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Sketches by BozbyCharles DickensAn Electronic Classics Series Publication

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Sketches by BozCharles DickensHis taxes are in arrear, quarter-day passes by, anotherquarter-day arrives: he can procure no more quarter forhimself, and is summoned by—the parish. His goodsby Charles Dickensare distrained, his children are crying with cold andBoz is a pseudonym of Charles Dickenshunger, and the very bed on which his sick wife is lying,is dragged from beneath her. What can he do? ToSKETCHES BY BOZwhom is he to apply for relief? To private charity? Tobenevolent individuals? Certainly not—there is his parish.There are the parish vestry, the parish infirmary,OUR PARISHthe parish surgeon, the parish officers, the parish beadle.CHAPTER I—THE BEADLE. THE PARISH ENGINE.Excellent institutions, and gentle, kind-hearted men.THE SCHOOLMASTER.The woman dies—she is buried by the parish. The childrenhave no protector—they are taken care of by theHOW MUCH IS CONVEYED in those two shortparish. The man first neglects, and afterwards cannotwords—’The Parish!’ And with how many talesobtain, work—he is relieved by the parish; and whenof distress and misery, of broken fortune anddistress and drunkenness have done their work uponruined hopes, too often of unrelieved wretchedness andhim, he is maintained, a harmless babbling idiot, in thesuccessful knavery, are they associated! A poor man,parish asylum.with small earnings, and a large family, just manages toThe parish beadle is one of the most, perhaps thelive on from hand to mouth, and to procure food frommost, important member of the local administration.day to day; he has barely sufficient to satisfy the presentHe is not so well off as the churchwardens, certainly,cravings of nature, and can take no heed of the future.3

Sketches by Boznor is he so learned as the vestry-clerk, nor does he well,’ interrupts the overseer, taking a note of the address,‘I’ll send Simmons, the beadle, to-morrow morn-order things quite so much his own way as either ofthem. But his power is very great, notwithstanding; ing, to ascertain whether your story is correct; and ifand the dignity of his office is never impaired by the so, I suppose you must have an order into the House—absence of efforts on his part to maintain it. The beadle Simmons, go to this woman’s the first thing to-morrowof our parish is a splendid fellow. It is quite delightful morning, will you?’ Simmons bows assent, and ushersto hear him, as he explains the state of the existing the woman out. Her previous admiration of ‘the board’poor laws to the deaf old women in the board-room (who all sit behind great books, and with their hats on)passage on business nights; and to hear what he said to fades into nothing before her respect for her lacetrimmedconductor; and her account of what has passedthe senior churchwarden, and what the seniorchurchwarden said to him; and what ‘we’ (the beadle inside, increases—if that be possible—the marks of respect,shown by the assembled crowd, to that solemnand the other gentlemen) came to the determination ofdoing. A miserable-looking woman is called into the functionary. As to taking out a summons, it’s quite aboardroom, and represents a case of extreme destitution,affecting herself—a widow, with six small chil-parish. He knows all the titles of the Lord Mayor byhopeless case if Simmons attends it, on behalf of thedren. ‘Where do you live?’ inquires one of the overseers. heart; states the case without a single stammer: and it‘I rents a two-pair back, gentlemen, at Mrs. Brown’s, is even reported that on one occasion he ventured toNumber 3, Little King William’s-alley, which has lived make a joke, which the Lord Mayor’s head footman (whothere this fifteen year, and knows me to be very hardworkingand industrious, and when my poor husband friend, confidentially, was almost equal to one of Mr.happened to be present) afterwards told an intimatewas alive, gentlemen, as died in the hospital’—’Well, Hobler’s.4

Charles DickensSee him again on Sunday in his state-coat and cockedhat,with a large-headed staff for show in his left hand, distinct dives after it; and the beadle, gliding softlywho dropped the money ventures to make one or twoand a small cane for use in his right. How pompously he round, salutes his little round head, when it again appearsabove the seat, with divers double knocks, ad-marshals the children into their places! and howdemurely the little urchins look at him askance as he ministered with the cane before noticed, to the intensesurveys them when they are all seated, with a glare of delight of three young men in an adjacent pew, whothe eye peculiar to beadles! The churchwardens and cough violently at intervals until the conclusion of theoverseers being duly installed in their curtained pews, sermon.he seats himself on a mahogany bracket, erected expresslyfor him at the top of the aisle, and divides his a parish beadle—a gravity which has never been dis-Such are a few traits of the importance and gravity ofattention between his prayer-book and the boys. Suddenly,just at the commencement of the communion tion, except when the services of that particularly useturbedin any case that has come under our observa-service, when the whole congregation is hushed into a ful machine, a parish fire-engine, are required: thenprofound silence, broken only by the voice of the officiatingclergyman, a penny is heard to ring on the stone fast as their legs will carry them, and report from theirindeed all is bustle. Two little boys run to the beadle asfloor of the aisle with astounding clearness. Observe own personal observation that some neighbouring chimneyis on fire; the engine is hastily got out, and a plen-the generalship of the beadle. His involuntary look ofhorror is instantly changed into one of perfect indifference,as if he were the only person present who had not with ropes, away they rattle over the pavement, thetiful supply of boys being obtained, and harnessed to itheard the noise. The artifice succeeds. After putting beadle, running—we do not exaggerate—running at theforth his right leg now and then, as a feeler, the victim side, until they arrive at some house, smelling strongly5

Sketches by Bozof soot, at the door of which the beadle knocks with pudgy little man, in black, with a thick gold watchchainof considerable length, terminating in two largeconsiderable gravity for half-an-hour. No attention beingpaid to these manual applications, and the turncockhaving turned on the water, the engine turns off bustle; at no time more so, than when he is hurrying toseals and a key. He is an attorney, and generally in aamidst the shouts of the boys; it pulls up once more at some parochial meeting, with his gloves crumpled up inthe work-house, and the beadle ‘pulls up’ the unfortunatehouseholder next day, for the amount of his legal to the churchwardens and overseers, we exclude themone hand, and a large red book under the other arm. Asreward. We never saw a parish engine at a regular fire altogether, because all we know of them is, that theybut once. It came up in gallant style—three miles and a are usually respectable tradesmen, who wear hats withhalf an hour, at least; there was a capital supply of brims inclined to flatness, and who occasionally testifywater, and it was first on the spot. Bang went the in gilt letters on a blue ground, in some conspicuouspumps—the people cheered—the beadle perspired profusely;but it was unfortunately discovered, just as they having being enlarged and beautified, or an organ re-part of the church, to the important fact of a gallerywere going to put the fire out, that nobody understood built.the process by which the engine was filled with water; The master of the workhouse is not, in our parish—and that eighteen boys, and a man, had exhausted themselvesin pumping for twenty minutes, without produc-the better part of whose existence has passed away,nor is he usually in any other—one of that class of mening the slightest effect!and who drag out the remainder in some inferior situation,with just enough thought of the past, to feel de-The personages next in importance to the beadle, arethe master of the workhouse and the parish schoolmaster.The vestry-clerk, as everybody knows, is a short, unable to guess precisely to our own satisfaction whatgraded by, and discontented with the present. We are6

Charles Dickensstation the man can have occupied before; we should brought him up, and openly announced his intentionthink he had been an inferior sort of attorney’s clerk, or of providing for him, left him 10,000L. in his will, andelse the master of a national school—whatever he was, it revoked the bequest in a codicil. Thus unexpectedlyis clear his present position is a change for the better. reduced to the necessity of providing for himself, heHis income is small certainly, as the rusty black coat and procured a situation in a public office. The young clerksthreadbare velvet collar demonstrate: but then he lives below him, died off as if there were a plague amongfree of house-rent, has a limited allowance of coals and them; but the old fellows over his head, for the reversionof whose places he was anxiously waiting, lived oncandles, and an almost unlimited allowance of authorityin his petty kingdom. He is a tall, thin, bony man; alwayswears shoes and black cotton stockings with his lost. He speculated again and won—but never got hisand on, as if they were immortal. He speculated andsurtout; and eyes you, as you pass his parlour-window, money. His talents were great; his disposition, easy,as if he wished you were a pauper, just to give you a generous and liberal. His friends profited by the one,specimen of his power. He is an admirable specimen of a and abused the other. Loss succeeded loss; misfortunesmall tyrant: morose, brutish, and ill-tempered; bullying crowded on misfortune; each successive day broughtto his inferiors, cringing to his superiors, and jealous of him nearer the verge of hopeless penury, and the quondamfriends who had been warmest in their professions,the influence and authority of the beadle.Our schoolmaster is just the very reverse of this amiableofficial. He has been one of those men one occa-whom he loved, and a wife on whom he doted. Thegrew strangely cold and indifferent. He had childrensionally hears of, on whom misfortune seems to have former turned their backs on him; the latter died broken-hearted.He went with the stream—it had ever beenset her mark; nothing he ever did, or was concerned in,appears to have prospered. A rich old relation who had his failing, and he had not courage sufficient to bear up7

Sketches by Bozagainst so many shocks—he had never cared for himself,and the only being who had cared for him, in his former friends to recognise their once gay and happywould be difficult, indeed, for the most intimate of hispoverty and distress, was spared to him no longer. It associate, in the person of the Pauper Schoolmaster.was at this period that he applied for parochial relief.Some kind-hearted man who had known him in happier CHAPTER II—THE CURATE. THE OLD LADY.times, chanced to be churchwarden that year, andTHE HALF-PAY CAPTAINthrough his interest he was appointed to his presentsituation.We commenced our last chapter with the beadle of ourHe is an old man now. Of the many who once crowded parish, because we are deeply sensible of the importanceand dignity of his office. We will begin the present,round him in all the hollow friendship of boon-companionship,some have died, some have fallen like himself,some have prospered—all have forgotten him. Time such prepossessing appearance, and fascinating man-with the clergyman. Our curate is a young gentleman ofand misfortune have mercifully been permitted to impairhis memory, and use has habituated him to his in the parish, half the young-lady inhabitants wereners, that within one month after his first appearancepresent condition. Meek, uncomplaining, and zealous melancholy with religion, and the other half, despondingwith love. Never were so many young ladies seen inin the discharge of his duties, he has been allowed tohold his situation long beyond the usual period; and he our parish church on Sunday before; and never had thewill no doubt continue to hold it, until infirmity rendershim incapable, or death releases him. As the grey-the side aisle, beheld such devotion on earth as they alllittle round angels’ faces on Mr. Tomkins’s monument inheaded old man feebly paces up and down the sunny exhibited. He was about five-and-twenty when he firstside of the little court-yard between school hours, it came to astonish the parishioners. He parted his hair8

Charles Dickenson the centre of his forehead in the form of a Norman He got out of bed at half-past twelve o’clock one winter’sarch, wore a brilliant of the first water on the fourth night, to half-baptise a washerwoman’s child in a slopbasin,and the gratitude of the parishioners knew nofinger of his left hand (which he always applied to hisleft cheek when he read prayers), and had a deep sepulchralvoice of unusual solemnity. Innumerable were the insisted on the parish defraying the expense of thebounds—the very churchwardens grew generous, andcalls made by prudent mammas on our new curate, and watch-box on wheels, which the new curate had orderedfor himself, to perform the funeral service in, ininnumerable the invitations with which he was assailed,and which, to do him justice, he readily accepted. If his wet weather. He sent three pints of gruel and a quartermanner in the pulpit had created an impression in his of a pound of tea to a poor woman who had been broughtfavour, the sensation was increased tenfold, by his appearancein private circles. Pews in the immediate vi-were charmed.to bed of four small children, all at once—the parishcinity of the pulpit or reading-desk rose in value; sittingsin the centre aisle were at a premium: an inch of tune was made. He spoke for one hour and twenty-fiveHe got up a subscription for her—the woman’s for-room in the front row of the gallery could not be procuredfor love or money; and some people even went so Boots—the enthusiasm was at its height. A proposalminutes, at an anti-slavery meeting at the Goat andfar as to assert, that the three Miss Browns, who had an was set on foot for presenting the curate with a piece ofobscure family pew just behind the churchwardens’, were plate, as a mark of esteem for his valuable services renderedto the parish. The list of subscriptions was filleddetected, one Sunday, in the free seats by the communion-table,actually lying in wait for the curate as he up in no time; the contest was, not who should escapepassed to the vestry! He began to preach extempore the contribution, but who should be the foremost tosermons, and even grave papas caught the infection. subscribe. A splendid silver inkstand was made, and9

Sketches by Bozengraved with an appropriate inscription; the curate verge of an expedition to the North Pole: verbal bulletinsof the state of his health were circulated through-was invited to a public breakfast, at the before-mentionedGoat and Boots; the inkstand was presented in a out the parish half-a-dozen times a day; and the curateneat speech by Mr. Gubbins, the ex-churchwarden, and was in the very zenith of his popularity.acknowledged by the curate in terms which drew tears About this period, a change came over the spirit ofinto the eyes of all present—the very waiters were the parish. A very quiet, respectable, dozing old gentleman,who had officiated in our chapel-of-ease for twelvemelted.One would have supposed that, by this time, the theme years previously, died one fine morning, without havinggiven any notice whatever of his intention. Thisof universal admiration was lifted to the very pinnacleof popularity. No such thing. The curate began to cough; circumstance gave rise to counter-sensation the first;four fits of coughing one morning between the Litany and the arrival of his successor occasioned counter-sensationthe second. He was a pale, thin, cadaverous man,and the Epistle, and five in the afternoon service. Herewas a discovery—the curate was consumptive. How interestinglymelancholy! If the young ladies were ener-his dress was slovenly in the extreme, his manner un-with large black eyes, and long straggling black hair:getic before, their sympathy and solicitude now knew gainly, his doctrines startling; in short, he was inno bounds. Such a man as the curate—such a dear— every respect the antipodes of the curate. Crowds of oursuch a perfect love—to be consumptive! It was too much. female parishioners flocked to hear him; at first, becausehe was so odd-looking, then because his face wasAnonymous presents of black-currant jam, and lozenges,elastic waistcoats, bosom friends, and warm stockings, so expressive, then because he preached so well; and atpoured in upon the curate until he was as completely last, because they really thought that, after all, therefitted out with winter clothing, as if he were on the was something about him which it was quite impossible10

Charles Dickensto describe. As to the curate, he was all very well; but a perfect picture of quiet neatness; the carpet is coveredwith brown Holland, the glass and picture-framescertainly, after all, there was no denying that—that—in short, the curate wasn’t a novelty, and the other are carefully enveloped in yellow muslin; the table-coversare never taken off, except when the leaves are tur-clergyman was. The inconstancy of public opinion isproverbial: the congregation migrated one by one. The pentined and bees’-waxed, an operation which is regularlycommenced every other morning at half-past ninecurate coughed till he was black in the face—it was invain. He respired with difficulty—it was equally ineffectualin awakening sympathy. Seats are once again to in precisely the same manner. The greater part of theseo’clock—and the little nicknacks are always arrangedbe had in any part of our parish church, and the chapelof-easeis going to be enlarged, as it is crowded to suf-same row; but some of them, such as the two old-fash-are presents from little girls whose parents live in thefocation every Sunday!ioned watches (which never keep the same time, oneThe best known and most respected among our parishioners,is an old lady, who resided in our parish long other a quarter of an hour too fast), the little picture ofbeing always a quarter of an hour too slow, and thebefore our name was registered in the list of baptisms. the Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold as they appearedin the Royal Box at Drury Lane Theatre, and oth-Our parish is a suburban one, and the old lady lives in aneat row of houses in the most airy and pleasant part of ers of the same class, have been in the old lady’s possessionfor many years. Here the old lady sits with herit. The house is her own; and it, and everything aboutit, except the old lady herself, who looks a little older spectacles on, busily engaged in needlework—near thethan she did ten years ago, is in just the same state as window in summer time; and if she sees you coming upwhen the old gentleman was living. The little front the steps, and you happen to be a favourite, she trotsparlour, which is the old lady’s ordinary sitting-room, is out to open the street-door for you before you knock,11

Sketches by Bozand as you must be fatigued after that hot walk, insists the visitors are received in the drawing-room in greaton your swallowing two glasses of sherry before you state. She has but few relations, and they are scatteredexert yourself by talking. If you call in the evening you about in different parts of the country, and she seldomwill find her cheerful, but rather more serious than usual, sees them. She has a son in India, whom she alwayswith an open Bible on the table, before her, of which describes to you as a fine, handsome fellow—so like the‘Sarah,’ who is just as neat and methodical as her mistress,regularly reads two or three chapters in the parlour the old lady adds, with a mournful shake of the head,profile of his poor dear father over the sideboard, butaloud.that he has always been one of her greatest trials; andThe old lady sees scarcely any company, except the that indeed he once almost broke her heart; but itlittle girls before noticed, each of whom has always a pleased God to enable her to get the better of it, andregular fixed day for a periodical tea-drinking with her, she would prefer your never mentioning the subject toto which the child looks forward as the greatest treat of her again. She has a great number of pensioners: andits existence. She seldom visits at a greater distance on Saturday, after she comes back from market, there isthan the next door but one on either side; and when a regular levee of old men and women in the passage,she drinks tea here, Sarah runs out first and knocks a waiting for their weekly gratuity. Her name always headsdouble-knock, to prevent the possibility of her ‘Missis’s’ the list of any benevolent subscriptions, and hers arecatching cold by having to wait at the door. She is very always the most liberal donations to the Winter Coalscrupulous in returning these little invitations, and when and Soup Distribution Society. She subscribed twentyshe asks Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so, to meet Mr. and Mrs. pounds towards the erection of an organ in our parishSomebody-else, Sarah and she dust the urn, and the church, and was so overcome the first Sunday the childrensang to it, that she was obliged to be carried outbest china tea-service, and the Pope Joan board; and12

Charles Dickensby the pew-opener. Her entrance into church on Sundayis always the signal for a little bustle in the side a little. In the first place, he will smoke cigars in thebehaviour disturbs the old lady’s domestic economy, notaisle, occasioned by a general rise among the poor people, front court, and when he wants something to drink withwho bow and curtsey until the pew-opener has ushered them—which is by no means an uncommon circumstance—helifts up the old lady’s knocker with his walk-the old lady into her accustomed seat, dropped a respectfulcurtsey, and shut the door: and the same ceremonyis repeated on her leaving church, when she walks handed over the rails. In addition to this cool proceeding-stick,and demands to have a glass of table ale,home with the family next door but one, and talks about ing, he is a bit of a Jack of all trades, or to use his ownthe sermon all the way, invariably opening the conversationby asking the youngest boy where the text was. him better than to experimentalise on the old lady’swords, ‘a regular Robinson Crusoe;’ and nothing delightsThus, with the annual variation of a trip to some quiet property. One morning he got up early, and planted threeplace on the sea-coast, passes the old lady’s life. It has or four roots of full-grown marigolds in every bed of herrolled on in the same unvarying and benevolent course front garden, to the inconceivable astonishment of thefor many years now, and must at no distant period be old lady, who actually thought when she got up andbrought to its final close. She looks forward to its termination,with calmness and without apprehension. She tion which had come out in the night. Another time helooked out of the window, that it was some strange erup-has everything to hope and nothing to fear.took to pieces the eight-day clock on the front landing,A very different personage, but one who has rendered under pretence of cleaning the works, which he puthimself very conspicuous in our parish, is one of the together again, by some undiscovered process, in soold lady’s next-door neighbours. He is an old naval officeron half-pay, and his bluff and unceremonious ing but trip up the little one ever since. Then he tookwonderful a manner, that the large hand has done noth-to13

Sketches by Bozbreeding silk-worms, which he would bring in two or amount to sing the psalms better than all the childrenthree times a day, in little paper boxes, to show the old put together, male and female; and, in short, conductslady, generally dropping a worm or two at every visit. himself in the most turbulent and uproarious manner.The consequence was, that one morning a very stout The worst of it is, that having a high regard for the oldsilk-worm was discovered in the act of walking upstairs—probablywith the view of inquiring after his therefore walks into her little parlour with his newspa-lady, he wants to make her a convert to his views, andfriends, for, on further inspection, it appeared that some per in his hand, and talks violent politics by the hour.of his companions had already found their way to every He is a charitable, open-hearted old fellow at bottom,room in the house. The old lady went to the seaside in after all; so, although he puts the old lady a little outdespair, and during her absence he completely effaced occasionally, they agree very well in the main, and shethe name from her brass door-plate, in his attempts to laughs as much at each feat of his handiwork when it ispolish it with aqua-fortis.all over, as anybody else.But all this is nothing to his seditious conduct inpublic life. He attends every vestry meeting that is held;CHAPTER III—THE FOUR SISTERSalways opposes the constituted authorities of the parish,denounces the profligacy of the churchwardens, THE ROW OF HOUSES in which the old lady and her troublesomeneighbour reside, comprises, beyond all doubt, acontests legal points against the vestry-clerk, will makethe tax-gatherer call for his money till he won’t call any greater number of characters within its circumscribedlonger, and then he sends it: finds fault with the sermonevery Sunday, says that the organist ought to be we cannot, consistently with our present plan, how-limits, than all the rest of the parish put together. Asashamed of himself, offers to back himself for any ever, extend the number of our parochial sketches be-14

