwhichisimpartedbywhatistermedinAlbiona‘Whitechapelshave’(andwhichis,infact,whitening,judiciouslyappliedtothejawswiththepalmofthehand),Irecognisedthem.AsIstoodadmiring,thereemergedfromtheyardofalowlyCabaret,theexcellentMaMère,MaMère,withthewords,‘Thesoupisserved;’wordswhichsoelatedthesubjectinthecanvassuit,thatwhentheyallranintopartake,hewentlast,dancingwithhishandsstuckangularlyintothepocketsofhiscanvastrousers,afterthePierrotmanner.GlancingdowntheYard,thelastIsawofhimwas,thathelookedinthroughawindow(atthesoup,nodoubt)ononeleg.Fullofthispleasure,Ishortlyafterwardsdepartedfromthetown,littledreamingofanadditiontomygoodfortune.Butmorewasinreserve.Iwentbyatrainwhichwasheavywiththird-classcarriages,fullofyoungfellows(wellguarded)whohaddrawnunluckynumbersinthelastconscription,andwereontheirwaytoafamousFrenchgarrisontownwheremuchoftherawmilitarymaterialisworkedupintosoldiery.Atthestationtheyhadbeensittingabout,intheirthreadbarehomespunbluegarments,withtheirpoorlittlebundlesundertheirarms,coveredwithdustandclay,andthevarioussoilsofFrance;sadenoughatheart,mostofthem,butputtingagoodfaceuponit,andslappingtheirbreastsandsingingchorusesonthesmallestprovocation;thegayestspiritsshoulderinghalfloavesofblackbreadspearedupontheirwalking-sticks.Aswewentalong,theywereaudibleateverystation,chorusingwildlyoutoftune,andfeigningthehighesthilarity.Afterawhile,however,theybegantoleaveoffsinging,andtolaughnaturally,whileatintervalstheremingledwiththeirlaughterthebarkingofadog.Now,Ihadtoalightshortoftheirdestination,and,asthatstoppageofthetrainwasattendedwithaquantityofhornblowing,bellringing,andproclamationofwhatMessieurslesVoyageursweretodo,andwerenottodo,inordertoreachtheirrespectivedestinations,Ihadampleleisuretogoforwardontheplatformtotakeapartinglookatmyrecruits,whoseheadswerealloutatwindow,andwhowerelaughinglikedelightedchildren.ThenIperceivedthatalargepoodlewithapinknose,whohadbeentheirtravellingcompanionandthecauseoftheirmirth,stoodonhishind-legspresentingarmsontheextremevergeoftheplatform,readytosalutethemasthetrainwentoff.Thispoodleworeamilitaryshako(itisunnecessarytoadd,verymuchononesideoveroneeye),alittlemilitarycoat,andtheregulationwhitegaiters.Hewasarmedwithalittlemusketandalittlesword-bayonet,andhestoodpresentingarmsinperfectattitude,withhisunobscuredeyeonhismasterorsuperiorofficer,whostoodbyhim.Soadmirablewashisdiscipline,that,whenthetrainmoved,

andhewasgreetedwiththepartingcheersoftherecruits,andalsowithashowerofcentimes,severalofwhichstruckhisshako,andhadatendencytodiscomposehim,heremainedstaunchonhispost,untilthetrainwasgone.Hethenresignedhisarmstohisofficer,tookoffhisshakobyrubbinghispawoverit,droppedonfourlegs,bringinghisuniformcoatintotheabsurdestrelationswiththeoverarchingskies,andranabouttheplatforminhiswhitegaiters,waginghistailtoanexceedinggreatextent.Itstruckmethattherewasmorewaggerythanthisinthepoodle,andthatheknewthattherecruitswouldneithergetthroughtheirexercises,norgetridoftheiruniforms,aseasilyashe;revolvingwhichinmythoughts,andseekinginmypocketssomesmallmoneytobestowuponhim,Icasuallydirectedmyeyestothefaceofhissuperiorofficer,andinhimbeheldtheFace-Maker!ThoughitwasnotthewaytoAlgeria,butquitethereverse,themilitarypoodle’sColonelwastheFace-Makerinadarkblouse,withasmallbundledanglingoverhisshoulderattheendofanumbrella,andtakingapipefromhisbreasttosmokeasheandthepoodlewenttheirmysteriousway.

CHAPTERXXVIII—MEDICINEMENOFCIVILISATIONMy voyages (in paper boats) among savages often yield me matter forreflectionathome.Itiscurioustotracethesavageinthecivilisedman,andtodetect the hold of some savage customs on conditions of society ratherboastfulofbeinghighabovethem.Iwonder,istheMedicineManoftheNorthAmericanIndiansnevertobegotridof,outoftheNorthAmericancountry?HecomesintomyWigwamonallmannerofoccasions,andwiththeabsurdest‘Medicine.’Ialwaysfinditextremelydifficult,andIoftenfinditsimplyimpossible,tokeephimoutofmyWigwam.Forhislegal‘Medicine’hesticksuponhisheadthehairofquadrupeds,andplastersthesamewithfat,anddirtywhitepowder,andtalksagibberishquiteunknowntothemenandsquawsofhistribe.Forhisreligious‘Medicine’heputsonpuffywhitesleeves,littleblackaprons,largeblackwaistcoatsofapeculiarcut,collarlesscoatswithMedicinebutton-holes,Medicinestockingsandgaitersandshoes,andtopsthewholewithahighlygrotesqueMedicinalhat.Inonerespect,tobesure,Iamquitefreefromhim.OnoccasionswhentheMedicineMeningeneral,togetherwithalargenumberofthemiscellaneousinhabitantsofhisvillage,bothmaleandfemale,arepresentedtotheprincipalChief,hisnative‘Medicine’isacomicalmixtureofoldoddsandends(hiredoftraders)andnewthingsinantiquatedshapes,andpiecesofredcloth(ofwhichheisparticularlyfond),andwhiteandredandbluepaintfortheface.TheirrationalityofthisparticularMedicineculminatesinamockbattle-rush,fromwhichmanyofthesquawsareborneout,muchdilapidated.IneednotobservehowunlikethisistoaDrawing

RoomatSt.James’sPalace.TheAfricanmagicianIfinditverydifficulttoexcludefrommyWigwamtoo.Thiscreaturetakescasesofdeathandmourningunderhissupervision,andwillfrequentlyimpoverishawholefamilybyhispreposterousenchantments.Heisagreateateranddrinker,andalwaysconcealsarejoicingstomachunderagrievingexterior.Hischarmsconsistofaninfinitequantityofworthlessscraps,forwhichhechargesveryhigh.Heimpressesonthepoorbereavednatives,thatthemoreofhisfollowerstheypaytoexhibitsuchscrapsontheirpersonsforanhourortwo(thoughtheyneversawthedeceasedintheirlives,andareputinhighspiritsbyhisdecease),themorehonourablyand piouslythey grieve for the dead. The poor people submitting themselves to thisconjurer,anexpensiveprocessionisformed,inwhichbitsofstick,feathersofbirds,andaquantityofotherunmeaningobjectsbesmearedwithblackpaint,arecarriedinacertainghastlyorderofwhichnooneunderstandsthemeaning,ifiteverhadany,tothebrinkofthegrave,andarethenbroughtbackagain.In the Tonga Islands everything is supposed to have a soul, so thatwhen ahatchetisirreparablybroken,theysay,‘Hisimmortalparthasdeparted;heisgone to the happy hunting-plains.’ This belief leads to the logical sequencethatwhenamanisburied,someofhiseatinganddrinkingvessels,andsomeofhiswarlikeimplements,mustbebrokenandburiedwithhim.Superstitiousandwrong, but surely amore respectable superstition than the hire of anticscrapsforashowthathasnomeaningbasedonanysincerebelief.Letme halt onmyUncommercial road, to throw a passing glance on somefuneral solemnities that I have seenwhereNorthAmerican Indians,AfricanMagicians,andTongaIslanders,aresupposednottobe.Once, I dwelt in an Italian city,where there dweltwithme for awhile, anEnglishman of an amiable nature, great enthusiasm, and no discretion. Thisfrienddiscoveredadesolatestranger,mourningovertheunexpecteddeathofoneverydeartohim,inasolitarycottageamongthevineyardsofanoutlyingvillage.Thecircumstancesofthebereavementwereunusuallydistressing;andthe survivor,new to thepeasants and thecountry, sorelyneededhelp,beingalonewiththeremains.Withsomedifficulty,butwiththestronginfluenceofapurpose at once gentle, disinterested, and determined, my friend—Mr.Kindheart—obtained access to the mourner, and undertook to arrange theburial.TherewasasmallProtestantcemeterynearthecitywalls,andasMr.Kindheartcamebacktome,heturnedintoitandchosethespot.Hewasalwayshighlyflushedwhenrenderingaserviceunaided,andIknewthattomakehimhappyImustkeepalooffromhisministration.Butwhenatdinner

hewarmedwiththegoodactionoftheday,andconceivedthebrilliantideaofcomfortingthemournerwith‘anEnglishfuneral,’IventuredtointimatethatIthoughtthatinstitution,whichwasnotabsolutelysublimeathome,mightproveafailureinItalianhands.However,Mr.Kindheartwassoenrapturedwithhisconception,thathepresentlywrotedownintothetownrequestingtheattendancewithto-morrow’searliestlightofacertainlittleupholsterer.Thisupholstererwasfamousforspeakingtheunintelligiblelocaldialect(hisown)inafarmoreunintelligiblemannerthananyothermanalive.When from my bath next morning I overheard Mr. Kindheart and theupholsterer in conference on the top of an echoing staircase; and when Ioverheard Mr. Kindheart rendering English Undertaking phrases into verychoice Italian, and the upholsterer replying in the unknown Tongues; andwhenIfurthermorerememberedthatthelocalfuneralshadnoresemblancetoEnglish funerals; I became in my secret bosom apprehensive. But Mr.Kindheartinformedmeatbreakfastthatmeasureshadbeentakentoensureasignalsuccess.Asthefuneralwastotakeplaceatsunset,andasIknewtowhichofthecitygates itmust tend, Iwentout at thatgateas the sundescended, andwalkedalong the dusty, dusty road. I had not walked far, when I encountered thisprocession:1.Mr.Kindheart,muchabashed,onanimmensegreyhorse.2.Abrightyellowcoachandpair,drivenbyacoachmaninbrightredvelvetknee-breeches andwaistcoat. (This was the established local idea of State.)Bothcoachdoorskeptopenbythecoffin,whichwasonitssidewithin,andstickingoutateach.3.Behindthecoach,themourner,forwhomthecoachwasintended,walkinginthedust.4. Concealed behind a roadside well for the irrigation of a garden, theunintelligibleUpholsterer,admiring.Itmatterslittlenow.CoachesofallcoloursarealiketopoorKindheart,andherestsfarNorthofthelittlecemeterywiththecypress-trees,bythecitywallswheretheMediterraneanissobeautiful.Myfirstfuneral,afairrepresentativefuneralafteritskind,wasthatofthehusbandofamarriedservant,oncemynurse.Shemarriedformoney.SallyFlanders,afterayearortwoofmatrimony,becametherelictofFlanders,asmallmasterbuilder;andeithersheorFlandershaddonemethehonourtoexpressadesirethatIshould‘follow.’Imayhavebeensevenoreightyears

old;—youngenough,certainly,tofeelratheralarmedbytheexpression,asnotknowingwheretheinvitationwasheldtoterminate,andhowfarIwasexpectedtofollowthedeceasedFlanders.Consentbeinggivenbytheheadsofhouses,Iwasjobbedupintowhatwaspronouncedathomedecentmourning(comprehendingsomebodyelse’sshirt,unlessmymemorydeceivesme),andwasadmonishedthatif,whenthefuneralwasinaction,Iputmyhandsinmypockets,ortookmyeyesoutofmypocket-handkerchief,Iwaspersonallylost,andmyfamilydisgraced.Ontheeventfulday,havingtriedtogetmyselfintoadisastrousframeofmind,andhavingformedaverypooropinionofmyselfbecauseIcouldn’tcry,IrepairedtoSally’s.Sallywasanexcellentcreature,andhadbeenagoodwifetooldFlanders,butthemomentIsawherIknewthatshewasnotinherownrealnaturalstate.SheformedasortofCoatofArms,groupedwithasmelling-bottle,ahandkerchief,anorange,abottleofvinegar,Flanders’ssister,herownsister,Flanders’sbrother’swife,andtwoneighbouringgossips—allinmourning,andallreadytoholdherwhenevershefainted.Atsightofpoorlittlemeshebecamemuchagitated(agitatingmemuchmore),andhavingexclaimed,‘Ohere’sdearMasterUncommercial!’becamehysterical,andswoonedasifIhadbeenthedeathofher.Anaffectingscenefollowed,duringwhichIwashandedaboutandpokedatherbyvariouspeople,asifIwerethebottleofsalts.Revivingalittle,sheembracedme,said,‘Youknewhimwell,dearMasterUncommercial,andheknewyou!’andfaintedagain:which,astherestoftheCoatofArmssoothinglysaid,‘donehercredit.’Now,Iknewthatsheneedn’thavefaintedunlesssheliked,andthatshewouldn’thavefaintedunlessithadbeenexpectedofher,quiteaswellasIknowitatthisday.Itmademefeeluncomfortableandhypocriticalbesides.Iwasnotsurebutthatitmightbemannersinmetofaintnext,andIresolvedtokeepmyeyeonFlanders’suncle,andifIsawanysignsofhisgoinginthatdirection,togotoo,politely.ButFlanders’suncle(whowasaweaklittleoldretailgrocer)hadonlyoneidea,whichwasthatweallwantedtea;andhehandeduscupsofteaallround,incessantly,whetherwerefusedornot.TherewasayoungnephewofFlanders’spresent,towhomFlanders,itwasrumoured,hadleftnineteenguineas.Hedrankalltheteathatwasofferedhim,thisnephew—amounting,Ishouldsay,toseveralquarts—andateasmuchplum-cakeashecouldpossiblycomeby;buthefeltittobedecentmourningthatheshouldnowandthenstopinthemidstofalumpofcake,andappeartoforgetthathismouthwasfull,inthecontemplationofhisuncle’smemory.Ifeltallthistobethefaultoftheundertaker,whowashandingusglovesonatea-trayasiftheyweremuffins,andtyingusintocloaks(minehadtobepinnedupallround,itwassolongforme),becauseIknewthathewasmakinggame.So,whenwegotoutintothestreets,andIconstantlydisarrangedtheprocessionbytumblingonthepeoplebeforemebecausemyhandkerchiefblindedmyeyes,andtrippingupthe

peoplebehindmebecausemycloakwassolong,Ifeltthatwewereallmakinggame.IwastrulysorryforFlanders,butIknewthatitwasnoreasonwhyweshouldbetrying(thewomenwiththeirheadsinhoodslikecoal-scuttleswiththeblacksideoutward)tokeepstepwithamaninascarf,carryingathinglikeamourningspy-glass,whichhewasgoingtoopenpresentlyandsweepthehorizonwith.Iknewthatweshouldnotallhavebeenspeakinginoneparticularkey-notestruckbytheundertaker,ifwehadnotbeenmakinggame.Eveninourfaceswewereeveryoneofusasliketheundertakerasifwehadbeenhisownfamily,andIperceivedthatthiscouldnothavehappenedunlesswehadbeenmakinggame.WhenwereturnedtoSally’s,itwasallofapiece.Thecontinuedimpossibilityofgettingonwithoutplum-cake;theceremoniousapparitionofapairofdecanterscontainingportandsherryandcork;Sally’ssisteratthetea-table,clinkingthebestcrockeryandshakingherheadmournfullyeverytimeshelookeddownintotheteapot,asifitwerethetomb;theCoatofArmsagain,andSallyasbefore;lastly,thewordsofconsolationadministeredtoSallywhenitwasconsideredrightthatshe should ‘come round nicely:’whichwere, that the deceased had had ‘ascom-for-ta-bleafu-ne-ralascomfortablecouldbe!’OtherfuneralshaveIseenwithgrown-upeyes,sincethatday,ofwhichtheburdenhasbeenthesamechildishburden.Makinggame.Realaffliction,realgriefandsolemnity,havebeenoutraged,andthefuneralhasbeen‘performed.’Thewasteforwhichthefuneralcustomsofmanytribesofsavagesareconspicuous,hasattendedthesecivilisedobsequies;andonce,andtwice,haveIwishedinmysoulthatifthewastemustbe,theywouldlettheundertakerburythemoney,andletmeburythefriend.InFrance,uponthewhole,theseceremoniesaremoresensiblyregulated,becausetheyareuponthewholelessexpensivelyregulated.IcannotsaythatIhaveeverbeenmuchedifiedbythecustomoftyingabibandaprononthefrontofthehouseofmourning,orthatIwouldmyselfparticularlycaretobedriventomygraveinanoddingandbobbingcar,likeaninfirmfour-postbedstead,byaninkyfellow-creatureinacocked-hat.ButitmaybethatIamconstitutionallyinsensibletothevirtuesofacocked-hat.InprovincialFrance,thesolemnitiesaresufficientlyhideous,butarefewandcheap.Thefriendsandtownsmenofthedeparted,intheirowndressesandnotmasqueradingundertheauspicesoftheAfricanConjurer,surroundthehand-bier,andoftencarryit.Itisnotconsideredindispensabletostiflethebearers,oreventoelevatetheburdenontheirshoulders;consequentlyitiseasilytakenup,andeasilysetdown,andiscarriedthroughthestreetswithoutthedistressingflounderingandshufflingthatweseeathome.Adirtypriestortwo,andadirtieracolyteortwo,donotlendanyespecialgracetotheproceedings;andIregardwithpersonalanimositythebassoon,whichisblownatintervalsbythe

big-leggedpriest(itisalwaysabig-leggedpriestwhoblowsthebassoon),whenhisfellowscombineinalugubriousstalwartdrawl.ButthereisfarlessoftheConjurerandtheMedicineManinthebusinessthanunderlikecircumstanceshere.Thegrimcoachesthatwereserveexpresslyforsuchshows,arenon-existent;ifthecemeterybefaroutofthetown,thecoachesthatarehiredforotherpurposesoflifearehiredforthispurpose;andalthoughthehonestvehiclesmakenopretenceofbeingovercome,Ihavenevernoticedthatthepeopleinthemweretheworseforit.InItaly,thehoodedMembersofConfraternitieswhoattendonfunerals,aredismalanduglytolookupon;buttheservicestheyrenderareatleastvoluntarilyrendered,andimpoverishnoone,andcostnothing.Whyshouldhighcivilisationandlowsavageryevercometogetheronthepointofmakingthemawantonlywastefulandcontemptiblesetofforms?OnceIlostafriendbydeath,whohadbeentroubledinhistimebytheMedicineManandtheConjurer,anduponwhoselimitedresourcestherewereabundantclaims.TheConjurerassuredmethatImustpositively‘follow,’andbothheandtheMedicineManentertainednodoubtthatImustgoinablackcarriage,andmustwear‘fittings.’Iobjectedtofittingsashavingnothingtodowith my friendship, and I objected to the black carriage as being in moresensesthanoneajob.So,itcameintomymindtotrywhatwouldhappenifIquietlywalked, inmy ownway, frommyown house tomy friend’s burial-place,andstoodbesidehisopengraveinmyowndressandperson,reverentlylisteningtothebestofServices.Itsatisfiedmymind,Ifound,quiteaswellasif Ihadbeendisguised inahiredhatbandandscarfboth trailing tomyveryheels, and as if I had cost the orphan children, in their greatest need, tenguineas.Can any one who ever beheld the stupendous absurdities attendant on ‘AmessagefromtheLords’ in theHouseofCommons, turnupontheMedicineManof thepoor Indians?Hasheany‘Medicine’ in thatdriedskinpouchofhis,sosupremely ludicrousas the twoMasters inChanceryholdingup theirblackpetticoatsandbuttingtheirridiculouswigsatMr.Speaker?Yetthereareauthorities innumerable to tell me—as there are authorities innumerableamongtheIndianstotellthem—thatthenonsenseisindispensable,andthatitsabrogationwouldinvolvemostawfulconsequences.Whatwouldanyrationalcreaturewhohadnever heardof judicial and forensic ‘fittings,’ thinkof theCourtofCommonPleasonthefirstdayofTerm?Orwithwhatanawakenedsense of humour would LIVINGSTONE’S account of a similar scene beperused,ifthefurandredclothandgoats’hairandhorsehairandpowderedchalk and black patches on the top of the head,were all atTalaMungongoinsteadofWestminster?Thatmodelmissionaryandgoodbravemanfoundatleastonetribeofblackswithaverystrongsenseoftheridiculous,insomuch

that although an amiable and docile people, they never could see theMissionaries dispose of their legs in the attitude of kneeling, or hear thembeginahymninchorus,withoutburstingintoroarsofirrepressiblelaughter.ItismuchtobehopedthatnomemberofthisfacetioustribemayeverfindhiswaytoEnglandandgetcommittedforcontemptofCourt.IntheTongaIslandalreadymentioned,thereareasetofpersonagescalledMataboos—orsomesuchname—whoarethemastersofallthepublicceremonies,andwhoknowtheexactplaceinwhicheverychiefmustsitdownwhenasolemnpublicmeetingtakesplace:ameetingwhichbearsafamilyresemblancetoourownPublicDinner,inrespectofitsbeingamainpartoftheproceedingsthateverygentlemanpresentisrequiredtodrinksomethingnasty.TheseMataboosareaprivilegedorder,soimportantistheiravocation,andtheymakethemostoftheirhighfunctions.AlongwayoutoftheTongaIslands,indeed,ratherneartheBritishIslands,wastherenocallinginoftheMataboostheotherdaytosettleanearth-convulsingquestionofprecedence;andwastherenoweightyopiniondeliveredonthepartoftheMatabooswhich,beinginterpretedtothatunluckytribeofblackswiththesenseoftheridiculous,wouldinfalliblysetthewholepopulationscreamingwithlaughter?Mysenseofjusticedemandstheadmission,however,thatthisisnotquiteaone-sidedquestion.IfwesubmitourselvesmeeklytotheMedicineManandtheConjurer,andarenotexaltedbyit,thesavagesmayretortuponusthatweactmoreunwiselythantheyinothermatterswhereinwefailtoimitatethem.Itisawidelydiffusedcustomamongsavagetribes,whentheymeettodiscussanyaffairofpublicimportance,tositupallnightmakingahorriblenoise,dancing,blowingshells,and(incaseswheretheyarefamiliarwithfire-arms)flyingoutintoopenplacesandlettingoffguns.Itisquestionablewhetherourlegislativeassembliesmightnottakeahintfromthis.Ashellisnotamelodiouswind-instrument,anditismonotonous;butitisasmusicalas,andnotmoremonotonousthan,myHonourablefriend’sowntrumpet,orthetrumpetthatheblowssohardfortheMinister.TheuselessnessofarguingwithanysupporterofaGovernmentorofanOpposition,iswellknown.Trydancing.Itisabetterexercise,andhastheunspeakablerecommendationthatitcouldn’tbereported.Thehonourableandsavagememberwhohasaloadedgun,andhasgrownimpatientofdebate,plungesoutofdoors,firesintheair,andreturnscalmandsilenttothePalaver.Letthehonourableandcivilisedmembersimilarlychargedwithaspeech,dartintothecloistersofWestminsterAbbeyinthesilenceofnight,lethisspeechoff,andcomebackharmless.Itisnotatfirstsightaveryrationalcustomtopaintabroadbluestripeacrossone’snoseandbothcheeks,andabroadredstripefromtheforeheadtothechin,toattachafewpoundsofwoodtoone’sunderlip,tostickfish-bonesinone’searsandabrasscurtain-ringinone’snose,andtorubone’sbodyalloverwith

rancidoil,asapreliminarytoenteringonbusiness.Butthisisaquestionoftasteandceremony,andsoistheWindsorUniform.Themannerofenteringonthebusinessitselfisanotherquestion.Acouncilofsixhundredsavagegentlemenentirelyindependentoftailors,sittingontheirhamsinaring,smoking,andoccasionallygrunting,seemtome,accordingtotheexperienceIhavegatheredinmyvoyagesandtravels,somehowtodowhattheycometogetherfor;whereasthatisnotatallthegeneralexperienceofacouncilofsixhundredcivilisedgentlemenverydependentontailorsandsittingonmechanicalcontrivances.ItisbetterthatanAssemblyshoulddoitsutmosttoenvelopitselfinsmoke,thanthatitshoulddirectitsendeavourstoenvelopingthepublicinsmoke;andIwouldratheritburiedhalfahundredhatchetsthanburiedonesubjectdemandingattention.

CHAPTERXXIX—TITBULL’SALMS-HOUSESBythesideofmostrailwaysoutofLondon,onemayseeAlms-HousesandRetreats(generallywithaWingoraCentrewanting,andambitiousofbeingmuchbiggerthantheyare),someofwhicharenewly-foundedInstitutions,andsomeoldestablishmentstransplanted.Thereisatendencyinthesepiecesofarchitecturetoshootupwardunexpectedly,likeJack’sbean-stalk,andtobeornateinspiresofChapelsandlanternsof Halls, which might lead to theembellishmentoftheairwithmanycastlesofquestionablebeautybutfortherestrainingconsiderationofexpense.However,themanners,beingalwaysofasanguine temperament, comfort themselves with plans and elevations ofLoomings in the future, and are influenced in the present by philanthropytowards the railway passengers. For, the question how prosperous andpromisingthebuildingscanbemadetolookintheireyes,usuallysupersedesthelesserquestionhowtheycanbeturnedtothebestaccountfortheinmates.Whynoneofthepeoplewhoresideintheseplaceseverlookoutofwindow,ortakeanairinginthepieceofgroundwhichisgoingtobeagardenby-and-by, isoneof thewonders Ihaveadded tomyalways-lengthening listof thewondersof theworld. Ihavegot it intomymind that they live inastateofchronic injury and resentment, and on that account refuse to decorate thebuildingwithahumaninterest.AsIhaveknownlegateesdeeplyinjuredbyabequestoffivehundredpoundsbecauseitwasnotfivethousand,andasIwasonceacquaintedwithapensioneronthePublictotheextentoftwohundredayear,who perpetually anathematised hisCountry because hewas not in thereceipt of four, having no claimwhatever to sixpence: so perhaps it usuallyhappens,withincertainlimits,thattogetalittlehelpistogetanotionofbeingdefraudedofmore.‘Howdotheypasstheirlivesinthisbeautifulandpeacefulplace!’ was the subject of my speculation with a visitor who onceaccompaniedmetoacharmingrusticretreatforoldmenandwomen:aquaint

ancientfoundationinapleasantEnglishcountry,behindapicturesquechurchand among rich old convent gardens. There were but some dozen or so ofhouses,andweagreedthatwewouldtalkwiththeinhabitants,astheysatintheirgroinedroomsbetweenthelightoftheirfiresandthelightshininginattheir latticed windows, and would find out. They passed their lives inconsideringthemselvesmulctedofcertainouncesofteabyadeafoldstewardwholivedamongtheminthequadrangle.Therewasnoreasontosupposethatanysuchouncesofteahadeverbeeninexistence,orthattheoldstewardsomuchasknewwhatwasthematter;—hepassedhislifeinconsideringhimselfperiodicallydefraudedofabirch-broombythebeadle.ButitisneithertooldAlms-Housesinthecountry,nortonewAlms-Housesbytherailroad,thatthesepresentUncommercialnotesrelate.Theyreferbacktojourneysmadeamongthosecommon-place,smoky-frontedLondonAlms-Houses,withalittlepavedcourt-yardinfrontenclosedbyironrailings,whichhavegotsnowedup,as itwere,bybricksandmortar;whichwereonce inasuburb, but are now in the densely populated town; gaps in the busy lifearoundthem,parenthesesinthecloseandblottedtextsofthestreets.Sometimes,theseAlms-HousesbelongtoaCompanyorSociety.Sometimes,theywereestablishedbyindividuals,andaremaintainedoutofprivatefundsbequeathedinperpetuitylongago.MyfavouriteamongthemisTitbull’s,whichestablishmentisapictureofmany.OfTitbullIknownomorethanthathe deceased in 1723, that his Christian name was Sampson, and his socialdesignationEsquire,andthathefoundedtheseAlms-HousesasDwellingsforNinePoorWomenandSixPoorMenbyhisWillandTestament.Ishouldnotknoweventhismuch,butforitsbeinginscribedonagrimstoneverydifficultto read, let into the front of the centre house ofTitbull’sAlms-Houses, andwhichstoneisornamenteda-topwithapieceofsculptureddraperyresemblingtheeffigyofTitbull’sbath-towel.Titbull’sAlms-HousesareintheeastofLondon,inagreathighway,inapoor,busy,andthrongedneighbourhood.Oldironandfriedfish,coughdropsandartificialflowers,boiledpigs’-feetandhouseholdfurniturethatlooksasifitwerepolishedupwithlip-salve,umbrellasfullofvocalliteratureandsaucersfullofshell-fishinagreenjuicewhichIhopeisnaturaltothemwhentheirhealthisgood,garnishthepavedsidewaysasyougotoTitbull’s.ItakethegroundtohaveriseninthosepartssinceTitbull’stime,andyoudropintohisdomainbythreestonesteps.SodidIfirstdropintoit,verynearlystrikingmybrowsagainstTitbull’spump,whichstandswithitsbacktothethoroughfarejustinsidethegate,andhasaconceitedairofreviewingTitbull’spensioners.‘Andaworseone,’saidavirulentoldmanwithapitcher,‘thereisn’tnowhere.Aharderonetowork,noragrudgineronetoyield,thereisn’tnowhere!’This

oldmanwore a long coat, such aswe seeHogarth’s Chairmen representedwith,anditwasofthatpeculiargreen-peahuewithoutthegreen,whichseemstocomeofpoverty.Ithadalsothatpeculiarsmellofcupboardwhichseemstocomeofpoverty.‘Thepumpisrusty,perhaps,’saidI.‘Notit,’saidtheoldman,regardingitwithundilutedvirulenceinhiswateryeye.‘Itneverwerefittobetermedapump.That’swhat’sthematterwithit.’‘Whosefaultisthat?’saidI.The old man, who had a working mouth which seemed to be trying tomasticatehisangerandtofindthatitwastoohardandtherewastoomuchofit,replied,‘Themgentlemen.’‘Whatgentlemen?’‘Maybeyou’reoneof’em?’saidtheoldman,suspiciously.‘Thetrustees?’‘Iwouldn’ttrust’emmyself,’saidthevirulentoldman.‘If youmean the gentlemenwho administer this place, no, I am not one ofthem;norhaveIeversomuchasheardofthem.’‘IwishIneverheardofthem,’gaspedtheoldman:‘atmytimeoflife—withthe rheumatics—drawing water-from that thing!’ Not to be deluded intocalling it a Pump, the old man gave it another virulent look, took up hispitcher, and carried it into a corner dwelling-house, shutting the door afterhim.Looking around and seeing that each little house was a house of two littlerooms; and seeing that the little oblong court-yard in front was like agraveyardfortheinhabitants,savingthatnowordwasengravenonitsflatdrystones; and seeing that the currents of life and noise ran to and fro outside,havingnomoretodowiththeplacethanifitwereasortoflow-watermarkona livelybeach; I say, seeing thisandnothingelse, Iwasgoingoutat thegatewhenoneofthedoorsopened.‘Wasyoulookingforanything,sir?’askedatidy,well-favouredwoman.Really,no;Icouldn’tsayIwas.‘Notwantinganyone,sir?’

‘No—atleastI—praywhatisthenameoftheelderlygentlemanwholivesinthecornerthere?’ThetidywomansteppedouttobesureofthedoorIindicated,andsheandthepumpandIstoodallthreeinarowwithourbackstothethoroughfare.‘Oh!HisnameisMr.Battens,’saidthetidywoman,droppinghervoice.‘Ihavejustbeentalkingwithhim.’‘Indeed?’saidthetidywoman.‘Ho!IwonderMr.Battenstalked!’‘Isheusuallysosilent?’‘Well, Mr. Battens is the oldest here—that is to say, the oldest of the oldgentlemen—inpointofresidence.’Shehadawayofpassingherhandsoverandunderoneanotherasshespoke,thatwasnotonlytidybutpropitiatory;soIaskedherifImightlookatherlittlesitting-room?ShewillinglyrepliedYes,andwewentintoittogether:sheleaving thedooropen,with an eye as I understood to the social proprieties.Thedooropeningatonce into the roomwithoutany interveningentry,evenscandalmusthavebeensilencedbytheprecaution.Itwasagloomylittlechamber,butclean,andwithamugofwallflowerinthewindow.Onthechimney-pieceweretwopeacock’sfeathers,acarvedship,afew shells, and a black profile with one eyelash; whether this portraitpurported to bemale or female passedmy comprehension, untilmyhostessinformedmethatitwasheronlyson,and‘quiteaspeakingone.’‘Heisalive,Ihope?’‘No,sir,’saidthewidow,‘hewerecastawayinChina.’Thiswassaidwithamodestsenseofitsreflectingacertaingeographicaldistinctiononhismother.‘If the old gentlemen here are not given to talking,’ said I, ‘I hope the oldladiesare?—notthatyouareone.’Sheshookherhead.‘Youseetheygetsocross.’‘Howisthat?’‘Well,whetherthegentlemenreallydodepriveusofanylittlematterswhichoughttobeoursbyrights,Icannotsayforcertain;buttheopinionoftheoldonesistheydo.AndMr.BattenshedoevengosofarastodoubtwhethercreditisduetotheFounder.ForMr.Battenshedosay,anyhowhegothisnameupbyitandhedoneitcheap.’

‘IamafraidthepumphassouredMr.Battens.’‘Itmay be so,’ returned the tidywidow, ‘but the handle does go very hard.Still, what I say tomyself is, the gentlemenmay not pocket the differencebetweenagoodpumpandabadone,andIwouldwishtothinkwellofthem.Andthedwellings,’saidmyhostess,glancingroundherroom;‘perhapstheywereconvenientdwellingsintheFounder’stime,consideredashistime,andthereforeheshouldnotbeblamed.ButMrs.Saggersisveryharduponthem.’‘Mrs.Saggersistheoldesthere?’‘Theoldestbutone.Mrs.Quinchbeingtheoldest,andhavetotallylostherhead.’‘Andyou?’‘Iamtheyoungestinresidence,andconsequentlyamnotlookedupto.ButwhenMrs.Quinchmakesahappyrelease,therewillbeonebelowme.NorisittobeexpectedthatMrs.Saggerswillproveherselfimmortal.’‘True.NorMr.Battens.’‘Regardingtheoldgentlemen,’saidmywidowslightingly,‘theycountamongthemselves.Theydonotcountamongus.Mr.Battensisthatexceptionalthathehavewrittentothegentlemenmanytimesandhaveworkedthecaseagainstthem.Thereforehehavetookahigherground.Butwedonot,asarule,greatlyreckontheoldgentlemen.’Pursuing the subject, I found it to be traditionally settled among the poorladiesthatthepoorgentlemen,whatevertheirages,wereallveryoldindeed,and in a state of dotage. I also discovered that the juniors and newcomerspreserved, for a time, a waning disposition to believe in Titbull and histrustees, but that as they gained social standing they lost this faith, anddisparagedTitbullandallhisworks.Improving my acquaintance subsequently with this respected lady, whosename was Mrs. Mitts, and occasionally dropping in upon her with a littleoffering of sound FamilyHyson inmy pocket, I gradually became familiarwiththeinnerpoliticsandwaysofTitbull’sAlms-Houses.ButInevercouldfindoutwhothetrusteeswere,orwheretheywere:itbeingoneofthefixedideas of the place that those authorities must be vaguely and mysteriouslymentionedas‘thegentlemen’only.Thesecretaryof‘thegentlemen’wasoncepointed out to me, evidently engaged in championing the obnoxious pumpagainsttheattacksofthediscontentedMr.Battens;butIamnotinacondition

to report furtherofhim than that hehad the sprightlybearingof a lawyer’sclerk.Ihadit fromMrs.Mitts’s lips inaveryconfidentialmoment, thatMr.Battens was once ‘had up before the gentlemen’ to stand or fall by hisaccusations,andthatanoldshoewasthrownafterhimonhisdeparturefromthe building on this dread errand;—not ineffectually, for, the interviewresulting in a plumber,was considered to have encircled the temples ofMr.Battenswiththewreathofvictory,InTitbull’sAlms-Houses,thelocalsocietyisnotregardedasgoodsociety.Agentlemanorladyreceivingvisitorsfromwithout,orgoingouttotea,counts,asitwere,accordingly;butvisitingsortea-drinkingsinterchangedamongTitbulliansdonotscore.Suchinterchanges,however,arerare,inconsequenceofinternaldissensionsoccasionedbyMrs.Saggers’spail:whichhouseholdarticlehassplitTitbull’sintoalmostasmanypartiesastherearedwellingsinthatprecinct.Theextremelycomplicatednatureof theconflictingarticlesofbeliefonthesubjectpreventsmystatingthemherewithmyusualperspicuity,but I think theyhaveallbranchedoff from the root-and-trunkquestion,HasMrs.Saggers any right to standher pail outside her dwelling?Thequestionhasbeenmuchrefinedupon,butroughlystatedmaybestatedinthoseterms.There are twooldmen inTitbull’sAlms-Houseswho, I havebeengiven tounderstand,kneweachotherintheworldbeyonditspumpandironrailings,whentheywereboth‘intrade.’Theymakethebestoftheirreverses,andarelookeduponwithgreatcontempt.Theyarelittle,stooping,blear-eyedoldmenofcheerfulcountenance,andtheyhobbleupanddownthecourt-yardwaggingtheirchinsandtalkingtogetherquitegaily.Thishasgivenoffence,andhas,moreover,raisedthequestionwhethertheyarejustifiedinpassinganyotherwindowsthantheirown.Mr.Battens,however,permittingthemtopasshiswindows,onthedisdainfulgroundthattheirimbecilityalmostamountstoirresponsibility,theyareallowedtotaketheirwalkinpeace.Theylivenextdoortooneanother,andtakeitbyturnstoreadthenewspaperaloud(thatistosay,thenewestnewspapertheycanget),andtheyplaycribbageatnight.Onwarmandsunnydaystheyhavebeenknowntogosofarastobringouttwochairsandsitbytheironrailings,lookingforth;butthislowconduct,beingmuchremarkeduponthroughoutTitbull’s,theyweredeterredbyanoutragedpublicopinionfromrepeatingit.Thereisarumour—butitmaybemalicious—thattheyholdthememoryofTitbullinsomeweaksortofveneration,andthattheyoncesetofftogetheronapilgrimagetotheparishchurchyardtofindhistomb.Tothis,perhaps,mightbetracedageneralsuspicionthattheyarespiesof‘thegentlemen:’towhichtheyweresupposedtohavegivencolourinmyownpresenceontheoccasionoftheweakattemptatjustificationofthepumpbythegentlemen’sclerk;whentheyemergedbare-headedfromthedoorsoftheirdwellings,asiftheirdwellingsandthemselves

constitutedanold-fashionedweather-glassofdoubleactionwithtwofiguresofoldladiesinside,anddeferentiallybowedtohimatintervalsuntilhetookhisdeparture.Theyareunderstoodtobeperfectlyfriendlessandrelationless.UnquestionablythetwopoorfellowsmaketheverybestoftheirlivesinTitbull’sAlms-Houses,andunquestionablytheyare(asbeforementioned)thesubjectsofunmitigatedcontemptthere.OnSaturdaynights,whenthereisagreaterstirthanusualoutside,andwhenitinerantvendorsofmiscellaneouswareseventaketheirstationsandlightuptheirsmokylampsbeforetheironrailings,Titbull’sbecomesflurried.Mrs.Saggershashercelebratedpalpitationsoftheheart,forthemostpart,onSaturdaynights.ButTitbull’sisunfittostrivewiththeuproarofthestreetsinanyofitsphases.ItisreligiouslybelievedatTitbull’sthatpeoplepushmorethantheyused,andlikewisethattheforemostobjectofthepopulationofEnglandandWalesistogetyoudownandtrampleonyou.Evenofrailroadstheyknow,atTitbull’s,littlemorethantheshriek(whichMrs.Saggerssaysgoes throughher,andought tobe takenupbyGovernment);and thepennypostage may even yet be unknown there, for I have never seen a letterdeliveredtoanyinhabitant.Butthereisatall,straight,sallowladyresidentinNumberSeven,Titbull’s,whoneverspeakstoanybody,whoissurroundedbya superstitious halo of lost wealth, who does her household work inhousemaid’s gloves, and who is secretly much deferred to, though openlycavilled 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 wouldthinkitnothingofajobtoknockdownTitbull’s,packitoffintoCornwall,andknock it together again. An immense sensation was made by a gipsy-partycallinginaspring-van,totakethisoldladyuptogoforaday’spleasureintoEppingForest,andnoteswerecomparedastowhichofthecompanywastheson,grandson,nephew,orotherrelative,theContractor.Athick-setpersonagewith a white hat and a cigar in his mouth, was the favourite: though asTitbull’s had no other reason to believe that theContractorwas there at all,thanthatthismanwassupposedtoeyethechimneystacksasifhewouldliketoknockthemdownandcartthemoff,thegeneralmindwasmuchunsettledinarrivingataconclusion.Asawayoutofthisdifficulty,itconcentrateditselfon the acknowledged Beauty of the party, every stitch in whose dress wasverballyunrippedbytheoldladiesthenandthere,andwhose‘goingson’withanotherandathinnerpersonageinawhitehatmighthavesuffusedthepump(wheretheywereprincipallydiscussed)withblushes,formonthsafterwards.HereinTitbull’swas toTitbull’s true, for ithasaconstitutionaldislikeofallstrangers. As concerning innovations and improvements, it is always ofopinion thatwhat itdoesn’twant itself,nobodyought towant.But I think IhavemetwiththisopinionoutsideTitbull’s.