Charles Dickensyond six, it will be better perhaps, to select the most sprinkled over the front one, vans of elegant furniturepeculiar, and to introduce them at once without further arrived, spring blinds were fitted to the windows, carpenterswho had been employed in the various prepara-preface.The four Miss Willises, then, settled in our parish thirteenyears ago. It is a melancholy reflection that the ments to the different maid-servants in the row, relations,alterations, and repairs, made confidential state-old adage, ‘time and tide wait for no man,’ applies with tive to the magnificent scale on which the Miss Willisesequal force to the fairer portion of the creation; and were commencing; the maid-servants told their ‘Missises,’willingly would we conceal the fact, that even thirteen the Missises told their friends, and vague rumours wereyears ago the Miss Willises were far from juvenile. Our circulated throughout the parish, that No. 25, in Gordon-place,had been taken by four maiden ladies of im-duty as faithful parochial chroniclers, however, is paramountto every other consideration, and we are bound mense property.to state, that thirteen years since, the authorities in At last, the Miss Willises moved in; and then the ‘calling’began. The house was the perfection of neatness—matrimonial cases, considered the youngest Miss Willisin a very precarious state, while the eldest sister was so were the four Miss Willises. Everything was formal,positively given over, as being far beyond all human stiff, and cold—so were the four Miss Willises. Not ahope. Well, the Miss Willises took a lease of the house; single chair of the whole set was ever seen out of itsit was fresh painted and papered from top to bottom: place—not a single Miss Willis of the whole four wasthe paint inside was all wainscoted, the marble all ever seen out of hers. There they always sat, in thecleaned, the old grates taken down, and register-stoves, same places, doing precisely the same things at the sameyou could see to dress by, put up; four trees were planted hour. The eldest Miss Willis used to knit, the second toin the back garden, several small baskets of gravel draw, the two others to play duets on the piano. They15

Sketches by Bozseemed to have no separate existence, but to have made feelings the poor man could have been actuated, or byup their minds just to winter through life together. They what process of reasoning the four Miss Willises succeededin persuading themselves that it was possiblewere three long graces in drapery, with the addition,like a school-dinner, of another long grace afterwards— for a man to marry one of them, without marrying themthe three fates with another sister—the Siamese twins all, are questions too profound for us to resolve: certainmultiplied by two. The eldest Miss Willis grew bilious— it is, however, that the visits of Mr. Robinson (a gentlemanin a public office, with a good salary and a littlethe four Miss Willises grew bilious immediately. The eldestMiss Willis grew ill-tempered and religious—the property of his own, besides) were received—that thefour Miss Willises were ill-tempered and religious directly.Whatever the eldest did, the others did, and Mr Robinson—that the neighbours were perfectly fran-four Miss Willises were courted in due form by the saidwhatever anybody else did, they all disapproved of; and tic in their anxiety to discover which of the four Missthus they vegetated—living in Polar harmony among Willises was the fortunate fair, and that the difficultythemselves, and, as they sometimes went out, or saw they experienced in solving the problem was not at allcompany ‘in a quiet-way’ at home, occasionally icing lessened by the announcement of the eldest Missthe neighbours. Three years passed over in this way, Willis,—’We are going to marry Mr. Robinson.’when an unlooked for and extraordinary phenomenon It was very extraordinary. They were so completelyoccurred. The Miss Willises showed symptoms of summer,the frost gradually broke up; a complete thaw took the whole row—even of the old lady herself—was rousedidentified, the one with the other, that the curiosity ofplace. Was it possible? one of the four Miss Willises was almost beyond endurance. The subject was discussed atgoing to be married!every little card-table and tea-drinking. The old gentlemanof silk-worm notoriety did not hesitate to expressNow, where on earth the husband came from, by what16

Charles Dickenshis decided opinion that Mr. Robinson was of Eastern the door, wore a large white bow of unusual dimensions,descent, and contemplated marrying the whole family in a much smarter head-dress than the regulation cap toat once; and the row, generally, shook their heads with which the Miss Willises invariably restricted the somewhatexcursive tastes of female servants in general.considerable gravity, and declared the business to bevery mysterious. They hoped it might all end well;—it The intelligence spread rapidly from house to house.certainly had a very singular appearance, but still it It was quite clear that the eventful morning had at lengthwould be uncharitable to express any opinion without arrived; the whole row stationed themselves behind theirgood grounds to go upon, and certainly the Miss Willises first and second floor blinds, and waited the result inwere quite old enough to judge for themselves, and to breathless expectation.be sure people ought to know their own business best, At last the Miss Willises’ door opened; the door of theand so forth.first glass-coach did the same. Two gentlemen, and aAt last, one fine morning, at a quarter before eight pair of ladies to correspond—friends of the family, noo’clock, A.M., two glass-coaches drove up to the Miss doubt; up went the steps, bang went the door, off wentWillises’ door, at which Mr. Robinson had arrived in a cab the first class-coach, and up came the second.ten minutes before, dressed in a light-blue coat and The street door opened again; the excitement of thedouble-milled kersey pantaloons, white neckerchief, whole row increased—Mr. Robinson and the eldest Misspumps, and dress-gloves, his manner denoting, as appearedfrom the evidence of the housemaid at No. 23, said it was Miss Willis!’—‘Well, I never!’ ejaculated theWillis. ‘I thought so,’ said the lady at No. 19; ‘I alwayswho was sweeping the door-steps at the time, a considerabledegree of nervous excitement. It was also hastily you ever, dear!’ responded the young lady at No. 17 toyoung lady at No. 18 to the young lady at No. 17.—’Didreported on the same testimony, that the cook who opened the young lady at No. 18. ‘It’s too ridiculous!’ exclaimed17

Sketches by Boza spinster of an UNcertain age, at No. 16, joining in the quite clear that the neighbours ever would have discoveredthe real Mrs. Robinson, but for a circumstance ofconversation. But who shall portray the astonishmentof Gordon-place, when Mr. Robinson handed in all the the most gratifying description, which will happen occasionallyin the best-regulated families. Three quar-Miss Willises, one after the other, and then squeezedhimself into an acute angle of the glass-coach, which ter-days elapsed, and the row, on whom a new lightforthwith proceeded at a brisk pace, after the other glasscoach,which other glass-coach had itself proceeded, at speak with a sort of implied confidence on the subject,appeared to have been bursting for some time, began toa brisk pace, in the direction of the parish church! Who and to wonder how Mrs. Robinson—the youngest Missshall depict the perplexity of the clergyman, when ALL Willis that was—got on; and servants might be seenthe Miss Willises knelt down at the communion-table, running up the steps, about nine or ten o’clock everyand repeated the responses incidental to the marriage morning, with ‘Missis’s compliments, and wishes to knowservice in an audible voice—or who shall describe the how Mrs. Robinson finds herself this morning?’ And theconfusion which prevailed, when—even after the difficultiesthus occasioned had been adjusted—all the Miss she’s in very good spirits, and doesn’t find herself anyanswer always was, ‘Mrs. Robinson’s compliments, andWillises went into hysterics at the conclusion of the worse.’ The piano was heard no longer, the knittingneedleswere laid aside, drawing was neglected, andceremony, until the sacred edifice resounded with theirunited wailings!mantua-making and millinery, on the smallest scaleAs the four sisters and Mr. Robinson continued to imaginable, appeared to have become the favouriteoccupy the same house after this memorable occasion, amusement of the whole family. The parlour wasn’t quiteand as the married sister, whoever she was, never appearedin public without the other three, we are not ing, you would see lying on a table, with an old news-as tidy as it used to be, and if you called in the morn-18

Charles Dickenspaper carelessly thrown over them, two or three particularlysmall caps, rather larger than if they had beenmade for a moderate-sized doll, with a small piece oflace, in the shape of a horse-shoe, let in behind: orperhaps a white robe, not very large in circumference,but very much out of proportion in point of length,with a little tucker round the top, and a frill round thebottom; and once when we called, we saw a long whiteroller, with a kind of blue margin down each side, theprobable use of which, we were at a loss to conjecture.Then we fancied that Dr. Dawson, the surgeon, &c., whodisplays a large lamp with a different colour in everypane of glass, at the corner of the row, began to beknocked up at night oftener than he used to be; andonce we were very much alarmed by hearing a hackneycoachstop at Mrs. Robinson’s door, at half-past twoo’clock in the morning, out of which there emerged afat old woman, in a cloak and night-cap, with a bundlein one hand, and a pair of pattens in the other, wholooked as if she had been suddenly knocked up out ofbed for some very special purpose.When we got up in the morning we saw that theknocker was tied up in an old white kid glove; and we,in our innocence (we were in a state of bachelorshipthen), wondered what on earth it all meant, until weheard the eldest Miss Willis, in propria persona say, withgreat dignity, in answer to the next inquiry, ‘My compliments,and Mrs. Robinson’s doing as well as can beexpected, and the little girl thrives wonderfully.’ Andthen, in common with the rest of the row, our curiositywas satisfied, and we began to wonder it had never occurredto us what the matter was, before.CHAPTER IV—THE ELECTION FOR BEADLEA GREAT EVENT has recently occurred in our parish. Acontest of paramount interest has just terminated; aparochial convulsion has taken place. It has been succeededby a glorious triumph, which the country—orat least the parish—it is all the same—will long remember.We have had an election; an election for beadle.The supporters of the old beadle system have been de-19

Sketches by Bozfeated in their stronghold, and the advocates of the great appear to have been given him for the sole purpose ofnew beadle principles have achieved a proud victory. peeping into other people’s affairs with. He is deeplyOur parish, which, like all other parishes, is a little impressed with the importance of our parish business,world of its own, has long been divided into two parties,whose contentions, slumbering for a while, have ing the parishioners in vestry assembled. His views areand prides himself, not a little, on his style of address-never failed to burst forth with unabated vigour, on any rather confined than extensive; his principles more narrowthan liberal. He has been heard to declaim veryoccasion on which they could by possibility be renewed.Watching-rates, lighting-rates, paving-rates, sewer’srates,church-rates, poor’s-rates—all sorts of rates, have cates the repeal of the stamp duty on newspapers, be-loudly in favour of the liberty of the press, and advo-been in their turns the subjects of a grand struggle; and cause the daily journals who now have a monopoly ofas to questions of patronage, the asperity and determinationwith which they have been contested is scarcely ings. He would not appear egotistical for the world, butthe public, never give verbatim reports of vestry meet-credible.at the same time he must say, that there are speeches—The leader of the official party—the steady advocate that celebrated speech of his own, on the emolumentsof the churchwardens, and the unflinching supporter of of the sexton, and the duties of the office, for instance—the overseers—is an old gentleman who lives in our which might be communicated to the public, greatly torow. He owns some half a dozen houses in it, and alwayswalks on the opposite side of the way, so that he His great opponent in public life is Captain Purday,their improvement and advantage.may be able to take in a view of the whole of his propertyat once. He is a tall, thin, bony man, with an interreadyintroduced our readers. The captain being a de-the old naval officer on half-pay, to whom we have alrogativenose, and little restless perking eyes, which termined opponent of the constituted authorities, who-20

Charles Dickensever they may chance to be, and our other friend being master of the workhouse and the cook, were to be thustheir steady supporter, with an equal disregard of their dragged to light on the motion of any individual memberof the vestry. The motion was lost by a majority ofindividual merits, it will readily be supposed, that occasionsfor their coming into direct collision are neither two; and then the captain, who never allows himself tofew nor far between. They divided the vestry fourteen be defeated, moved for a committee of inquiry into thetimes on a motion for heating the church with warm whole subject. The affair grew serious: the question waswater instead of coals: and made speeches about liberty discussed at meeting after meeting, and vestry afterand expenditure, and prodigality and hot water, which vestry; speeches were made, attacks repudiated, personaldefiances exchanged, explanations received, andthrew the whole parish into a state of excitement. Thenthe captain, when he was on the visiting committee, the greatest excitement prevailed, until at last, just asand his opponent overseer, brought forward certain distinctand specific charges relative to the management found that somehow or other, they had become entangledthe question was going to be finally decided, the vestryof the workhouse, boldly expressed his total want of in a point of form, from which it was impossible toconfidence in the existing authorities, and moved for ‘a escape with propriety. So, the motion was dropped, andcopy of the recipe by which the paupers’ soup was prepared,together with any documents relating thereto.’ satisfied with the meritorious nature of the whole pro-everybody looked extremely important, and seemed quiteThis the overseer steadily resisted; he fortified himself ceeding.by precedent, appealed to the established usage, and This was the state of affairs in our parish a week ordeclined to produce the papers, on the ground of the two since, when Simmons, the beadle, suddenly died.injury that would be done to the public service, if documentsof a strictly private nature, passing between the or two previously, in conveying an aged female,The lamented deceased had over-exerted himself, a dayhighly21

Sketches by Bozintoxicated, to the strong room of the work-house. The ers of families half promised their votes, and the nineexcitement thus occasioned, added to a severe cold, small children would have run over the course, but forwhich this indefatigable officer had caught in his capacityof director of the parish engine, by inadvertently pearance of a still more meritorious candidate.the production of another placard, announcing the ap-playing over himself instead of a fire, proved too much ‘Spruggins for Beadle. Ten small children (two of themfor a constitution already enfeebled by age; and the twins), and a wife!!!’ There was no resisting this; tenintelligence was conveyed to the Board one evening that small children would have been almost irresistible inSimmons had died, and left his respects.themselves, without the twins, but the touching parenthesisabout that interesting production of nature,The breath was scarcely out of the body of the deceasedfunctionary, when the field was filled with competitorsfor the vacant office, each of whom rested his must ensure success. Spruggins was the favourite atand the still more touching allusion to Mrs. Spruggins,claims to public support, entirely on the number and once, and the appearance of his lady, as she went aboutextent of his family, as if the office of beadle were to solicit votes (which encouraged confident hopes oforiginally instituted as an encouragement for the propagationof the human species. ‘Bung for Beadle. Five remote period), increased the general prepossessiona still further addition to the house of Spruggins at nosmall children!’—’Hopkins for Beadle. Seven small children!!’—‘Timkinsfor Beadle. Nine small children!!!’ cepted, resigned in despair. The day of election wasin his favour. The other candidates, Bung alone ex-Such were the placards in large black letters on a white fixed; and the canvass proceeded with briskness andground, which were plentifully pasted on the walls, perseverance on both sides.and posted in the windows of the principal shops. The members of the vestry could not be supposed toTimkins’s success was considered certain: several moth-escape the contagious excitement inseparable from the22

Charles Dickensoccasion. The majority of the lady inhabitants of the and outs. The question was, whether the withering influenceof the overseers, the domination of theparish declared at once for Spruggins; and the quondamoverseer took the same side, on the ground that churchwardens, and the blighting despotism of the vestry-clerk,should be allowed to render the election ofmen with large families always had been elected tothe office, and that although he must admit, that, in beadle a form—a nullity: whether they should impose aother respects, Spruggins was the least qualified candidateof the two, still it was an old practice, and he and forward their views, or whether the parishioners,vestry-elected beadle on the parish, to do their biddingsaw no reason why an old practice should be departed fearlessly asserting their undoubted rights, should electfrom. This was enough for the captain. He immediatelysided with Bung, canvassed for him personally The nomination was fixed to take place in the vestry,an independent beadle of their own.in all directions, wrote squibs on Spruggins, and got but so great was the throng of anxious spectators, thathis butcher to skewer them up on conspicuous joints it was found necessary to adjourn to the church, wherein his shop-front; frightened his neighbour, the old the ceremony commenced with due solemnity. The appearanceof the churchwardens and overseers, and thelady, into a palpitation of the heart, by his awful denunciationsof Spruggins’s party; and bounced in and ex-churchwardens and ex-overseers, with Spruggins inout, and up and down, and backwards and forwards, the rear, excited general attention. Spruggins was a littleuntil all the sober inhabitants of the parish thought it thin man, in rusty black, with a long pale face, and ainevitable that he must die of a brain fever, long beforethe election began.either be attributed to the extent of his family or thecountenance expressive of care and fatigue, which mightThe day of election arrived. It was no longer an individualstruggle, but a party contest between the ins off coat of the captain’s—a blue coat with brightanxiety of his feelings. His opponent appeared in a cast-but-23

Sketches by Boztons; white trousers, and that description of shoes familiarlyknown by the appellation of ‘high-lows.’ There allude to individuals (the ex-churchwarden continued,Such a man he now proposed (‘No,’ ‘Yes’). He would notwas a serenity in the open countenance of Bung—a in the celebrated negative style adopted by great speakers).He would not advert to a gentleman who had oncekind of moral dignity in his confident air—an ‘I wishyou may get it’ sort of expression in his eye—which held a high rank in the service of his majesty; he wouldinfused animation into his supporters, and evidently not say, that that gentleman was no gentleman; he woulddispirited his opponents.not assert, that that man was no man; he would notThe ex-churchwarden rose to propose Thomas say, that he was a turbulent parishioner; he would notSpruggins for beadle. He had known him long. He had say, that he had grossly misbehaved himself, not onlyhad his eye upon him closely for years; he had watched on this, but on all former occasions; he would not say,him with twofold vigilance for months. (A parishioner that he was one of those discontented and treasonablehere suggested that this might be termed ‘taking a spirits, who carried confusion and disorder wherever theydouble sight,’ but the observation was drowned in loud went; he would not say, that he harboured in his heartcries of ‘Order!’) He would repeat that he had had his envy, and hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness.eye upon him for years, and this he would say, that a No! He wished to have everything comfortable and pleasant,and therefore, he would say—nothing about himmore well-conducted, a more well-behaved, a more sober,a more quiet man, with a more well-regulated mind, (cheers).he had never met with. A man with a larger family he The captain replied in a similar parliamentary style.had never known (cheers). The parish required a man He would not say, he was astonished at the speech theywho could be depended on (‘Hear!’ from the Spruggins had just heard; he would not say, he was disgustedside, answered by ironical cheers from the Bung party). (cheers). He would not retort the epithets which had24

Charles Dickensbeen hurled against him (renewed cheering); he would jected to Bung that he had only five children (‘Hear, hear!’not allude to men once in office, but now happily out of from the opposition). Well; he had yet to learn that theit, who had mismanaged the workhouse, ground the paupers,diluted the beer, slack-baked the bread, boned the qualification to the office of beadle; but taking it forlegislature had affixed any precise amount of infantinemeat, heightened the work, and lowered the soup (tremendouscheers). He would not ask what such men de-he entreated them to look to facts, and compare data,granted that an extensive family were a great requisite,served (a voice, ‘Nothing a-day, and find themselves!’). about which there could be no mistake. Bung was 35He would not say, that one burst of general indignation years of age. Spruggins—of whom he wished to speakshould drive them from the parish they polluted with with all possible respect—was 50. Was it not more thantheir presence (‘Give it him!’). He would not allude to the possible—was it not very probable—that by the timeunfortunate man who had been proposed—he would not Bung attained the latter age, he might see around him asay, as the vestry’s tool, but as Beadle. He would not family, even exceeding in number and extent, that toadvert to that individual’s family; he would not say, that which Spruggins at present laid claim (deafening cheersnine children, twins, and a wife, were very bad examples and waving of handkerchiefs)? The captain concluded,for pauper imitation (loud cheers). He would not advert amidst loud applause, by calling upon the parishionersin detail to the qualifications of Bung. The man stood to sound the tocsin, rush to the poll, free themselvesbefore him, and he would not say in his presence, what from dictation, or be slaves for ever.he might be disposed to say of him, if he were absent. On the following day the polling began, and we never(Here Mr. Bung telegraphed to a friend near him, under have had such a bustle in our parish since we got up ourcover of his hat, by contracting his left eye, and applying famous anti-slavery petition, which was such an importantone, that the House of Commons ordered it to his right thumb to the tip of his nose). It had been ob-be25

Sketches by Bozprinted, on the motion of the member for the district. conveyed to her through the medium of the cook, couchedThe captain engaged two hackney-coaches and a cab for in mysterious terms, but indicating with sufficient clearness,that the vestry-clerk’s appetite for muffins, in fu-Bung’s people—the cab for the drunken voters, and thetwo coaches for the old ladies, the greater portion of ture, depended entirely on her vote on the beadleship.whom, owing to the captain’s impetuosity, were driven This was sufficient: the stream had been turning previously,and the impulse thus administered directed its fi-up to the poll and home again, before they recoveredfrom their flurry sufficiently to know, with any degree of nal course. The Bung party ordered one shilling’s-worthclearness, what they had been doing. The opposite party of muffins weekly for the remainder of the old woman’swholly neglected these precautions, and the consequence natural life; the parishioners were loud in their exclamations;and the fate of Spruggins was sealed.was, that a great many ladies who were walking leisurelyup to the church—for it was a very hot day—to vote for It was in vain that the twins were exhibited in dressesSpruggins, were artfully decoyed into the coaches, and of the same pattern, and night-caps, to match, at thevoted for Bung. The captain’s arguments, too, had producedconsiderable effect: the attempted influence of the the girl in her left—even Mrs. Spruggins herself failedchurch door: the boy in Mrs. Spruggins’s right arm, andvestry produced a greater. A threat of exclusive dealing to be an object of sympathy any longer. The majoritywas clearly established against the vestry-clerk—a case attained by Bung on the gross poll was four hundredof heartless and profligate atrocity. It appeared that the and twenty-eight, and the cause of the parishioners triumphed.delinquent had been in the habit of purchasing sixpenn’orth of muffins, weekly, from an old woman whorents a small house in the parish, and resides among theoriginal settlers; on her last weekly visit, a message was26

Charles DickensCHAPTER V—THE BROKER’S MANup on the other with a new suit of clothes on, and aticket for soup in the waistcoat-pocket:’ neither is heTHE EXCITEMENT of the late election has subsided, and one of those, whose spirit has been broken beyond redemptionby misfortune and want. He is just one of theour parish being once again restored to a state of comparativetranquillity, we are enabled to devote our attentionto those parishioners who take little share in cork-like, on the surface, for the world to play at hockeycareless, good-for-nothing, happy fellows, who float,our party contests or in the turmoil and bustle of publiclife. And we feel sincere pleasure in acknowledging the right, then to the left, again up in the air, and anonwith: knocked here, and there, and everywhere: now tohere, that in collecting materials for this task we have to the bottom, but always reappearing and boundingbeen greatly assisted by Mr. Bung himself, who has imposedon us a debt of obligation which we fear we can months before he was prevailed upon to stand a con-with the stream buoyantly and merrily along. Some fewnever repay. The life of this gentleman has been one of tested election for the office of beadle, necessity attachedhim to the service of a broker; and on the op-a very chequered description: he has undergone transitions—notfrom grave to gay, for he never was grave— portunities he here acquired of ascertaining the conditionof most of the poorer inhabitants of the parish, hisnot from lively to severe, for severity forms no part ofhis disposition; his fluctuations have been between patron, the captain, first grounded his claims to publicpoverty in the extreme, and poverty modified, or, to support. Chance threw the man in our way a short timeuse his own emphatic language, ‘between nothing to since. We were, in the first instance, attracted by hiseat and just half enough.’ He is not, as he forcibly remarks,‘one of those fortunate men who, if they were to surprised, on further acquaintance, to find him a shrewd,prepossessing impudence at the election; we were notdive under one side of a barge stark-naked, would come knowing fellow, with no inconsiderable power of obser-27