OfthehumbletreasuresoffurniturebroughtintoTitbull’sbytheinmateswhentheyestablishthemselvesinthatplaceofcontemplationfortherestoftheirdays,byfarthegreaterandmorevaluablepartbelongstotheladies.Imayclaimthehonourofhavingeithercrossedthethreshold,orlookedinatthedoor,ofeveryoneofthenineladies,andIhavenoticedthattheyareallparticularinthearticleofbedsteads,andmaintainfavouriteandlong-establishedbedsteadsandbeddingasaregularpartoftheirrest.Generallyanantiquatedchestofdrawersisamongtheircherishedpossessions;atea-trayalwaysis.Iknowofatleasttworoomsinwhichalittletea-kettleofgenuineburnishedcopper,vieswiththecatinwinkingatthefire;andoneoldladyhasatea-urnsetforthinstateonthetopofherchestofdrawers,whichurnisusedasherlibrary,andcontainsfourduodecimovolumes,andablack-borderednewspapergivinganaccountofthefuneralofHerRoyalHighnessthePrincessCharlotte.Amongthepooroldgentlementherearenosuchniceties.Theirfurniturehastheairofbeingcontributed,likesomeobsoleteLiteraryMiscellany,‘byseveralhands;’theirfewchairsnevermatch;oldpatchworkcoverletslingeramongthem;andtheyhaveanuntidyhabitofkeepingtheirwardrobesinhat-boxes.WhenIrecalloneoldgentlemanwhoisratherchoiceinhis shoe-brushes and blacking-bottle, I have summed up the domesticelegancesofthatsideofthebuilding.On the occurrence of a death inTitbull’s, it is invariably agreed among thesurvivors—and it is the only subject on which they do agree—that thedeparteddidsomething‘tobringiton.’JudgingbyTitbull’s,Ishouldsaythehuman race neednever die, if they took care.But they don’t take care, andtheydodie,andwhen theydie inTitbull’s theyareburiedat thecostof theFoundation.Someprovisionhasbeenmadeforthepurpose,invirtueofwhich(I record this on the strength of having seen the funeral ofMrs. Quinch) alivelyneighbouringundertakerdressesupfouroftheoldmen,andfouroftheoldwomen,hustlesthemintoaprocessionoffourcouples,andleadsoffwitha large black bow at the back of his hat, looking over his shoulder at themairilyfromtimetotimetoseethatnomemberofthepartyhasgotlost,orhastumbleddown;asiftheywereacompanyofdimolddolls.ResignationofadwellingisofveryrareoccurrenceinTitbull’s.Astorydoesobtain there, how an old lady’s son once drew a prize of Thirty ThousandPoundsintheLottery,andpresentlydrovetothegateinhisowncarriage,withFrenchHornsplayingupbehind,andwhiskedhismotheraway,and left tenguineasforaFeast.ButIhavebeenunabletosubstantiateitbyanyevidence,andregarditasanAlms-HouseFairyTale.It iscuriousthattheonlyprovedcaseofresignationhappenedwithinmyknowledge.Ithappenedonthiswise.Thereisasharpcompetitionamongtheladies

respectingthegentilityoftheirvisitors,andIhavesooftenobservedvisitorstobedressedasforaholidayoccasion,thatIsupposetheladiestohavebesoughtthemtomakeallpossibledisplaywhentheycome.InthesecircumstancesmuchexcitementwasonedayoccasionedbyMrs.MittsreceivingavisitfromaGreenwichPensioner.HewasaPensionerofabluffandwarlikeappearance,withanemptycoat-sleeve,andhewasgotupwithunusualcare;hiscoat-buttonswereextremelybright,heworehisemptycoat-sleeveinagracefulfestoon,andhehadawalking-stickinhishandthatmusthavecostmoney.When,withtheheadofhiswalking-stick,heknockedatMrs.Mitts’sdoor—therearenoknockersinTitbull’s—Mrs.Mittswasoverheardbyanext-doorneighbourtoutteracryofsurpriseexpressingmuchagitation;andthesameneighbourdidafterwardssolemnlyaffirmthatwhenhewasadmittedintoMrs.Mitts’sroom,sheheardasmack.Heard a smackwhichwasnotablow.TherewasanairaboutthisGreenwichPensionerwhenhetookhisdeparture,whichimbuedallTitbull’swiththeconvictionthathewascomingagain.Hewaseagerlylookedfor,andMrs.Mittswascloselywatched.Inthemeantime,ifanythingcouldhaveplacedtheunfortunatesixoldgentlemenatagreaterdisadvantagethanthatatwhichtheychronicallystood,itwouldhavebeentheapparitionofthisGreenwichPensioner.Theywerewellshrunkenalready,buttheyshrunk tonothing incomparisonwith thePensioner.Even thepooroldgentlemen themselves seemed conscious of their inferiority, and to knowsubmissively that they could never hope to hold their own against thePensioner with his warlike and maritime experience in the past, and histobacco money in the present: his chequered career of blue water, blackgunpowder,andredbloodshedforEngland,home,andbeauty.Beforethreeweekswereout,thePensionerreappeared.AgainheknockedatMrs.Mitts’sdoorwiththehandleofhisstick,andagainwasheadmitted.Butnotagaindidhedepartalone;forMrs.Mitts,inabonnetidentifiedashavingbeen re-embellished,went outwalkingwith him, and stayed out till the teno’clockbeer,Greenwichtime.Therewasnowatruce,evenastothetroubledwatersofMrs.Saggers’spail;nothingwasspokenofamongtheladiesbuttheconductofMrs.Mittsanditsblighting influence on the reputation of Titbull’s. It was agreed that Mr.Battens‘oughttotakeitup,’andMr.Battenswascommunicatedwithonthesubject.Thatunsatisfactoryindividualreplied‘thathedidn’tseehiswayyet,’anditwasunanimouslyvotedbytheladiesthataggravationwasinhisnature.Howitcametopass,withsomeappearanceofinconsistency,thatMrs.MittswascutbyalltheladiesandthePensioneradmiredbyalltheladies,mattersnot. Before another week was out, Titbull’s was startled by another

phenomenon.At ten o’clock in the forenoon appeared a cab, containing notonlytheGreenwichPensionerwithonearm,but,toboot,aChelseaPensionerwith one leg. Both dismounting to assist Mrs. Mitts into the cab, theGreenwich Pensioner bore her company inside, and the Chelsea Pensionermountedtheboxbythedriver:hiswoodenlegstickingoutafterthemannerofabowsprit,as if in jocularhomagetohisfriend’ssea-goingcareer.Thus theequipagedroveaway.NoMrs.Mittsreturnedthatnight.WhatMr.Battensmighthavedoneinthematteroftakingitup,goadedbytheinfuriatedstateofpublicfeelingnextmorning,wasanticipatedbyanotherphenomenon.ATruck,propelledbytheGreenwichPensionerandtheChelseaPensioner, each placidly smoking a pipe, and pushing his warrior breastagainstthehandle.ThedisplayonthepartoftheGreenwichPensionerofhis‘marriage-lines,’andhisannouncementthathimselfandfriendhadlookedinforthefurnitureofMrs.G.Pensioner,lateMitts,bynomeansreconciledtheladiestotheconductoftheirsister;onthecontrary,itissaidthattheyappearedmorethaneverexasperated.Nevertheless,mystrayvisitstoTitbull’ssincethedateofthisoccurrence,haveconfirmedmeinanimpressionthatitwasawholesomefillip.Thenineladiesaresmarter,bothinmindanddress,thantheyusedtobe,thoughitmustbeadmittedthattheydespisethesixgentlemen to the lastextent. 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 beleaningmybackagainstthepumportheironrailings,andtobetalkingtooneof the junior ladies, and to see that a flush has passed over her face, Iimmediately know without looking round that a Greenwich Pensioner hasgonepast.

CHAPTERXXX—THERUFFIANIentertainsostronganobjectiontotheeuphonioussofteningofRuffianintoRough,whichhas latelybecomepopular, that I restore the rightword to theheadingofthispaper;therather,asmyobjectistodwelluponthefactthattheRuffian is tolerated among us to an extent that goes beyond all unruffianlyendurance. I take the liberty to believe that if the Ruffian besetsmy life, aprofessional Ruffian at large in the open streets of a great city, notoriouslyhavingnoothercallingthanthatofRuffian,andofdisquietinganddespoilingmeasIgopeacefullyaboutmylawfulbusiness,interferingwithnoone,thentheGovernmentunderwhichIhavethegreatconstitutionalprivilege,supremehonour and happiness, and all the rest of it, to exist, breaks down in thedischargeofanyGovernment’smostsimpleelementaryduty.

What did I read in the London daily papers, in the early days of this lastSeptember? That the Police had ‘AT LENGTH SUCCEEDED INCAPTURINGTWOOFTHENOTORIOUSGANGTHATHAVESOLONGINVESTED THE WATERLOO ROAD.’ Is it possible? What a wonderfulPolice!Hereisastraight,broad,publicthoroughfareofimmenseresort;halfamilelong;gas-lightedbynight;withagreatgas-lightedrailwaystationinit,extra the street lamps; full of shops; traversed by two popular crossthoroughfares of considerable traffic; itself the main road to the South ofLondon;andtheadmirablePolicehave,afterlonginfestmentofthisdarkandlonelyspotbyagangofRuffians,actuallygotholdoftwoofthem.Why,canitbedoubtedthatanymanoffairLondonknowledgeandcommonresolution,armedwiththepowersoftheLaw,couldhavecapturedthewholeconfederacyinaweek?ItistothesavingupoftheRuffianclassbytheMagistracyandPolice—totheconventionalpreservingofthem,asiftheywerePartridges—thattheirnumberandaudacitymustbeingreatpartreferred.WhyisanotoriousThiefandRuffianeverleftatlarge?Heneverturnshislibertytoanyaccountbutviolenceandplunder,heneverdidaday’sworkoutofgaol,heneverwilldoaday’sworkoutofgaol.AsaprovednotoriousThiefheisalwaysconsignabletoprisonforthreemonths.Whenhecomesout,heissurelyasnotoriousaThiefashewaswhenhewentin.Thensendhimbackagain.‘JustHeaven!’criestheSocietyfortheprotectionofremonstrantRuffians.‘Thisisequivalenttoasentenceofperpetualimprisonment!’Preciselyforthatreasonithasmyadvocacy.IdemandtohavetheRuffiankeptoutofmyway,andoutof the way of all decent people. I demand to have the Ruffian employed,perforce, in hewing wood and drawing water somewhere for the generalservice,insteadofhewingatherMajesty’ssubjectsanddrawingtheirwatchesoutoftheirpockets.Ifthisbetermedanunreasonabledemand,thenthetax-gatherer’s demand on me must be far more unreasonable, and cannot beotherwisethanextortionateandunjust.ItwillbeseenthatItreatoftheThiefandRuffianasone.Idoso,becauseIknowthetwocharacterstobeone,inthevastmajorityofcases,justaswellasthePoliceknowit.(AstotheMagistracy,withafewexceptions,theyknownothingaboutitbutwhatthePolicechoosetotellthem.)Therearedisorderlyclassesofmenwhoarenotthieves;asrailway-navigators,brickmakers,wood-sawyers,costermongers.Theseclassesareoftendisorderlyandtroublesome;butitismostlyamongthemselves,andatanyratetheyhavetheirindustriousavocations,theyworkearlyandlate,andworkhard.ThegenericRuffian—honourablememberforwhatistenderlycalledtheRoughElement—iseitheraThief,orthecompanionofThieves.WhenheinfamouslymolestswomencomingoutofchapelonSundayevenings(forwhichIwouldhavehisback

scarifiedoftenanddeep)itisnotonlyforthegratificationofhispleasantinstincts,butthattheremaybeaconfusionraisedbywhicheitherheorhisfriendsmayprofit,inthecommissionofhighwayrobberiesorinpickingpockets.Whenhegetsapolice-constabledownandkickshimhelplessforlife,itisbecausethatconstableoncedidhisdutyinbringinghimtojustice.Whenherushesintothebarofapublic-houseandscoopsaneyeoutofoneofthecompanythere,orbiteshisearoff,itisbecausethemanhemaimsgaveevidenceagainsthim.Whenheandalineofcomradesextendingacrossthefootway—sayofthatsolitarymountain-spuroftheAbruzzi,theWaterlooRoad—advancetowardsme‘skylarking’amongthemselves, my purse orshirt-pinisinpredestinedperilfromhisplayfulness.AlwaysaRuffian,alwaysaThief.AlwaysaThief,alwaysaRuffian.Now,whenI,whoamnotpaidtoknowthesethings,knowthemdailyontheevidence ofmy senses and experience;when I know that theRuffian neverjostlesaladyinthestreets,orknocksahatoff,butinorderthattheThiefmayprofit, is itsurprising that Ishouldrequirefromthosewhoarepaid toknowthesethings,preventionofthem?Lookatthisgroupatastreetcorner.Numberoneisashirkingfellowoffive-and-twenty,inanill-favouredandill-savouredsuit,histrousersofcorduroy,hiscoatofsomeindiscerniblegroundworkforthedepositionofgrease,hisneckerchieflikeaneel,hiscomplexionlikedirtydough,hismangyfurcappulledlowuponhisbeetlebrowstohidetheprisoncutofhishair.Hishandsareinhispockets.Heputsthemtherewhentheyareidle,asnaturallyasinotherpeople’spocketswhentheyarebusy,forheknowsthattheyarenotroughenedbywork,andthattheytellatale.Hence,wheneverhetakesoneouttodrawasleeveacrosshisnose—whichisoften,forhehasweakeyesandaconstitutionalcoldinhishead—herestoresittoitspocketimmediatelyafterwards.Numbertwoisaburlybruteoffive-and-thirty,inatallstiffhat;isacompositeastohisclothesofbetting-manandfighting-man;iswhiskered;hasastaringpininhisbreast,alongwithhisrighthand;hasinsolentandcrueleyes:largeshoulders;stronglegsbootedandtippedforkicking.Numberthreeisfortyyearsofage;isshort,thick-set,strong,andbow-legged;wearskneecordsandwhitestockings,averylong-sleevedwaistcoat,averylargeneckerchiefdoubledortrebledroundhisthroat,andacrumpledwhitehatcrownshisghastlyparchmentface.Thisfellowlookslikeanexecutedpostboyofotherdays,cutdownfromthegallowstoosoon,andrestoredandpreservedbyexpressdiabolicalagency.Numbersfive,six,andseven,arehulking,idle,slouchingyoungmen,patchedandshabby,tooshortinthesleevesandtootightinthelegs,slimilyclothed,foul-spoken,repulsivewretchesinsideandout.Inallthepartythereobtainsacertaintwitchingcharacterofmouthandfurtivenessofeye,thathinthowthecowardislurking

underthebully.Thehintisquitecorrect,fortheyareaslinkingsneakingset,farmorepronetoliedownontheirbacksandkickout,whenindifficulty,thantomakeastandforit.(ThismayaccountforthestreetmudonthebacksofNumbersfive,six,andseven,beingmuchfresherthanthestalesplashesontheirlegs.)These engaginggentry aPolice-constable stands contemplating.His Station,withaReserveofassistance,isverynearathand.Theycannotpretendtoanytrade,noteventobeportersormessengers.Itwouldbeidleiftheydid,forheknowsthem,andtheyknowthatheknowsthem,tobenothingbutprofessedThieves and Ruffians. He knows where they resort, knows by what slangnamestheycalloneanother,knowshowoftentheyhavebeeninprison,andhowlong,andforwhat.AllthisisknownathisStation,too,andis(oroughtto be) known at ScotlandYard, too. But does he know, or does his Stationknow,ordoesScotlandYardknow,ordoesanybodyknow,whythesefellowsshouldbehereatliberty,when,asreputedThievestowhomawholeDivisionofPolicecould swear, theymight allbeunder lockandkeyathard labour?Nothe;trulyhewouldbeawisemanifhedid!Heonlyknowsthatthesearemembersof the ‘notoriousgang,’which,according to thenewspaperPolice-office reports of this last past September, ‘have so long infested’ the awfulsolitudes of the Waterloo Road, and out of which almost impregnablefastnesses the Police have at length dragged Two, to the unspeakableadmirationofallgoodcivilians.TheconsequencesofthiscontemplativehabitonthepartoftheExecutive—ahabittobelookedforinahermit,butnotinaPoliceSystem—arefamiliartousall.TheRuffianbecomesoneoftheestablishedordersofthebodypolitic.UndertheplayfulnameofRough(asifheweremerelyapracticaljoker)hismovementsandsuccessesarerecordedonpublicoccasions.Whetherhemusteredinlargenumbers,orsmall;whetherhewasingoodspirits,ordepressed;whetherheturnedhisgenerousexertionstoveryprosperousaccount,orFortunewasagainsthim;whetherhewasinasanguinarymood,orrobbedwithamiablehorse-playandagraciousconsiderationforlifeandlimb;all thisischronicledasifhewereanInstitution.Is thereanycityinEurope,outofEngland,inwhichthesetermsareheldwiththepestsofSociety?Orinwhich, at this day, such violent robberies from the person are constantlycommittedasinLondon?ThePreparatorySchoolsofRuffianismaresimilarlybornewith.TheyoungRuffiansofLondon—notThievesyet,buttrainingforscholarshipsandfellowshipsintheCriminalCourtUniversities—molestquietpeopleandtheirproperty,toanextentthatishardlycredible.Thethrowingofstonesinthestreetshasbecomeadangerousanddestructiveoffence,whichsurelycould

havegottonogreaterheightthoughwehadhadnoPolicebutourownriding-whipsandwalking-sticks—thePolicetowhichImyselfappealontheseoccasions.Thethrowingofstonesatthewindowsofrailwaycarriagesinmotion—anactofwantonwickednesswiththeveryArch-Fiend’shandinit—hadbecomeacryingevil,whentherailwaycompaniesforceditonPolicenotice.Constabularcontemplationhaduntilthenbeentheorderoftheday.Within these twelve months, there arose among the young gentlemen ofLondon aspiring toRuffianism, and cultivating thatmuch-encouraged socialart, a facetious cry of ‘I’ll have this!’ accompanied with a clutch at somearticle of a passing lady’s dress. I have known a lady’s veil to be thushumorouslytornfromherfaceandcarriedoffintheopenstreetsatnoon;andI have had the honour of myself giving chase, on Westminster Bridge, toanotheryoungRuffian,who,infulldaylightearlyonasummerevening,hadnearly thrown a modest young woman into a swoon of indignation andconfusion, by his shameful manner of attacking her with this cry as sheharmlessly passed along before me. MR. CARLYLE, some time since,awakenedalittlepleasantrybywritingofhisownexperienceoftheRuffianofthestreets.IhaveseentheRuffianactinexactaccordancewithMr.Carlyle’sdescription,innumerabletimes,andIneversawhimchecked.The blaring use of the very worst language possible, in our publicthoroughfares—especially in those set apart for recreation—is anotherdisgrace to us, and another result of constabular contemplation, the like ofwhich I have never heard in any other country to whichmy uncommercialtravelshaveextended.Yearsago,whenIhadanearinterestincertainchildrenwhoweresentwiththeirnurses,forairandexercise,intotheRegent’sPark,Ifound this evil to be so abhorrent and horrible there, that I called publicattentiontoit,andalsotoitscontemplativereceptionbythePolice.Lookingafterwards into the newest Police Act, and finding that the offence waspunishableunderit,Iresolved,whenstrikingoccasionshouldarise,totrymyhandasprosecutor.Theoccasionarosesoonenough,andIranthefollowinggauntlet.Theuttererof thebasecoin inquestionwasagirlof seventeenoreighteen,who, with a suitable attendance of blackguards, youths, and boys, wasflaunting along the streets, returningfromanIrishfuneral,inaProgressinterspersedwithsinginganddancing.Shehadturnedroundtomeandexpressedherselfinthemostaudiblemanner,tothegreatdelightofthatselectcircle.Iattendedtheparty,ontheoppositesideoftheway,foramilefurther,andthenencounteredaPolice-constable.Thepartyhadmadethemselvesmerryatmyexpenseuntilnow,butseeingmespeaktotheconstable,itsmalemembersinstantlytooktotheirheels,leavingthegirlalone.Iaskedthe

constabledidheknowmyname?Yes,hedid.‘Takethatgirlintocustody,onmycharge,forusingbadlanguageinthestreets.’Hehadneverheardofsuchacharge.Ihad.Wouldhetakemywordthatheshouldgetintonotrouble?Yes,sir,hewoulddothat.Sohetookthegirl,andIwenthomeformyPoliceAct.With this potent instrument inmy pocket, I literally as well as figuratively‘returned to the charge,’ and presented myself at the Police Station of thedistrict. There, I found on duty a very intelligent Inspector (they are allintelligentmen),who, likewise,hadneverheardof suchacharge. I showedhimmyclause,andwewentoverittogethertwiceorthrice.Itwasplain,andIengaged to wait upon the suburban Magistrate to-morrow morning at teno’clock.InthemorningIputmyPoliceActinmypocketagain,andwaitedonthesuburbanMagistrate.IwasnotquitesocourteouslyreceivedbyhimasIshouldhavebeenbyTheLordChancellororTheLordChiefJustice,butthatwasaquestionofgoodbreedingonthesuburbanMagistrate’spart,andIhadmyclausereadywithitsleafturneddown.Whichwasenoughforme.ConferencetookplacebetweentheMagistrateandclerkrespectingthecharge.During conference I was evidently regarded as a much more objectionableperson than the prisoner;—one giving trouble by coming there voluntarily,whichtheprisonercouldnotbeaccusedofdoing.Theprisonerhadbeengotup, since I last had the pleasure of seeing her, with a great effect of whiteapron and straw bonnet. She remindedme of an elder sister of RedRidingHood,andIseemedtoremindthesympathisingChimneySweepbywhomshewasattended,oftheWolf.The Magistrate was doubtful, Mr. Uncommercial Traveller, whether thischargecouldbeentertained. Itwasnot known.Mr.UncommercialTravellerreplied thathewished itwerebetterknown, and that, if he couldafford theleisure, hewould use his endeavours tomake it so. Therewas no questionaboutit,however,hecontended.Herewastheclause.Theclausewashandedin,andmoreconferenceresulted.AfterwhichIwasaskedtheextraordinaryquestion:‘Mr.Uncommercial,doyoureallywishthisgirltobesenttoprison?’TowhichIgrimlyanswered,staring:‘IfIdidn’t,whyshouldItakethetroubleto come here?’ Finally, I was sworn, and gavemy agreeable evidence in detail, and White Riding Hood was fined tenshillings, under the clause, or sent to prison for somany days. ‘Why, Lordbless you, sir,’ said the Police-officer, who showed me out, with a greatenjoymentofthejestofherhavingbeengotupsoeffectively,andcausedsomuchhesitation: ‘if shegoes toprison, thatwillbenothingnew toher.She

comesfromCharlesStreet,DruryLane!’ThePolice,allthingsconsidered,areanexcellentforce,andIhavebornemysmalltestimonytotheirmerits.Constabularcontemplationistheresultofabadsystem;asystemwhichisadministered,notinvented,bythemaninconstable’suniform,employedattwentyshillingsaweek.Hehashisorders,andwouldbemarkedfordiscouragementifheoversteppedthem.That thesystemisbad,thereneedsnolengthenedargumenttoprove,becausethefactisself-evident.Ifitwereanythingelse,theresultsthathaveattendeditcouldnotpossiblyhavecometopass.Whowillsaythatunderagoodsystem,ourstreetscouldhavegotintotheirpresentstate?TheobjectiontothewholePolicesystem,asconcerningtheRuffian,maybestated,anditsfailureexemplified,asfollows.Itiswellknownthatonallgreatoccasions, when they come together in numbers, the mass of the Englishpeople are their own trustworthy Police. It is well known that wheresoeverthere is collected together any fair general representation of the people, arespectforlawandorder,andadeterminationtodiscountenancelawlessnessand disorder,may be relied upon.As to one another, the people are a verygoodPolice,andyetarequitewillingintheirgood-naturethatthestipendiaryPoliceshouldhavethecreditofthepeople’smoderation.ButweareallofuspowerlessagainsttheRuffian,becausewesubmittothelaw,anditishisonlytrade, by superior force and by violence, to defy it. Moreover, we areconstantlyadmonishedfromhighplaces(likesomanySunday-schoolchildrenoutforaholidayofbunsandmilk-and-water)thatwearenottotakethelawintoourownhands,butaretohandourdefenceovertoit.ItisclearthatthecommonenemytobepunishedandexterminatedfirstofallistheRuffian.Itisclear thathe is,ofallothers, theoffenderforwhoserepressalwemaintainacostlysystemofPolice.Him,therefore,weexpresslypresenttothePolicetodealwith,consciousthat,onthewhole,wecan,anddo,dealreasonablywellwithoneanother.HimthePolicedealwithso inefficientlyandabsurdly thathe flourishes, andmultiplies, and, with all his evil deeds upon his head asnotoriously as his hat is, pervades the streetswith nomore let or hindrancethanourselves.

CHAPTERXXXI—ABOARDSHIPMyjourneysasUncommercialTravellerforthefirmofHuman-InterestBrothershavenotslackenedsinceIlastreportedofthem,buthavekeptmecontinuallyonthemove.Iremaininthesameidleemployment.Ineversolicitanorder, Ineverget anycommission, I am the rolling stone thatgathersnomoss,—unlessanyshouldbychancebefoundamongthesesamples.