Sketches by Bozvation; and, after conversing with him a little, weresomewhat struck (as we dare say our readers have frequentlybeen in other cases) with the power some menseem to have, not only of sympathising with, but to allappearance of understanding feelings to which theythemselves are entire strangers. We had been expressingto the new functionary our surprise that he shouldever have served in the capacity to which we have justadverted, when we gradually led him into one or twoprofessional anecdotes. As we are induced to think, onreflection, that they will tell better in nearly his ownwords, than with any attempted embellishments of ours,we will at once entitle them.MR BUNG’S NARRATIVE‘IT’S VERY TRUE, as you say, sir,’ Mr. Bung commenced,‘that a broker’s man’s is not a life to be envied; and incourse you know as well as I do, though you don’t sayit, that people hate and scout ‘em because they’re theministers of wretchedness, like, to poor people. But whatcould I do, sir? The thing was no worse because I did it,instead of somebody else; and if putting me in possessionof a house would put me in possession of three andsixpence a day, and levying a distress on another man’sgoods would relieve my distress and that of my family,it can’t be expected but what I’d take the job and gothrough with it. I never liked it, God knows; I alwayslooked out for something else, and the moment I gotother work to do, I left it. If there is anything wrong inbeing the agent in such matters—not the principal, mindyou—I’m sure the business, to a beginner like I was, atall events, carries its own punishment along with it. Iwished again and again that the people would only blowme up, or pitch into me—that I wouldn’t have minded,it’s all in my way; but it’s the being shut up by yourselfin one room for five days, without so much as an oldnewspaper to look at, or anything to see out o’ thewinder but the roofs and chimneys at the back of thehouse, or anything to listen to, but the ticking, perhaps,of an old Dutch clock, the sobbing of the missis,now and then, the low talking of friends in the next28

Charles Dickensroom, who speak in whispers, lest “the man” should regularly trained to it, never think at all. I have heardoverhear them, or perhaps the occasional opening of some on ‘em say, indeed, that they don’t know how!the door, as a child peeps in to look at you, and then ‘I put in a good many distresses in my time (continuedruns half-frightened away—it’s all this, that makes you Mr. Bung), and in course I wasn’t long in finding, thatfeel sneaking somehow, and ashamed of yourself; and some people are not as much to be pitied as others are,then, if it’s wintertime, they just give you fire enough and that people with good incomes who get into difficulties,which they keep patching up day after day and weekto make you think you’d like more, and bring in yourgrub as if they wished it ‘ud choke you—as I dare say after week, get so used to these sort of things in time,they do, for the matter of that, most heartily. If they’re that at last they come scarcely to feel them at all. I rememberthe very first place I was put in possession of,very civil, they make you up a bed in the room at night,and if they don’t, your master sends one in for you; but was a gentleman’s house in this parish here, that everybodywould suppose couldn’t help having money if hethere you are, without being washed or shaved all thetime, shunned by everybody, and spoken to by no one, tried. I went with old Fixem, my old master, ‘bout halfunless some one comes in at dinner-time, and asks you arter eight in the morning; rang the area-bell; servant inwhether you want any more, in a tone as much to say, livery opened the door: “Governor at home?”—“Yes, he“I hope you don’t,” or, in the evening, to inquire whether is,” says the man; “but he’s breakfasting just now.”you wouldn’t rather have a candle, after you’ve been “Never mind,” says Fixem, “just you tell him there’s asitting in the dark half the night. When I was left in gentleman here, as wants to speak to him partickler.”this way, I used to sit, think, think, thinking, till I felt So the servant he opens his eyes, and stares about himas lonesome as a kitten in a wash-house copper with all ways—looking for the gentleman, as it struck me,the lid on; but I believe the old brokers’ men who are for I don’t think anybody but a man as was stone-blind29

Sketches by Bozwould mistake Fixem for one; and as for me, I was as this time. “Hundred and fifty pounds, I see,” said theseedy as a cheap cowcumber. Hows’ever, he turns round, gentleman at last. “Hundred and fifty pound,” saidand goes to the breakfast-parlour, which was a little Fixem, “besides cost of levy, sheriff’s poundage, and allsnug sort of room at the end of the passage, and Fixem other incidental expenses.”—”Um,” says the gentleman,(as we always did in that profession), without waiting “I shan’t be able to settle this before to-morrow afternoon.”—”Verysorry; but I shall be obliged to leave myto be announced, walks in arter him, and before theservant could get out, “Please, sir, here’s a man as wants man here till then,” replies Fixem, pretending to lookto speak to you,” looks in at the door as familiar and very miserable over it. “That’s very unfort’nate,” sayspleasant as may be. “Who the devil are you, and how the gentleman, “for I have got a large party here tonight,and I’m ruined if those fellows of mine get andare you walk into a gentleman’s house without leave?”says the master, as fierce as a bull in fits. “My name,” inkling of the matter—just step here, Mr. Smith,” sayssays Fixem, winking to the master to send the servant he, after a short pause. So Fixem walks with him up toaway, and putting the warrant into his hands folded up the window, and after a good deal of whispering, and alike a note, “My name’s Smith,” says he, “and I called little chinking of suverins, and looking at me, he comesfrom Johnson’s about that business of Thompson’s.”— back and says, “Bung, you’re a handy fellow, and very”Oh,” says the other, quite down on him directly, “How honest I know. This gentleman wants an assistant tois Thompson?” says he; “Pray sit down, Mr. Smith: John, clean the plate and wait at table to-day, and if you’releave the room.” Out went the servant; and the gentlemanand Fixem looked at one another till they couldn’t mad, and shoving a couple of suverins into my hand,not particularly engaged,” says old Fixem, grinning likelook any longer, and then they varied the amusements “he’ll be very glad to avail himself of your services.”by looking at me, who had been standing on the mat all Well, I laughed: and the gentleman laughed, and we all30

Charles Dickenslaughed; and I went home and cleaned myself, leaving valuables, and I cannot allow him on any considerationFixem there, and when I went back, Fixem went away, whatever, to leave the house. Bung, you scoundrel, goand I polished up the plate, and waited at table, and and count those forks in the breakfast-parlour instantly.”gammoned the servants, and nobody had the least idea You may be sure I went laughing pretty hearty when II was in possession, though it very nearly came out found it was all right. The money was paid next day,after all; for one of the last gentlemen who remained, with the addition of something else for myself, and thatcame down-stairs into the hall where I was sitting pretty was the best job that I (and I suspect old Fixem too)late at night, and putting half-a-crown into my hand, ever got in that line.says, “Here, my man,” says he, “run and get me a coach, ‘But this is the bright side of the picture, sir, after all,’will you?” I thought it was a do, to get me out of the resumed Mr. Bung, laying aside the knowing look andhouse, and was just going to say so, sulkily enough, flash air, with which he had repeated the previous anecdote—’andI’m sorry to say, it’s the side one sees very,when the gentleman (who was up to everything) camerunning down-stairs, as if he was in great anxiety. very seldom, in comparison with the dark one. The civilitywhich money will purchase, is rarely extended to“Bung,” says he, pretending to be in a consuming passion.“Sir,” says I. “Why the devil an’t you looking after those who have none; and there’s a consolation even inthat plate?”—”I was just going to send him for a coach being able to patch up one difficulty, to make way forfor me,” says the other gentleman. “And I was just a- another, to which very poor people are strangers. I wasgoing to say,” says I—”Anybody else, my dear fellow,” once put into a house down George’s-yard—that littleinterrupts the master of the house, pushing me down dirty court at the back of the gas-works; and I neverthe passage to get out of the way—“anybody else; but I shall forget the misery of them people, dear me! It washave put this man in possession of all the plate and a distress for half a year’s rent—two pound ten, I think.31

Sketches by BozThere was only two rooms in the house, and as there leave the bottom legs sticking out for you to knockwas no passage, the lodgers up-stairs always went your head against, or hang your hat upon; no bed, nothrough the room of the people of the house, as they bedding. There was an old sack, by way of rug, beforepassed in and out; and every time they did so -which, the fireplace, and four or five children were grovellingon the average, was about four times every quarter of about, among the sand on the floor. The execution wasan hour—they blowed up quite frightful: for their things only put in, to get ‘em out of the house, for there washad been seized too, and included in the inventory. There nothing to take to pay the expenses; and here I stoppedwas a little piece of enclosed dust in front of the house, for three days, though that was a mere form too: for, inwith a cinder-path leading up to the door, and an open course, I knew, and we all knew, they could never payrain-water butt on one side. A dirty striped curtain, on the money. In one of the chairs, by the side of the placea very slack string, hung in the window, and a little where the fire ought to have been, was an old ‘ooman—triangular bit of broken looking-glass rested on the sill the ugliest and dirtiest I ever see—who sat rockinginside. I suppose it was meant for the people’s use, but herself backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards,their appearance was so wretched, and so miserable, without once stopping, except for an instant now andthat I’m certain they never could have plucked up courageto look themselves in the face a second time, if they these exceptions, she kept constantly rubbing upon herthen, to clasp together the withered hands which, withsurvived the fright of doing so once. There was two or knees, just raising and depressing her fingers convulsively,in time to the rocking of the chair. On the otherthree chairs, that might have been worth, in their bestdays, from eightpence to a shilling a-piece; a small deal side sat the mother with an infant in her arms, whichtable, an old corner cupboard with nothing in it, and cried till it cried itself to sleep, and when it ‘woke, criedone of those bedsteads which turn up half way, and till it cried itself off again. The old ‘ooman’s voice I32

Charles Dickensnever heard: she seemed completely stupefied; and as The children are all in the house to this day, and veryto the mother’s, it would have been better if she comfortable they are in comparison. As to the mother,had been so too, for misery had changed her to a devil. there was no taming her at all. She had been a quiet,If you had heard how she cursed the little naked childrenas was rolling on the floor, and seen how savagely tually drove her wild; so after she had been sent to thehard-working woman, I believe, but her misery had ac-she struck the infant when it cried with hunger, you’d house of correction half-a-dozen times, for throwinghave shuddered as much as I did. There they remained inkstands at the overseers, blaspheming theall the time: the children ate a morsel of bread once or churchwardens, and smashing everybody as come neartwice, and I gave ‘em best part of the dinners my missis her, she burst a blood-vessel one mornin’, and died too;brought me, but the woman ate nothing; they never and a happy release it was, both for herself and the oldeven laid on the bedstead, nor was the room swept or paupers, male and female, which she used to tip over incleaned all the time. The neighbours were all too poor all directions, as if they were so many skittles, and shethemselves to take any notice of ‘em, but from what I the ball.could make out from the abuse of the woman up-stairs, ‘Now this was bad enough,’ resumed Mr. Bung, takingit seemed the husband had been transported a few weeks a half-step towards the door, as if to intimate that hebefore. When the time was up, the landlord and old had nearly concluded. ‘This was bad enough, but thereFixem too, got rather frightened about the family, and was a sort of quiet misery—if you understand what Iso they made a stir about it, and had ‘em taken to the mean by that, sir—about a lady at one house I was putworkhouse. They sent the sick couch for the old ‘ooman, into, as touched me a good deal more. It doesn’t matterand Simmons took the children away at night. The old where it was exactly: indeed, I’d rather not say, but it‘ooman went into the infirmary, and very soon died. was the same sort o’ job. I went with Fixem in the usual33

Sketches by Bozway—there was a year’s rent in arrear; a very small servant-girlopened the door, and three or four fine-look-next gentleman.if it was a newspaper which had been bespoke arter theing little children was in the front parlour we were shown ‘The lady’s lip trembled as she took the printed paper.into, which was very clean, but very scantily furnished, She cast her eye over it, and old Fixem began to explainmuch like the children themselves. “Bung,” says Fixem the form, but saw she wasn’t reading it, plain enough,to me, in a low voice, when we were left alone for a poor thing. “Oh, my God!” says she, suddenly a-burstingout crying, letting the warrant fall, and hiding herminute, “I know something about this here family, andmy opinion is, it’s no go.” “Do you think they can’t face in her hands. “Oh, my God! what will become ofsettle?” says I, quite anxiously; for I liked the looks of us!” The noise she made, brought in a young lady ofthem children. Fixem shook his head, and was just about about nineteen or twenty, who, I suppose, had been a-to reply, when the door opened, and in come a lady, as listening at the door, and who had got a little boy inwhite as ever I see any one in my days, except about her arms: she sat him down in the lady’s lap, withoutthe eyes, which were red with crying. She walked in, as speaking, and she hugged the poor little fellow to herfirm as I could have done; shut the door carefully after bosom, and cried over him, till even old Fixem put onher, and sat herself down with a face as composed as if his blue spectacles to hide the two tears, that was a-it was made of stone. “What is the matter, gentlemen?” trickling down, one on each side of his dirty face. “Now,says she, in a surprisin’ steady voice. “Is this an execution?”“It is, mum,” says Fixem. The lady looked at him you have borne. For all our sakes—for pa’s sake,” saysdear ma,” says the young lady, “you know how muchas steady as ever: she didn’t seem to have understood she, “don’t give way to this!”—”No, no, I won’t!” sayshim. “It is, mum,” says Fixem again; “this is my warrant the lady, gathering herself up, hastily, and drying herof distress, mum,” says he, handing it over as polite as eyes; “I am very foolish, but I’m better now—much bet-34

Charles Dickenster.” And then she roused herself up, went with us into ded to me significantly, so I ran my pen through theevery room while we took the inventory, opened all the “Mini” I had just written, and left the miniature on thedrawers of her own accord, sorted the children’s little table.clothes to make the work easier; and, except doing everythingin a strange sort of hurry, seemed as calm and possession, and in possession I remained; and though I‘Well, sir, to make short of a long story, I was left incomposed as if nothing had happened. When we came was an ignorant man, and the master of the house adown-stairs again, she hesitated a minute or two, and clever one, I saw what he never did, but what he wouldat last says, “Gentlemen,” says she, “I am afraid I have give worlds now (if he had ‘em) to have seen in time. Idone wrong, and perhaps it may bring you into trouble. saw, sir, that his wife was wasting away, beneath caresI secreted just now,” she says, “the only trinket I have of which she never complained, and griefs she neverleft in the world—here it is.” So she lays down on the told. I saw that she was dying before his eyes; I knewtable a little miniature mounted in gold. “It’s a miniature,”she says, “of my poor dear father! I little thought he never made it. I don’t blame him: I don’t think hethat one exertion from him might have saved her, butonce, that I should ever thank God for depriving me of could rouse himself. She had so long anticipated all histhe original, but I do, and have done for years back, wishes, and acted for him, that he was a lost man whenmost fervently. Take it away, sir,” she says, “it’s a face left to himself. I used to think when I caught sight ofthat never turned from me in sickness and distress, and her, in the clothes she used to wear, which looked shabbyI can hardly bear to turn from it now, when, God knows, even upon her, and would have been scarcely decent onI suffer both in no ordinary degree.” I couldn’t say nothing,but I raised my head from the inventory which I my very heart to see the woman that was a smart andany one else, that if I was a gentleman it would wringwas filling up, and looked at Fixem; the old fellow nod-merry girl when I courted her, so altered through her35

Sketches by Bozlove for me. Bitter cold and damp weather it was, yet, CHAPTER VI—THE LADIES’ SOCIETIESthough her dress was thin, and her shoes none of thebest, during the whole three days, from morning to OUR PARISH IS VERY PROLIFIC in ladies’ charitable institutions.In winter, when wet feet are common, and coldsnight, she was out of doors running about to try andraise the money. The money was raised and the executionwas paid out. The whole family crowded into the ety, the ladies’ coal distribution society, and the ladies’not scarce, we have the ladies’ soup distribution soci-room where I was, when the money arrived. The father blanket distribution society; in summer, when stonewas quite happy as the inconvenience was removed—I fruits flourish and stomach aches prevail, we have thedare say he didn’t know how; the children looked merry ladies’ dispensary, and the ladies’ sick visitation committee;and all the year round we have the ladies’ child’sand cheerful again; the eldest girl was bustling about,making preparations for the first comfortable meal they examination society, the ladies’ bible and prayer-bookhad had since the distress was put in; and the mother circulation society, and the ladies’ childbed-linenlooked pleased to see them all so. But if ever I saw monthly loan society. The two latter are decidedly thedeath in a woman’s face, I saw it in hers that night. most important; whether they are productive of more‘I was right, sir,’ continued Mr. Bung, hurriedly passinghis coat-sleeve over his face; ‘the family grew more take upon ourselves to affirm, with the utmost solem-benefit than the rest, it is not for us to say, but we canprosperous, and good fortune arrived. But it was too nity, that they create a greater stir and more bustle,late. Those children are motherless now, and their fatherwould give up all he has since gained—house, home, We should be disposed to affirm, on the first blush ofthan all the others put together.goods, money: all that he has, or ever can have, to restorethe wife he has lost.’not so popular as the childbed-linen society; the biblethe matter, that the bible and prayer-book society is36

Charles Dickensand prayer-book society has, however, considerably increasedin importance within the last year or two, hav-school, and in the charity sermon aforesaid, expati-preached a charity sermon on behalf of the charitying derived some adventitious aid from the factious ated in glowing terms on the praiseworthy and indefatigableexertions of certain estimable individuals. Sobsopposition of the child’s examination society; whichfactious opposition originated in manner following:- were heard to issue from the three Miss Browns’ pew;When the young curate was popular, and all the unmarriedladies in the parish took a serious turn, the charity the centre aisle to the vestry door, and to return imme-the pew-opener of the division was seen to hurry downchildren all at once became objects of peculiar and especialinterest. The three Miss Browns (enthusiastic ad-moaning ensued; two more pew-openers rushed to thediately, bearing a glass of water in her hand. A lowmirers of the curate) taught, and exercised, and examined,and re-examined the unfortunate children, until pew-opener, were led out of the church, and led in againspot, and the three Miss Browns, each supported by athe boys grew pale, and the girls consumptive with study after the lapse of five minutes with white pocket-handkerchiefsto their eyes, as if they had been attending aand fatigue. The three Miss Browns stood it out verywell, because they relieved each other; but the children,having no relief at all, exhibited decided symp-for a moment existed, as to whom the allusion was in-funeral in the churchyard adjoining. If any doubt hadtoms of weariness and care. The unthinking part of the tended to apply, it was at once removed. The wish toparishioners laughed at all this, but the more reflective enlighten the charity children became universal, andportion of the inhabitants abstained from expressing the three Miss Browns were unanimously besought toany opinion on the subject until that of the curate had divide the school into classes, and to assign each classbeen clearly ascertained.to the superintendence of two young ladies.The opportunity was not long wanting. The curate A little learning is a dangerous thing, but a little pa-37

Sketches by Boztronage is more so; the three Miss Browns appointed all the first Sunday succeeding these events, there was suchthe old maids, and carefully excluded the young ones. a dropping of books, and rustling of leaves, that it wasMaiden aunts triumphed, mammas were reduced to the morally impossible to hear one word of the service forlowest depths of despair, and there is no telling in what five minutes afterwards.act of violence the general indignation against the three The three Miss Browns, and their party, saw the approachingdanger, and endeavoured to avert it by ridi-Miss Browns might have vented itself, had not a perfectlyprovidential occurrence changed the tide of publicfeeling. Mrs. Johnson Parker, the mother of seven could read their books, now they had got them, saidcule and sarcasm. Neither the old men nor the old womenextremely fine girls—all unmarried—hastily reported the three Miss Browns. Never mind; they could learn,to several other mammas of several other unmarried families,that five old men, six old women, and children either, suggested the three Miss Browns. No matter; theyreplied Mrs. Johnson Parker. The children couldn’t readinnumerable, in the free seats near her pew, were in the could be taught, retorted Mrs. Johnson Parker. A balanceof parties took place. The Miss Browns publiclyhabit of coming to church every Sunday, without eitherbible or prayer-book. Was this to be borne in a civilised examined—popular feeling inclined to the child’s examinationsociety. The Miss Johnson Parkers publiclycountry? Could such things be tolerated in a Christianland? Never! A ladies’ bible and prayer-book distributionsociety was instantly formed: president, Mrs. prayer-book distribution. A feather would have turneddistributed—a reaction took place in favour of theJohnson Parker; treasurers, auditors, and secretary, the the scale, and a feather did turn it. A missionary returnedfrom the West Indies; he was to be presented toMisses Johnson Parker: subscriptions were entered into,books were bought, all the free-seat people provided the Dissenters’ Missionary Society on his marriage withtherewith, and when the first lesson was given out, on a wealthy widow. Overtures were made to the Dissenters38

Charles Dickensby the Johnson Parkers. Their object was the same, and lous one, and, if anything, contributes, we should bewhy not have a joint meeting of the two societies? The disposed to say, rather more than its due share to theproposition was accepted. The meeting was duly heraldedby public announcement, and the room was environs. The consequence is, that the monthly loanaggregate amount of births in the metropolis and itscrowded to suffocation. The Missionary appeared on the society flourishes, and invests its members with a mostplatform; he was hailed with enthusiasm. He repeated a enviable amount of bustling patronage. The societydialogue he had heard between two negroes, behind a (whose only notion of dividing time, would appear tohedge, on the subject of distribution societies; the approbationwas tumultuous. He gave an imitation of the drinkings, at which the monthly report is received, abe its allotment into months) holds monthly tea-two negroes in broken English; the roof was rent with secretary elected for the month ensuing, and such ofapplause. From that period we date (with one trifling the monthly boxes as may not happen to be out on loanexception) a daily increase in the popularity of the distributionsociety, and an increase of popularity, which We were never present at one of these meetings, fromfor the month, carefully examined.the feeble and impotent opposition of the examination all of which it is scarcely necessary to say, gentlemenparty, has only tended to augment.are carefully excluded; but Mr. Bung has been calledNow, the great points about the childbed-linen before the board once or twice, and we have his authorityfor stating, that its proceedings are conducted withmonthly loan society are, that it is less dependent onthe fluctuations of public opinion than either the distributionor the child’s examination; and that, come being allowed to speak at one time on any pretence what-great order and regularity: not more than four memberswhat may, there is never any lack of objects on which ever. The regular committee is composed exclusively ofto exercise its benevolence. Our parish is a very popu-married ladies, but a vast number of young unmarried39