Some half a year ago, I found myself in my idlest, dreamiest, and leastaccountableconditionaltogether,onboardship, in theharbourof thecityofNewYork,intheUnitedStatesofAmerica.Ofallthegoodshipsafloat,minewas the good steamship ‘RUSSIA,’CAPT.COOK,CunardLine, bound forLiverpool.WhatmorecouldIwishfor?Ihadnothingtowishforbutaprosperouspassage.Mysalad-days,whenIwasgreenofvisageandsea-sick,beinggonewithbetterthings(andnoworse),nocomingeventcastitsshadowbefore.ImightbutafewmomentspreviouslyhaveimitatedSterne,andsaid,‘“Andyet,methinks,Eugenius,”—layingmyforefingerwistfullyonhiscoat-sleeve,thus,—“andyet,methinks,Eugenius,’tisbutsorryworktopartwiththee,forwhatfreshfields,...mydearEugenius,...canbefresherthanthouart,andin what pastures new shall I find Eliza, or call her, Eugenius, if thou wilt,Annie?”’—IsayImighthavedonethis;butEugeniuswasgone,andIhadn’tdoneit.Iwasrestingonaskylightonthehurricane-deck,watchingtheworkingoftheshipveryslowlyabout,thatshemightheadforEngland.Itwashighnoononamostbrilliant day inApril, and thebeautiful baywasglorious andglowing.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, andparticularly,asitseemed,inmyway,forIhadnotgonedry-shodmanyhoursformonths.WithintwoorthreedayslastpasthadIwatchedthefeatheryfallsettinginwiththeardourofanewidea,insteadofdraggingattheskirtsofaworn-outwinter,andpermittingglimpsesofafreshyoungspring.Butabrightsunandaclearskyhadmeltedthesnowinthegreatcrucibleofnature;andithadbeenpouredoutagain thatmorningover seaand land, transformed intomyriadsofgoldandsilversparkles.Theshipwasfragrantwithflowers.SomethingoftheoldMexicanpassionforflowersmayhavegraduallypassedintoNorthAmerica,whereflowersareluxuriouslygrown,andtastefullycombinedintherichestprofusion;but,bethatasitmay,suchgorgeousfarewellsinflowershadcomeonboard,thatthesmallofficer’scabinondeck,whichItenanted,bloomedoverintotheadjacentscuppers,andbanksofotherflowersthatitcouldn’tholdmadeagardenoftheunoccupiedtablesinthepassengers’saloon.Thesedeliciousscentsoftheshore,minglingwiththefreshairsofthesea,madetheatmosphereadreamy,anenchantingone.Andso,withthewatchaloftsettingallthesails, and with the screw below revolving at a mighty rate, andoccasionallygivingtheshipanangryshakeforresisting,Ifellintomyidlestways,andlostmyself.

As,forinstance,whetheritwasIlyingthere,orsomeotherentityevenmoremysterious,wasamatterIwasfartoolazytolookinto.WhatdiditsignifytomeifitwereI?ortothemoremysteriousentity,ifitwerehe?Equallyastotheremembrancesthatdrowsilyfloatedbyme,orbyhim,whyaskwhenorwherethethingshappened?Wasitnotenoughthattheybefellatsometime,somewhere?Therewasthatassistingatthechurchserviceonboardanothersteamship,oneSunday,inastiffbreeze.Perhapsonthepassageout.Nomatter.Pleasanttoheartheship’sbellsgoaslikechurch-bellsastheycould;pleasanttoseethewatchoffdutymusteredandcomein:besthats,bestGuernseys,washedhandsandfaces,smoothedheads.Butthenaroseasetofcircumstancessorampantlycomical,thatnocheckwhichthegravestintentionscouldputuponthemwouldholdtheminhand.Thus the scene.Someseventypassengersassembledatthesaloontables.Prayer-bookson tables.Ship rolling heavily.Pause.Nominister.Rumourhasrelatedthatamodestyoungclergymanonboardhasrespondedtothecaptain’srequestthathewillofficiate.Pauseagain,andveryheavyrolling.Closeddoubledoorssuddenlyburstopen,andtwostrongstewardsskatein,supportingministerbetweenthem.Generalappearanceasofsomebodypickedupdrunkandincapable,andunderconveyancetostation-house.Stoppage, pause, and particularly heavy rolling.Stewardswatchtheiropportunity,andbalancethemselves,butcannotbalanceminister;who,strugglingwithadroopingheadandabackwardtendency,seemsdeterminedtoreturnbelow,whiletheyareasdeterminedthatheshallbegottothereading-deskinmid-saloon.Desk portable, sliding away down a long table,andaimingitselfatthebreastsofvariousmembersofthecongregation.Herethedoubledoors,whichhavebeencarefullyclosedbyotherstewards,flyopenagain,andworldlypassengertumblesin,seeminglywithpale-aledesigns:who,seekingfriend,says‘Joe!’Perceivingincongruity,says,‘Hullo!Begyerpardon!’andtumblesoutagain.Allthistimethecongregation havebeenbreakingupintosects,—asthemannerofcongregationsoftenis,eachsectslidingawaybyitself,andallpoundingtheweakestsectwhichslidfirstintothecorner.Utmostpointofdissentsoonattainedineverycorner,andviolentrolling.Stewardsatlengthmakeadash;conductministertothemastinthecentreofthesaloon,whichheembraceswithbotharms;skateout;andleavehiminthatconditiontoarrangeaffairswithflock.TherewasanotherSunday,whenanofficeroftheshipreadtheservice.Itwasquietandimpressive,untilwefelluponthedangerousandperfectlyunnecessaryexperimentofstrikingupahymn.Afteritwasgivenout,weallrose,buteverybodyleftittosomebodyelse 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 thepassageforhischeerfulpoliteness,gavealittlestampwithhisboot(asifhewere leading off a country dance), and blithely warbled us into a show ofjoining.Attheendofthefirstversewebecame,throughthesetactics,somuchrefreshed and encouraged, that none of us, howsoever unmelodious, wouldsubmittobeleftoutofthesecondverse;whileastothethirdweliftedupourvoicesinasacredhowlthatleftitdoubtfulwhetherwewerethemoreboastfulofthesentimentsweunitedinprofessing,orofprofessingthemwithamostdiscordantdefianceoftimeandtune.‘Lordblessus!’thoughtI,whenthefreshremembranceofthesethingsmademe laughheartily alone in the deadwater-gurglingwaste of the night,whattimeIwaswedgedintomyberthbyawoodenbar,orImusthaverolledoutofit, ‘what errand was I then upon, and to what Abyssinian point had publicevents thenmarched?Nomatteras tome.Andas to them, if thewonderfulpopularrageforaplaything(utterlyconfoundinginitsinscrutableunreason)Ihadnot then lightedonapooryoungsavageboy,andapooroldscrewofahorse,andhauledthefirstoffbythehairofhisprincelyheadto“inspect”theBritishvolunteers,andhauledthesecondoffbythehairofhisequinetail totheCrystalPalace,whysomuchthebetterforallofusoutsideBedlam!’So,stickingtotheship,IwasatthetroubleofaskingmyselfwouldIliketoshow the grog distribution in ‘the fiddle’ at noon to the Grand UnitedAmalgamated Total Abstinence Society?Yes,IthinkIshould.Ithinkitwoulddothemgoodtosmelltherum,underthecircumstances.Overthegrog,mixedinabucket,presidestheboatswain’smate,smalltincaninhand.Enterthecrew,theguiltyconsumers,thegrown-upbroodofGiantDespair,incontradistinctiontothebandofyouthfulangelHope.Someinboots,someinleggings,someintarpaulinoveralls,someinfrocks,someinpea-coats,averyfewinjackets,mostwithsou’westerhats,allwithsomethingroughandruggedroundthethroat;all,drippingsaltwaterwheretheystand;allpeltedbyweather,besmearedwithgrease,andblackenedbythesootyrigging.Eachman’sknifeinitssheathinhisgirdle,loosenedfordinner.Asthefirstman,withaknowinglykindledeye,watchesthefillingofthepoisonedchalice(trulybutaverysmalltinmug,tobeprosaic),and,tossingbackhishead,tossesthecontentsintohimself,andpassestheemptychaliceandpasseson,sothesecondmanwithananticipatorywipeofhismouthonsleeveorhandkerchief,bideshisturn,anddrinksandhandsandpasseson,inwhom,andineachashisturnapproaches,beamsaknowinglykindledeye,abrightertemper,andasuddenlyawakenedtendencytobejocosewithsomeshipmate.NordoIevenobservethatthemaninchargeoftheship’slamps,whoinright

ofhisofficehasadoubleallowanceofpoisonedchalices,seemstherebyvastlydegraded,eventhoughheemptiesthechalicesintohimself,oneaftertheother,muchasifheweredelivering their contents at some absorbentestablishment inwhich he had no personal interest. But vastly comforted, Inotethemalltobe,ondeckpresently,eventothecirculationofredderbloodintheircoldblueknuckles;andwhenIlookupatthemlyingoutontheyards,andholdingon for lifeamong thebeatingsails, I cannot formy life see thejusticeofvisitingonthem—oronme—thedrunkencrimesofanynumberofcriminalsarraignedattheheaviestofassizes.Abettingmyself inmy idle humour, I closedmy eyes, and recalled life onboardofoneofthosemail-packets,asIlay,partofthatday,intheBayofNewYork,O!The regular life began—mine always did, for I never got to sleepafterwards—withtheriggingofthepumpwhileitwasyetdark,andwashingdown of decks. Any enormous giant at a prodigious hydropathicestablishment, conscientiously undergoing the water-cure in all itsdepartments, and extremely particular about cleaning his teeth,wouldmakethose noises. Swash, splash, scrub, rub, toothbrush, bubble, swash, splash,bubble, toothbrush, splash, splash, bubble, rub. Then the day would break,and,descendingfrommyberthbyagracefulladdercomposedofhalf-openeddrawersbeneathit,Iwouldreopenmyouterdead-lightandmyinnerslidingwindow(closedbyawatchmanduringthewater-cure),andwouldlookoutatthelong-rolling,lead-coloured,whitetoppedwavesoverwhichthedawn,onacoldwintermorning,casta level, lonelyglance,and throughwhich theshipfought her melancholy way at a terrific rate. And now, lying down again,awaitingtheseasonforbroiledhamandtea,Iwouldbecompelledtolistentothevoiceofconscience,—thescrew.Itmightbe,insomecases,nomorethanthevoiceofstomach;butIcalleditinmyfancybythehighername.Becauseitseemedtomethatwewereallofus,alldaylong,endeavouringtostiflethevoice.Because it was undereverybody’s pillow, everybody’s plate, everybody’s camp-stool, everybody’sbook,everybody’soccupation.Becausewepretendednottohearit,especiallyatmeal-times,eveningwhist,andmorningconversationondeck;butitwasalwaysamongusinanundermonotone,nottobedrownedinpea-soup,nottobeshuffledwithcards,nottobedivertedbybooks,nottobeknittedintoanypattern,nottobewalkedawayfrom.Itwassmokedintheweediestcigar,anddrunkinthestrongestcocktail;itwasconveyedondeckatnoonwithlimpladies,wholaythereintheirwrappersuntilthestarsshone;itwaitedattablewiththestewards;nobodycouldputitoutwiththelights.Itwasconsidered(asonshore)ill-bredtoacknowledgethevoiceofconscience.Itwasnotpolitetomentionit.Onesquallydayanamiablegentlemaninlovegavemuchoffencetoasurroundingcircle,includingtheobjectofhisattachment,by

sayingofit,afterithadgoadedhimovertwoeasy-chairsandaskylight,‘Screw!’Sometimesitwouldappearsubdued.Infleetingmoments,whenbubblesofchampagnepervadedthenose,orwhentherewas‘hotpot’inthebilloffare,orwhenanolddishwehad had regularly every day was described in thatofficialdocumentbyanewname,—undersuchexcitements,onewouldalmostbelieve ithushed.Theceremonyofwashingplatesondeck,performedaftereverymealbyacircleasofringersofcrockerytriple-bobmajorsforaprize,would keep it down. Hauling the reel, taking the sun at noon, posting thetwenty-four hours’ run, altering the ship’s time by themeridian, casting thewastefoodoverboard,andattractingtheeagergullsthatfollowedinourwake,—these events would suppress it for a while. But the instant any break orpause took place in any such diversion, the voice would be at it again,importuningustothelastextent.Anewlymarriedyoungpair,whowalkedthedeckaffectionatelysometwentymilesperday,would,inthefullflushoftheirexercise,suddenlybecomestrickenby it,andstand trembling,butotherwiseimmovable,underitsreproaches.When this terrible monitor was most severe with us was when the timeapproachedforourretiringtoourdensforthenight;whenthelightedcandlesinthesaloongrewfewerandfewer;whenthedesertedglasseswithspoonsinthemgrewmoreandmorenumerous;whenwaifsoftoastedcheeseandstraysofsardinesfriedinbatterslidlanguidlytoandfrointhetable-racks;whenthemanwhoalwaysreadhadshutuphisbook,andblownouthiscandle;whenthemanwhoalwaystalkedhadceasedfromtroubling;whenthemanwhowasalwaysmedicallyreportedasgoingtohavedeliriumtremenshadputitofftillto-morrow; when the man who every night devoted himself to a midnightsmokeondecktwohoursinlength,andwhoeverynightwasinbedwithintenminutes afterwards,wasbuttoninghimself up inhis third coat forhishardyvigil: for then, aswe fell off one by one, and, entering our several hutches,came intoapeculiaratmosphereofbilge-waterandWindsor soap, thevoicewould 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 standuponhishead!orourcoatuponitspeg,imitatingusasweappearedinourgymnasticdaysbysustainingitselfhorizontallyfromthewall,inemulationofthelighterandmorefaciletowels!Thenwouldthevoiceespeciallyclaimusforitsprey,andrendusalltopieces.Lightsout,weinourberths,andthewindrising,thevoicegrowsangrieranddeeper.Underthemattressandunderthepillow,underthesofaandunderthewashing-stand, under the ship and under the sea, seeming to rise from thefoundations under the earthwith every scoop of the greatAtlantic (and oh!

why scoop so?), always the voice. Vain to deny its existence in the nightseason; impossible tobehardofhearing; screw, screw, screw!Sometimes itliftsoutof thewater,andrevolveswithawhirr, likeaferociousfirework,—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 beterrifiedbyitslastplunge,andhasafitwhichcausesittostruggle,quiver,andforaninstantstop.Andnowtheshipsetsinrolling,asonlyshipssofiercelyscrewedthroughtimeandspace,dayandnight,fairweatherandfoul,canroll.Didsheever takearollbefore like that last?Didsheever takea rollbeforelikethisworseonethatiscomingnow?Hereisthepartitionatmyeardowninthedeepontheleeside.Areweevercomingupagaintogether?Ithinknot;the partition and I are so long about it that I really do believe we haveoverdone it this time. Heavens, what a scoop!What a deep scoop, what ahollowscoop,whatalongscoop!Williteverend,andcanwebeartheheavymassofwaterwehave takenonboard,andwhichhas let looseall the tablefurniture in the officers’ mess, and has beaten open the door of the littlepassage between the purser andme, and is swashing about, even there andevenhere?Thepursersnoresreassuringly,andtheship’sbellsstriking,Ihearthecheerful‘All’swell!’ofthewatchmusicallygivenbackthelengthofthedeck,asthelatelydivingpartition,nowhighinair,tries(unsoftenedbywhatwehavegonethroughtogether)toforcemeoutofbedandberth.‘All’swell!’Comfortingtoknow,thoughsurelyallmightbebetter.Putasidetherollingandtherushofwater,andthinkofdartingthroughsuchdarknesswithsuchvelocity.Thinkofanyothersimilarobjectcomingintheoppositedirection!Whether there may be an attraction in two suchmoving bodies out at sea,whichmayhelpaccidenttobringthemintocollision?Thoughts,too,arise(thevoice never silent all the while, but marvellously suggestive) of the gulfbelow;ofthestrange,unfruitfulmountainrangesanddeepvalleysoverwhichwearepassing;ofmonstrousfishmidway;oftheship’ssuddenlyalteringhercourseonherownaccount,andwithawildplungesettlingdown,andmakingthatvoyagewithacrewofdeaddiscoverers.Now,too,onerecallsanalmostuniversaltendencyonthepartofpassengerstostumble,atsometimeorotherintheday,onthetopicofacertainlargesteamermakingthissamerun,whichwaslostatsea,andneverheardofmore.Everybodyhasseemedunderaspell,compelling approach to the threshold of the grim subject, stoppage,discomfiture, and pretence of never having been near it. The boatswain’swhistle sounds!A change in thewind, hoarse orders issuing, and thewatchvery busy. Sails come crashing home overhead, ropes (that seem all knot)ditto;everymanengagedappears tohavetwentyfeet,withtwentytimesthe

averageamountofstampingpowerineach.Graduallythenoiseslackens,thehoarse cries die away, the boatswain’swhistle softens into the soothing andcontented notes, which rather reluctantly admit that the job is done for thetime,andthevoicesetsinagain.Thus come unintelligible dreams of up hill and down, and swinging andswaying, until consciousness revives of atmospherical Windsor soap andbilge-water, and the voice announces that the giant has come for thewater-cureagain.SuchweremyfancifulreminiscencesasI lay,partofthatday,intheBayofNewYork,O!AlsoaswepassedclearoftheNarrows,andgotouttosea;alsoinmanyanidlehouratseainsunnyweather!AtlengththeobservationsandcomputationsshowedthatweshouldmakethecoastofIrelandto-night.SoIstood watch on deck all night to-night, to see how we made the coast ofIreland.Verydark,andtheseamostbrilliantlyphosphorescent.Greatwayontheship,anddoublelook-outkept.Vigilantcaptainonthebridge,vigilantfirstofficerlookingovertheportside,vigilantsecondofficerstandingbythequarter-masteratthecompass,vigilantthirdofficerpostedatthesternrailwithalantern.Nopassengersonthequietdecks,butexpectationeverywherenevertheless.The twomen at thewheel very steady, very serious, and veryprompttoanswerorders.Anorderissuedsharplynowandthen,andechoedback;otherwisethenightdragsslowly,silently,withnochange.Allofasudden,attheblankhouroftwointhemorning,avaguemovementofrelieffromalongstrainexpressesitselfinallhands;thethirdofficer’slanterntinkles,andhefiresarocket,andanotherrocket.Asullensolitarylightispointedouttomeintheblackskyyonder.Achangeisexpectedinthelight,butnonetakesplace.‘Givethemtwomorerockets,Mr.Vigilant.’Twomore,andablue-lightburnt.Alleyeswatchthelightagain.Atlastalittletoysky-rocketisflashedupfromit;and,evenasthatsmallstreakinthedarknessdiesaway,wearetelegraphedtoQueenstown,Liverpool,andLondon,andbackagainundertheoceantoAmerica.Thenupcomethehalf-dozenpassengerswhoaregoingashoreatQueenstownandupcomesthemail-agentinchargeofthebags,andupcomethemenwhoaretocarrythebagsintothemail-tenderthatwillcomeoffforthemoutoftheharbour. Lamps and lanterns gleam here and there about the decks, andimpedingbulksareknockedawaywithhandspikes;andtheport-sidebulwark,barrenbutamomentago,burstsintoacropofheadsofseamen,stewards,andengineers.

Thelightbegins tobegainedupon,begins tobealongside,beginstobeleftastern.Morerockets,and,betweenusandtheland,steamsbeautifullytheInmansteamshipCityofParis,forNewYork,outwardbound.Weobservewithcomplacencythatthewindisdeadagainsther(itbeingwithus),andthatsherollsandpitches.(Thesickestpassengeronboardisthemostdelightedbythiscircumstance.)Timerushesbyaswerushon;andnowweseethelightinQueenstownHarbour,andnowthelightsofthemail-tendercomingouttous.Whatvagariesthemail-tenderperformsontheway,ineverypointofthecompass,especiallyinthosewhereshehasnobusiness,andwhysheperformsthem,Heavenonlyknows!Atlengthsheisseenplungingwithinacable’slengthofourportbroadside,andisbeingroaredatthroughourspeaking-trumpetstodothisthing,andnottodothat,andtostandbytheother,asifshewereaverydementedtenderindeed.Then,weslackeningamidstadeafeningroarofsteam,thismuch-abusedtenderismadefasttousbyhawsers,andthemen in readiness carry thebags aboard, and return formore, bendingundertheirburdens,andlookingjustlikethepasteboardfiguresofthemillerandhismen in the theatre of our boyhood, and comporting themselves almost asunsteadily.All thewhile theunfortunate tenderplungeshighandlow,and isroared at. Then the Queenstown passengers are put on board of her, withinfiniteplungingandroaring,andthetendergetsheavedupontheseatothatsurprisingextent that she lookswithinanaceofwashingaboardofus,highanddry.Roaredatwithcontumelytothelast,thiswretchedtenderisatlengthletgo,withafinalplungeofgreatignominy,andfallsspinningintoourwake.Thevoiceofconscienceresumeditsdominionasthedayclimbedupthesky,and kept by all of us passengers into port; kept by us as we passed otherlighthouses,anddangerous islandsoff thecoast,wheresomeof theofficers,withwhomIstoodmywatch,hadgoneashoreinsailing-shipsinfogs(andofwhichbythattokentheyseemedtohavequiteanaffectionateremembrance),andpasttheWelshcoast,andpasttheCheshirecoast,andpasteverythingandeverywhere lyingbetweenourshipandherownspecialdock in theMersey.Offwhich, at last, at nine of the clock, on a fair evening early inMay,westopped,andthevoiceceased.Averycurioussensation,notunlikehavingmyownearsstopped,ensueduponthatsilence;anditwaswithanolesscurioussensation that Iwentover the sideof thegoodCunard ship ‘Russia’ (whomprosperityattendthroughallhervoyages!)andsurveyedtheouterhullofthegraciousmonsterthatthevoicehadinhabited.So,perhaps,shallweall,inthespirit, one day survey the frame that held the busier voice fromwhichmyvagrantfancyderivedthissimilitude.