Sketches by Bozladies of from eighteen to twenty-five years of age, respectively,are admitted as honorary members, partly a nursing and warming of little legs and feet before theof infants, such a tying, and folding, and pinning; suchbecause they are very useful in replenishing the boxes, fire, such a delightful confusion of talking and cooking,bustle, importance, and officiousness, as never canand visiting the confined; partly because it is highly desirablethat they should be initiated, at an early period, be enjoyed in its full extent but on similar occasions.into the more serious and matronly duties of after-life; In rivalry of these two institutions, and as a last expiringeffort to acquire parochial popularity, the child’sand partly, because prudent mammas have notunfrequently been known to turn this circumstance to examination people determined, the other day, on havinga grand public examination of the pupils; and thewonderfully good account in matrimonial speculations.In addition to the loan of the monthly boxes (which large school-room of the national seminary was, by andare always painted blue, with the name of the society with the consent of the parish authorities, devoted toin large white letters on the lid), the society dispense the purpose. Invitation circulars were forwarded to alloccasional grants of beef-tea, and a composition of warm the principal parishioners, including, of course, the headsbeer, spice, eggs, and sugar, commonly known by the of the other two societies, for whose especial behoofname of ‘candle,’ to its patients. And here again the and edification the display was intended; and a largeservices of the honorary members are called into requisition,and most cheerfully conceded. Deputations of The floor was carefully scrubbed the day before, underaudience was confidently anticipated on the occasion.twos or threes are sent out to visit the patients, and on the immediate superintendence of the three Miss Browns;these occasions there is such a tasting of candle and forms were placed across the room for the accommodationof the visitors, specimens in writing were carefullybeef-tea, such a stirring about of little messes in tinysaucepans on the hob, such a dressing and undressing selected, and as carefully patched and touched up, un-40

Charles Dickenstil they astonished the children who had written them, universal, and the Johnson Parkers were aghast. Therather more than the company who read them; sums in examination proceeded with success, and terminatedcompound addition were rehearsed and re-rehearsed until in triumph. The child’s examination society gained aall the children had the totals by heart; and the preparationsaltogether were on the most laborious and most in despair.momentary victory, and the Johnson Parkers retreatedcomprehensive scale. The morning arrived: the children A secret council of the distributionists was held thatwere yellow-soaped and flannelled, and towelled, till night, with Mrs. Johnson Parker in the chair, to considerof the best means of recovering the ground theytheir faces shone again; every pupil’s hair was carefullycombed into his or her eyes, as the case might be; the had lost in the favour of the parish. What could be done?girls were adorned with snow-white tippets, and caps Another meeting! Alas! who was to attend it? The Missionarywould not do twice; and the slaves were eman-bound round the head by a single purple ribbon: thenecks of the elder boys were fixed into collars of startlingdimensions.astonished in some way or other; but no one was ablecipated. A bold step must be taken. The parish must beThe doors were thrown open, and the Misses Brown to suggest what the step should be. At length, a veryand Co. were discovered in plain white muslin dresses, old lady was heard to mumble, in indistinct tones, ‘Exeterand caps of the same—the child’s examination uniform. Hall.’ A sudden light broke in upon the meeting. It wasThe room filled: the greetings of the company were loud unanimously resolved, that a deputation of old ladiesand cordial. The distributionists trembled, for their popularitywas at stake. The eldest boy fell forward, and desistance,and the favour of a speech; and the deputa-should wait upon a celebrated orator, imploring his aslivereda propitiatory address from behind his collar. It tion should also wait on two or three other imbecile oldwas from the pen of Mr. Henry Brown; the applause was women, not resident in the parish, and entreat their41

Sketches by Bozattendance. The application was successful, the meetingwas held; the orator (an Irishman) came. He talked in the physiognomy of street-door knockers, almost asbeautiful and interesting study; but there is somethingof green isles—other shores—vast Atlantic—bosom of characteristic, and nearly as infallible. Whenever we visitthe deep—Christian charity—blood and extermination—mercyin hearts—arms in hands—altars and his knocker with the greatest curiosity, for we well know,a man for the first time, we contemplate the features ofhomes—household gods. He wiped his eyes, he blew his that between the man and his knocker, there will inevitablybe a greater or less degree of resemblance andnose, and he quoted Latin. The effect was tremendous—the Latin was a decided hit. Nobody knew exactly what sympathy.it was about, but everybody knew it must be affecting, For instance, there is one description of knocker thatbecause even the orator was overcome. The popularity used to be common enough, but which is fast passingof the distribution society among the ladies of our parishis unprecedented; and the child’s examination is vivial lion smiling blandly at you, as you twist the sidesaway—a large round one, with the jolly face of a con-going fast to decay.of your hair into a curl or pull up your shirt-collar whileyou are waiting for the door to be opened; we never sawCHAPTER VII—OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR that knocker on the door of a churlish man—so far asour experience is concerned, it invariably bespoke hospitalityand another bottle.WE ARE VERY FOND of speculating as we walk through astreet, on the character and pursuits of the people who No man ever saw this knocker on the door of a smallinhabit it; and nothing so materially assists us in these attorney or bill-broker; they always patronise the otherspeculations as the appearance of the house doors. The lion; a heavy ferocious-looking fellow, with a countenanceexpressive of savage stupidity—a sort of grandvarious expressions of the human countenance afford a42

Charles Dickensmaster among the knockers, and a great favourite with most prominent and strongly-defined species.the selfish and brutal.Some phrenologists affirm, that the agitation of aThen there is a little pert Egyptian knocker, with a man’s brain by different passions, produces correspondingdevelopments in the form of his skull. Do not let uslong thin face, a pinched-up nose, and a very sharpchin; he is most in vogue with your government-office be understood as pushing our theory to the full lengthpeople, in light drabs and starched cravats; little spare, of asserting, that any alteration in a man’s dispositionpriggish men, who are perfectly satisfied with their would produce a visible effect on the feature of hisown opinions, and consider themselves of paramount knocker. Our position merely is, that in such a case, theimportance.magnetism which must exist between a man and hisWe were greatly troubled a few years ago, by the innovationof a new kind of knocker, without any face at some knocker more congenial to his altered feelings. Ifknocker, would induce the man to remove, and seekall, composed of a wreath depending from a hand or you ever find a man changing his habitation withoutsmall truncheon. A little trouble and attention, however,enabled us to overcome this difficulty, and to rec-he may not be aware of the fact himself, it is because heany reasonable pretext, depend upon it, that, althoughoncile the new system to our favourite theory. You will and his knocker are at variance. This is a new theory,invariably find this knocker on the doors of cold and but we venture to launch it, nevertheless, as being quiteformal people, who always ask you why you don’t come, as ingenious and infallible as many thousands of theand never say do.learned speculations which are daily broached for publicgood and private fortune-making.Everybody knows the brass knocker is common to suburbanvillas, and extensive boarding-schools; and havingnoticed this genus we have recapitulated all the ers, it will be readily imagined with whatEntertaining these feelings on the subject of knock-consternation43

Sketches by Bozwe viewed the entire removal of the knocker from the in the parlour window intimating that lodgings for adoor of the next house to the one we lived in, some single gentleman were to be let within.time ago, and the substitution of a bell. This was a It was a neat, dull little house, on the shady side ofcalamity we had never anticipated. The bare idea of the way, with new, narrow floorcloth in the passage,anybody being able to exist without a knocker, appeared and new, narrow stair-carpets up to the first floor. Theso wild and visionary, that it had never for one instant paper was new, and the paint was new, and the furniturewas new; and all three, paper, paint, and furniture,entered our imagination.We sauntered moodily from the spot, and bent our bespoke the limited means of the tenant. There was asteps towards Eaton-square, then just building. What little red and black carpet in the drawing-room, with awas our astonishment and indignation to find that bells border of flooring all the way round; a few stained chairswere fast becoming the rule, and knockers the exception!Our theory trembled beneath the shock. We has-each of the little sideboards, which, with the additionand a pembroke table. A pink shell was displayed ontened home; and fancying we foresaw in the swift of a tea-tray and caddy, a few more shells on the mantelpiece,and three peacock’s feathers tastefully arrangedprogress of events, its entire abolition, resolved fromthat day forward to vent our speculations on our nextdoorneighbours in person. The house adjoining ours on apartment.above them, completed the decorative furniture of thethe left hand was uninhabited, and we had, therefore, This was the room destined for the reception of theplenty of leisure to observe our next-door neighbours single gentleman during the day, and a little back roomon the other side.on the same floor was assigned as his sleeping apartmentby night.The house without the knocker was in the occupationof a city clerk, and there was a neatly-written bill The bill had not been long in the window, when a44

Charles Dickensstout, good-humoured looking gentleman, of about fiveand-thirty,appeared as a candidate for the tenancy. have done, they amused themselves by making alarmetlydown the street, as anybody else’s company wouldTerms were soon arranged, for the bill was taken down ing and frightful noises, and counterfeiting the shrieksimmediately after his first visit. In a day or two the of females in distress; and one night, a red-faced gentlemanin a white hat knocked in the most urgent mannersingle gentleman came in, and shortly afterwards hisreal character came out.at the door of the powdered-headed old gentleman atFirst of all, he displayed a most extraordinary partialityfor sitting up till three or four o’clock in the morn-who thought one of his married daughters must haveNo. 3, and when the powdered-headed old gentleman,ing, drinking whiskey-and-water, and smoking cigars; been taken ill prematurely, had groped down-stairs, andthen he invited friends home, who used to come at ten after a great deal of unbolting and key-turning, openedo’clock, and begin to get happy about the small hours, the street door, the red-faced man in the white hat saidwhen they evinced their perfect contentment by singingsongs with half-a-dozen verses of two lines each, but he’d feel obliged if he’d favour him with a glass ofhe hoped he’d excuse his giving him so much trouble,and a chorus of ten, which chorus used to be shouted cold spring water, and the loan of a shilling for a cab toforth by the whole strength of the company, in the most take him home, on which the old gentleman slammedenthusiastic and vociferous manner, to the great annoyanceof the neighbours, and the special discomfort his water jug out of window—very straight, only it wentthe door and went up-stairs, and threw the contents ofof another single gentleman overhead.over the wrong man; and the whole street was involvedNow, this was bad enough, occurring as it did three in confusion.times a week on the average, but this was not all; for A joke’s a joke; and even practical jests are very capitalin their way, if you can only get the other party when the company did go away, instead of walking qui-to45

Sketches by Bozsee the fun of them; but the population of our street boots off, the evil was not to be borne. So, our nextdoorneighbour gave the single gentleman, who was awere so dull of apprehension, as to be quite lost to asense of the drollery of this proceeding: and the consequencewas, that our next-door neighbour was obliged the single gentleman went away, and entertained hisvery good lodger in other respects, notice to quit; andto tell the single gentleman, that unless he gave up friends in other lodgings.entertaining his friends at home, he really must be compelledto part with him.very different character from the troublesome singleThe next applicant for the vacant first floor, was of aThe single gentleman received the remonstrance gentleman who had just quitted it. He was a tall, thin,with great good-humour, and promised from that time young gentleman, with a profusion of brown hair, reddishwhiskers, and very slightly developed moustaches.forward, to spend his evenings at a coffee-house—adetermination which afforded general and unmixed He wore a braided surtout, with frogs behind, light greysatisfaction.trousers, and wash-leather gloves, and had altogetherThe next night passed off very well, everybody being rather a military appearance. So unlike the roysteringdelighted with the change; but on the next, the noises single gentleman. Such insinuating manners, and suchwere renewed with greater spirit than ever. The single a delightful address! So seriously disposed, too! Whengentleman’s friends being unable to see him in his own he first came to look at the lodgings, he inquired mosthouse every alternate night, had come to the determinationof seeing him home every night; and what with in the parish church; and when he had agreed to takeparticularly whether he was sure to be able to get a seatthe discordant greetings of the friends at parting, and them, he requested to have a list of the different localthe noise created by the single gentleman in his passageup-stairs, and his subsequent struggles to get his most deserving among them.charities, as he intended to subscribe his mite to the46

Charles DickensOur next-door neighbour was now perfectly happy. neighbour an aversion to single gentlemen, we knowHe had got a lodger at last, of just his own way of thinking—aserious, well-disposed man, who abhorred gai-appearance in the parlour window intimated gener-not; we only know that the next bill which made itsety, and loved retirement. He took down the bill with a ally, that there were furnished apartments to let onlight heart, and pictured in imagination a long series of the first floor. The bill was soon removed. The newquiet Sundays, on which he and his lodger would exchangemutual civilities and Sunday papers.excited our interest.lodgers at first attracted our curiosity, and afterwardsThe serious man arrived, and his luggage was to arrivefrom the country next morning. He borrowed a clean his mother, a lady of about fifty, or it might be less. TheThey were a young lad of eighteen or nineteen, andshirt, and a prayer-book, from our next-door neighbour, mother wore a widow’s weeds, and the boy was alsoand retired to rest at an early hour, requesting that he clothed in deep mourning. They were poor—very poor;might be called punctually at ten o’clock next morning—notbefore, as he was much fatigued.the boy earned, by copying writings, and translatingfor their only means of support arose from the pittanceHe was called, and did not answer: he was called for booksellers.again, but there was no reply. Our next-door neighbour They had removed from some country place and settledbecame alarmed, and burst the door open. The serious in London; partly because it afforded better chances ofman had left the house mysteriously; carrying with employment for the boy, and partly, perhaps, with thehim the shirt, the prayer-book, a teaspoon, and the natural desire to leave a place where they had been inbedclothes.better circumstances, and where their poverty wasWhether this occurrence, coupled with the irregularitiesof his former lodger, gave our next-door revealing their wants and privations to strangers.known. They were proud under their reverses, and aboveHow47

Sketches by Bozbitter those privations were, and how hard the boy customary visit to the invalid. His little remainingworked to remove them, no one ever knew but themselves.Night after night, two, three, four hours after days preceding, and he was lying on the sofa at thestrength had been decreasing rapidly for two or threemidnight, could we hear the occasional raking up of open window, gazing at the setting sun. His motherthe scanty fire, or the hollow and half-stifled cough, had been reading the Bible to him, for she closed thewhich indicated his being still at work; and day after book as we entered, and advanced to meet us.day, could we see more plainly that nature had set that ‘I was telling William,’ she said, ‘that we must manageunearthly light in his plaintive face, which is the beaconof her worst disease.may get quite well. He is not ill, you know, but he isto take him into the country somewhere, so that heActuated, we hope, by a higher feeling than mere not very strong, and has exerted himself too much lately.’curiosity, we contrived to establish, first an acquaintance,and then a close intimacy, with the poor stranggers,as she turned aside, as if to adjust her close widow’sPoor thing! The tears that streamed through her finers.Our worst fears were realised; the boy was sinking cap, too plainly showed how fruitless was the attemptfast. Through a part of the winter, and the whole of the to deceive herself.following spring and summer, his labours were unceasinglyprolonged: and the mother attempted to procure ing, for we saw the breath of life was passing gently butWe sat down by the head of the sofa, but said noth-needle-work, embroidery—anything for bread. rapidly from the young form before us. At every respiration,his heart beat more slowly.A few shillings now and then, were all she could earn.The boy worked steadily on; dying by minutes, but never The boy placed one hand in ours, grasped his mother’sonce giving utterance to complaint or murmur.arm with the other, drew her hastily towards him, andOne beautiful autumn evening we went to pay our fervently kissed her cheek. There was a pause. He sunk48

Charles Dickensback upon his pillow, and looked long and earnestly in SCENEShis mother’s face.‘William, William!’ murmured the mother, after a long CHAPTER I—THE STREETS—MORNINGinterval, ‘don’t look at me so—speak to me, dear!’The boy smiled languidly, but an instant afterwards THE APPEARANCE PRESENTED by the streets of London anhis features resolved into the same cold, solemn gaze. hour before sunrise, on a summer’s morning, is most‘William, dear William! rouse yourself; don’t look at striking even to the few whose unfortunate pursuits ofme so, love—pray don’t! Oh, my God! what shall I do!’ pleasure, or scarcely less unfortunate pursuits of business,cause them to be well acquainted with the scene.cried the widow, clasping her hands in agony—’my dearboy! he is dying!’ The boy raised himself by a violent There is an air of cold, solitary desolation about theeffort, and folded his hands together—‘Mother! dear, noiseless streets which we are accustomed to seedear mother, bury me in the open fields—anywhere but thronged at other times by a busy, eager crowd, andin these dreadful streets. I should like to be where you over the quiet, closely-shut buildings, which throughoutthe day are swarming with life and bustle, that iscan see my grave, but not in these close crowded streets;they have killed me; kiss me again, mother; put your very impressive.arm round my neck—’The last drunken man, who shall find his way homeHe fell back, and a strange expression stole upon his before sunlight, has just staggered heavily along, roaringout the burden of the drinking song of the previousfeatures; not of pain or suffering, but an indescribablefixing of every line and muscle.night: the last houseless vagrant whom penury and policehave left in the streets, has coiled up his chillyThe boy was dead.limbs in some paved comer, to dream of food and warmth.49

Sketches by BozThe drunken, the dissipated, and the wretched have notes the chamber of watching or sickness. With thesedisappeared; the more sober and orderly part of the few exceptions, the streets present no signs of life, norpopulation have not yet awakened to the labours of the the houses of habitation.day, and the stillness of death is over the streets; its An hour wears away; the spires of the churches andvery hue seems to be imparted to them, cold and lifelessas they look in the grey, sombre light of daybreak. the light of the rising sun; and the streets, by almostroofs of the principal buildings are faintly tinged withThe coach-stands in the larger thoroughfares are deserted:the night-houses are closed; and the chosen animation. Market-carts roll slowly along: the sleepyimperceptible degrees, begin to resume their bustle andpromenades of profligate misery are empty.waggoner impatiently urging on his tired horses, orAn occasional policeman may alone be seen at the street vainly endeavouring to awaken the boy, who, luxuriouslystretched on the top of the fruit-baskets, forgets,corners, listlessly gazing on the deserted prospect beforehim; and now and then a rakish-looking cat runs stealthily in happy oblivion, his long-cherished curiosity to beholdthe wonders of London.across the road and descends his own area with as muchcaution and slyness—bounding first on the water-butt, Rough, sleepy-looking animals of strange appearance,then on the dust-hole, and then alighting on the flagstones—asif he were conscious that his character deginto take down the shutters of early public-houses;something between ostlers and hackney-coachmen, bependedon his gallantry of the preceding night escaping and little deal tables, with the ordinary preparationspublic observation. A partially opened bedroom-window for a street breakfast, make their appearance at thehere and there, bespeaks the heat of the weather, and customary stations. Numbers of men and women (principallythe latter), carrying upon their heads heavy bas-the uneasy slumbers of its occupant; and the dim scantyflicker of the rushlight, through the window-blind, deketsof fruit, toil down the park side of Piccadilly, on50

Charles Dickenstheir way to Covent-garden, and, following each other shouting, carts backing, horses neighing, boys fighting,basket-women talking, piemen expatiating on thein rapid succession, form a long straggling line fromthence to the turn of the road at Knightsbridge. excellence of their pastry, and donkeys braying. TheseHere and there, a bricklayer’s labourer, with the day’s and a hundred other sounds form a compound discordantenough to a Londoner’s ears, and remarkably dis-dinner tied up in a handkerchief, walks briskly to hiswork, and occasionally a little knot of three or four agreeable to those of country gentlemen who are sleepingat the Hummums for the first time.schoolboys on a stolen bathing expedition rattle merrilyover the pavement, their boisterous mirth contrastingforcibly with the demeanour of the little sweep, earnest. The servant of all work, who, under the plea ofAnother hour passes away, and the day begins in goodwho, having knocked and rung till his arm aches, and sleeping very soundly, has utterly disregarded ‘Missis’s’being interdicted by a merciful legislature from endangeringhis lungs by calling out, sits patiently down on (whom Missis has sent up in his drapery to the landing-ringing for half an hour previously, is warned by Masterthe door-step, until the housemaid may happen to place for that purpose), that it’s half-past six, whereuponshe awakes all of a sudden, with well-feigned as-awake.Covent-garden market, and the avenues leading to it, tonishment, and goes down-stairs very sulkily, wishing,while she strikes a light, that the principle of spon-are thronged with carts of all sorts, sizes, and descriptions,from the heavy lumbering waggon, with its four taneous combustion would extend itself to coals andstout horses, to the jingling costermonger’s cart, with kitchen range. When the fire is lighted, she opens theits consumptive donkey. The pavement is already strewed street-door to take in the milk, when, by the most singularcoincidence in the world, she discovers that thewith decayed cabbage-leaves, broken hay-bands, and allthe indescribable litter of a vegetable market; men are servant next door has just taken in her milk too, and51

Sketches by Bozthat Mr. Todd’s young man over the way, is, by an equally more of females, takes a short look at the mails, and aextraordinary chance, taking down his master’s shutters.The inevitable consequence is, that she just steps, parties concerned.long look at the girls, much to the satisfaction of allmilk-jug in hand, as far as next door, just to say ‘good The mail itself goes on to the coach-office in duemorning’ to Betsy Clark, and that Mr. Todd’s young man course, and the passengers who are going out by thejust steps over the way to say ‘good morning’ to both of early coach, stare with astonishment at the passengers‘em; and as the aforesaid Mr. Todd’s young man is almostas good-looking and fascinating as the baker him-and dismal, and are evidently under the influence ofwho are coming in by the early coach, who look blueself, the conversation quickly becomes very interesting,and probably would become more so, if Betsy Clark’s the events of yesterday morning seem as if they hadthat odd feeling produced by travelling, which makesMissis, who always will be a-followin’ her about, didn’t happened at least six months ago, and induces peoplegive an angry tap at her bedroom window, on which Mr. to wonder with considerable gravity whether the friendsTodd’s young man tries to whistle coolly, as he goes and relations they took leave of a fortnight before, haveback to his shop much faster than he came from it; and altered much since they have left them. The coach-officeis all alive, and the coaches which are just goingthe two girls run back to their respective places, andshut their street-doors with surprising softness, each of out, are surrounded by the usual crowd of Jews and nondescripts,who seem to consider, Heaven knows why, thatthem poking their heads out of the front parlour window,a minute afterwards, however, ostensibly with the it is quite impossible any man can mount a coach withoutrequiring at least sixpenny-worth of oranges, a pen-view of looking at the mail which just then passes by,but really for the purpose of catching another glimpse knife, a pocket-book, a last year’s annual, a pencil-case,of Mr. Todd’s young man, who being fond of mails, but a piece of sponge, and a small series of caricatures.52

Charles DickensHalf an hour more, and the sun darts his bright rays steam-packet wharfs; and the cab-drivers and hackneycoachmenwho are on the stand polish up the ornamen-cheerfully down the still half-empty streets, and shineswith sufficient force to rouse the dismal laziness of the tal part of their dingy vehicles—the former wonderingapprentice, who pauses every other minute from his task how people can prefer ‘them wild beast cariwans ofof sweeping out the shop and watering the pavement in homnibuses, to a riglar cab with a fast trotter,’ and thefront of it, to tell another apprentice similarly employed, latter admiring how people can trust their necks intohow hot it will be to-day, or to stand with his right hand one of ‘them crazy cabs, when they can have a ‘spectableshading his eyes, and his left resting on the broom, gazingat the ‘Wonder,’ or the ‘Tally-ho,’ or the ‘Nimrod,’ or with no vun;’ a consolation unquestionably founded on‘ackney cotche with a pair of ‘orses as von’t run awaysome other fast coach, till it is out of sight, when he reentersthe shop, envying the passengers on the outside to run at all, ‘except,’ as the smart cabman in front offact, seeing that a hackney-coach horse never was knownof the fast coach, and thinking of the old red brick house the rank observes, ‘except one, and he run back’ards.’‘down in the country,’ where he went to school: the miseriesof the milk and water, and thick bread and scrapings, tices and shopmen are busily engaged in cleaning andThe shops are now completely opened, and appren-fading into nothing before the pleasant recollection of decking the windows for the day. The bakers’ shops inthe green field the boys used to play in, and the green town are filled with servants and children waiting forpond he was caned for presuming to fall into, and other the drawing of the first batch of rolls—an operationschoolboy associations.which was performed a full hour ago in the suburbs: forCabs, with trunks and band-boxes between the drivers’legs and outside the apron, rattle briskly up and Islington, and Pentonville, are fast pouring into the city,the early clerk population of Somers and Camden towns,down the streets on their way to the coach-offices or or directing their steps towards Chancery-lane and the53

Sketches by BozInns of Court. Middle-aged men, whose salaries have by their own importance and the receipt of seven shillingsno means increased in the same proportion as their families,plod steadily along, apparently with no object in to their aid, and they accordingly put their hats a littlea-week, with the prospect of an early rise to eight, comesview but the counting-house; knowing by sight almost more on one side, and look under the bonnets of all theeverybody they meet or overtake, for they have seen milliners’ and stay-makers’ apprentices they meet—poorthem every morning (Sunday excepted) during the last girls!—the hardest worked, the worst paid, and too often,the worst used class of the community.twenty years, but speaking to no one. If they do happento overtake a personal acquaintance, they just exchangea hurried salutation, and keep walking on ei-The goods in the shop-windows are invitingly arranged;Eleven o’clock, and a new set of people fill the streets.ther by his side, or in front of him, as his rate of walkingmay chance to be. As to stopping to shake hands, or coats, look as it they couldn’t clean a window if theirthe shopmen in their white neckerchiefs and spruceto take the friend’s arm, they seem to think that as it is lives depended on it; the carts have disappeared fromnot included in their salary, they have no right to do it. Covent-garden; the waggoners have returned, and theSmall office lads in large hats, who are made men before costermongers repaired to their ordinary ‘beats’ in thethey are boys, hurry along in pairs, with their first coat suburbs; clerks are at their offices, and gigs, cabs, omnibuses,and saddle-horses, are conveying their masterscarefully brushed, and the white trousers of last Sundayplentifully besmeared with dust and ink. It evidentlyrequires a considerable mental struggle to avoid a vast concourse of people, gay and shabby, rich andto the same destination. The streets are thronged withinvesting part of the day’s dinner-money in the purchaseof the stale tarts so temptingly exposed in dusty bustle, and activity of noon.poor, idle and industrious; and we come to the heat,tins at the pastry-cooks’ doors; but a consciousness of54

Charles DickensCHAPTER II—THE STREETS—NIGHTway down the little street, much more slowly than he iswont to do; for Mrs. Macklin, of No. 4, has no soonerBUT THE STREETS of London, to be beheld in the very opened her little street-door, and screamed out ‘Muffins!’with all her might, than Mrs. Walker, at No. 5,height of their glory, should be seen on a dark, dull,murky winter’s night, when there is just enough damp puts her head out of the parlour-window, and screamsgently stealing down to make the pavement greasy, ‘Muffins!’ too; and Mrs. Walker has scarcely got the wordswithout cleansing it of any of its impurities; and when out of her lips, than Mrs. Peplow, over the way, letsthe heavy lazy mist, which hangs over every object, loose Master Peplow, who darts down the street, with amakes the gas-lamps look brighter, and the brilliantlylightedshops more splendid, from the contrast they spective could possibly inspire, and drags the boy backvelocity which nothing but buttered muffins in per-present to the darkness around. All the people who by main force, whereupon Mrs. Macklin and Mrs. Walker,are at home on such a night as this, seem disposed to just to save the boy trouble, and to say a few neighbourlymake themselves as snug and comfortable as possible; words to Mrs. Peplow at the same time, run over theand the passengers in the streets have excellent reasonto envy the fortunate individuals who are seated it appears from the voluntary statement of Mrs. Walker,way and buy their muffins at Mrs. Peplow’s door, whenby their own firesides.that her ‘kittle’s jist a-biling, and the cups and sarsersIn the larger and better kind of streets, dining parlour ready laid,’ and that, as it was such a wretched nightcurtains are closely drawn, kitchen fires blaze brightly out o’ doors, she’d made up her mind to have a nice,up, and savoury steams of hot dinners salute the nostrilsof the hungry wayfarer, as he plods wearily by the by the most singular coincidence, the other two ladieshot, comfortable cup o’ tea—a determination at which,area railings. In the suburbs, the muffin boy rings his had simultaneously arrived.55

Sketches by BozAfter a little conversation about the wretchedness of employs himself for the remainder of the evening, inthe weather and the merits of tea, with a digression assiduously stirring the tap-room fire, and deferentiallyrelative to the viciousness of boys as a rule, and the taking part in the conversation of the worthies assembledamiability of Master Peplow as an exception, Mrs. Walker round it.sees her husband coming down the street; and as he The streets in the vicinity of the Marsh-gate andmust want his tea, poor man, after his dirty walk from Victoria Theatre present an appearance of dirt and discomforton such a night, which the groups who loungethe Docks, she instantly runs across, muffins in hand,and Mrs. Macklin does the same, and after a few words about them in no degree tend to diminish. Even theto Mrs. Walker, they all pop into their little houses, and little block-tin temple sacred to baked potatoes, surmountedby a splendid design in variegated lamps, looksslam their little street-doors, which are not opened againfor the remainder of the evening, except to the nine less gay than usual, and as to the kidney-pie stand, itso’clock ‘beer,’ who comes round with a lantern in front glory has quite departed. The candle in the transparentof his tray, and says, as he lends Mrs. Walker ‘Yesterday’s lamp, manufactured of oil-paper, embellished with ‘characters,’has been blown out fifty times, so the kidney-’Tiser,’ that he’s blessed if he can hardly hold the pot,much less feel the paper, for it’s one of the bitterest pie merchant, tired with running backwards and forwardsto the next wine-vaults, to get a light, has givennights he ever felt, ‘cept the night when the man wasfrozen to death in the Brick-field.up the idea of illumination in despair, and the onlyAfter a little prophetic conversation with the policemanat the street-corner, touching a probable change a long irregular train is whirled down the street everysigns of his ‘whereabout,’ are the bright sparks, of whichin the weather, and the setting-in of a hard frost, the time he opens his portable oven to hand a hot kidneypieto a customer.nine o’clock beer returns to his master’s house, and56

Charles DickensFlat-fish, oyster, and fruit vendors linger hopelessly house on his arm—the cheesemonger has drawn in hisin the kennel, in vain endeavouring to attract customers;and the ragged boys who usually disport themselves ing of pattens on the slippy and uneven pavement, andblind, and the boys have dispersed. The constant click-about the streets, stand crouched in little knots in some the rustling of umbrellas, as the wind blows against theprojecting doorway, or under the canvas blind of a shop-windows, bear testimony to the inclemency of thecheesemonger’s, where great flaring gas-lights, unshaded night; and the policeman, with his oilskin cape buttonedclosely round him, seems as he holds his hat onby any glass, display huge piles of blight red and paleyellow cheeses, mingled with little fivepenny dabs of his head, and turns round to avoid the gust of wind anddingy bacon, various tubs of weekly Dorset, and cloudy rain which drives against him at the street-corner, to berolls of ‘best fresh.’very far from congratulating himself on the prospectHere they amuse themselves with theatrical converse,arising out of their last half-price visit to the The little chandler’s shop with the cracked bell be-before him.Victoria gallery, admire the terrific combat, which is hind the door, whose melancholy tinkling has been regulatedby the demand for quarterns of sugar and half-nightly encored, and expatiate on the inimitable mannerin which Bill Thompson can ‘come the double monkey,’or go through the mysterious involutions of a been passing to and fro during the whole day, are rapouncesof coffee, is shutting up. The crowds which havesailor’s hornpipe.idly dwindling away; and the noise of shouting andIt is nearly eleven o’clock, and the cold thin rain which quarrelling which issues from the public-houses, is almostthe only sound that breaks the melancholy still-has been drizzling so long, is beginning to pour downin good earnest; the baked-potato man has departed— ness of the night.the kidney-pie man has just walked away with his ware-There was another, but it has ceased. That wretched57

Sketches by Bozwoman with the infant in her arms, round whose meagreform the remnant of her own scanty shawl is carecoaches,carriages, and theatre omnibuses, roll swiftlyatres foot it through the muddy streets; cabs, hackneyfullywrapped, has been attempting to sing some popularballad, in the hope of wringing a few pence from the and large brass plates upon their breasts, who have beenby; watermen with dim dirty lanterns in their hands,compassionate passer-by. A brutal laugh at her weak shouting and rushing about for the last two hours, retireto their watering-houses, to solace themselves withvoice is all she has gained. The tears fall thick and fastdown her own pale face; the child is cold and hungry, the creature comforts of pipes and purl; the half-priceand its low half-stifled wailing adds to the misery of its pit and box frequenters of the theatres throng to thewretched mother, as she moans aloud, and sinks despairinglydown, on a cold damp door-step.rabbits, oysters, stout, cigars, and ‘goes’ innumerable,different houses of refreshment; and chops, kidneys,Singing! How few of those who pass such a miserable are served up amidst a noise and confusion of smoking,creature as this, think of the anguish of heart, the sinkingof soul and spirit, which the very effort of singing fectly indescribable.running, knife-clattering, and waiter-chattering, per-produces. Bitter mockery! Disease, neglect, and starvation,faintly articulating the words of the joyous ditty, nity betake themselves to some harmonic meeting. As aThe more musical portion of the play-going commu-that has enlivened your hours of feasting and merriment, matter of curiosity let us follow them thither for a fewGod knows how often! It is no subject of jeering. The moments.weak tremulous voice tells a fearful tale of want and famishing;and the feeble singer of this roaring song may some eighty or a hundred guests knocking little pewterIn a lofty room of spacious dimensions, are seatedturn away, only to die of cold and hunger.measures on the tables, and hammering away, with theOne o’clock! Parties returning from the different the-handles of their knives, as if they were so many trunk-58

Charles Dickensmakers. They are applauding a glee, which has just been sweetness, and in the most seductive tones imaginable.executed by the three ‘professional gentlemen’ at the ‘Pray give your orders, gen’l’m’n—pray give your orders,’—saysthe pale-faced man with the red head; andtop of the centre table, one of whom is in the chair—the little pompous man with the bald head just emergingfrom the collar of his green coat. The others are of stout, and cigars of peculiar mildness, are vociferouslydemands for ‘goes’ of gin and ‘goes’ of brandy, and pintsseated on either side of him—the stout man with the made from all parts of the room. The ‘professional gentlemen’are in the very height of their glory, and bestowsmall voice, and the thin-faced dark man in black. Thelittle man in the chair is a most amusing personage,— condescending nods, or even a word or two of recognition,on the better-known frequenters of the room, insuch condescending grandeur, and such a voice!‘Bass!’ as the young gentleman near us with the blue the most bland and patronising manner possible.stock forcibly remarks to his companion, ‘bass! I b’lieve The little round-faced man, with the small brownyou; he can go down lower than any man: so low sometimesthat you can’t hear him.’ And so he does. To hear the mixed air of self-denial, and mental consciousnesssurtout, white stockings and shoes, is in the comic line;him growling away, gradually lower and lower down, till of his own powers, with which he acknowledges the callhe can’t get back again, is the most delightful thing in of the chair, is particularly gratifying. ‘Gen’l’men,’ saysthe world, and it is quite impossible to witness unmoved the little pompous man, accompanying the word with athe impressive solemnity with which he pours forth his knock of the president’s hammer on the table—soul in ‘My ‘art’s in the ‘ighlands,’ or ‘The brave old Hoak.’ ’Gen’l’men, allow me to claim your attention—our friend,The stout man is also addicted to sentimentality, and Mr. Smuggins, will oblige.’—’Bravo!’ shout the company;warbles ‘Fly, fly from the world, my Bessy, with me,’ or and Smuggins, after a considerable quantity of coughingby way of symphony, and a most facetious sniff some such song, with lady-likeor59

Sketches by Boztwo, which afford general delight, sings a comic song, CHAPTER III—SHOPS AND THEIR TENANTSwith a fal-de-ral—tol-de-ral chorus at the end of everyverse, much longer than the verse itself. It is received WHAT INEXHAUSTIBLE food for speculation, do the streetswith unbounded applause, and after some aspiring geniushas volunteered a recitation, and failed dismally in pitying the man who could travel from Dan toof London afford! We never were able to agree with Sternetherein, the little pompous man gives another knock, Beersheba, and say that all was barren; we have not theand says ‘Gen’l’men, we will attempt a glee, if you please.’ slightest commiseration for the man who can take upThis announcement calls forth tumultuous applause, and his hat and stick, and walk from Covent-garden to St.the more energetic spirits express the unqualified approbationit affords them, by knocking one or two stout deriving some amusement—we had almost said instruc-Paul’s Churchyard, and back into the bargain, withoutglasses off their legs—a humorous device; but one which tion—from his perambulation. And yet there are suchfrequently occasions some slight altercation when the beings: we meet them every day. Large black stocks andform of paying the damage is proposed to be gone light waistcoats, jet canes and discontented countenances,through by the waiter.are the characteristics of the race; other people brushScenes like these are continued until three or four quickly by you, steadily plodding on to business, or cheerfullyrunning after pleasure. These men linger listlesslyo’clock in the morning; and even when they close, freshones open to the inquisitive novice. But as a descriptionof all of them, however slight, would require a vol-duty. Nothing seems to make an impression on theirpast, looking as happy and animated as a policeman onume, the contents of which, however instructive, would minds: nothing short of being knocked down by a porter,be by no means pleasing, we make our bow, and drop or run over by a cab, will disturb their equanimity. Youthe curtain.will meet them on a fine day in any of the leading thor-60

Charles Dickensoughfares: peep through the window of a west- end cigar There is one, whose history is a sample of the rest, inshop in the evening, if you can manage to get a glimpse whose fate we have taken especial interest, having hadbetween the blue curtains which intercept the vulgar the pleasure of knowing it ever since it has been a shop.gaze, and you see them in their only enjoyment of existence.There they are lounging about, on round tubs and beyond the Marsh-gate. It was originally a substantial,It is on the Surrey side of the water—a little distancepipe boxes, in all the dignity of whiskers, and gilt watchguards;whispering soft nothings to the young lady in into difficulties, the house got into Chancery, the ten-good-looking private house enough; the landlord gotamber, with the large ear-rings, who, as she sits behind ant went away, and the house went to ruin. At thisthe counter in a blaze of adoration and gas-light, is the period our acquaintance with it commenced; the paintadmiration of all the female servants in the was all worn off; the windows were broken, the area wasneighbourhood, and the envy of every milliner’s apprenticewithin two miles round.butt; the butt itself was without a lid, and the street-green with neglect and the overflowings of the water-One of our principal amusements is to watch the gradual door was the very picture of misery. The chief pastimeprogress —the rise or fall—of particular shops. We have of the children in the vicinity had been to assemble informed an intimate acquaintance with several, in differentparts of town, and are perfectly acquainted with their loud double knocks at the door, to the great satisfac-a body on the steps, and to take it in turn to knockwhole history. We could name off-hand, twenty at least, tion of the neighbours generally, and especially of thewhich we are quite sure have paid no taxes for the last nervous old lady next door but one. Numerous complaintswere made, and several small basins of watersix years. They are never inhabited for more than twomonths consecutively, and, we verily believe, have witnessedevery retail trade in the directory.this state of things, the marine-store dealer at thedischarged over the offenders, but without effect. Incor-61

Sketches by Bozner of the street, in the most obliging manner took the in the windows; then rolls of flannel, with labels onknocker off, and sold it: and the unfortunate house them, were stuck outside the door; then a bill was pastedlooked more wretched than ever.on the street-door, intimating that the first floor was toWe deserted our friend for a few weeks. What was our let unfurnished; then one of the young men disappearedsurprise, on our return, to find no trace of its existence! altogether, and the other took to a black neckerchief,In its place was a handsome shop, fast approaching to a and the proprietor took to drinking. The shop becamestate of completion, and on the shutters were large bills, dirty, broken panes of glass remained unmended, andinforming the public that it would shortly be opened the stock disappeared piecemeal. At last the company’swith ‘an extensive stock of linen-drapery and haberdashery.’It opened in due course; there was the name of draper cut off himself, leaving the landlord his compli-man came to cut off the water, and then the linen-the proprietor ‘and Co.’ in gilt letters, almost too dazzlingto look at. Such ribbons and shawls! and two such The next occupant was a fancy stationer. The shopments and the key.elegant young men behind the counter, each in a clean was more modestly painted than before, still it was neat;collar and white neckcloth, like the lover in a farce. As but somehow we always thought, as we passed, that itto the proprietor, he did nothing but walk up and down looked like a poor and struggling concern. We wishedthe shop, and hand seats to the ladies, and hold importantconversations with the handsomest of the young widower evidently, and had employment elsewhere, forthe man well, but we trembled for his success. He was amen, who was shrewdly suspected by the neighbours to he passed us every morning on his road to the city. Thebe the ‘Co.’ We saw all this with sorrow; we felt a fatal business was carried on by his eldest daughter. Poorpresentiment that the shop was doomed—and so it was. girl! she needed no assistance. We occasionally caughtIts decay was slow, but sure. Tickets gradually appeared a glimpse of two or three children, in mourning like62

Charles Dickensherself, as they sat in the little parlour behind the shop; paying the rent was to have been derived, and a slow,and we never passed at night without seeing the eldest wasting consumption prevented the eldest girl from continuingher exertions. Quarter-day arrived. The land-girl at work, either for them, or in making some elegantlittle trifle for sale. We often thought, as her pale face lord had suffered from the extravagance of his last tenant,and he had no compassion for the struggles of hislooked more sad and pensive in the dim candle-light,that if those thoughtless females who interfere with successor; he put in an execution. As we passed onethe miserable market of poor creatures such as these, morning, the broker’s men were removing the little furniturethere was in the house, and a newly-posted billknew but one-half of the misery they suffer, and thebitter privations they endure, in their honourable attemptsto earn a scanty subsistence, they would, per-last tenant we never could learn; we believe the girl isinformed us it was again ‘To Let.’ What became of thehaps, resign even opportunities for the gratification of past all suffering, and beyond all sorrow. God help her!vanity, and an immodest love of self-display, rather than We hope she is.drive them to a last dreadful resource, which it would We were somewhat curious to ascertain what wouldshock the delicate feelings of these charitable ladies to be the next stage—for that the place had no chance ofhear named.succeeding now, was perfectly clear. The bill was soonBut we are forgetting the shop. Well, we continued to taken down, and some alterations were being made inwatch it, and every day showed too clearly the increasingpoverty of its inmates. The children were clean, it is tion; we exhausted conjecture—we imagined all pos-the interior of the shop. We were in a fever of expecta-true, but their clothes were threadbare and shabby; no sible trades, none of which were perfectly reconcilabletenant had been procured for the upper part of the house, with our idea of the gradual decay of the tenement. Itfrom the letting of which, a portion of the means of opened, and we wondered why we had not guessed at63