CHAPTERXXXII—ASMALLSTARINTHEEASTIhadbeenlooking,yesternight,throughthefamous‘DanceofDeath,’andto-

day thegrimoldwoodcutsarose inmymindwith thenewsignificanceofaghastlymonotonynot tobefound in theoriginal.Theweird skeleton rattledalongthestreetsbeforeme,andstruckfiercely;butitwasneveratthepainsofassuming a disguise. It played on no dulcimer here, was crowned with noflowers,wavednoplume,mincedinnoflowingrobeortrain,liftednowine-cup,satatnofeast,castnodice,countednogold.Itwassimplyabare,gaunt,famishedskeleton,slayinghiswayalong.ThebordersofRatcliffandStepney,eastwardofLondon,andgivingontheimpureriver,werethesceneofthisuncompromisingdanceofdeath,uponadrizzlingNovemberday.Asqualidmazeofstreets,courts,andalleysofmiserablehousesletoutinsinglerooms.A wilderness of dirt, rags, andhunger.Amud-desert, chiefly inhabited by a tribe fromwhom employmenthasdeparted,ortowhomitcomesbutfitfullyandrarely.Theyarenotskilledmechanicsinanywise.Theyarebutlabourers,—dock-labourers,water-sidelabourers,coal-porters,ballast-heavers,such-likehewersofwoodanddrawersofwater.Buttheyhavecomeintoexistence,andtheypropagatetheirwretchedrace.Onegrislyjokealone,methought,theskeletonseemedtoplayoffhere.Ithadstuckelection-billsonthewalls,whichthewindandrainhaddeterioratedintosuitable rags. It had even summed up the state of the poll, in chalk, on theshuttersofone ruinedhouse. It adjured the free and independent starvers tovoteforThismanandvoteforThatman;nottoplump,astheyvaluedthestateof parties and the national prosperity (both of great importance to them, Ithink);but,byreturningThismanandThatman,eachnaughtwithouttheother,tocompoundagloriousandimmortalwhole.Surely theskeleton isnowheremorecruellyironicalintheoriginalmonkishidea!Ponderinginmymindthefar-seeingschemesofThismanandThatman,andof the public blessing called Party, for staying the degeneracy, physical andmoral,ofmanythousands(whoshallsayhowmany?)oftheEnglishrace;fordevisingemploymentusefultothecommunityforthosewhowantbuttoworkand live; forequalisingrates,cultivatingwaste lands, facilitatingemigration,and, above all things, saving and utilising the oncoming generations, andtherebychangingever-growingnationalweaknessintostrength:ponderinginmymind,Isay,thesehopefulexertions,Iturneddownanarrowstreettolookintoahouseortwo.Itwasadarkstreetwithadeadwallononeside.Nearlyalltheouterdoorsofthehouses stoodopen. I took the first entry, andknocked at a parlour-door.MightIcomein?Imight,ifIplased,sur.Thewomanoftheroom(Irish)hadpickedupsomelongstripsofwood,about

somewharf or barge; and they had just now been thrust into the otherwiseemptygratetomaketwoironpotsboil.Therewassomefishinone,andthereweresomepotatoesintheother.Theflareoftheburningwoodenabledmetoseeatable,andabrokenchairorso,andsomeoldcheapcrockeryornamentsaboutthechimney-piece.ItwasnotuntilIhadspokenwiththewomanafewminutes,thatIsawahorriblebrownheaponthefloorinacorner,which,butforpreviousexperienceinthisdismalwise,Imightnothavesuspectedtobe‘thebed.’Therewassomethingthrownuponit;andIaskedwhatthatwas.‘’Tis thepoorcraythur that stayshere, sur; and ’tisverybad she is, and ’tisverybadshe’sbeenthislongtime,and’tisbettershe’llneverbe,and’tisslapeshedoesallday,and’tiswakeshedoesallnight,and’tisthelead,sur.’‘Thewhat?’‘The lead, sur.Sure’tisthelead-mills,wherethewomengetstookonateighteen-penceaday,sur,whentheymakesapplicationearlyenough,andisluckyandwanted;and’tislead-pisonedsheis,sur,andsomeofthemgetslead-pisonedsoon,andsomeofthemgetslead-pisonedlater,andsome,butnotmany,niver;and’tisallaccordingtotheconstitooshun,sur,andsomeconstitooshunsisstrong,andsomeisweak;andherconstitooshunislead-pisoned,badascanbe,sur;andherbrainiscomingoutatherear,andithurtsherdreadful;andthat’swhatitis,andnivernomore,andnivernoless,sur.’The sick young woman moaning here, the speaker bent over her, took abandagefromherhead,andthrewopenabackdoortoletinthedaylightuponit,fromthesmallestandmostmiserablebackyardIeversaw.‘That’swhatcoomsfromher,sur,beinglead-pisoned;anditcoomsfromhernightandday,thepoor,sickcraythur;andthepainofitisdreadful;andGodhe knows thatmyhusband haswalked the sthreets these four days, being alabourer,andiswalkingthemnow,andisreadytowork,andnoworkforhim,andnofireandnofoodbutthebitinthepot,andnomorethantenshillingsinafortnight;Godbegoodtous!anditispoorweare,anddarkitisandcoulditisindeed.’KnowingthatIcouldcompensatemyselfthereafterformyself-denial,ifIsawfit,IhadresolvedthatIwouldgivenothinginthecourseofthesevisits.Ididthistotrythepeople.Imaystateatoncethatmyclosestobservationcouldnotdetect any indication whatever of an expectation that I would give money:theyweregratefultobetalkedtoabouttheirmiserableaffairs,andsympathywasplainlyacomforttothem;buttheyneitheraskedformoneyinanycase,norshowedtheleasttraceofsurpriseordisappointmentorresentmentatmygivingnone.

Thewoman’smarrieddaughterhadbythistimecomedownfromherroomonthefloorabove,tojoinintheconversation.Sheherselfhadbeentothelead-millsveryearlythatmorningtobe‘tookon,’buthadnotsucceeded.Shehadfour children; and her husband, also a water-side labourer, and then outseekingwork,seemedinnobettercaseastofindingitthanherfather.ShewasEnglish,andbynature,ofabuxomfigureandcheerful.Bothinherpoordressand in her mother’s there was an effort to keep up some appearance ofneatness.Sheknewallaboutthesufferingsoftheunfortunateinvalid,andallaboutthelead-poisoning,andhowthesymptomscameon,andhowtheygrew,—havingoftenseenthem.Theverysmellwhenyoustoodinsidethedooroftheworkswasenoughtoknockyoudown,shesaid:yetshewasgoingbackagaintoget‘tookon.’Whatcouldshedo?Betterbeulceratedandparalysedforeighteen-penceaday,whileitlasted,thanseethechildrenstarve.A dark and squalid cupboard in this room, touching the back door and allmanner of offence, had been for some time the sleeping-place of the sickyoungwoman.Butthenightsbeingnowwintry,andtheblanketsandcoverlets‘gone to the leaving shop,’ she lay all nightwhere she lay all day, andwaslyingthen.Thewomanoftheroom,herhusband,thismostmiserablepatient,andtwoothers,layontheonebrownheaptogetherforwarmth.‘Godblessyou,sir,andthankyou!’werethepartingwordsfromthesepeople,—gratefullyspokentoo,—withwhichIleftthisplace.Somestreetsaway,I tappedatanotherparlour-dooronanotherground-floor.Looking in, I foundaman,hiswife,andfourchildren, sittingatawashing-stoolbywayof table, at their dinnerofbreadand infused tea-leaves.Therewasaveryscantycinderousfireinthegratebywhichtheysat;andtherewasatentbedsteadintheroomwithabeduponitandacoverlet.ThemandidnotrisewhenIwent in,norduringmystay,butcivilly inclinedhisheadonmypullingoffmyhat, and, inanswer tomy inquirywhether Imightaskhimaquestionor two, said, ‘Certainly.’Therebeingawindowat eachendof thisroom,backandfront,itmighthavebeenventilated;butitwasshutuptight,tokeepthecoldout,andwasverysickening.Thewife,anintelligent,quickwoman,roseandstoodatherhusband’selbow;and he glanced up at her as if for help. It soon appeared that hewas ratherdeaf.Hewasaslow,simplefellowofaboutthirty.‘Whatwashebytrade?’‘Gentlemanaskswhatareyoubytrade,John?’‘Iamaboilermaker;’lookingabouthimwithanexceedinglyperplexedair,asifforaboilerthathadunaccountablyvanished.

‘He ain’t a mechanic, you understand, sir,’ the wife put in: ‘he’s only alabourer.’‘Areyouinwork?’Helookedupathiswifeagain.‘Gentlemansaysareyouinwork,John?’‘Inwork!’cried thisforlornboilermaker,staringaghastathiswife,andthenworkinghisvision’swayveryslowlyroundtome:‘Lord,no!’‘Ah,heain’tindeed!’saidthepoorwoman,shakingherhead,asshelookedatthefourchildreninsuccession,andthenathim.‘Work!’saidtheboilermaker,stillseekingthatevaporatedboiler,firstinmycountenance,thenintheair,andtheninthefeaturesofhissecondsonathisknee:‘IwishIwasinwork!Ihaven’thadmorethanaday’sworktodothisthreeweeks.’‘Howhaveyoulived?’Afaintgleamofadmirationlightedupthefaceofthewould-beboilermaker,as he stretched out the short sleeve of his thread-bare canvas jacket, andreplied,pointingherout,‘Ontheworkofthewife.’Iforgetwhereboilermakinghadgoneto,orwherehesupposedithadgoneto;but he added some resigned information on that head, coupled with anexpressionofhisbeliefthatitwasnevercomingback.Thecheeryhelpfulnessof thewifewasveryremarkable.Shedidslop-work;madepea-jackets.Sheproducedthepea-jackettheninhand,andspreaditoutuponthebed,—theonlypieceoffurnitureintheroomonwhichtospreadit.Sheshowedhowmuchofitshemade,andhowmuchwasafterwardsfinishedoff by themachine.According to her calculation at themoment, deductingwhat her trimming cost her, she got formaking a pea-jacket tenpence half-penny,andshecouldmakeoneinsomethinglessthantwodays.But,yousee,itcometoherthroughtwohands,andofcourseitdidn’tcomethrough the second hand for nothing.Why did it come through the secondhand at all?Why, thisway.The second hand took the risk of the given-outwork,yousee.Ifshehadmoneyenoughtopaythesecuritydeposit,—call ittwo pound,—she could get thework from the first hand, and so the secondwouldnothave tobededucted for.But,havingnomoneyat all, the secondhandcomeinandtookitsprofit,andsothewholeworkeddowntotenpencehalf-penny.Havingexplainedall thiswithgreat intelligence,evenwithsomelittle pride, andwithout awhine ormurmur, she folded herwork again, sat

downbyherhusband’ssideat thewashing-stool,andresumedherdinnerofdrybread.Meanasthemealwas,onthebareboard,withitsoldgallipotsforcups, and what not other sordid makeshifts; shabby as the woman was indress,andtoningdonetowardstheBosjesmancolour,withwantofnutrimentandwashing,—therewaspositivelyadignityinher,asthefamilyanchorjustholdingthepoorship-wreckedboilermaker’sbark.WhenIlefttheroom,theboiler-maker’seyeswereslowlyturnedtowardsher,asifhislasthopeofeveragainseeingthatvanishedboilerlayinherdirection.Thesepeoplehadneverappliedforparishreliefbutonce;andthatwaswhenthehusbandmetwithadisablingaccidentathiswork.Notmanydoorsfromhere,Iwentintoaroomonthefirstfloor.Thewomanapologised for itsbeing in ‘anuntidymess.’ThedaywasSaturday, and shewas boiling the children’s clothes in a saucepan on the hearth. There wasnothingelse intowhichshecouldhaveput them.Therewasnocrockery,ortinware,ortub,orbucket.Therewasanoldgallipotor two,andtherewasabrokenbottleorso,andthereweresomebrokenboxesforseats.Thelastsmallscrapingofcoalsleftwasrakedtogetherinacornerofthefloor.Thereweresomeragsinanopencupboard,alsoonthefloor.InacorneroftheroomwasacrazyoldFrenchbed-stead,withamanlyingonhisbackuponitinaraggedpilot jacket, and roughoil-skin fantail hat.The roomwasperfectlyblack. Itwasdifficult tobelieve,atfirst, thatitwasnotpurposelycolouredblack,thewallsweresobegrimed.As I stood opposite thewoman boiling the children’s clothes,—she had notevenapieceofsoaptowashthemwith,—andapologisingforheroccupation,I could take in all these thingswithout appearing to notice them, and couldevencorrectmyinventory.Ihadmissed,atthefirstglance,somehalfapoundofbreadintheotherwiseemptysafe,anoldredraggedcrinolinehangingonthehandleofthedoorbywhichIhadentered,andcertainfragmentsofrustyiron scattered on the floor, which looked like broken tools and a piece ofstove-pipe.Achild stood lookingon.On the box nearest to the fire sat twoyounger children; one a delicate and pretty little creature, whom the othersometimeskissed.Thiswoman,likethelast,waswofullyshabby,andwasdegeneratingtotheBosjesmancomplexion.Butherfigure,andtheghostofa certain vivacityabout her, and the spectre of a dimple in her cheek, carried my memorystrangely back to the old days of the Adelphi Theatre, London, whenMrs.FitzwilliamwasthefriendofVictorine.‘MayIaskyouwhatyourhusbandis?’

‘He’sacoal-porter,sir,’—withaglanceandasightowardsthebed.‘Isheoutofwork?’‘Oh,yes,sir!andwork’satalltimesvery,veryscantywithhim;andnowhe’slaidup.’‘It’smylegs,’saidthemanuponthebed.‘I’llunroll’em.’And immediatelybegan.‘Haveyouanyolderchildren?’‘Ihaveadaughterthatdoestheneedle-work,andIhaveasonthatdoeswhathecan.She’satherworknow,andhe’stryingforwork.’‘Dotheylivehere?’‘Theysleephere.Theycan’taffordtopaymorerent,andsotheycomehereatnight.Therentisveryharduponus.It’sroseuponustoo,now,—sixpenceaweek,—onaccountofthesenewchangesinthelaw,abouttherates.Weareaweekbehind;thelandlord’sbeenshakingandrattlingatthatdoorfrightfully;hesayshe’llturnusout.Idon’tknowwhat’stocomeofit.’Themanuponthebedruefullyinterposed,‘Here’smylegs.Theskin’sbroke,besidestheswelling.Ihavehadamanykicks,working,onewayandanother.’He looked at his legs (which were much discoloured andmisshapen) for awhile, and then appearing to remember that theywere not popularwith hisfamily,rolledthemupagain,asiftheyweresomethinginthenatureofmapsor plans thatwere notwanted to be referred to, lay hopelessly downonhisbackoncemorewithhisfantailhatoverhisface,andstirrednot.‘Doyoureldestsonanddaughtersleepinthatcupboard?’‘Yes,’repliedthewoman.‘Withthechildren?’‘Yes.Wehavetogettogetherforwarmth.Wehavelittletocoverus.’‘HaveyounothingbyyoutoeatbutthepieceofbreadIseethere?’‘Nothing.Andwehadtherestoftheloafforourbreakfast,withwater.Idon’tknowwhat’stocomeofit.’‘Haveyounoprospectofimprovement?’

‘Ifmy eldest son earns anything to-day, he’ll bring it home. Thenwe shallhavesomethingtoeatto-night,andmaybeabletodosomethingtowardstherent.Ifnot,Idon’tknowwhat’stocomeofit.’‘Thisisasadstateofthings.’‘Yes,sir;it’sahard,hardlife.Takecareofthestairsasyougo,sir,—they’rebroken,—andgoodday,sir!’Thesepeoplehadamortaldreadofenteringtheworkhouse,andreceivednoout-of-doorrelief.Inanotherroom,instillanothertenement,Ifoundaverydecentwomanwithfivechildren,—thelastababy,andsheherselfapatientoftheparishdoctor,—towhom,herhusbandbeinginthehospital,theUnionallowedforthesupportofherselfand family, four shillingsaweekand five loaves. IsupposewhenThisman,M.P., and Thatman,M.P., and the Public-blessing Party, lay theirheads together in courseof time, andcome to an equalizationof rating, shemaygodowntothedanceofdeathtothetuneofsixpencemore.I could enter no other houses for that one while, for I could not bear thecontemplationof the children.Suchheart as I had summoned to sustainmeagainst themiseries of the adults failedmewhen I looked at the children. Isaw how young theywere, how hungry, how serious and still. I thought ofthem,sickanddyinginthoselairs.Ithinkofthemdeadwithoutanguish;buttothinkofthemsosufferingandsodyingquiteunmannedme.Downby the river’sbank inRatcliff, Iwas turningupwardbya side-street,therefore,toregaintherailway,whenmyeyesrestedontheinscriptionacrossthe road, ‘East London Children’s Hospital.’ I could scarcely have seen aninscription better suited to my frame of mind; and I went across and wentstraightin.Ifoundthechildren’shospitalestablishedinanoldsail-loftorstorehouse,oftheroughestnature,andonthesimplestmeans.Thereweretrap-doorsinthefloors, where goods had been hoisted up and down; heavy feet and heavyweights had started every knot in the well-trodden planking: inconvenientbulks and beams and awkward staircases perplexedmypassage through thewards.ButIfounditairy,sweet,andclean.InitssevenandthirtybedsIsawbut little beauty; for starvation in the second or third generation takes apinchedlook:butIsawthesufferingsbothofinfancyandchildhoodtenderlyassuaged; Iheard the littlepatientsanswering topetplayfulnames, the lighttouchofadelicateladylaidbarethewastedsticksofarmsformetopity;andtheclaw-likelittlehands,asshedidso,twinedthemselveslovinglyaroundherwedding-ring.

OnebabymitetherewasasprettyasanyofRaphael’sangels.Thetinyheadwasbandagedforwateronthebrain;anditwassufferingwithacutebronchitistoo,andmadefromtimetotimeaplaintive,thoughnotimpatientorcomplaining,littlesound.Thesmoothcurveofthecheeksandofthechinwasfaultlessinitscondensationofinfantinebeauty,andthelargebrighteyesweremostlovely.IthappenedasIstoppedatthefootofthebed, thattheseeyesresteduponminewiththatwistfulexpressionofwonderingthoughtfulnesswhichweallknowsometimesinverylittlechildren.Theyremainedfixedonmine,andneverturnedfrommewhileIstoodthere.Whentheutteranceofthatplaintivesoundshookthelittleform,thegazestillremainedunchanged.IfeltasthoughthechildimploredmetotellthestoryofthelittlehospitalinwhichitwasshelteredtoanygentleheartIcouldaddress.Layingmyworld-wornhanduponthelittleunmarkedclaspedhandatthechin,IgaveitasilentpromisethatIwoulddoso.Agentlemanandlady,ayounghusbandandwife,haveboughtandfittedupthisbuildingforitspresentnobleuse,andhavequietlysettledthemselvesinitasitsmedicalofficersanddirectors.Bothhavehadconsiderablepracticalexperienceofmedicineandsurgery;he as house-surgeon of a great Londonhospital;sheasaveryearneststudent,testedbysevereexamination,andalsoasanurseofthesickpoorduringtheprevalenceofcholera.Witheveryqualificationtolurethemaway,withyouthandaccomplishmentsandtastesandhabitsthatcanhavenoresponseinanybreastnearthem,closebegirt by every repulsive circumstance inseparable from such aneighbourhood, there they dwell. They live in the hospital itself, and theirroomsareonitsfirstfloor.Sittingattheirdinner-table,theycouldhearthecryofoneofthechildreninpain.Thelady’spiano,drawing-materials,books,andothersuchevidencesofrefinementareasmuchapartoftheroughplaceastheiron bedsteads of the little patients. They are put to shifts for room, likepassengersonboardship.Thedispenserofmedicines(attractedtothemnotbyself-interest,butby theirownmagnetismand thatof theircause)sleeps inarecessinthedining-room,andhashiswashingapparatusinthesideboard.Theircontentedmannerofmakingthebestofthethingsaroundthem,Ifoundsopleasantlyinseparablefromtheirusefulness!Theirprideinthispartitionthatweputupourselves,orinthatpartitionthatwetookdown,orinthatotherpartitionthatwemoved,orinthestovethatwasgivenusforthewaiting-room,orinournightlyconversionofthelittleconsulting-roomintoasmoking-room!Theiradmirationofthesituation,ifwecouldonlygetridofitsoneobjectionableincident,thecoal-yardattheback!‘Our hospitalcarriage,presentedbyafriend,andveryuseful.’Thatwasmypresentationtoaperambulator,forwhichacoach-househadbeendiscoveredinacorner

down-stairs,justlargeenoughtoholdit.Colouredprints,inallstagesofpreparationforbeingaddedtothosealreadydecoratingthewards,wereplentiful;acharmingwoodenphenomenonofabird,withanimpossibletop-knot,whoduckedhishead when you set a counter weight going, had beeninauguratedasapublicstatuethatverymorning;andtrottingaboutamongthebeds, on familiar terms with all the patients, was a comical mongrel dog,called Poodles. This comical dog (quite a tonic in himself) was foundcharacteristicallystarvingatthedooroftheinstitution,andwastakeninandfed,andhaslivedhereeversince.Anadmirerofhismentalendowmentshaspresentedhimwithacollarbearingthelegend,‘JudgenotPoodlesbyexternalappearances.’ He was merrily wagging his tail on a boy’s pillow when hemadethismodestappealtome.Whenthishospitalwasfirstopened,inJanuaryofthepresentyear,thepeoplecouldnotpossiblyconceivebutthatsomebodypaidfortheservicesrenderedthere;andweredisposed toclaimthemasa right,and to findfault ifoutoftemper. They soon came to understand the case better, and have muchincreasedingratitude.Themothersofthepatientsavailthemselvesveryfreelyof thevisiting rules; the fathersoftenonSundays.There is anunreasonable(butstill, I think, touchingand intelligible) tendency in theparents to takeachildawayto itswretchedhome, ifonthepointofdeath.Oneboywhohadbeenthuscarriedoffonarainynight,wheninaviolentstateofinflammation,and who had been afterwards brought back, had been recovered withexceedingdifficulty;buthewasajollyboy,withaspeciallystronginterestinhisdinner,whenIsawhim.Insufficient food and unwholesome living are the main causes of diseaseamong these small patients. So nourishment, cleanliness, and ventilation arethemainremedies.Dischargedpatientsarelookedafter,andinvitedtocomeand dine now and then; so are certain famishing creatures whowere neverpatients.Both the ladyand thegentlemanarewellacquainted,notonlywiththe histories of the patients and their families, but with the characters andcircumstances of great numbers of their neighbours—of these they keep aregister. It is their commonexperience, thatpeople, sinkingdownby inchesintodeeper anddeeperpoverty,will conceal it, even from them, ifpossible,untotheverylastextremity.Thenursesofthishospitalareallyoung,—ranging,say,fromnineteentofourand twenty. They have even within these narrow limits, what many well-endowedhospitalswouldnotgivethem,acomfortableroomof theirowninwhich to take theirmeals. It is a beautiful truth, that interest in the childrenandsympathywiththeirsorrowsbindtheseyoungwomentotheirplacesfarmore strongly than any other consideration could. The best skilled of the

nursescameoriginallyfromakindredneighbourhood,almostaspoor;andsheknewhowmuchtheworkwasneeded.Sheisafairdressmaker.Thehospitalcannotpayherasmanypoundsintheyearastherearemonthsinit;andoneday the lady regarded it as a duty to speak to her about her improving herprospectsandfollowinghertrade.‘No,’shesaid:shecouldneverbesousefulorsohappyelsewhereanymore;shemuststayamongthechildren.Andshe stays.Oneof thenurses, as Ipassedher,waswashingababy-boy.Likingherpleasantface,Istoppedtospeaktohercharge,—acommon,bullet-headed,frowningchargeenough,layingholdofhisownnosewithaslipperygrasp,andstaringverysolemnlyoutofablanket.Themeltingofthepleasantfaceintodelightedsmiles,asthisyounggentlemangaveanunexpectedkick,andlaughedatme,wasalmostworthmypreviouspain.AnaffectingplaywasactedinParisyearsago,called‘TheChildren’sDoctor.’AsIpartedfrommychildren’sdoctor,nowinquestion,Isawinhiseasyblacknecktie,inhisloosebuttonedblackfrock-coat,inhispensiveface,intheflowofhisdarkhair,inhiseyelashes,intheveryturnofhismoustache,theexactrealisationof theParisartist’s idealas itwaspresentedon thestage.ButnoromancerthatIknowofhashadtheboldnesstoprefigurethelifeandhomeofthisyounghusbandandyoungwife in theChildren’sHospital in theeastofLondon.I cameaway fromRatcliffby theStepney railway station to the terminusatFenchurchStreet.Anyonewhowillreversethatroutemayretracemysteps.

CHAPTERXXXIII—ALITTLEDINNERINANHOURItfelloutonadayinthislastautumn,thatIhadtogodownfromLondontoaplaceofseasideresort,onanhour’sbusiness,accompaniedbymyesteemedfriend Bullfinch. Let the place of seaside resort be, for the nonce, calledNamelesston.IhadbeenloiteringaboutParisinveryhotweather,pleasantlybreakfastinginthe open air in the garden of the Palais Royal or the Tuileries, pleasantlydining in the open air in theElysian Fields, pleasantly takingmy cigar andlemonade in the open air on the Italian Boulevard towards the small hoursaftermidnight.Bullfinch—anexcellentmanofbusiness—hassummonedmebackacrosstheChannel,totransactthissaidhour’sbusinessatNamelesston;andthusitfelloutthatBullfinchandIwereinarailwaycarriagetogetheronourwaytoNamelesston,eachwithhisreturn-ticketinhiswaistcoat-pocket.SaysBullfinch,‘Ihaveaproposaltomake.LetusdineattheTemeraire.’

I askedBullfinch, did he recommend theTemeraire? inasmuch as I had notbeenratedonthebooksoftheTemeraireformanyyears.BullfinchdeclinedtoaccepttheresponsibilityofrecommendingtheTemeraire,butonthewholewasrathersanguineaboutit.He‘seemedtoremember,’Bullfinchsaid,thathehaddinedwellthere.A plain dinner, butgood.CertainlynotlikeaParisiandinner(hereBullfinchobviouslybecamethepreyofwantofconfidence),butofitskindveryfair.I appeal toBullfinch’s intimateknowledgeofmywants andways todecidewhetherIwasusuallyreadytobepleasedwithanydinner,or—forthematterof that—withanythingthatwasfairof itskindandreallywhat itclaimedtobe.Bullfinchdoingme thehonour to respond in theaffirmative, Iagreed toshipmyselfasanabletrenchermanonboardtheTemeraire.‘Now,ourplanshallbethis,’saysBullfinch,withhisforefingerathisnose.‘AssoonaswegettoNamelesston,we’lldrivestraighttotheTemeraire,andorderalittledinnerinanhour.Andasweshallnothavemorethanenoughtimeinwhichtodisposeofitcomfortably,whatdoyousay to giving thehouse the best opportunities of serving it hot and quickly by dining in thecoffee-room?’What I had to saywas,Certainly.Bullfinch (who is by nature of a hopefulconstitution) thenbegan tobabbleofgreengeese.But Icheckedhimin thatFalstaffianvein,urgingconsiderationsoftimeandcookery.In due sequence of events we drove up to the Temeraire, and alighted.Ayouthinliveryreceivedusonthedoor-step.‘Lookswell,’saidBullfinchconfidentially.Andthenaloud,‘Coffee-room!’Theyouthinlivery(nowperceivedtobemouldy)conductedustothedesiredhaven,andwasenjoinedbyBullfinchtosendthewaiteratonce,aswewishedtoorderalittledinnerinanhour.ThenBullfinchandIwaitedforthewaiter,until, thewaitercontinuingtowait insomeunknownandinvisiblesphereofaction,werangforthewaiter;whichringproducedthewaiter,whoannouncedhimselfasnot thewaiterwhoought towaituponus,andwhodidn’twaitamomentlonger.SoBullfinchapproachedthecoffee-roomdoor,andmelodiouslypitchinghisvoice into a bar where two young ladies were keeping the books of theTemeraire,apologeticallyexplainedthatwewishedtoordera littledinner inan hour, and that we were debarred from the execution of our inoffensivepurposebyconsignmenttosolitude.Hereupononeoftheyoungladiesranabell,whichreproduced—atthebarthis

time—the waiter who was not the waiter who ought to wait upon us; thatextraordinaryman,whoselifeseemedconsumedinwaitinguponpeopletosaythat he wouldn’t wait upon them, repeated his former protest with greatindignation,andretired.Bullfinch,withafallencountenance,wasabouttosaytome,‘Thiswon’tdo,’whenthewaiterwhooughttowaituponusleftoffkeepinguswaitingatlast.‘Waiter,’saidBullfinchpiteously,‘wehavebeenalongtimewaiting.’Thewaiterwhooughttowaituponuslaidtheblameuponthewaiterwhooughtnottowaituponus,andsaiditwasallthatwaiter’sfault.‘Wewish,’saidBullfinch,muchdepressed,‘toorderalittledinnerinanhour.Whatcanwehave?’‘Whatwouldyouliketohave,gentlemen?’Bullfinch,withextrememournfulnessofspeechandaction,andwithaforlornold fly-blown bill of fare in his handwhich thewaiter had given him, andwhichwasasortofgeneralmanuscriptindextoanycookery-bookyouplease,movedthepreviousquestion.Wecouldhavemock-turtlesoup,asole,curry,androastduck.Agreed.Atthistablebythiswindow.Punctuallyinanhour.Ihadbeenfeigningtolookoutofthiswindow;butIhadbeentakingnoteofthe crumbs on all the tables, the dirty table-cloths, the stuffy, soupy, airlessatmosphere,thestaleleavingseverywhereabout,thedeepgloomofthewaiterwhooughttowaituponus,andthestomach-achewithwhichalonelytravelleratadistanttableinacornerwastooevidentlyafflicted.InowpointedouttoBullfinchthealarmingcircumstancethatthistravellerhaddined.Wehurriedlydebatedwhether,withoutinfringementofgoodbreeding,wecouldaskhimtodisclose if he had partaken of mock-turtle, sole, curry, or roast duck? Wedecided that the thing could not be politely done, and we had set our ownstomachsonacast,andtheymuststandthehazardofthedie.I hold phrenology,within certain limits, to be true; I ammuch of the samemind as to the subtler expressions of the hand; I hold physiognomy to beinfallible;thoughallthesesciencesdemandrarequalitiesinthestudent.ButIalso hold that there is nomore certain index to personal character than thecondition of a set of casters is to the character of any hotel.Knowing, andhaving often tested this theory of mine, Bullfinch resigned himself to theworst,when,layingasideanyremainingveilofdisguise,Iheldupbeforehiminsuccessionthecloudyoilandfurryvinegar,thecloggedcayenne,thedirtysalt,theobscenedregsofsoy,andtheanchovysauceinaflannelwaistcoatofdecomposition.

Wewentouttotransactourbusiness.SoinspiritingwasthereliefofpassingintothecleanandwindystreetsofNamelesstonfromtheheavyandvapidclosenessofthecoffee-roomoftheTemeraire, thathopebegantorevivewithinus.Webegantoconsiderthatperhapsthelonelytravellerhadtakenphysic,ordonesomethinginjudicioustobringhiscomplainton.Bullfinchremarkedthathethoughtthewaiterwhooughttowaituponushadbrightenedalittlewhensuggestingcurry;andalthoughIknewhimtohavebeenatthatmomenttheexpressimageofdespair,Iallowedmyselftobecomeelevatedinspirits.Aswewalkedbythesoftly-lappingsea,allthenotabilitiesofNamelesston,whoareforevergoingupanddownwiththechangelessnessofthetides,passedtoandfroinprocession.Pretty girls on horseback, andwithdetested riding-masters; pretty girls on foot; mature ladies in hats,—spectacled, strong-minded, and glaring at the opposite or weaker sex.TheStockExchangewasstronglyrepresented,Jerusalemwasstronglyrepresented,theboresoftheprosierLondonclubswerestronglyrepresented.Fortune-huntersofalldenominationswerethere,fromhirsuteinsolvency,inacurricle,toclosely-buttonedswindleryindoubtfulboots,onthesharplook-outforanylikelyyounggentlemandisposedtoplayagameatbilliardsroundthecorner.Mastersoflanguages,theirlessonsfinishedfortheday,weregoingtotheirhomesoutofsightofthesea;mistressesofaccomplishments,carryingsmallportfolios,likewisetrippedhomeward;pairsofscholasticpupils,twoandtwo,wentlanguidlyalongthebeach,surveyingthefaceofthewatersasifwaitingforsomeArktocomeandtakethemoff.SpectresoftheGeorgetheFourthdaysflittedunsteadilyamongthecrowd,bearingtheoutwardsemblanceofancientdandies,ofeveryoneofwhomitmightbesaid,notthathehadoneleginthegrave,orbothlegs,butthathewassteepedingravetothesummitofhishighshirt-collar,andhadnothingrealabouthimbuthisbones.Alonestationaryinthemidstofallthemovements,theNamelesstonboatmenleanedagainsttherailingsandyawned,andlookedouttosea,orlookedatthemooredfishing-boatsandatnothing.Suchistheunchangingmanneroflifewiththisnurseryofourhardyseamen;andverydrynursestheyare,andalwayswantingsomethingtodrink.Theonlytwonauticalpersonagesdetachedfromtherailingwerethetwofortunatepossessorsofthecelebratedmonstrousunknownbarking-fish,justcaught(frequentlyjustcaughtoffNamelesston),whocarriedhimaboutinahamper,andpressedthescientifictolookinatthelid.ThesandsofthehourhadallrunoutwhenwegotbacktotheTemeraire.SaysBullfinch,then,totheyouthinlivery,withboldness,‘Lavatory!’Whenwearrivedatthefamilyvaultwithaskylight,whichtheyouthinliverypresentedastheinstitutionsought,wehadalreadywhiskedoffourcravatsand

coats;butfindingourselvesinthepresenceofanevilsmell,andnolinenbuttwo crumpled towels newly damp from the countenances of two somebodyelses,weputonourcravatsandcoatsagain,andfledunwashedtothecoffee-room.Therethewaiterwhooughttowaituponushadsetforthourknivesandforksandglasses,ontheclothwhosedirtyacquaintancewehadalreadyhadthepleasureofmaking,andwhichwewerepleasedtorecognisebythefamiliarexpressionofitsstains.Andnowthereoccurredthetrulysurprisingphenomenon, that thewaiterwhooughtnot towaituponusswoopeddownuponus,clutchedourloafofbread,andvanishedwiththesame.Bullfinch,withdistractedeyes,wasfollowingthisunaccountablefigure‘outattheportal,’liketheghostinHamlet,whenthewaiterwhooughttowaituponusjostledagainstit,carryingatureen.‘Waiter!’saidaseverediner,latelyfinished,perusinghisbillfiercelythroughhiseye-glass.Thewaiterputdownourtureenonaremoteside-table,andwenttoseewhatwasamissinthisnewdirection.‘Thisisnotright,youknow,waiter.Lookhere!here’syesterday’ssherry,oneandeightpence,andhereweareagain,twoshillings.Andwhatdoessixpencemean?’Sofarfromknowingwhatsixpencemeant,thewaiterprotestedthathedidn’tknowwhatanythingmeant.Hewipedtheperspirationfromhisclammybrow,and said it was impossible to do it,—not particularising what,—and thekitchenwassofaroff.‘Takethebilltothebar,andgetitaltered,’saidMr.IndignationCocker,sotocallhim.Thewaitertookit,lookedintenselyatit,didn’tseemtoliketheideaoftakingittothebar,andsubmitted,asanewlightuponthecase,thatperhapssixpencemeantsixpence.‘I tell you again,’ saidMr. IndignationCocker, ‘here’s yesterday’s sherry—can’tyousee it?—oneandeightpence,andhereweareagain, twoshillings.Whatdoyoumakeofoneandeightpenceandtwoshillings?’Totallyunabletomakeanythingofoneandeightpenceandtwoshillings,thewaiter went out to try if anybody else could; merely casting a helplessbackwardglanceatBullfinch, in acknowledgementofhispathetic entreaties

foroursoup-tureen.Afterapause,duringwhichMr.IndignationCockerreada newspaper and coughed defiant coughs,Bullfinch arose to get the tureen,when the waiter reappeared and brought it,—dropping Mr. IndignationCocker’salteredbillonMr.IndignationCocker’stableashecamealong.‘It’s quite impossible to do it, gentlemen,’ murmured the waiter; ‘and thekitchenissofaroff.’‘Well,youdon’tkeepthehouse; it’snotyourfault,wesuppose.Bringsomesherry.’‘Waiter!’fromMr.IndignationCocker,withanewandburningsenseofinjuryuponhim.Thewaiter,arrestedonhiswaytooursherry,stoppedshort,andcamebacktoseewhatwaswrongnow.‘Will you lookhere?This isworse than before.Do you understand?Here’syesterday’s sherry, one and eightpence, andherewe are again two shillings.Andwhatthedevildoesninepencemean?’This new portent utterly confounded the waiter. He wrung his napkin, andmutelyappealedtotheceiling.‘Waiter,fetchthatsherry,’saysBullfinch,inopenwrathandrevolt.‘I want to know,’ persisted Mr. Indignation Cocker, ‘the meaning ofninepence. I want to know the meaning of sherry one and eightpenceyesterday,andofhereweareagaintwoshillings.Sendsomebody.’Thedistractedwaitergotoutoftheroomonpretextofsendingsomebody,andbythatmeansgotourwine.Buttheinstantheappearedwithourdecanter,Mr.IndignationCockerdescendedonhimagain.‘Waiter!’‘You will now have the goodness to attend to our dinner, waiter,’ saidBullfinch,sternly.‘I am very sorry, but it’s quite impossible to do it, gentlemen,’ pleaded thewaiter;‘andthekitchen—’‘Waiter!’saidMr.IndignationCocker.‘—Is,’resumedthewaiter,‘sofaroff,that—’‘Waiter!’persistedMr.IndignationCocker,‘sendsomebody.’

Wewerenotwithoutourfearsthatthewaiterrushedouttohanghimself;andweweremuchrelievedbyhisfetchingsomebody,—ingraceful,flowingskirtsandwithawaist,—whoverysoonsettledMr.IndignationCocker’sbusiness.‘Oh!’saidMr.Cocker,withhisfiresurprisinglyquenchedbythisapparition;‘Iwishedtoaskaboutthisbillofmine,becauseitappearstomethatthere’salittle mistake here. Let me show you. Here’s yesterday’s sherry one andeightpence, and here we are again two shillings. And how do you explainninepence?’Howeveritwasexplained,intonestoosofttobeoverheard.Mr.Cockerwasheardtosaynothingmorethan‘Ah-h-h!Indeed;thankyou!Yes,’andshortlyafterwardswentout,amilderman.Thelonelytravellerwiththestomach-achehadallthistimesufferedseverely,drawingupalegnowandthen,andsippinghotbrandy-and-waterwithgratedgingerinit.Whenwetastedour(very)mock-turtlesoup,andwereinstantlyseizedwithsymptomsofsomedisordersimulatingapoplexy,andoccasionedbythesurchargeofnoseandbrainwithlukewarmdish-waterholdinginsolutionsourflour,poisonouscondiments,and(say)seventy-fivepercent.ofmiscellaneouskitchenstuffrolledintoballs,wewereinclinedtotracehisdisordertothatsource.Ontheotherhand,therewasasilentanguishuponhimtoostronglyresemblingtheresultsestablishedwithinourselvesbythesherry,tobediscardedfromalarmedconsideration.Again,weobservedhim,withterror,tobemuchovercomebyoursole’sbeingairedinatemporaryretreatclosetohim,whilethewaiterwentout(asweconceived)toseehisfriends.Andwhenthecurrymadeitsappearancehesuddenlyretiredingreatdisorder.Infine,fortheuneatablepartofthislittledinner(ascontradistinguishedfromthe undrinkable) we paid only seven shillings and sixpence each. AndBullfinchandIagreedunanimously,thatnosuchill-served,ill-appointed,ill-cooked,nastylittledinnercouldbegotforthemoneyanywhereelseunderthesun. With that comfort to our backs, we turned them on the dear oldTemeraire, the charging Temeraire, and resolved (in the Scotch dialect) togangnaemairtotheflabbyTemeraire.

CHAPTERXXXIV—MR.BARLOW

Agreatreaderofgoodfictionatanunusuallyearlyage,itseemstomeasthoughIhadbeenbornunderthesuperintendenceoftheestimablebutterrificgentlemanwhosenamestandsattheheadofmypresentreflections.Theinstructivemonomaniac,Mr.Barlow,willberememberedasthetutorof

MasterHarrySandfordandMasterTommyMerton.He knew everything, anddidacticallyimprovedallsortsofoccasions,fromtheconsumptionofaplateof cherries to the contemplation of a starlight night. What youth came towithoutMr.BarlowwasdisplayedinthehistoryofSandfordandMerton,bytheexampleofacertainawfulMasterMash.Thisyoungwretchworebucklesandpowder,conductedhimselfwithinsupportablelevityatthetheatre,hadnoidea of facing a mad bull single-handed (in which I think him lessreprehensible, as remotely reflectingmyowncharacter), andwas a frightfulinstanceoftheenervatingeffectsofluxuryuponthehumanrace.Strange destiny on the part of Mr. Barlow, to go down to posterity aschildhood’s experience of a bore! Immortal Mr. Barlow, boring his waythroughtheverdantfreshnessofages!My personal indictment against Mr. Barlow is one of many counts. I willproceedtosetforthafewoftheinjurieshehasdoneme.In the first place, he never made or took a joke. This insensibility onMr.Barlow’spartnotonlycastitsowngloomovermyboyhood,butblightedeventhe sixpenny jest-books of the time; for, groaning under a moral spellconstrainingmetoreferall thingstoMr.Barlow,Icouldnotchoosebutaskmyselfinawhisperwhentickledbyaprintedjest,‘Whatwouldhethinkofit?Whatwouldhesee in it?’Thepointof the jest immediatelybecameasting,andstungmyconscience.Formymind’seyesawhimstolid,frigid,perchancetaking from its shelf some drearyGreek book, and translating at full lengthwhat some dismal sage said (and touched up afterwards, perhaps, forpublication),whenhebanishedsomeunluckyjokerfromAthens.TheincompatibilityofMr.Barlowwithallotherportionsofmyyounglifebuthimself,theadamantineinadaptabilityofthemantomyfavouritefanciesandamusements,isthethingforwhichIhatehimmost.WhatrighthadhetoborehiswayintomyArabianNights?Yethedid.HewasalwayshintingdoubtsoftheveracityofSindbadtheSailor.IfhecouldhavegotholdoftheWonderfulLamp,Iknewhewouldhavetrimmeditandlightedit,anddeliveredalectureoveritonthequalitiesofsperm-oil,withaglanceat thewhalefisheries.Hewouldsosoonhavefoundout—onmechanicalprinciples—thepegintheneckof the Enchanted Horse, and would have turned it the right way in soworkmanlikeamanner,thatthehorsecouldneverhavegotanyheightintotheair, and the story couldn’t have been. He would have proved, by map andcompass,thattherewasnosuchkingdomasthedelightfulkingdomofCasgar,onthefrontiersofTartary.HewouldhavecausedthathypocriticalyoungprigHarry tomake an experiment,—with the aid of a temporary building in thegarden and a dummy,—demonstrating that you couldn’t let a chokedhunchbackdownanEasternchimneywitha cord, and leavehimuprighton

thehearthtoterrifythesultan’spurveyor.Thegoldensoundsoftheoverturetothefirstmetropolitanpantomime,Iremember,werealloyedbyMr.Barlow.Clickclick,tingting,bangbang,weedleweedleweedle,bang!Irecallthechillingairthatranacrossmyframeandcooledmyhotdelight,asthethoughtoccurredtome,‘ThiswouldneverdoforMr.Barlow!’Afterthecurtaindrewup,dreadfuldoubtsofMr.Barlow’sconsideringthecostumesoftheNymphsoftheNebulaasbeingsufficientlyopaque,obtrudedthemselvesonmyenjoyment.IntheclownIperceivedtwopersons;oneafascinatingunaccountablecreatureofahecticcomplexion,joyousinspiritsthoughfeebleinintellect,withflashesofbrilliancy;theotherapupilforMr.Barlow.IthoughthowMr.Barlowwouldsecretlyriseearlyinthemorning,andbutterthepavementforhim,and,whenhehadbroughthimdown,wouldlookseverelyoutofhisstudywindowandaskhimhowheenjoyedthefun.I thoughthowMr.Barlowwouldheatall thepokers in thehouse,andsingehim with the whole collection, to bring him better acquainted with thepropertiesofincandescentiron,onwhichhe(Barlow)wouldfullyexpatiate.IpicturedMr.Barlow’sinstitutingacomparisonbetweentheclown’sconductathis studies,—drinkingup the ink, lickinghis copy-book, andusinghis headfor blotting-paper,—and that of the alreadymentioned young prig of prigs,Harry,sittingattheBarlovianfeet,sneakinglypretendingtobeinaraptureofyouthful knowledge. I thought how soon Mr. Barlow would smooth theclown’shairdown,insteadoflettingitstanderectinthreetalltufts;andhow,after a coupleofyearsor sowithMr.Barlow,hewouldkeephis legs closetogether when he walked, and would take his hands out of his big loosepockets,andwouldn’thaveajumpleftinhim.ThatIamparticularlyignorantwhatmostthingsintheuniversearemadeof,andhowtheyaremade,isanotherofmychargesagainstMr.Barlow.WiththedreaduponmeofdevelopingintoaHarry,andwithafurtherdreaduponmeofbeingBarlowedifImadeinquiries,bybringingdownuponmyselfacoldshower-bathofexplanationsandexperiments,Iforboreenlightenmentinmyyouth,andbecame,astheysayinmelodramas,‘thewreckyounowbehold.’ThatIconsortedwithidlersandduncesisanotherofthemelancholyfactsforwhichIholdMr.Barlowresponsible.Thatpragmaticalprig,Harry,becamesodetestableinmysight,that,hebeingreportedstudiousintheSouth,IwouldhavefledidletotheextremestNorth.BettertolearnmisconductfromaMasterMashthanscienceandstatisticsfromaSandford!SoItookthepath,which,butforMr.Barlow,Imightneverhavetrodden.ThoughtI,withashudder,‘Mr.Barlowisabore,withanimmenseconstructivepowerofmakingbores.Hisprizespecimenisabore.Heseekstomakeaboreofme.