Sketches by Bozthe real state of the case before. The shop—not a large changes, that we have of late done little more thanone at the best of times—had been converted into two: mark the peculiar but certain indications of a houseone was a bonnet-shape maker’s, the other was opened being poorly inhabited. It has been progressing by almostimperceptible degrees. The occupiers of the shopsby a tobacconist, who also dealt in walking-sticks andSunday newspapers; the two were separated by a thin have gradually given up room after room, until theypartition, covered with tawdry striped paper.have only reserved the little parlour for themselves. FirstThe tobacconist remained in possession longer than there appeared a brass plate on the private door, withany tenant within our recollection. He was a red-faced, ‘Ladies’ School’ legibly engraved thereon; shortly afterwardswe observed a second brass plate, then a bell,impudent, good-for-nothing dog, evidently accustomedto take things as they came, and to make the best of a and then another bell.bad job. He sold as many cigars as he could, and smoked When we paused in front of our old friend, and observedthese signs of poverty, which are not to be mis-the rest. He occupied the shop as long as he could makepeace with the landlord, and when he could no longer taken, we thought as we turned away, that the houselive in quiet, he very coolly locked the door, and bolted had attained its lowest pitch of degradation. We werehimself. From this period, the two little dens have undergoneinnumerable changes. The tobacconist was suc-in the area, and a party of melancholy-looking fowlswrong. When we last passed it, a ‘dairy’ was establishedceeded by a theatrical hair-dresser, who ornamented the were amusing themselves by running in at the frontwindow with a great variety of ‘characters,’ and terrific door, and out at the back one.combats. The bonnet-shape maker gave place to agreengrocer, and the histrionic barber was succeeded,in his turn, by a tailor. So numerous have been the64

Charles DickensCHAPTER IV—SCOTLAND-YARDticles exposed for sale, and the places where they weresold, bore strong outward marks of being expresslySCOTLAND-YARD IS A SMALL—a very small-tract of land, adapted to their tastes and wishes. The tailor displayedbounded on one side by the river Thames, on the other in his window a Lilliputian pair of leather gaiters, and aby the gardens of Northumberland House: abutting at diminutive round frock, while each doorpost was appropriatelygarnished with a model of a coal-sack. Theone end on the bottom of Northumberland-street, atthe other on the back of Whitehall-place. When this two eating-house keepers exhibited joints of a magnitude,and puddings of a solidity, which coalheavers aloneterritory was first accidentally discovered by a countrygentleman who lost his way in the Strand, some years could appreciate; and the fruit-pie maker displayed onago, the original settlers were found to be a tailor, a his well-scrubbed window-board large white compositionsof flour and dripping, ornamented with pink stains,publican, two eating-house keepers, and a fruit-piemaker; and it was also found to contain a race of strong giving rich promise of the fruit within, which made theirand bulky men, who repaired to the wharfs in Scotlandyardregularly every morning, about five or six o’clock, But the choicest spot in all Scotland-yard was the oldhuge mouths water, as they lingered past.to fill heavy waggons with coal, with which they proceededto distant places up the country, and supplied room of ancient appearance, cheered by the glow of apublic-house in the corner. Here, in a dark wainscoted-the inhabitants with fuel. When they had emptied their mighty fire, and decorated with an enormous clock,waggons, they again returned for a fresh supply; and whereof the face was white, and the figures black, satthis trade was continued throughout the year.the lusty coalheavers, quaffing large draughts of Barclay’sAs the settlers derived their subsistence from ministeringto the wants of these primitive traders, the ar-wreathed heavily above their heads, and involvedbest, and puffing forth volumes of smoke, whichthe65

Sketches by Bozroom in a thick dark cloud. From this apartment might ing and wondering till ten o’clock came, and with it thetheir voices be heard on a winter’s night, penetrating tailor’s wife to fetch him home, when the little partyto the very bank of the river, as they shouted out some broke up, to meet again in the same room, and say andsturdy chorus, or roared forth the burden of a popular do precisely the same things, on the following eveningsong; dwelling upon the last few words with a strength at the same hour.and length of emphasis which made the very roof tremble About this time the barges that came up the riverabove them.began to bring vague rumours to Scotland-yard of somebodyin the city having been heard to say, that the LordHere, too, would they tell old legends of what theThames was in ancient times, when the Patent Shot Mayor had threatened in so many words to pull downManufactory wasn’t built, and Waterloo-bridge had never the old London-bridge, and build up a new one. At firstbeen thought of; and then they would shake their heads these rumours were disregarded as idle tales, whollywith portentous looks, to the deep edification of the destitute of foundation, for nobody in Scotland-yardrising generation of heavers, who crowded round them, doubted that if the Lord Mayor contemplated any suchand wondered where all this would end; whereat the dark design, he would just be clapped up in the Towertailor would take his pipe solemnly from his mouth, for a week or two, and then killed off for high treason.and say, how that he hoped it might end well, but he By degrees, however, the reports grew stronger, andvery much doubted whether it would or not, and couldn’t more frequent, and at last a barge, laden with numerouschaldrons of the best Wallsend, brought up the posi-rightly tell what to make of it—a mysterious expressionof opinion, delivered with a semi-prophetic air, tive intelligence that several of the arches of the oldwhich never failed to elicit the fullest concurrence of bridge were stopped, and that preparations were actuallyin progress for constructing the new one. What anthe assembled company; and so they would go on drink-66

Charles Dickensexcitement was visible in the old tap-room on that ing in the confident expectation of being able to stepmemorable night! Each man looked into his neighbour’s over to Pedlar’s Acre without wetting the soles of theirface, pale with alarm and astonishment, and read therein shoes, they found to their unspeakable astonishment thatan echo of the sentiments which filled his own breast. the water was just where it used to be.The oldest heaver present proved to demonstration, that A result so different from that which they had anticipatedfrom this first improvement, produced its full ef-the moment the piers were removed, all the water inthe Thames would run clean off, and leave a dry gully fect upon the inhabitants of Scotland-yard. One of thein its place. What was to become of the coal-barges—of eating-house keepers began to court public opinion, andthe trade of Scotland-yard—of the very existence of its to look for customers among a new class of people. Hepopulation? The tailor shook his head more sagely than covered his little dining-tables with white cloths, andusual, and grimly pointing to a knife on the table, bid got a painter’s apprentice to inscribe something aboutthem wait and see what happened. He said nothing— hot joints from twelve to two, in one of the little panesnot he; but if the Lord Mayor didn’t fall a victim to of his shop-window. Improvement began to march withpopular indignation, why he would be rather astonished; rapid strides to the very threshold of Scotland-yard. Athat was all.new market sprung up at Hungerford, and the PoliceThey did wait; barge after barge arrived, and still no Commissioners established their office in Whitehallplace.The traffic in Scotland-yard increased; fresh Mem-tidings of the assassination of the Lord Mayor. The firststone was laid: it was done by a Duke—the King’s brother. bers were added to the House of Commons, the MetropolitanRepresentatives found it a near cut, and manyYears passed away, and the bridge was opened by theKing himself. In course of time, the piers were removed; other foot passengers followed their example.and when the people in Scotland-yard got up next morn-We marked the advance of civilisation, and beheld it67

Sketches by Bozwith a sigh. The eating-house keeper who manfully foreign-looking brown surtout, with silk buttons, a furresisted the innovation of table-cloths, was losing collar, and fur cuffs. He wears a stripe down the outsideground every day, as his opponent gained it, and a of each leg of his trousers: and we have detected hisdeadly feud sprung up between them. The genteel one assistants (for he has assistants now) in the act of sittingon the shop-board in the same uniform.no longer took his evening’s pint in Scotland-yard, butdrank gin and water at a ‘parlour’ in Parliament-street. At the other end of the little row of houses a bootmakerhas established himself in a brick box, with theThe fruit-pie maker still continued to visit the old room,but he took to smoking cigars, and began to call himselfa pastrycook, and to read the papers. The old heavposesfor sale, boots—real Wellington boots—an articleadditional innovation of a first floor; and here he exersstill assembled round the ancient fireplace, but their which a few years ago, none of the original inhabitantstalk was mournful: and the loud song and the joyous had ever seen or heard of. It was but the other day, thatshout were heard no more.a dress-maker opened another little box in the middleAnd what is Scotland-yard now? How have its old of the row; and, when we thought that the spirit ofcustoms changed; and how has the ancient simplicity change could produce no alteration beyond that, a jewellerappeared, and not content with exposing gilt ringsof its inhabitants faded away! The old tottering publichouseis converted into a spacious and lofty ‘wine-vaults;’ and copper bracelets out of number, put up an announcement,which still sticks in his window, that ‘ladies’ earsgold leaf has been used in the construction of the letterswhich emblazon its exterior, and the poet’s art has may be pierced within.’ The dress-maker employs a youngbeen called into requisition, to intimate that if you drink lady who wears pockets in her apron; and the tailora certain description of ale, you must hold fast by the informs the public that gentlemen may have their ownrail. The tailor exhibits in his window the pattern of a materials made up.68

Charles DickensAmidst all this change, and restlessness, and innovation,there remains but one old man, who seems to mourn the dry studies of a long life, or the dusty volumes thatblack-letter lore, or his skill in book-collecting, not allthe downfall of this ancient place. He holds no converse have cost him a fortune, may help him to the whereabouts,either of Scotland-yard, or of any one of the land-with human kind, but, seated on a wooden bench atthe angle of the wall which fronts the crossing from marks we have mentioned in describing it.Whitehall-place, watches in silence the gambols of hissleek and well-fed dogs. He is the presiding genius ofCHAPTER V—SEVEN DIALSScotland-yard. Years and years have rolled over his head;but, in fine weather or in foul, hot or cold, wet or dry, WE HAVE ALWAYS been of opinion that if Tom King andhail, rain, or snow, he is still in his accustomed spot. the Frenchman had not immortalised Seven Dials, SevenMisery and want are depicted in his countenance; his Dials would have immortalised itself. Seven Dials! theform is bent by age, his head is grey with length of region of song and poetry—first effusions, and last dyingspeeches: hallowed by the names of Catnach and oftrial, but there he sits from day to day, brooding overthe past; and thither he will continue to drag his feeble Pitts—names that will entwine themselves withlimbs, until his eyes have closed upon Scotland-yard, costermongers, and barrel-organs, when penny magazinesshall have superseded penny yards of song, andand upon the world together.A few years hence, and the antiquary of another generationlooking into some mouldy record of the strife Look at the construction of the place. The Gordian knotcapital punishment be unknown!and passions that agitated the world in these times, may was all very well in its way: so was the maze of Hamptonglance his eye over the pages we have just filled: and not Court: so is the maze at the Beulah Spa: so were the tiesall his knowledge of the history of the past, not all his of stiff white neckcloths, when the difficulty of getting69

Sketches by Bozone on, was only to be equalled by the apparent impossibilityof ever getting it off again. But what involutions and courts dart in all directions, until they are lostirregular square into which he has plunged, the streetscan compare with those of Seven Dials? Where is there in the unwholesome vapour which hangs over thesuch another maze of streets, courts, lanes, and alleys? house-tops, and renders the dirty perspective uncertainand confined; and lounging at every corner, as ifWhere such a pure mixture of Englishmen and Irishmen,as in this complicated part of London? We boldly aver they came there to take a few gasps of such fresh airthat we doubt the veracity of the legend to which we as has found its way so far, but is too much exhaustedhave adverted. We can suppose a man rash enough to already, to be enabled to force itself into the narrowinquire at random—at a house with lodgers too—for a alleys around, are groups of people, whose appearanceand dwellings would fill any mind but a regularMr. Thompson, with all but the certainty before his eyes,of finding at least two or three Thompsons in any house Londoner’s with astonishment.of moderate dimensions; but a Frenchman—a Frenchmanin Seven Dials! Pooh! He was an Irishman. Tom King’s of ladies, who having imbibed the contents of variousOn one side, a little crowd has collected round a coupleeducation had been neglected in his infancy, and as he ‘three-outs’ of gin and bitters in the course of the morning,have at length differed on some point of domesticcouldn’t understand half the man said, he took it forgranted he was talking French.arrangement, and are on the eve of settling the quarrelThe stranger who finds himself in ‘The Dials’ for satisfactorily, by an appeal to blows, greatly to the interestof other ladies who live in the same house, andthe first time, and stands Belzoni-like, at the entranceof seven obscure passages, uncertain which to take, tenements adjoining, and who are all partisans on onewill see enough around him to keep his curiosity and side or other.attention awake for no inconsiderable time. From the ‘Vy don’t you pitch into her, Sarah?’ exclaims one half-70

Charles Dickensdressed matron, by way of encouragement. ‘Vy don’t by hussies?’ reiterates the champion.you? if MY ‘usband had treated her with a drain last ‘Niver mind,’ replies the opposition expressively, ‘nivernight, unbeknown to me, I’d tear her precious eyes out— mind; you go home, and, ven you’re quite sober, menda wixen!’your stockings.’‘What’s the matter, ma’am?’ inquires another old This somewhat personal allusion, not only to the lady’swoman, who has just bustled up to the spot.habits of intemperance, but also to the state of her wardrobe,rouses her utmost ire, and she accordingly com-‘Matter!’ replies the first speaker, talking AT the obnoxiouscombatant, ‘matter! Here’s poor dear Mrs. plies with the urgent request of the bystanders to ‘pitchSulliwin, as has five blessed children of her own, can’t in,’ with considerable alacrity. The scuffle became general,and terminates, in minor play-bill phraseology, withgo out a charing for one arternoon, but what hussiesmust be a comin’, and ‘ticing avay her oun’ ‘usband, as ‘arrival of the policemen, interior of the station-house,she’s been married to twelve year come next Easter Monday,for I see the certificate ven I vas a drinkin’ a cup o’ In addition to the numerous groups who are idlingand impressive denouement.’tea vith her, only the werry last blessed Ven’sday as about the gin-shops and squabbling in the centre ofever was sent. I ‘appen’d to say promiscuously, “Mrs. the road, every post in the open space has its occupant,Sulliwin,” says I—’who leans against it for hours, with listless perseverance.It is odd enough that one class of men in London‘What do you mean by hussies?’ interrupts a championof the other party, who has evinced a strong inclinationthroughout to get up a branch fight on her own posts. We never saw a regular bricklayer’s labourer takeappear to have no enjoyment beyond leaning againstaccount (‘Hooroar,’ ejaculates a pot-boy in parenthesis, any other recreation, fighting excepted. Pass through‘put the kye-bosk on her, Mary!’), ‘What do you mean St. Giles’s in the evening of a week-day, there they are71

Sketches by Bozin their fustian dresses, spotted with brick-dust and of a low dingy public-house; long rows of broken andwhitewash, leaning against posts. Walk through Seven patched windows expose plants that may have flourishedwhen ‘the Dials’ were built, in vessels as dirty asDials on Sunday morning: there they are again, drab orlight corduroy trousers, Blucher boots, blue coats, and ‘the Dials’ themselves; and shops for the purchase ofgreat yellow waistcoats, leaning against posts. The idea rags, bones, old iron, and kitchen-stuff, vie in cleanlinesswith the bird-fanciers and rabbit-dealers, whichof a man dressing himself in his best clothes, to leanagainst a post all day!one might fancy so many arks, but for the irresistibleThe peculiar character of these streets, and the close conviction that no bird in its proper senses, who wasresemblance each one bears to its neighbour, by no means permitted to leave one of them, would ever come backtends to decrease the bewilderment in which the unexperiencedwayfarer through ‘the Dials’ finds himself established by humane individuals, as refuges for desti-again. Brokers’ shops, which would seem to have beeninvolved. He traverses streets of dirty, straggling houses, tute bugs, interspersed with announcements of dayschools,penny theatres, petition-writers, mangles, andwith now and then an unexpected court composed ofbuildings as ill-proportioned and deformed as the halfnakedchildren that wallow in the kennels. Here and subject; and dirty men, filthy women, squalid children,music for balls or routs, complete the ‘still life’ of thethere, a little dark chandler’s shop, with a cracked bell fluttering shuttlecocks, noisy battledores, reeking pipes,hung up behind the door to announce the entrance of a bad fruit, more than doubtful oysters, attenuated cats,customer, or betray the presence of some young gentlemanin whom a passion for shop tills has developed accompaniments.depressed dogs, and anatomical fowls, are its cheerfulitself at an early age: others, as if for support, against If the external appearance of the houses, or a glancesome handsome lofty building, which usurps the place at their inhabitants, present but few attractions, a closer72

Charles Dickensacquaintance with either is little calculated to alter one’s morning from the coffee-shop next door but one, whichfirst impression. Every room has its separate tenant, boasts a little front den called a coffee-room, with a fireplace,over which is an inscription, politely requestingand every tenant is, by the same mysterious dispensationwhich causes a country curate to ‘increase and that, ‘to prevent mistakes,’ customers will ‘please to paymultiply’ most marvellously, generally the head of a on delivery.’ The shabby-genteel man is an object of somenumerous family.mystery, but as he leads a life of seclusion, and never wasThe man in the shop, perhaps, is in the baked ‘jemmy’ known to buy anything beyond an occasional pen, exceptline, or the fire-wood and hearth-stone line, or any other half-pints of coffee, penny loaves, and ha’porths of ink,line which requires a floating capital of eighteen-pence his fellow-lodgers very naturally suppose him to be anor thereabouts: and he and his family live in the shop, author; and rumours are current in the Dials, that he writesand the small back parlour behind it. Then there is an poems for Mr. Warren.Irish labourer and his family in the back kitchen, and a Now anybody who passed through the Dials on a hotjobbing man—carpet-beater and so forth—with his familyin the front one. In the front one-pair, there’s another house gossiping on the steps, would be apt to thinksummer’s evening, and saw the different women of theman with another wife and family, and in the back onepair,there’s ‘a young ‘oman as takes in tambour-work, primitive set of people than the native Diallers couldthat all was harmony among them, and that a moreand dresses quite genteel,’ who talks a good deal about not be imagined. Alas! the man in the shop ill-treats‘my friend,’ and can’t ‘a-bear anything low.’ The second his family; the carpet-beater extends his professionalfloor front, and the rest of the lodgers, are just a second pursuits to his wife; the one-pair front has an undyingedition of the people below, except a shabby-genteel man feud with the two-pair front, in consequence of thein the back attic, who has his half-pint of coffee every two-pair front persisting in dancing over his (the one-73

Sketches by Bozpair front’s) head, when he and his family have retired clothes, whether you will or not, we detest.for the night; the two-pair back will interfere with the The inhabitants of Monmouth-street are a distinctfront kitchen’s children; the Irishman comes home drunk class; a peaceable and retiring race, who immure themselvesfor the most part in deep cellars, or small backevery other night, and attacks everybody; and the onepairback screams at everything. Animosities spring up parlours, and who seldom come forth into the world,between floor and floor; the very cellar asserts his equality.Mrs. A. ‘smacks’ Mrs. B.’s child for ‘making faces.’ they may be seen seated, in chairs on the pavement,except in the dusk and coolness of the evening, whenMrs. B. forthwith throws cold water over Mrs. A.’s child smoking their pipes, or watching the gambols of theirfor ‘calling names.’ The husbands are embroiled—the engaging children as they revel in the gutter, a happyquarrel becomes general—an assault is the consequence, troop of infantine scavengers. Their countenances bearand a police-officer the result.a thoughtful and a dirty cast, certain indications oftheir love of traffic; and their habitations are distinguishedby that disregard of outward appearance andCHAPTER VI—MEDITATIONS IN MONMOUTH-STREETneglect of personal comfort, so common among peopleWE HAVE ALWAYS entertained a particular attachment towardsMonmouth-street, as the only true and real em-and deeply engaged in sedentary pursuits.who are constantly immersed in profound speculations,porium for second-hand wearing apparel. Monmouthstreetis venerable from its antiquity, and respectable ‘A Monmouth-street laced coat’ was a by-word a centuryWe have hinted at the antiquity of our favourite spot.from its usefulness. Holywell-street we despise; the redheadedand red-whiskered Jews who forcibly haul you great-coats with wooden buttons, have usurped the placeago; and still we find Monmouth-street the same. Pilotinto their squalid houses, and thrust you into a suit of of the ponderous laced coats with full skirts; embroi-74

Charles Dickensdered waistcoats with large flaps, have yielded to doublebreastedchecks with roll-collars; and three-cornered hats shoes have suddenly found feet to fit them, and gonewith anxiety to put themselves on; and half an acre ofof quaint appearance, have given place to the low crowns stumping down the street with a noise which has fairlyand broad brims of the coachman school; but it is the awakened us from our pleasant reverie, and driven ustimes that have changed, not Monmouth-street. Through slowly away, with a bewildered stare, an object of astonishmentto the good people of Monmouth-street, andevery alteration and every change, Monmouth-street hasstill remained the burial-place of the fashions; and such, of no slight suspicion to the policemen at the oppositeto judge from all present appearances, it will remain street corner.until there are no more fashions to bury.We were occupied in this manner the other day, endeavouringto fit a pair of lace-up half-boots on an idealWe love to walk among these extensive groves of theillustrious dead, and to indulge in the speculations to personage, for whom, to say the truth, they were full awhich they give rise; now fitting a deceased coat, then couple of sizes too small, when our eyes happened toa dead pair of trousers, and anon the mortal remains of alight on a few suits of clothes ranged outside a shopwindow,which it immediately struck us, must at differ-a gaudy waistcoat, upon some being of our own conjuringup, and endeavouring, from the shape and fashion ent periods have all belonged to, and been worn by, theof the garment itself, to bring its former owner before same individual, and had now, by one of those strangeour mind’s eye. We have gone on speculating in this conjunctions of circumstances which will occur sometimes,come to be exposed together for sale in the sameway, until whole rows of coats have started from theirpegs, and buttoned up, of their own accord, round the shop. The idea seemed a fantastic one, and we looked atwaists of imaginary wearers; lines of trousers have the clothes again with a firm determination not to bejumped down to meet them; waistcoats have almost burst easily led away. No, we were right; the more we looked,75