ThatknowledgeispowerIamnotpreparedtogainsay;but,withMr.Barlow,knowledgeispowertobore.’ThereforeItookrefugeinthecavesofignorance,whereinIhaveresidedeversince,andwhichare still my privateaddress.ButtheweightiestchargeofallmychargesagainstMr.Barlowis,thathestillwalkstheearthinvariousdisguises,seekingtomakeaTommyofme,eveninmymaturity.Irrepressible,instructivemonomaniac,Mr.Barlowfillsmylifewithpitfalls,andlieshidingatthebottomtoburstoutuponmewhenIleastexpecthim.Afewofthesedismalexperiencesofmineshallsuffice.KnowingMr.Barlowtohaveinvestedlargelyinthemovingpanoramatrade,andhavingonvariousoccasionsidentifiedhiminthedarkwithalongwandinhishand,holdingforthinhisoldway(mademoreappallinginthisconnectionbyhissometimescrackingapieceofMr.Carlyle’sownDead-Seafruitinmistakeforajoke),Isystematicallyshunpictorialentertainmentonrollers.Similarly,IshoulddemandresponsiblebailandguarantyagainsttheappearanceofMr.Barlow,beforecommittingmyselftoattendanceatanyassemblageofmyfellow-creatureswhereabottleofwaterandanote-bookwereconspicuousobjects;forineitherofthoseassociations,Ishouldexpresslyexpecthim.Butsuchisthedesigningnatureoftheman, thathestealsinwherenoreasoningprecautionorprovisioncouldexpecthim.Asinthefollowingcase:-AdjoiningtheCavesofIgnoranceisacountrytown.InthiscountrytowntheMississippiMomuses,nineinnumber,wereannouncedtoappearinthetown-hall,forthegeneraldelectation,thislastChristmasweek.KnowingMr.BarlowtobeunconnectedwiththeMississippi,thoughholdingrepublicanopinions,anddeemingmyselfsecure,Itookastall.MyobjectwastohearandseetheMississippiMomusesinwhatthebillsdescribedastheir‘Nationalballads,plantationbreak-downs,niggerpart-songs,choiceconundrums,sparklingrepartees,&c.’Ifoundtheninedressedalike,intheblackcoatandtrousers,whitewaistcoat,verylargeshirt-front,verylargeshirt-collar,andverylargewhitetieandwristbands,whichconstitutethedressofthemassoftheAfricanrace,andwhichhasbeenobservedbytravellerstoprevailoveravastnumberofdegreesoflatitude.Alltheninerolledtheireyesexceedingly,andhadveryredlips.Attheextremitiesofthecurvetheyformed,seatedintheirchairs,weretheperformersonthetambourineandbones.ThecentreMomus,ablackofmelancholyaspect(whoinspiredmewithavagueuneasinessforwhichIcouldnotthenaccount),performedonaMississippiinstrumentcloselyresemblingwhatwasoncecalledinthisislandahurdy-gurdy.TheMomusesoneithersideofhimhadeachanotherinstrument

peculiartotheFatherofWaters,whichmaybelikenedtoastringedweather-glassheldupsidedown.Therewerelikewisealittlefluteandaviolin.Allwentwellforawhile,andwehadhadseveralsparklingreparteesexchangedbetweentheperformersonthetambourineandbones,whentheblackofmelancholyaspect,turningtothelatter,andaddressinghiminadeepandimprovingvoiceas‘Bones,sir,’deliveredcertaingraveremarks to himconcerning the juveniles present, and the season of the year; whereon IperceivedthatIwasinthepresenceofMr.Barlow—corked!Another night—and this was in London—I attended the representation of alittle comedy. As the characters were lifelike (and consequently notimproving), and as they went upon their several ways and designs withoutpersonally addressing themselves to me, I felt rather confident of comingthroughitwithoutbeingregardedasTommy,themoreso,aswewereclearlygettingclosetotheend.But Ideceivedmyself.Allofasudden,Aproposofnothing,everybodyconcernedcametoacheckandhalt,advancedtothefoot-lightsinageneralrallytotakedeadaimatme,andbroughtmedownwithamoralhomily,inwhichIdetectedthedreadhandofBarlow.Nay,so intricateandsubtleare the toilsof thishunter, thaton theverynextnightafterthat,Iwasagainentrapped,wherenovestigeofaspringcouldhavebeenapprehendedbythetimidest.ItwasaburlesquethatIsawperformed;anuncompromising burlesque, where everybody concerned, but especially theladies, carried on at a very considerable rate indeed. Most prominent andactiveamong the corpsofperformerswaswhat I took tobe (and she reallygavemeveryfairopportunitiesofcomingtoarightconclusion)ayoungladyofaprettyfigure.Shewasdressedasapicturesqueyounggentleman,whosepantaloonshadbeencutoffintheirinfancy;andshehadveryneatkneesandveryneat satin boots. Immediately after singing a slang song anddancing aslang dance, this engaging figure approached the fatal lamps, and, bendingover them, delivered in a thrilling voice a random eulogium on, andexhortation to pursue, the virtues. ‘Great Heaven!’ was my exclamation;‘Barlow!’ThereisstillanotheraspectinwhichMr.BarlowperpetuallyinsistsonmysustainingthecharacterofTommy,whichismoreunendurableyet,onaccountofitsextremeaggressiveness.Forthepurposesofareviewornewspaper,hewillgetupanabstrusesubjectwithdefinitepains, will Barlow, utterlyregardless of the price ofmidnight oil, and indeed of everything else, savecramminghimselftotheeyes.Butmark.WhenMr.Barlowblowshisinformationoff,heisnotcontentedwithhavingrammedithome,anddischargedituponme,Tommy,histarget,buthepretendsthathewasalwaysinpossessionofit,andmadenothingofit,

—thatheimbibeditwithmother’smilk,—andthatI,thewretchedTommy,ammostabjectlybehindhandinnothavingdonethesame.Iask,whyisTommytobealwaysthefoilofMr.Barlowtothisextent?WhatMr.Barlowhadnottheslightestnotionofhimself,aweekago,itsurelycannotbeanyveryheavybackslidinginmenottohaveatmyfingers’endsto-day!AndyetMr.Barlowsystematicallycarriesitovermewithahighhand,andwilltauntinglyaskme,inhisarticles,whetheritispossiblethatIamnotawarethateveryschool-boyknowsthatthefourteenthturningontheleftinthesteppesofRussiawillconducttosuchandsuchawanderingtribe?withotherdisparagingquestionsoflikenature.So,whenMr.Barlowaddressesalettertoanyjournalasavolunteercorrespondent(whichIfrequentlyfindhimdoing),hewillpreviouslyhavegottensomebodytotellhimsometremendoustechnicality,andwillwriteinthecoolestmanner,‘Now,sir,Imayassumethateveryreaderofyourcolumns,possessingaverageinformationandintelligence,knowsaswellasIdothat’—saythatthedraughtfromthetouch-holeofacannonofsuchacalibrebearssuchaproportioninthenicestfractionstothedraughtfromthemuzzle;orsomeequallyfamiliarlittlefact.Butwhateveritis,becertainthatitalwaystendstotheexaltationofMr.Barlow,andthedepressionofhisenforcedandenslavedpupil.Mr.Barlow’sknowledgeofmyownpursuitsIfindtobesoprofound,thatmyown knowledge of them becomes as nothing. Mr. Barlow (disguised andbearingafeignedname,butdetectedbyme)hasoccasionallytaughtme,inasonorousvoice,fromendtoendofalongdinner-table,triflesthatItooktheliberty of teaching him five-and-twenty years ago. My closing article ofimpeachmentagainstMr.Barlowis,thathegoesouttobreakfast,goesouttodinner,goesouteverywhere,highandlow,andthatheWILLpreachtome,andthatICAN’Tgetridofhim.HemakesmeaPrometheanTommy,bound;andheisthevulturethatgorgesitselfupontheliverofmyuninstructedmind.

CHAPTERXXXV—ONANAMATEURBEATIt is one of my fancies, that even my idlest walk must always have itsappointeddestination.IsetmyselfataskbeforeIleavemylodginginCovent-gardenonastreetexpedition,andshouldnomorethinkofalteringmyroutebytheway,orturningbackandleavingapartofitunachieved,thanIshouldthinkoffraudulentlyviolatinganagreemententeredintowithsomebodyelse.The other day, finding myself under this kind of obligation to proceed toLimehouse,Istartedpunctuallyatnoon,incompliancewiththetermsofthecontractwithmyselftowhichmygoodfaithwaspledged.Onsuchanoccasion,itismyhabittoregardmywalkasmybeat,andmyselfasahighersortofpolice-constabledoingdutyonthesame.Thereismanya

ruffianinthestreetswhomImentallycollarandclearoutofthem,whowouldseemightylittleofLondon,Icantellhim,ifIcoulddealwithhimphysically.Issuingforthuponthisverybeat,andfollowingwithmyeyesthreehulkinggarrottersontheirwayhome,—whichhomeIcouldconfidentlysweartobewithinsomanyyardsofDrury-lane,insuchanarrowandrestricteddirection(thoughtheyliveintheirlodgingquiteasundisturbedasIinmine),—IwentondutywithaconsiderationwhichIrespectfullyoffertothenewChiefCommissioner,—inwhomIthoroughlyconfideasatriedandefficientpublicservant.Howoften(thoughtI)haveIbeenforcedtoswallow,in police-reports, the intolerable stereotyped pill of nonsense, how that the police-constable informed the worthy magistrate how that the associates of theprisonerdid,atthatpresentspeaking,dwellinastreetorcourtwhichnomandared go down, and how that the worthy magistrate had heard of the darkreputationof such streetor court, andhow thatour readerswoulddoubtlessremember that it was always the same street or court which was thusedifyinglydiscoursedabout,sayonceafortnight.Now,supposethataChiefCommissionersentroundacirculartoeverydivisionofpoliceemployedinLondon,requiringinstantlythenamesinalldistrictsofallsuchmuch-puffedstreetsorcourtswhichnomandurstgodown;andsupposethatinsuchcircularhegaveplainwarning,‘Ifthoseplacesreallyexist,theyareaproofofpoliceinefficiencywhichImeantopunish;andiftheydonotexist,butareaconventionalfiction,thentheyareaproofoflazytacitpoliceconnivancewithprofessionalcrime,whichIalsomeantopunish’—whatthen?Fictionsorrealities,couldtheysurvivethetouchstoneofthisatomofcommonsense?Totellusinopencourt,untilithasbecomeastriteafeatureofnewsasthegreatgooseberry,thatacostlypolice-systemsuchaswasneverbeforeheardof,hasleftinLondon,inthedaysofsteamandgasandphotographsofthievesandelectrictelegraphs,thesanctuariesandstewsoftheStuarts!Why,aparityofpractice,inalldepartments,wouldbringbackthePlagueintwosummers,andtheDruidsinacentury!Walkingfasterundermyshareofthispublicinjury,Ioverturnedawretchedlittlecreature,who,clutchingattheragsofapairoftrouserswithoneofitsclaws,andatitsraggedhairwiththeother,patteredwithbarefeetoverthemuddystones.Istoppedtoraiseandsuccourthispoorweepingwretch,andfiftylikeit,butofbothsexes,wereaboutmeinamoment,begging,tumbling,fighting,clamouring,yelling,shiveringintheirnakednessandhunger.ThepieceofmoneyIhadputintotheclawofthechildIhadover-turnedwasclawedoutofit,andwasagainclawedoutofthatwolfishgripe,andagainoutofthat,andsoonIhadnonotioninwhatpartoftheobscenescuffleinthemud,ofragsandlegsandarmsanddirt,themoneymightbe.Inraisingthe

child,Ihaddrawnitasideoutofthemainthoroughfare,andthistookplaceamongsomewoodenhoardingsandbarriersandruinsofdemolishedbuildings,hardbyTempleBar.Unexpectedly,fromamongthememergedagenuinepolice-constable,beforewhomthedreadfulbrooddispersedinvariousdirections,hemakingfeintsanddartsinthisdirectionandinthat,andcatchingnothing.Whenallwerefrightenedaway,hetookoffhishat,pulledoutahandkerchieffromit,wipedhisheatedbrow,andrestoredthehandkerchiefandhattotheirplaces,withtheairofamanwhohaddischargedagreatmoralduty,—asindeedhehad,indoingwhatwassetdownforhim.Ilookedathim,andIlookedaboutatthedisorderlytracesinthemud,andIthoughtofthedropsofrainandthefootprintsofanextinctcreature,hoaryagesuponagesold,thatgeologistshaveidentifiedonthefaceofacliff;andthisspeculationcameoverme:Ifthismud could petrify at this moment, and could lie concealed here for tenthousandyears,Iwonderwhethertheraceofmenthentobeoursuccessorsontheearth could, from theseor anymarks,by theutmost forceof thehumanintellect,unassistedby tradition,deducesuchanastounding inferenceas theexistenceofapolishedstateofsociety thatborewith thepublicsavageryofneglectedchildreninthestreetsofitscapitalcity,andwasproudofitspowerbyseaandland,andneveruseditspowertoseizeandsavethem!Afterthis,whenIcametotheOldBaileyandglancedupittowardsNewgate,I found that the prison had an inconsistent look. There seemed to be someunluckyinconsistencyintheatmospherethatday;forthoughtheproportionsofSt.Paul’sCathedralareverybeautiful,ithadanairofbeingsomewhatoutof drawing, in my eyes. I felt as though the cross were too high up, andperchedupontheinterveninggoldenballtoofaraway.Facingeastward,IleftbehindmeSmithfieldandOldBailey,—fireandfaggot,condemned hold, public hanging, whipping through the city at the cart-tail,pillory, branding-iron, and other beautiful ancestral landmarks, which rudehandshaverootedup,withoutbringingthestarsquitedownuponusasyet,—and went my way upon my beat, noting how oddly characteristicneighbourhoods are divided from one another, hereabout, as though by aninvisible line across the way. Here shall cease the bankers and themoney-changers; here shall begin the shipping interest and the nautical-instrumentshops; here shall follow a scarcely perceptible flavouring of groceries anddrugs;hereshallcomeastronginfusionofbutchers;now,smallhosiersshallbe in the ascendant; henceforth, everything exposed for sale shall have itsticketedpriceattached.Allthisasifspeciallyorderedandappointed.A single stride at Houndsditch Church, no wider than sufficed to cross thekennel at the bottom of the Canon-gate, which the debtors in Holyrood

sanctuarywerewonttorelievetheirmindsbyskippingover,asScottrelates,and standing in delightful daring of catchpoles on the free side,—a singlestride,andeverything isentirelychanged ingrainandcharacter.Westof thestride,atable,orachestofdrawersonsale,shallbeofmahoganyandFrench-polished;eastofthestride,itshallbeofdeal,smearedwithacheapcounterfeitresemblinglip-salve.Westofthestride,apennyloaforbunshallbecompactand self-contained; east of the stride, it shall be of a sprawling and splay-footed character, as seeking tomakemore of itself for themoney.My beatlyingroundbyWhitechapelChurch,andtheadjacentsugar-refineries,—greatbuildings,tierupontier,thathavetheappearanceofbeingnearlyrelatedtothedock-warehousesatLiverpool,—Iturnedoff tomyright,and,passingroundthe awkward corner onmy left, came suddenly on an apparition familiar toLondonstreetsafaroff.What London peripatetic of these times has not seen the woman who hasfallenforward,double, throughsomeaffectionof thespine,andwhoseheadhasoflatetakenaturntooneside,sothatitnowdroopsoverthebackofoneofherarmsataboutthewrist?Whodoesnotknowherstaff,andhershawl,andherbasket,asshegropesherwayalong,capableofseeingnothingbutthepavement, never begging, never stopping, for ever going somewhere on nobusiness?Howdoesshelive,whencedoesshecome,whitherdoesshego,andwhy? I mind the time when her yellow arms were naught but bone andparchment.Slightchangesstealoverher;forthereisashadowysuggestionofhumanskinonthemnow.TheStrandmaybetakenasthecentralpointaboutwhich she revolves in a half-mile orbit.Howcomes she so far east as this?Andcomingbacktoo!Havingbeenhowmuchfarther?Sheisararespectaclein this neighbourhood. I receive intelligent information to this effect from adog—alop-sidedmongrelwithafoolishtail,ploddingalongwithhistailup,and his ears pricked, and displaying an amiable interest in the ways of hisfellow-men,—if I may be allowed the expression. After pausing at a pork-shop,heisjoggingeastwardlikemyself,withabenevolentcountenanceandawaterymouth, as thoughmusingon themanyexcellencesofpork,whenhebeholdsthisdoubled-upbundleapproaching.Heisnotsomuchastonishedatthe bundle (though amazed by that), as the circumstance that it has withinitselfthemeansoflocomotion.Hestops,prickshisearshigher,makesaslightpoint,stares,uttersashort,lowgrowl,andglistensatthenose,—asIconceivewith terror. The bundle continuing to approach, he barks, turns tail, and isabouttofly,when,arguingwithhimselfthatflightisnotbecominginadog,he turns, and once more faces the advancing heap of clothes. After muchhesitation, it occurs to him that there may be a face in it somewhere.Desperately resolving toundertake theadventure,andpursue the inquiry,hegoesslowlyuptothebundle,goesslowlyroundit,andcomingatlengthuponthehumancountenancedown therewhereneverhumancountenance should

be,givesayelpofhorror,andfliesfortheEastIndiaDocks.BeingnowintheCommercialRoaddistrictofmybeat,andbethinkingmyselfthatStepneyStationisnear,IquickenmypacethatImayturnoutoftheroadatthatpoint,andseehowmysmalleasternstarisshining.TheChildren’sHospital,towhichIgavethatname,isinfullforce.Allitsbedsareoccupied.Thereisanewfaceonthebedwheremyprettybabylay,andthatsweetlittlechildisnowatrestforever.Muchkindsympathyhasbeenheresincemyformervisit,anditisgoodtoseethewallsprofuselygarnishedwithdolls.IwonderwhatPoodlesmaythinkofthem,astheystretchouttheirarmsabovethebeds,andstare,anddisplaytheirsplendiddresses.Poodleshasagreaterinterestinthepatients.Ifindhimmakingtheroundofthebeds,likeahouse-surgeon,attendedbyanotherdog,—afriend,—whoappearstotrotaboutwithhiminthecharacterofhispupildresser.Poodles is anxious to make me known to a pretty little girl lookingwonderfully healthy,whohad had a leg takenoff for cancer of the knee.Adifficultoperation,Poodlesintimates,wagginghistailonthecounterpane,butperfectly successful, as you see, dear sir!The patient, patting Poodles, addswithasmile,‘Thelegwassomuchtroubletome,thatIamgladit’sgone.’Inever saw anything in doggery finer than the deportment of Poodles, whenanother little girl opens her mouth to show a peculiar enlargement of thetongue.Poodles (at that timeon a table, tobeon a levelwith theoccasion)looks at the tongue (with his own sympathetically out) so very gravely andknowingly, that I feel inclined to putmy hand inmywaistcoat-pocket, andgivehimaguinea,wrappedinpaper.Onmybeat again, and close toLimehouseChurch, its termination, I foundmyselfnear tocertain ‘Lead-Mills.’Struckby thename,whichwas fresh inmymemory,andfinding,oninquiry,thatthesesamelead-millswereidentifiedwith thosesame lead-millsofwhich ImadementionwhenI firstvisited theEast London Children’s Hospital and its neighbourhood as UncommercialTraveller,Iresolvedtohavealookatthem.Receivedbytwoveryintelligentgentlemen,brothers,andpartnerswiththeirfatherintheconcern,andwhotestifiedeverydesiretoshowtheirworkstomefreely,Iwentoverthelead-mills.Thepurportofsuchworksistheconversionofpig-leadintowhite-lead.Thisconversionisbroughtaboutbytheslowandgradualeffectingofcertainsuccessivechemicalchangesintheleaditself.Theprocessesarepicturesqueandinteresting,—themostso,beingtheburyingofthelead,atacertainstageofpreparation,inpots,eachpotcontainingacertainquantity of acid besides, and all the pots being buried in vast numbers, inlayers,undertan,forsometenweeks.