Sketches by Bozthe more we were convinced of the accuracy of our previousimpression. There was the man’s whole life written the pockets, and just below the chin, which even thethe numerous smears of some sticky substance aboutas legibly on those clothes, as if we had his autobiographyengrossed on parchment before us.ciently betokened. They were decent people, but notsalesman’s skill could not succeed in disguising, suffi-The first was a patched and much-soiled skeleton suit; overburdened with riches, or he would not have so farone of those straight blue cloth cases in which small outgrown the suit when he passed into those corduroysboys used to be confined, before belts and tunics had with the round jacket; in which he went to a boys’ school,come in, and old notions had gone out: an ingenious however, and learnt to write—and in ink of pretty tolerableblackness, too, if the place where he used to wipecontrivance for displaying the full symmetry of a boy’sfigure, by fastening him into a very tight jacket, with his pen might be taken as evidence.an ornamental row of buttons over each shoulder, and A black suit and the jacket changed into a diminutivethen buttoning his trousers over it, so as to give his coat. His father had died, and the mother had got thelegs the appearance of being hooked on, just under the boy a message-lad’s place in some office. A long-wornarmpits. This was the boy’s dress. It had belonged to a suit that one; rusty and threadbare before it was laidtown boy, we could see; there was a shortness about the aside, but clean and free from soil to the last. Poorlegs and arms of the suit; and a bagging at the knees, woman! We could imagine her assumed cheerfulness overpeculiar to the rising youth of London streets. A small the scanty meal, and the refusal of her own small portion,that her hungry boy might have enough. Her con-day-school he had been at, evidently. If it had been aregular boys’ school they wouldn’t have let him play on stant anxiety for his welfare, her pride in his growththe floor so much, and rub his knees so white. He had mingled sometimes with the thought, almost too acutean indulgent mother too, and plenty of halfpence, as to bear, that as he grew to be a man his old affection76

Charles Dickensmight cool, old kindnesses fade from his mind, and old their pockets, watched them as they sauntered downpromises be forgotten—the sharp pain that even then the street, and lingered at the corner, with the obscenea careless word or a cold look would give her—all crowded jest, and the oft-repeated oath. We never lost sight ofon our thoughts as vividly as if the very scene were them, till they had cocked their hats a little more onpassing before us.one side, and swaggered into the public-house; and thenThese things happen every hour, and we all know it; we entered the desolate home, where the mother satand yet we felt as much sorrow when we saw, or fancied late in the night, alone; we watched her, as she pacedwe saw—it makes no difference which—the change that the room in feverish anxiety, and every now and thenbegan to take place now, as if we had just conceived the opened the door, looked wistfully into the dark andbare possibility of such a thing for the first time. The empty street, and again returned, to be again and againnext suit, smart but slovenly; meant to be gay, and yet disappointed. We beheld the look of patience with whichnot half so decent as the threadbare apparel; redolent she bore the brutish threat, nay, even the drunken blow;of the idle lounge, and the blackguard companions, told and we heard the agony of tears that gushed from herus, we thought, that the widow’s comfort had rapidly very heart, as she sank upon her knees in her solitaryfaded away. We could imagine that coat—imagine! we and wretched apartment.could see it; we had seen it a hundred times—saunteringin company with three or four other coats of the taken place, by the time of casting off the suit that hungA long period had elapsed, and a greater change hadsame cut, about some place of profligate resort at night. above. It was that of a stout, broad-shouldered, sturdychestedman; and we knew at once, as anybody would,We dressed, from the same shop-window in an instant,half a dozen boys of from fifteen to twenty; and who glanced at that broad-skirted green coat, with theputting cigars into their mouths, and their hands into large metal buttons, that its wearer seldom walked forth77

Sketches by Bozwithout a dog at his heels, and some idle ruffian, the A coarse round frock, with a worn cotton neckerchief,very counterpart of himself, at his side. The vices of the and other articles of clothing of the commonest description,completed the history. A prison, and the sen-boy had grown with the man, and we fancied his homethen—if such a place deserve the name.tence—banishment or the gallows. What would the manWe saw the bare and miserable room, destitute of have given then, to be once again the contented humblefurniture, crowded with his wife and children, pale, drudge of his boyish years; to have been restored tohungry, and emaciated; the man cursing their lamentations,staggering to the tap-room, from whence he so long a time as would enable him to say one word oflife, but for a week, a day, an hour, a minute, only forhad just returned, followed by his wife and a sickly passionate regret to, and hear one sound of heartfeltinfant, clamouring for bread; and heard the streetwrangleand noisy recrimination that his striking her rotting in the pauper’s grave! The children wild in theforgiveness from, the cold and ghastly form that layoccasioned. And then imagination led us to some metropolitanworkhouse, situated in the midst of crowded tainted with the deep disgrace of the husband andstreets, the mother a destitute widow; both deeplystreets and alleys, filled with noxious vapours, and ringingwith boisterous cries, where an old and feeble the precipice that had led him to a lingering death,father’s name, and impelled by sheer necessity, downwoman, imploring pardon for her son, lay dying in a possibly of many years’ duration, thousands of milesclose dark room, with no child to clasp her hand, and away. We had no clue to the end of the tale; but it wasno pure air from heaven to fan her brow. A stranger easy to guess its termination.closed the eyes that settled into a cold unmeaning We took a step or two further on, and by way of restoringthe naturally cheerful tone of our thoughts,glare, and strange ears received the words that murmuredfrom the white and half-closed lips.began fitting visionary feet and legs into a cellar-board78

Charles Dickensfull of boots and shoes, with a speed and accuracy that affectionate look upon his boots, at that instant, thewould have astonished the most expert artist in leather, form of a coquettish servant-maid suddenly sprung intoliving. There was one pair of boots in particular—a jolly, a pair of Denmark satin shoes that stood beside them,good-tempered, hearty-looking pair of tops, that excitedour warmest regard; and we had got a fine, red-his offer of a ride, just on this side the Hammersmithand we at once recognised the very girl who acceptedfaced, jovial fellow of a market-gardener into them, beforewe had made their acquaintance half a minute. They rode into town from Richmond.suspension-bridge, the very last Tuesday morning wewere just the very thing for him. There was his huge fat A very smart female, in a showy bonnet, stepped intolegs bulging over the tops, and fitting them too tight to a pair of grey cloth boots, with black fringe and binding,that were studiously pointing out their toes on theadmit of his tucking in the loops he had pulled them onby; and his knee-cords with an interval of stocking; other side of the top-boots, and seemed very anxious toand his blue apron tucked up round his waist; and his engage his attention, but we didn’t observe that ourred neckerchief and blue coat, and a white hat stuck on friend the market-gardener appeared at all captivatedone side of his head; and there he stood with a broad with these blandishments; for beyond giving a knowinggrin on his great red face, whistling away, as if any wink when they first began, as if to imply that he quiteother idea but that of being happy and comfortable had understood their end and object, he took no furthernever entered his brain.notice of them. His indifference, however, was amplyThis was the very man after our own heart; we knew recompensed by the excessive gallantry of a very oldall about him; we had seen him coming up to Coventgardenin his green chaise-cart, with the fat, tubby little a pair of large list shoes, that were standing in onegentleman with a silver-headed stick, who tottered intohorse, half a thousand times; and even while we cast an corner of the board, and indulged in a variety of ges-79

Sketches by Boztures expressive of his admiration of the lady in the Nor were the Denmark satins a bit behindhand, forcloth boots, to the immeasurable amusement of a young they jumped and bounded about, in all directions; andfellow we put into a pair of long-quartered pumps, who though they were neither so regular, nor so true to thewe thought would have split the coat that slid down to time as the cloth boots, still, as they seemed to do itmeet him, with laughing.from the heart, and to enjoy it more, we candidly confessthat we preferred their style of dancing to the other.We had been looking on at this little pantomime withgreat satisfaction for some time, when, to our unspeakableastonishment, we perceived that the whole of the amusing object in the whole party; for, besides his gro-But the old gentleman in the list shoes was the mostcharacters, including a numerous corps de ballet of boots tesque attempts to appear youthful, and amorous, whichand shoes in the background, into which we had been were sufficiently entertaining in themselves, the younghastily thrusting as many feet as we could press into fellow in the pumps managed so artfully that everythe service, were arranging themselves in order for dancing;and some music striking up at the moment, to it the cloth boots, he trod with his whole weight on thetime the old gentleman advanced to salute the lady inthey went without delay. It was perfectly delightful to old fellow’s toes, which made him roar with anguish,witness the agility of the market-gardener. Out went and rendered all the others like to die of laughing.the boots, first on one side, then on the other, then We were in the full enjoyment of these festivities whencutting, then shuffling, then setting to the Denmark we heard a shrill, and by no means musical voice, exclaim,‘Hope you’ll know me agin, imperence!’ and onsatins, then advancing, then retreating, then goinground, and then repeating the whole of the evolutions looking intently forward to see from whence the soundagain, without appearing to suffer in the least from the came, we found that it proceeded, not from the youngviolence of the exercise.lady in the cloth boots, as we had at first been inclined80

Charles Dickensto suppose, but from a bulky lady of elderly appearance hackney-coach stands. We readily concede to these placeswho was seated in a chair at the head of the cellarsteps,apparently for the purpose of superintending the most as dirty, and even go almost as slowly, as Londonthe possession of certain vehicles, which may look al-sale of the articles arranged there.hackney-coaches; but that they have the slightest claimA barrel-organ, which had been in full force close to compete with the metropolis, either in point of stands,behind us, ceased playing; the people we had been fittinginto the shoes and boots took to flight at the in-Take a regular, ponderous, rickety, London hackney-drivers, or cattle, we indignantly deny.terruption; and as we were conscious that in the depth coach of the old school, and let any man have the boldnessto assert, if he can, that he ever beheld any objectof our meditations we might have been rudely staringat the old lady for half an hour without knowing it, we on the face of the earth which at all resembles it, unless,indeed, it were another hackney-coach of the sametook to flight too, and were soon immersed in the deepestobscurity of the adjacent ‘Dials.’date. We have recently observed on certain stands, andwe say it with deep regret, rather dapper green chariots,and coaches of polished yellow, with four wheels ofCHAPTER VII—HACKNEY-COACH STANDSthe same colour as the coach, whereas it is perfectlyWE MAINTAIN THAT hackney-coaches, properly so called, notorious to every one who has studied the subject,belong solely to the metropolis. We may be told, that that every wheel ought to be of a different colour, andthere are hackney-coach stands in Edinburgh; and not to a different size. These are innovations, and, like othergo quite so far for a contradiction to our position, we miscalled improvements, awful signs of the restlessnessmay be reminded that Liverpool, Manchester, ‘and other of the public mind, and the little respect paid to ourlarge towns’ (as the Parliamentary phrase goes), have their time-honoured institutions. Why should hackney-81

Sketches by Bozcoaches be clean? Our ancestors found them dirty, and of them were not blind. We take great interest in hackney-coaches,but we seldom drive, having a knack ofleft them so. Why should we, with a feverish wish to‘keep moving,’ desire to roll along at the rate of six miles turning ourselves over when we attempt to do so. Wean hour, while they were content to rumble over the are as great friends to horses, hackney-coach and otherwise,as the renowned Mr. Martin, of costermongerstones at four? These are solemn considerations. Hackney-coachesare part and parcel of the law of the land; notoriety, and yet we never ride. We keep no horse, butthey were settled by the Legislature; plated and numberedby the wisdom of Parliament.mutton; and, following our own inclinations, have nevera clothes-horse; enjoy no saddle so much as a saddle ofThen why have they been swamped by cabs and omnibuses?Or why should people be allowed to ride quickly getting over the ground, or of depositing oneself uponfollowed the hounds. Leaving these fleeter means offor eightpence a mile, after Parliament had come to the it, to those who like them, by hackney-coach stands wesolemn decision that they should pay a shilling a mile take our stand.for riding slowly? We pause for a reply;—and, having There is a hackney-coach stand under the very windowat which we are writing; there is only one coach onno chance of getting one, begin a fresh paragraph.Our acquaintance with hackney-coach stands is of long it now, but it is a fair specimen of the class of vehiclesstanding. We are a walking book of fares, feeling ourselves,half bound, as it were, to be always in the right concern of a dingy yellow colour (like a bilious bru-to which we have alluded—a great, lumbering, squareon contested points. We know all the regular watermen nette), with very small glasses, but very large frames;within three miles of Covent-garden by sight, and should the panels are ornamented with a faded coat of arms, inbe almost tempted to believe that all the hackney-coach shape something like a dissected bat, the axletree ishorses in that district knew us by sight too, if one-half red, and the majority of the wheels are green. The box82

Charles Dickensis partially covered by an old great-coat, with a multiplicityof capes, and some extraordinary-looking clothes; shouting all the time for the coachman at the very top,drags them, and the coach too, round to the house,and the straw, with which the canvas cushion is stuffed, or rather very bottom of his voice, for it is a deep bassis sticking up in several places, as if in rivalry of the growl. A response is heard from the tap-room; the coachman,in his wooden-soled shoes, makes the street echohay, which is peeping through the chinks in the boot.The horses, with drooping heads, and each with a mane again as he runs across it; and then there is such aand tail as scanty and straggling as those of a worn-out struggling, and backing, and grating of the kennel, torocking-horse, are standing patiently on some damp get the coach-door opposite the house-door, that thestraw, occasionally wincing, and rattling the harness; children are in perfect ecstasies of delight. What aand now and then, one of them lifts his mouth to the commotion! The old lady, who has been stopping thereear of his companion, as if he were saying, in a whisper, for the last month, is going back to the country. Outthat he should like to assassinate the coachman. The comes box after box, and one side of the vehicle is filledcoachman himself is in the watering-house; and the with luggage in no time; the children get intowaterman, with his hands forced into his pockets as far everybody’s way, and the youngest, who has upset himselfin his attempts to carry an umbrella, is borne offas they can possibly go, is dancing the ‘double shuffle,’in front of the pump, to keep his feet warm.wounded and kicking. The youngsters disappear, and aThe servant-girl, with the pink ribbons, at No. 5, opposite,suddenly opens the street-door, and four small doubt, kissing them all round in the back parlour. Sheshort pause ensues, during which the old lady is, nochildren forthwith rush out, and scream ‘Coach!’ with appears at last, followed by her married daughter, allall their might and main. The waterman darts from the the children, and both the servants, who, with the jointpump, seizes the horses by their respective bridles, and assistance of the coachman and waterman, manage to83

Sketches by Bozget her safely into the coach. A cloak is handed in, and more amused with a hackney-coach party, than onea little basket, which we could almost swear contains a we saw early the other morning in Tottenham-courtroad.It was a wedding-party, and emerged from one ofsmall black bottle, and a paper of sandwiches. Up gothe steps, bang goes the door, ‘Golden-cross, Charingcross,Tom,’ says the waterman; ‘Good-bye, grandma,’ cry bride, with a thin white dress, and a great red face;the inferior streets near Fitzroy-square. There were thethe children, off jingles the coach at the rate of three and the bridesmaid, a little, dumpy, good-humouredmiles an hour, and the mamma and children retire into young woman, dressed, of course, in the same appropriatecostume; and the bridegroom and his chosenthe house, with the exception of one little villain, whoruns up the street at the top of his speed, pursued by friend, in blue coats, yellow waist-coats, white trousers,and Berlin gloves to match. They stopped at thethe servant; not ill-pleased to have such an opportunityof displaying her attractions. She brings him back, corner of the street, and called a coach with an air ofand, after casting two or three gracious glances across indescribable dignity. The moment they were in, thethe way, which are either intended for us or the potboy bridesmaid threw a red shawl, which she had, no doubt,(we are not quite certain which), shuts the door, and brought on purpose, negligently over the number onthe hackney-coach stand is again at a standstill. the door, evidently to delude pedestrians into the beliefthat the hackney-coach was a private carriage; andWe have been frequently amused with the intensedelight with which ‘a servant of all work,’ who is sent away they went, perfectly satisfied that the impositionwas successful, and quite unconscious that therefor a coach, deposits herself inside; and the unspeakablegratification which boys, who have been despatchedon a similar errand, appear to derive from as large as a schoolboy’s slate. A shilling a mile!—thewas a great staring number stuck up behind, on a platemounting the box. But we never recollect to have been ride was worth five, at least, to them.84

Charles DickensWhat an interesting book a hackney-coach might produce,if it could carry as much in its head as it does in to fashion, a hanger-on of an old English family, wear-a hackney-coach is a remnant of past gentility, a victimits body! The autobiography of a broken-down hackney-coach,would surely be as amusing as the autobiog-wearing their livery, stripped of his finery, and throwning their arms, and, in days of yore, escorted by menraphy of a broken-down hackneyed dramatist; and it upon the world, like a once-smart footman whenmight tell as much of its travels with the pole, as others he is no longer sufficiently juvenile for his office, progressinglower and lower in the scale of four-wheeledhave of their expeditions to it. How many stories mightbe related of the different people it had conveyed on degradation, until at last it comes to—a stand!matters of business or profit—pleasure or pain! Andhow many melancholy tales of the same people at differentperiods! The country-girl—the showy, over-CHAPTER VIII—DOCTORS’ COMMONSdressed woman—the drunken prostitute! The raw apprentice—thedissipated spendthrift—the thief! Churchyard, a little while ago, we happened to turn downWALKING WITHOUT any definite object through St. Paul’sTalk of cabs! Cabs are all very well in cases of expedition,when it’s a matter of neck or nothing, life or death, ward for a few hundred yards, found ourself, as a naturala street entitled ‘Paul’s-chain,’ and keeping straight for-your temporary home or your long one. But, besides a consequence, in Doctors’ Commons. Now Doctors’ Commonsbeing familiar by name to everybody, as the placecab’s lacking that gravity of deportment which so peculiarlydistinguishes a hackney-coach, let it never be forgottenthat a cab is a thing of yesterday, and that he and divorces to unfaithful ones; register the wills of peoplewhere they grant marriage-licenses to love-sick couples,never was anything better. A hackney-cab has always who have any property to leave, and punish hasty gentlemenwho call ladies by unpleasant names, we no been a hackney-cab, from his first entry into life; whereassooner85

Sketches by Bozdiscovered that we were really within its precincts, than number of very self-important-looking personages, inwe felt a laudable desire to become better acquainted stiff neckcloths, and black gowns with white fur collars,whom we at once set down as proctors. At thetherewith; and as the first object of our curiosity was theCourt, whose decrees can even unloose the bonds of matrimony,we procured a direction to it; and bent our steps arm-chair, and a wig, whom we afterwards discoveredlower end of the billiard-table was an individual in anthither without delay.to be the registrar; and seated behind a little desk, nearCrossing a quiet and shady court-yard, paved with stone, the door, were a respectable-looking man in black, ofand frowned upon by old red brick houses, on the doors about twenty-stone weight or thereabouts, and a fatfaced,smirking, civil-looking body, in a black gown,of which were painted the names of sundry learned civilians,we paused before a small, green-baized, brassheaded-naileddoor, which yielding to our gentle push, in his bosom, curls on his head, and a silver staff in hisblack kid gloves, knee shorts, and silks, with a shirt-frillat once admitted us into an old quaint-looking apartment,with sunken windows, and black carved wainscot-officer of the Court. The latter, indeed, speedily set ourhand, whom we had no difficulty in recognising as theing, at the upper end of which, seated on a raised platform,of semicircular shape, were about a dozen solemnbow,and opening a conversation forthwith, he had com-mind at rest upon this point, for, advancing to our ellookinggentlemen, in crimson gowns and wigs. municated to us, in less than five minutes, that he wasAt a more elevated desk in the centre, sat a very fat the apparitor, and the other the court-keeper; that thisand red-faced gentleman, in tortoise-shell spectacles, was the Arches Court, and therefore the counsel wore redwhose dignified appearance announced the judge; and gowns, and the proctors fur collars; and that when theround a long green-baized table below, something like a other Courts sat there, they didn’t wear red gowns or furbilliard-table without the cushions and pockets, were a collars either; with many other scraps of intelligence86

Charles Dickensequally interesting. Besides these two officers, there was his neck; his scanty grey trousers and short black gaiters,made in the worst possible style, imported an ad-a little thin old man, with long grizzly hair, crouched ina remote corner, whose duty, our communicative friend ditional inelegant appearance to his uncouth person;informed us, was to ring a large hand-bell when the Court and his limp, badly-starched shirt-collar almost obscuredopened in the morning, and who, for aught his appearancebetokened to the contrary, might have been simi-physiognomist again, for, after a careful scrutiny of thishis eyes. We shall never be able to claim any credit as alarly employed for the last two centuries at least. gentleman’s countenance, we had come to the conclusionthat it bespoke nothing but conceit and silliness,The red-faced gentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacleshad got all the talk to himself just then, and very when our friend with the silver staff whispered in ourwell he was doing it, too, only he spoke very fast, but ear that he was no other than a doctor of civil law, andthat was habit; and rather thick, but that was good heaven knows what besides. So of course we were mistaken,and he must be a very talented man. He concealsliving. So we had plenty of time to look about us. Therewas one individual who amused us mightily. This was it so well though - perhaps with the merciful view ofone of the bewigged gentlemen in the red robes, who not astonishing ordinary people too much—that youwas straddling before the fire in the centre of the Court, would suppose him to be one of the stupidest dogs alive.in the attitude of the brazen Colossus, to the complete The gentleman in the spectacles having concluded hisexclusion of everybody else. He had gathered up his judgment, and a few minutes having been allowed torobe behind, in much the same manner as a slovenly elapse, to afford time for the buzz of the Court to subside,the registrar called on the next cause, which waswoman would her petticoats on a very dirty day, inorder that he might feel the full warmth of the fire. His ‘the office of the Judge promoted by Bumple againstwig was put on all awry, with the tail straggling about Sludberry.’ A general movement was visible in the Court,87