Hoppingup ladders, andacrossplanks, andonelevatedperches,until Iwasuncertain whether to liken myself to a bird or a brick-layer, I becameconsciousofstandingonnothingparticular,lookingdownintooneofaseriesoflargecocklofts,withtheouterdaypeepinginthroughthechinksinthetiledroofabove.Anumberofwomenwereascendingto,anddescendingfrom,thiscockloft,eachcarryingontheupwardjourneyapotofpreparedleadandacid,fordepositionunderthesmokingtan.Whenonelayerofpotswascompletelyfilled, it was carefully covered in with planks, and those were carefullycovered with tan again, and then another layer of pots was begun above;sufficientmeansofventilationbeingpreservedthroughwoodentubes.Goingdown into the cockloft then filling, I found the heat of the tan to besurprisinglygreat,andalsotheodouroftheleadandacidtobenotabsolutelyexquisite,thoughIbelievenotnoxiousatthatstage.Inothercocklofts,wherethepotswerebeingexhumed,theheatofthesteamingtanwasmuchgreater,andthesmellwaspenetratingandpeculiar.Therewerecockloftsinallstages;full and empty, half filled and half emptied; strong, active women wereclambering about thembusily; and thewhole thinghad rather the air of theupper part of the house of some immensely rich old Turk, whose faithfulseragliowerehidinghismoneybecausethesultanorthepashawascoming.Asis thecasewithmostpulpsorpigments,so in the instanceof thiswhite-lead,processesofstirring,separating,washing,grinding,rolling,andpressingsucceed. Some of these are unquestionably inimical to health, the dangerarisingfrominhalationofparticlesoflead,orfromcontactbetweentheleadand the touch, or both. Against these dangers, I found good respiratorsprovided (simply made of flannel and muslin, so as to be inexpensivelyrenewed, and in some instances washed with scented soap), and gauntletgloves, and loose gowns. Everywhere, there was as much fresh air aswindows,wellplacedandopened,couldpossiblyadmit.Anditwasexplainedthattheprecautionoffrequentlychangingthewomenemployedintheworstparts of the work (a precaution originating in their own experience orapprehensionofitsilleffects)wasfoundsalutary.Theyhadamysteriousandsingularappearance,withthemouthandnosecovered,andtheloosegownon,andyetboreoutthesimileoftheoldTurkandtheseraglioallthebetterforthedisguise.Atlastthisvexedwhite-lead,havingbeenburiedandresuscitated,andheatedandcooledandstirred,andseparatedandwashedandground,androlledandpressed, 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,passingonthebaking-dishesastheyweregivenoutbythecooks,fromhandtohand,intotheovens.Theoven,orstove,coldasyet,lookedashighasanordinary house, and was full of men and women on temporary footholds,

brisklypassingupandstowingawaythedishes.Thedoorofanotheroven,orstove, about to be cooled and emptied, was opened from above, for theuncommercialcountenancetopeerdowninto.Theuncommercialcountenancewithdrew itself, with expedition and a sense of suffocation, from the dull-glowing heat and the overpowering smell.On thewhole, perhaps the goingintothesestovestowork,whentheyarefreshlyopened,maybetheworstpartoftheoccupation.ButImadeitouttobeindubitablethattheownersoftheselead-millshonestlyandsedulouslytrytoreducethedangersoftheoccupationtothelowestpoint.Awashing-placeisprovidedforthewomen(Ithoughttheremighthavebeenmoretowels),andaroominwhichtheyhangtheirclothes,andtaketheirmeals,andwheretheyhaveagoodfire-rangeandfire,andafemaleattendanttohelpthem,andtowatchthattheydonotneglectthecleansingoftheirhandsbeforetouchingtheirfood.Anexperiencedmedicalattendantisprovidedforthem,andanypremonitorysymptomsoflead-poisoningarecarefullytreated.Theirteapotsandsuchthingsweresetoutontablesreadyfortheirafternoonmeal,whenIsawtheirroom;andithadahomelylook.Itisfoundthattheybeartheworkmuchbetterthanmen:somefewofthemhavebeenatitforyears,andthegreatmajorityofthoseIobservedwerestrongandactive.Ontheotherhand,itshouldberememberedthatmostofthemareverycapriciousandirregularintheirattendance.Americaninventivenesswouldseemtoindicatethatbeforeverylongwhite-leadmaybemadeentirelybymachinery.The sooner, the better.Inthemeantime,Ipartedfrommytwofrankconductorsoverthemills,bytellingthemthattheyhadnothingtheretobeconcealed,andnothingtobeblamedfor.Astotherest,thephilosophyofthematteroflead-poisoningandworkpeopleseemstometohavebeenprettyfairlysummedupbytheIrishwomanwhomIquotedinmyformerpaper:‘Someofthemgetslead-pisonedsoon,andsomeofthemgetslead-pisonedlater,andsome,butnotmany,niver;and’tisallaccordingtotheconstitooshun,sur;andsomeconstitooshunsisstrongandsomeisweak.’Retracingmyfootstepsovermybeat,Iwentoffduty.

CHAPTERXXXVI—AFLY-LEAFINALIFEOnce upon a time (nomatterwhen), Iwas engaged in a pursuit (nomatterwhat),whichcouldbe transactedbymyselfalone; inwhichIcouldhavenohelp;whichimposedaconstantstrainontheattention,memory,observation,and physical powers; and which involved an almost fabulous amount ofchange of place and rapid railway travelling. I had followed this pursuit

through an exceptionally tryingwinter in an always trying climate, and hadresumedit inEnglandafterbutabriefrepose.Thus itcame tobeprolongeduntil,at length—and,asitseemed,allofasudden—itsoworemeoutthatIcouldnotrely,withmyusualcheerfulconfidence,uponmyselftoachievetheconstantlyrecurringtask,andbegantofeel(forthefirsttimeinmylife)giddy,jarred,shaken,faint,uncertainofvoiceandsightandtreadandtouch,anddullofspirit.Themedical advice I soughtwithina fewhours,wasgiven in twowords:‘instantrest.’BeingaccustomedtoobservemyselfascuriouslyasifIwereanotherman,andknowingtheadvicetomeetmyonlyneed,IinstantlyhaltedinthepursuitofwhichIspeak,andrested.Myintentionwas,tointerpose,asitwere,afly-leafinthebookofmylife,inwhich nothing should be written from without for a brief season of a fewweeks.Butsomeverysingularexperiencesrecordedthemselvesonthissamefly-leaf,andIamgoingtorelatethemliterally.Irepeattheword:literally.Myfirstoddexperiencewasoftheremarkablecoincidencebetweenmycase,in thegeneralmind,andoneMr.Merdle’sasI find it recorded inaworkoffiction called LITTLE DORRIT. To be sure, Mr. Merdle was a swindler,forger, and thief, and my calling had been of a less harmful (and lessremunerative)nature;butitwasalloneforthat.HereisMr.Merdle’scase:‘Atfirst,hewasdeadofallthediseasesthateverwereknown,andofseveralbran-newmaladiesinventedwiththespeedofLighttomeetthedemandoftheoccasion.Hehadconcealedadropsyfrominfancy,hehadinheritedalargeestateofwateronthechestfromhisgrandfather,hehadhadanoperationperformeduponhimeverymorningofhislifeforeighteenyears,hehadbeensubjecttotheexplosionofimportantveinsinhisbodyafterthemanneroffireworks,hehadhadsomethingthematterwithhislungs,hehadhadsomethingthematterwithhisheart,hehadhadsomethingthematterwithhisbrain.Fivehundredpeoplewhosatdowntobreakfastentirelyuninformedonthewholesubject,believedbeforetheyhaddonebreakfast,thattheyprivatelyandpersonallyknewPhysiciantohavesaidtoMr.Merdle,“Youmustexpecttogoout,someday,likethesnuffofacandle;”andthattheyknewMr.MerdletohavesaidtoPhysician,“Amancandiebutonce.”Byabouteleveno’clockintheforenoon,somethingthematterwiththebrain, became the favouritetheory against the field; and by twelve the something had been distinctlyascertainedtobe“Pressure.”‘Pressurewassoentirelysatisfactorytothepublicmind,andseemedtomakeeveryonesocomfortable,thatitmighthavelastedalldaybutforBar’shavingtakentherealstateofthecaseintoCourtathalf-pastnine.Pressure,however,

sofarfrombeingoverthrownbythediscovery,becameagreaterfavouritethanever.TherewasageneralmoralisinguponPressure,ineverystreet.Allthepeoplewhohadtriedtomakemoneyandhadnotbeenabletodoit,said,Thereyouwere!Younosoonerbegantodevoteyourselftothepursuitofwealth,thanyougotPressure.Theidlepeopleimprovedtheoccasioninasimilarmanner.See,saidthey,whatyoubroughtyourselftobywork,work,work!Youpersistedinworking,youoverdidit,Pressurecameon,andyouweredonefor!Thisconsiderationwasverypotentinmanyquarters,butnowheremoresothanamongtheyoungclerksandpartnerswhohadneverbeenintheslightestdangerofoverdoingit.These,oneandalldeclared,quitepiously,thattheyhopedtheywouldneverforgetthewarningaslongastheylived,andthattheirconductmightbesoregulatedastokeepoffPressure,andpreservethem,acomforttotheirfriends,formanyyears.’Just my case—if I had only known it—when I was quietly basking in thesunshineinmyKentishmeadow!ButwhileIsorested,thankfullyrecoveringeveryhour,Ihadexperiencesmoreoddthanthis.Ihadexperiencesofspiritualconceit,forwhich,asgivingmeanewwarningagainstthatcurseofmankind,IshallalwaysfeelgratefultothesuppositionthatIwastoofargonetoprotestagainstplayingsickliontoanystraydonkeywithanitchinghoof.Allsortsofpeopleseemed tobecomevicariously religious at my expense. I received the most uncompromisingwarningthatIwasaHeathen:ontheconclusiveauthorityofafieldpreacher,who, like the most of his ignorant and vain and daring class, could notconstruct a tolerable sentence in his native tongue or pen a fair letter. Thisinspired individual called me to order roundly, and knew in the freest andeasiestwaywhereIwasgoingto,andwhatwouldbecomeofmeifIfailedtofashion myself on his bright example, and was on terms of blasphemousconfidencewiththeHeavenlyHost.Hewasinthesecretsofmyheart,andinthe lowest soundings of my soul—he!—and could read the depths of mynature better than his A B C, and could turn me inside out, like his ownclammyglove.Butwhat is farmore extraordinary than this—for such dirtywaterasthiscouldalonebedrawnfromsuchashallowandmuddysource—Ifoundfromtheinformationofabeneficedclergyman,ofwhomIneverheardandwhomIneversaw,thatIhadnot,asIrathersupposedIhad,livedalifeofsome reading, contemplation, and inquiry; that I hadnot studied, as I rathersupposedIhad,toinculcatesomeChristianlessonsinbooks;thatIhadnevertried, as I rather supposed Ihad, to turnachildor two tenderly towards theknowledgeandloveofourSaviour;thatIhadneverhad,asIrathersupposedIhadhad,departedfriends,orstoodbesideopengraves;butthatIhadlivedalifeof‘uninterruptedprosperity,’andthatIneededthis‘check,overmuch,’andthatthewaytoturnittoaccountwastoreadthesesermonsandthesepoems,

enclosed, and written and issued by my correspondent! I beg it may beunderstood that I relate facts of my own uncommercial experience, and novainimaginings.Thedocumentsinprooflienearmyhand.Another odd entry on the fly-leaf, of amore entertaining character,was thewonderful persistency with which kind sympathisers assumed that I hadinjuriouslycoupledwith thesosuddenlyrelinquishedpursuit, thosepersonalhabits of mine most obviously incompatible with it, and most plainlyimpossible of beingmaintained, alongwith it. As, all that exercise, all thatcold bathing, all that wind and weather, all that uphill training—all thateverything else, say, which is usually carried about by express trains in aportmanteauandhat-box,andpartakenofunderaflamingrowofgas-lightsinthecompanyoftwothousandpeople.Thisassumingofawholecaseagainstall fact and likelihood, struckmeasparticularlydroll, andwasanoddityofwhich I certainly had had no adequate experience in life until I turned thatcuriousfly-leaf.Myoldacquaintancesthebegging-letterwriterscameoutonthefly-leaf,verypiouslyindeed.Theywereglad,atsuchaseriouscrisis,toaffordmeanotheropportunityofsendingthatPost-officeorder.Ineedn’tmakeitapound,aspreviouslyinsistedon;tenshillingsmighteasemymind.AndHeavenforbidthattheyshouldrefuse,atsuchaninsignificantfigure,totakeaweightoffthememoryofanerringfellow-creature!Onegentleman,ofanartisticturn(andcopiouslyillustratingthebooksoftheMendicitySociety),thoughtitmightsoothemyconscience,inthetenderrespectofgiftsmisused,ifI wouldimmediately cash up in aid of his lowly talent for original design—as aspecimen of which he enclosed me a work of art which I recognized as atracingfromawoodcutoriginallypublished in the lateMrs.Trollope’sbookonAmerica,fortyorfiftyyearsago.Thenumberofpeoplewhowerepreparedto live long years after me, untiring benefactors to their species, for fiftypoundsapiecedown,wasastonishing.Also,ofthosewhowantedbank-notesforstiffpenitentialamounts,togiveaway:-nottokeep,onanyaccount.Diverswonderfulmedicinesandmachinesinsinuatedrecommendationsofthemselvesintothefly-leafthatwastohavebeensoblank.Itwasspeciallyobservablethateveryprescriber,whetherinamoralorphysicaldirection,knewmethoroughly—knewmefromheadtoheel,inandout,throughandthrough,upsidedown.Iwasaglasspieceofgeneralproperty,andeverybodywasonthemostsurprisinglyintimatetermswithme.Afewpublicinstitutionshadcomplimentaryperceptionsofcornersinmymind,ofwhich,afterconsiderableself-examination,Ihavenotdiscoveredanyindication.Neatlittleprintedformswereaddressedtothosecorners,beginningwiththewords:‘Igiveandbequeath.’

Will it seem exaggerative to statemy belief that themost honest, themostmodest,andtheleastvain-gloriousofalltherecordsuponthisstrangefly-leaf,wasaletterfromtheself-deceiveddiscovererofthereconditesecret‘howtolivefourorfivehundredyears’?Doubtlessitwillseemso,yetthestatementisnot exaggerative by any means, but is made in my serious and sincereconviction.Withthis,andwitha laughat therest thatshallnotbecynical, IturntheFly-leaf,andgoonagain.

CHAPTERXXXVII—APLEAFORTOTALABSTINENCEOnedaythislastWhitsuntide,atpreciselyeleveno’clockintheforenoon,theresuddenlyrodeintothefieldofviewcommandedbythewindowsofmylodginganequestrianphenomenon.Itwasafellow-creatureonhorseback,dressedintheabsurdestmanner.Thefellow-creatureworehighboots;someother(andmuchlarger)fellow-creature’sbreeches,ofaslack-bakeddoughycolourandabaggyform;ablueshirt,whereoftheskirt,ortail,waspuffilytuckedintothewaist-bandofthesaidbreeches;nocoat;aredshoulder-belt;andademi-semi-militaryscarlethat,withafeatheredornamentinfront,which,totheuninstructedhumanvision,hadtheappearanceofamoultingshuttlecock.IlaiddownthenewspaperwithwhichIhadbeenoccupied,andsurveyedthefellow-maninquestionwithastonishment.Whetherhehadbeensittingtoanypainterasafrontispieceforaneweditionof‘SartorResartus;’whether‘thehuskorshellofhim,’astheesteemedHerrTeufelsdrochmightputit,werefoundedonajockey,onacircus,onGeneralGaribaldi,oncheapporcelain,onatoyshop,onGuyFawkes,onwaxwork,ongold-digging,onBedlam,oronall,—weredoubtsthatgreatlyexercisedmymind.Meanwhile,myfellow-manstumbledandslided,excessivelyagainsthiswill,ontheslipperystonesofmyCovent-gardenstreet,andelicitedshrieksfromseveralsympatheticfemales,byconvulsivelyrestraininghimselffrompitchingoverhishorse’shead.Intheverycrisisoftheseevolutions,andindeedatthetryingmomentwhenhischarger’stailwasinatobacconist’sshop,andhisheadanywhereabouttown,thiscavalierwasjoinedbytwosimilarportents,who,likewisestumblingandsliding,causedhimtostumbleandslidethemoredistressingly.AtlengththisGilpiniantriumvirateeffectedahalt,and,lookingnorthward,wavedtheirthreerighthandsascommandingunseentroops,to‘Up,guards!andat’em.’Hereuponabrazenbandburstforth,whichcausedthemtobeinstantlyboltedwithtosomeremotespotofearthinthedirectionoftheSurreyHills.Judgingfromtheseappearancesthataprocessionwasunderway,Ithrewupmywindow,and,craningout,hadthesatisfactionofbeholdingitadvancingalongthestreets.ItwasaTeetotalprocession,asIlearntfromitsbanners,andwaslongenoughtoconsumetwentyminutesinpassing.Therewereagreat

numberofchildreninit,someofthemsoveryyoungintheirmothers’armsastobeintheactofpracticallyexemplifyingtheirabstinencefromfermentedliquors,andattachmenttoanunintoxicatingdrink,whiletheprocessiondefiled.Thedisplaywas,onthewhole,pleasanttosee,asanygood-humouredholidayassemblageofclean,cheerful,andwell-conductedpeopleshouldbe.Itwasbrightwithribbons,tinsel,andshoulder-belts,andaboundedinflowers,asifthoselattertrophieshadcomeupinprofusionundermuchwatering.Thedaybeingbreezy,theinsubordinationofthelargebannerswasveryreprehensible.Eachofthesebeingbornealoftontwopolesandstayedwithsomehalf-dozenlines,wascarried,aspolitebooksinthelastcenturyusedtobewritten,by‘varioushands,’andtheanxietyexpressedintheupturnedfacesofthoseofficers,—somethingbetweentheanxietyattendantonthebalancingart,andthatinseparablefromthepastimeofkite-flying,withatouchoftheangler’squalityinlandinghisscalyprey,—muchimpressedme.Suddenly,too,abannerwouldshiverinthewind,andgoaboutinthemostinconvenientmanner.Thisalwayshappenedoftenestwithsuchgorgeousstandardsasthoserepresentingagentlemaninblack,corpulentwithteaandwater,inthelaudableactofsummarilyreformingafamily,feebleandpinchedwithbeer.Thegentlemaninblackdistendedbywindwouldthenconducthimselfwiththemostunbecominglevity,whilethebeeryfamily,growingbeerier,wouldfranticallytrytotearthemselvesawayfromhisministration.Someoftheinscriptionsaccompanyingthebannerswereofahighlydeterminedcharacter,as‘Wenever,neverwillgiveupthetemperancecause,’withsimilarsoundresolutionsrathersuggestivetotheprofanemindofMrs.Micawber’s‘IneverwilldesertMr.Micawber,’andofMr.Micawber’sretort,‘Really,mydear,Iamnotawarethatyouwereeverrequiredbyanyhumanbeingtodoanythingofthesort.’Atintervals,agloomwouldfallonthepassingmembersoftheprocession,forwhich I was at first unable to account. But this I discovered, after a littleobservation, to be occasioned by the coming on of the executioners,—theterribleofficialbeingswhoweretomakethespeechesby-and-by,—whoweredistributedinopencarriagesatvariouspointsofthecavalcade.Adarkcloudandasensationofdampness,asfrommanywetblankets,invariablyprecededthe rollingonof thedreadful cars containing theseheadsmen; and I noticedthat the wretched people who closely followed them, and who were in amanner forced to contemplate their folded arms, complacent countenances,and threatening lips,weremore overshadowed by the cloud and damp thanthoseinfront.Indeed,Iperceivedinsomeofthesesomoodyanimplacabilitytowardsthemagnatesofthescaffold,andsoplainadesiretotearthemlimbfromlimb,thatIwouldrespectfullysuggesttothemanagerstheexpediencyofconveying the executioners to the scene of their dismal labours byunfrequentedways,andinclosely-tiltedcarts,nextWhitsuntide.

Theprocessionwascomposedofa seriesof smallerprocessions,whichhadcometogether,eachfromitsownmetropolitandistrict.AninfusionofallegorybecameperceptiblewhenpatrioticPeckhamadvanced.SoI judged, fromthecircumstanceofPeckham’sunfurlingasilkenbannerthatfannedheavenandearthwith thewords, ‘ThePeckhamLifeboat.’Noboat being in attendance,though life, in the likeness of ‘a gallant, gallant crew,’ in nautical uniform,followedtheflag,IwasledtomeditateonthefactthatPeckhamisdescribedby geographers as an inland settlement, with no larger or nearer shore-linethanthetowing-pathoftheSurreyCanal,onwhichstormystationIhadbeengiventounderstandnolifeboatexists.ThusIdeducedanallegoricalmeaning,andcametotheconclusion,thatifpatrioticPeckhampickedapeckofpickledpoetry,thiswasthepeckofpickledpoetrywhichpatrioticPeckhampicked.Ihaveobservedthattheaggregateprocessionwasonthewholepleasanttosee.Imadeuseofthatqualifiedexpressionwithadirectmeaning,whichIwillnowexplain.Itinvolvesthetitleofthispaper,andalittlefairtryingofteetotalismbyitsowntests.Thereweremanypeopleonfoot,andmanypeopleinvehiclesofvariouskinds.Theformerwerepleasanttosee,andthelatterwerenotpleasanttosee;forthereasonthatInever,onanyoccasionorunderanycircumstances,havebeheldheavieroverloadingofhorsesthaninthispublicshow.Unlesstheimpositionofagreatvanladenwithfromtentotwentypeopleonasinglehorsebeamoderatetaskingofthepoorcreature,thenthetemperateuseofhorseswasimmoderateandcruel.Fromthesmallestandlightesthorsetothelargestandheaviest,thereweremanyinstancesinwhichthebeastofburdenwassoshamefullyoverladen,thattheSocietyforthePreventionofCrueltytoAnimalshave frequently interposed in less grosscases.Now,Ihavealwaysheldthattheremaybe,andthatthereunquestionablyis,suchathingasusewithoutabuse,andthatthereforethetotalabolitionistsareirrationalandwrong-headed.Buttheprocessioncompletelyconvertedme.Forsolargeanumberofthepeopleusingdraught-horsesinitweresoclearlyunabletousethemwithoutabusingthem, thatIperceivedtotalabstinencefromhorsefleshtobetheonlyremedyofwhichthecaseadmitted.As it is allone to teetotalerswhetheryou takehalfapintofbeerorhalfagallon, so itwas all one here whether the beast of burden were a pony or a cart-horse.Indeed,mycasehadthespecialstrengththatthehalf-pintquadrupedunderwentasmuchsufferingasthehalf-gallonquadruped.Moral:totalabstinencefromhorsefleshthroughthewholelengthandbreadthofthescale.Thispledgewillbeincourseofadministrationtoallteetotalprocessionists,notpedestrians,atthepublishingofficeof‘AlltheYearRound,’onthe1stdayofApril,1870.

Observeapointforconsideration.Thisprocessioncomprisedmanypersonsintheirgigs,broughams, tax-carts,barouches,chaises,andwhatnot,whoweremerciful to the dumb beasts that drew them, and did not overcharge theirstrength.What is tobedonewith thoseunoffendingpersons? Iwill not runamuckandvilifyanddefamethem,asteetotaltractsandplatformswouldmostassuredlydo,ifthequestionwereoneofdrinkinginsteadofdriving:Imerelyaskwhat is tobedonewith them!The replyadmitsofnodisputewhatever.Manifestly, in strict accordancewith teetotaldoctrines,THEYmust come intoo,and take the totalabstinence fromhorsefleshpledge. It isnotpretendedthat those members of the procession misused certain auxiliaries which inmostcountriesandallageshavebeenbestoweduponmanforhisuse,butitisundeniable that other members of the procession did. Teetotalmathematicsdemonstrate that the less includes the greater; that the guilty include theinnocent,theblindtheseeing,thedeafthehearing,thedumbthespeaking,thedrunken thesober. Ifanyof themoderateusersofdraught-cattle inquestionshould deem that there is any gentle violence done to their reason by theseelements of logic, they are invited to come out of the procession nextWhitsuntide,andlookatitfrommywindow.

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