Sketches by Bozat this announcement, and the obliging functionary with for himself;’ adding, ‘that if the said Michael Bumple didsilver staff whispered us that ‘there would be some fun want anything for himself, he, the said Thomas Sludberry,now, for this was a brawling case.’was the man to give it him;’ at the same time making useWe were not rendered much the wiser by this piece of of other heinous and sinful expressions, all of which,information, till we found by the opening speech of the Bumple submitted, came within the intent and meaningcounsel for the promoter, that, under a half-obsolete statuteof one of the Edwards, the court was empowered to chastening of Sludberry, prayed for sentence of excommu-of the Act; and therefore he, for the soul’s health andvisit with the penalty of excommunication, any person nication against him accordingly.who should be proved guilty of the crime of ‘brawling,’ or Upon these facts a long argument was entered into,‘smiting,’ in any church, or vestry adjoining thereto; and it on both sides, to the great edification of a number ofappeared, by some eight-and-twenty affidavits, which were persons interested in the parochial squabbles, whoduly referred to, that on a certain night, at a certain vestry-meeting,in a certain parish particularly set forth, Tho-speeches had been made PRO and CON, the red-facedcrowded the court; and when some very long and gravemas Sludberry, the party appeared against in that suit, gentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacles took a reviewhad made use of, and applied to Michael Bumple, the promoter,the words ‘You be blowed;’ and that, on the said then pronounced upon Sludberry the awful sentence ofof the case, which occupied half an hour more, andMichael Bumple and others remonstrating with the said excommunication for a fortnight, and payment of theThomas Sludberry, on the impropriety of his conduct, the costs of the suit. Upon this, Sludberry, who was a little,said Thomas Sludberry repeated the aforesaid expression, red-faced, sly-looking, ginger-beer seller, addressed the‘You be blowed;’ and furthermore desired and requested to court, and said, if they’d be good enough to take offknow, whether the said Michael Bumple ‘wanted anything the costs, and excommunicate him for the term of his88

Charles Dickensnatural life instead, it would be much more convenient in copying or examining deeds. Down the centre of theto him, for he never went to church at all. To this appealthe gentleman in the spectacles made no other which, three or four people were standing, poring overroom were several desks nearly breast high, at each ofreply than a look of virtuous indignation; and Sludberry large volumes. As we knew that they were searching forand his friends retired. As the man with the silver staff wills, they attracted our attention at once.informed us that the court was on the point of rising, It was curious to contrast the lazy indifference of thewe retired too—pondering, as we walked away, upon attorneys’ clerks who were making a search for somethe beautiful spirit of these ancient ecclesiastical laws, legal purpose, with the air of earnestness and interestthe kind and neighbourly feelings they are calculated which distinguished the strangers to the place, who wereto awaken, and the strong attachment to religious institutionswhich they cannot fail to engender.pausing every now and then with an impatient yawn,looking up the will of some deceased relative; the formerWe were so lost in these meditations, that we had or raising their heads to look at the people who passedturned into the street, and run up against a door-post, up and down the room; the latter stooping over thebefore we recollected where we were walking. On lookingupwards to see what house we had stumbled upon, in the deepest abstraction.book, and running down column after column of namesthe words ‘Prerogative-Office,’ written in large characters,met our eye; and as we were in a sight-seeing who after a whole morning’s search, extending some fiftyThere was one little dirty-faced man in a blue apron,humour and the place was a public one, we walked in. years back, had just found the will to which he wished toThe room into which we walked, was a long, busylookingplace, partitioned off, on either side, into a va-low hurried voice from a thick vellum book with largerefer, which one of the officials was reading to him in ariety of little boxes, in which a few clerks were engaged clasps. It was perfectly evident that the more the clerk89

Sketches by Bozread, the less the man with the blue apron understood threadbare, but it was easy to see that he wore themabout the matter. When the volume was first brought from choice and not from necessity; all his looks anddown, he took off his hat, smoothed down his hair, smiled gestures down to the very small pinches of snuff whichwith great self-satisfaction, and looked up in the reader’s he every now and then took from a little tin canister,face with the air of a man who had made up his mind to told of wealth, and penury, and avarice.recollect every word he heard. The first two or three lines As he leisurely closed the register, put up his spectacles,and folded his scraps of paper in a large leath-were intelligible enough; but then the technicalities began,and the little man began to look rather dubious. ern pocket-book, we thought what a nice hard bargainhe was driving with some poverty-stricken lega-Then came a whole string of complicated trusts, and hewas regularly at sea. As the reader proceeded, it was quite tee, who, tired of waiting year after year, until someapparent that it was a hopeless case, and the little man, life-interest should fall in, was selling his chance, justwith his mouth open and his eyes fixed upon his face, as it began to grow most valuable, for a twelfth part oflooked on with an expression of bewilderment and perplexityirresistibly ludicrous.The old man stowed his pocket-book carefully in theits worth. It was a good speculation—a very safe one.A little further on, a hard-featured old man with a breast of his great-coat, and hobbled away with a leerdeeply-wrinkled face, was intently perusing a lengthy of triumph. That will had made him ten years youngerwill with the aid of a pair of horn spectacles: occasionallypausing from his task, and slily noting down some Having commenced our observations, we should cer-at the lowest computation.brief memorandum of the bequests contained in it. Everywrinkle about his toothless mouth, and sharp keen least, had not a sudden shutting up and putting away oftainly have extended them to another dozen of people ateyes, told of avarice and cunning. His clothes were nearly the worm-eaten old books, warned us that the time for90

Charles Dickensclosing the office had arrived; and thus deprived us of a and not unfrequently of complaint. The inclination may,pleasure, and spared our readers an infliction.and no doubt does, exist to a great extent, among theWe naturally fell into a train of reflection as we walked small gentility—the would-be aristocrats—of the middlehomewards, upon the curious old records of likings and classes. Tradesmen and clerks, with fashionable novelreadingfamilies, and circulating-library-subscribingdislikings; of jealousies and revenges; of affection defyingthe power of death, and hatred pursued beyond the daughters, get up small assemblies in humble imitationgrave, which these depositories contain; silent but strikingtokens, some of them, of excellence of heart, and some second-rate hotel with as much complacency asof Almack’s, and promenade the dingy ‘large room’ ofnobleness of soul; melancholy examples, others, of the the enviable few who are privileged to exhibit their magnificencein that exclusive haunt of fashion and fool-worst passions of human nature. How many men as theylay speechless and helpless on the bed of death, would ery. Aspiring young ladies, who read flaming accountshave given worlds but for the strength and power to of some ‘fancy fair in high life,’ suddenly grow desperatelycharitable; visions of admiration and matrimonyblot out the silent evidence of animosity and bitterness,which now stands registered against them in Doctors’Commons!institution, which, by the strangest accident in thefloat before their eyes; some wonderfully meritoriousworld, has never been heard of before, is discovered toCHAPTER IX—LONDON RECREATIONS be in a languishing condition: Thomson’s great room,or Johnson’s nursery-ground, is forthwith engaged, andTHE WISH OF PERSONS in the humbler classes of life, to the aforesaid young ladies, from mere charity, exhibitape the manners and customs of those whom fortune themselves for three days, from twelve to four, for thehas placed above them, is often the subject of remark, small charge of one shilling per head! With the excep-91

Sketches by Boztion of these classes of society, however, and a few weak ticularly anxious that the fish-pond should be kept speciallyneat. If you call on him on Sunday in summer-and insignificant persons, we do not think the attemptat imitation to which we have alluded, prevails in any time, about an hour before dinner, you will find himgreat degree. The different character of the recreations sitting in an arm-chair, on the lawn behind the house,of different classes, has often afforded us amusement; with a straw hat on, reading a Sunday paper. A shortand we have chosen it for the subject of our present distance from him you will most likely observe a handsomeparoquet in a large brass-wire cage; ten to one butsketch, in the hope that it may possess some amusementfor our readers.the two eldest girls are loitering in one of the side walksIf the regular City man, who leaves Lloyd’s at five accompanied by a couple of young gentlemen, who areo’clock, and drives home to Hackney, Clapton, Stamford-hill,or elsewhere, can be said to have any daily sun off—while the younger children, with the underholding parasols over them—of course only to keep therecreation beyond his dinner, it is his garden. He never nursery-maid, are strolling listlessly about, in the shade.does anything to it with his own hands; but he takes Beyond these occasions, his delight in his garden appearsto arise more from the consciousness of posses-great pride in it notwithstanding; and if you are desirousof paying your addresses to the youngest daughter, sion than actual enjoyment of it. When he drives yoube sure to be in raptures with every flower and shrub it down to dinner on a week-day, he is rather fatiguedcontains. If your poverty of expression compel you to with the occupations of the morning, and tolerably crossmake any distinction between the two, we would certainlyrecommend your bestowing more admiration on has drank three or four glasses of his favourite port, heinto the bargain; but when the cloth is removed, and hehis garden than his wine. He always takes a walk round orders the French windows of his dining-room (whichit, before he starts for town in the morning, and is par-of course look into the garden) to be opened, and throw-92

Charles Dickensing a silk handkerchief over his head, and leaning back in the garden; and when it is too wet to go into it, hein his arm-chair, descants at considerable length upon will look out of the window at it, by the hour together.its beauty, and the cost of maintaining it. This is to He has always something to do there, and you will seeimpress you—who are a young friend of the family— him digging, and sweeping, and cutting, and planting,with a due sense of the excellence of the garden, and with manifest delight. In spring-time, there is no endthe wealth of its owner; and when he has exhausted the to the sowing of seeds, and sticking little bits of woodsubject, he goes to sleep.over them, with labels, which look like epitaphs to theirThere is another and a very different class of men, memory; and in the evening, when the sun has gonewhose recreation is their garden. An individual of this down, the perseverance with which he lugs a great watering-potabout is perfectly astonishing. The only otherclass, resides some short distance from town—say inthe Hampstead-road, or the Kilburn-road, or any other recreation he has, is the newspaper, which he perusesroad where the houses are small and neat, and have every day, from beginning to end, generally reading thelittle slips of back garden. He and his wife—who is as most interesting pieces of intelligence to his wife, duringbreakfast. The old lady is very fond of flowers, asclean and compact a little body as himself—have occupiedthe same house ever since he retired from business the hyacinth-glasses in the parlour-window, and geranium-potsin the little front court, testify. She takestwenty years ago. They have no family. They once had ason, who died at about five years old. The child’s portraithangs over the mantelpiece in the best sitting-fruit-trees produces rather a larger gooseberry thangreat pride in the garden too: and when one of the fourroom, and a little cart he used to draw about, is carefullypreserved as a relic.the sideboard, for the edification of visitors, who areusual, it is carefully preserved under a wine-glass onIn fine weather the old gentleman is almost constantly duly informed that Mr. So-and-so planted the tree which93

Sketches by Bozproduced it, with his own hands. On a summer’s has tended to unfit women for that quiet domestic life,evening, when the large watering-pot has been filled in which they show far more beautifully than in theand emptied some fourteen times, and the old couple most crowded assembly, is a question we should feelhave quite exhausted themselves by trotting about, little gratification in discussing: we hope not.you will see them sitting happily together in the little Let us turn now, to another portion of the Londonsummerhouse, enjoying the calm and peace of the twilight,and watching the shadows as they fall upon the a contrast as can well be conceived—we mean the Sun-population, whose recreations present about as stronggarden, and gradually growing thicker and more sombre,obscure the tints of their gayest flowers—no bad themselves stationed by our side in some well-knownday pleasurers; and let us beg our readers to imagineemblem of the years that have silently rolled over their rural ‘Tea-gardens.’heads, deadening in their course the brightest hues of The heat is intense this afternoon, and the people, ofearly hopes and feelings which have long since faded whom there are additional parties arriving every moment,look as warm as the tables which have been re-away. These are their only recreations, and they requireno more. They have within themselves, the materialsof comfort and content; and the only anxiety hot. What a dust and noise! Men and women—boys andcently painted, and have the appearance of being red-of each, is to die before the other.girls—sweethearts and married people—babies in arms,This is no ideal sketch. There used to be many old and children in chaises—pipes and shrimps—cigars andpeople of this description; their numbers may have diminished,and may decrease still more. Whether the waistcoats, and steel watch-guards, promenading about,periwinkles—tea and tobacco. Gentlemen, in alarmingcourse female education has taken of late days—whether three abreast, with surprising dignity (or as the gentlemanin the next box facetiously observes, ‘cutting itthe pursuit of giddy frivolities, and empty nothings,94

Charles Dickensuncommon fat!’)—ladies, with great, long, white pockethandkerchiefslike small table-cloths, in their hands, belongs to one of them—that diminutive specimen ofago: it originated in admiration of the little boy whochasing one another on the grass in the most playful mortality in the three-cornered pink satin hat with blackand interesting manner, with the view of attracting the feathers. The two men in the blue coats and drab trousers,who are walking up and down, smoking their pipes,attention of the aforesaid gentlemen—husbands in perspectiveordering bottles of ginger-beer for the objects are their husbands. The party in the opposite box are aof their affections, with a lavish disregard of expense; pretty fair specimen of the generality of the visitors.and the said objects washing down huge quantities of These are the father and mother, and old grandmother:‘shrimps’ and ‘winkles,’ with an equal disregard of their a young man and woman, and an individual addressedown bodily health and subsequent comfort—boys, with by the euphonious title of ‘Uncle Bill,’ who is evidentlygreat silk hats just balanced on the top of their heads, the wit of the party. They have some half-dozen childrenwith them, but it is scarcely necessary to noticesmoking cigars, and trying to look as if they liked them—gentlemen in pink shirts and blue waistcoats, occasionallyupsetting either themselves, or somebody else, with in ‘the gardens,’ who has been married for any length ofthe fact, for that is a matter of course here. Every womantheir own canes.time, must have had twins on two or three occasions; itSome of the finery of these people provokes a smile, is impossible to accountbut they are all clean, and happy, and disposed to be for the extent of juvenile population in any other way.good-natured and sociable. Those two motherly-lookingwomen in the smart pelisses, who are chatting so mother, at Uncle Bill’s splendid joke of ‘tea for four:Observe the inexpressible delight of the old grand-confidentially, inserting a ‘ma’am’ at every fourth word, bread-and-butter for forty;’ and the loud explosion ofscraped an acquaintance about a quarter of an hour mirth which follows his wafering a paper ‘pigtail’ on95

Sketches by Bozthe waiter’s collar. The young man is evidently ‘keeping ing arrives—the gardens look mournful enough, bycompany’ with Uncle Bill’s niece: and Uncle Bill’s hints— the light of the two lanterns which hang against thesuch as ‘Don’t forget me at the dinner, you know,’ ‘I trees for the convenience of smokers—and the waitersshall look out for the cake, Sally,’ ‘I’ll be godfather to who have been running about incessantly for the lastyour first—wager it’s a boy,’ and so forth, are equally six hours, think they feel a little tired, as they countembarrassing to the young people, and delightful to their glasses and their gains.the elder ones. As to the old grandmother, she is inperfect ecstasies, and does nothing but laugh herselfCHAPTER X—THE RIVERinto fits of coughing, until they have finished the ‘ginand-waterwarm with,’ of which Uncle Bill ordered ‘glasses ‘ARE YOU FOND of the water?’ is a question very frequentlyround’ after tea, ‘just to keep the night air out, and to asked, in hot summer weather, by amphibious-lookingdo it up comfortable and riglar arter sitch an as-tonishing young men. ‘Very,’ is the general reply. ‘An’t you?’—hot day!’’Hardly ever off it,’ is the response, accompanied by sundryadjectives, expressive of the speaker’s heartfelt ad-It is getting dark, and the people begin to move.The field leading to town is quite full of them; the miration of that element. Now, with all respect for thelittle hand-chaises are dragged wearily along, the childrenare tired, and amuse themselves and the comticular,we humbly suggest that some of the most pain-opinion of society in general, and cutter clubs in parpanygenerally by crying, or resort to the much more ful reminiscences in the mind of every individual whopleasant expedient of going to sleep—the mothers has occasionally disported himself on the Thames, mustbegin to wish they were at home again—sweethearts be connected with his aquatic recreations. Who evergrow more sentimental than ever, as the time for part-heard of a successful water-party?—or to put the ques-96

Charles Dickenstion in a still more intelligible form, who ever saw We grant that the banks of the Thames are very beautifulat Richmond and Twickenham, and other distantone? We have been on water excursions out of number,but we solemnly declare that we cannot call to havens, often sought though seldom reached; but frommind one single occasion of the kind, which was not the ‘Red-us’ back to Blackfriars-bridge, the scene is wonderfullychanged. The Penitentiary is a noble building,marked by more miseries than any one would supposecould be reasonably crowded into the space of some no doubt, and the sportive youths who ‘go in’ at thateight or nine hours. Something has always gone wrong. particular part of the river, on a summer’s evening, mayEither the cork of the salad-dressing has come out, or be all very well in perspective; but when you are obligedthe most anxiously expected member of the party has to keep in shore coming home, and the young ladies willnot come out, or the most disagreeable man in companywould come out, or a child or two have fallen the married dittos cough slightly, and stare very hard atcolour up, and look perseveringly the other way, whileinto the water, or the gentleman who undertook to the water, you feel awkward—especially if you happensteer has endangered everybody’s life all the way, or to have been attempting the most distant approach tothe gentlemen who volunteered to row have been ‘out sentimentality, for an hour or two previously.of practice,’ and performed very alarming evolutions, Although experience and suffering have produced inputting their oars down into the water and not being our minds the result we have just stated, we are by noable to get them up again, or taking terrific pulls withoutputting them in at all; in either case, pitching on may extract from the amateurs of boating. What canmeans blind to a proper sense of the fun which a looker-over on the backs of their heads with startling violence,and exhibiting the soles of their pumps to the morning? It’s a Richmond tide, and some dozen boats arebe more amusing than Searle’s yard on a fine Sunday‘sitters’ in the boat, in a very humiliating manner. preparing for the reception of the parties who have en-97

Sketches by Bozgaged them. Two or three fellows in great rough trousers gin, of which we verily believe he swallows in one day asand Guernsey shirts, are getting them ready by easy stages; much as any six ordinary men, without ever being onenow coming down the yard with a pair of sculls and a atom the worse for it.cushion—then having a chat with the ‘Jack,’ who, like all But the party arrives, and Dando, relieved from hishis tribe, seems to be wholly incapable of doing anything state of uncertainty, starts up into activity. They approachbut lounging about—then going back again, and returningwith a rudder-line and a stretcher—then solacing them-shirts, and caps of all sizes and patterns, from the vel-in full aquatic costume, with round blue jackets, stripedselves with another chat—and then wondering, with their vet skull-cap of French manufacture, to the easy headdressfamiliar to the students of the old spelling-books,hands in their capacious pockets, ‘where them gentlemen’sgot to as ordered the six.’ One of these, the head man, with as having, on the authority of the portrait, formed partthe legs of his trousers carefully tucked up at the bottom, of the costume of the Reverend Mr. Dilworth.to admit the water, we presume—for it is an element in This is the most amusing time to observe a regularwhich he is infinitely more at home than on land—is quite Sunday water-party. There has evidently been up to thisa character, and shares with the defunct oyster-swallower period no inconsiderable degree of boasting on everybody’sthe celebrated name of ‘Dando.’ Watch him, as taking a few part relative to his knowledge of navigation; the sight ofminutes’ respite from his toils, he negligently seats himselfon the edge of a boat, and fans his broad bushy chest denial with which each of them insists on somebody else’sthe water rapidly cools their courage, and the air of self-with a cap scarcely half so furry. Look at his magnificent, taking an oar, is perfectly delightful. At length, after athough reddish whiskers, and mark the somewhat native great deal of changing and fidgeting, consequent uponhumour with which he ‘chaffs’ the boys and ‘prentices, or the election of a stroke-oar: the inability of one gentlemanto pull on this side, of another to pull on that, andcunningly gammons the gen’lm’n into the gift of a glass of98

Charles Dickensof a third to pull at all, the boat’s crew are seated. ‘Shove direction, every one of the six oars dipping into the waterat a different time; and the yard is once more clear,her off!’ cries the cockswain, who looks as easy and comfortableas if he were steering in the Bay of Biscay. The until the arrival of the next party.order is obeyed; the boat is immediately turned completelyround, and proceeds towards Westminster-bridge, very lively and interesting scene. The water is studdedA well-contested rowing-match on the Thames, is aamidst such a splashing and struggling as never was seen with boats of all sorts, kinds, and descriptions; placesbefore, except when the Royal George went down. ‘Back in the coal-barges at the different wharfs are let to crowdswa’ater, sir,’ shouts Dando, ‘Back wa’ater, you sir, aft;’ upon of spectators, beer and tobacco flow freely about; men,which everybody thinking he must be the individual referredto, they all back water, and back comes the boat, expectation; cutters of six and eight oars glide gentlywomen, and children wait for the start in breathlessstern first, to the spot whence it started. ‘Back water, up and down, waiting to accompany their proteges duringthe race; bands of music add to the animation, ifyou sir, aft; pull round, you sir, for’ad, can’t you?’ shoutsDando, in a frenzy of excitement. ‘Pull round, Tom, can’t not to the harmony of the scene; groups of watermenyou?’ re-echoes one of the party. ‘Tom an’t for’ad,’ replies are assembled at the different stairs, discussing theanother. ‘Yes, he is,’ cries a third; and the unfortunate merits of the respective candidates; and the prize wherry,young man, at the imminent risk of breaking a bloodvessel,pulls and pulls, until the head of the boat fairly object of general interest.which is rowed slowly about by a pair of sculls, is anlies in the direction of Vauxhall-bridge. ‘That’s right— Two o’clock strikes, and everybody looks anxiously innow pull all on you!’ shouts Dando again, adding, in an the direction of the bridge through which the candidatesfor the prize will come—half-past two, and theunder-tone, to somebody by him, ‘Blowed if hever I seesich a set of muffs!’ and away jogs the boat in a zigzag general attention which has been preserved so long99

Sketches by Bozbegins to flag, when suddenly a gun is heard, and a One of the most amusing places we know is the steamwharfof the London Bridge, or St. Katharine’s Dock Com-noise of distant hurra’ing along each bank of the river—every head is bent forward—the noise draws nearer and pany, on a Saturday morning in summer, when thenearer—the boats which have been waiting at the bridge Gravesend and Margate steamers are usually crowded tostart briskly up the river, and a well-manned galley excess; and as we have just taken a glance at the rivershoots through the arch, the sitters cheering on the above bridge, we hope our readers will not object toboats behind them, which are not yet visible.accompany us on board a Gravesend packet.‘Here they are,’ is the general cry—and through darts Coaches are every moment setting down at the entranceto the wharf, and the stare of bewildered as-the first boat, the men in her, stripped to the skin, andexerting every muscle to preserve the advantage they have tonishment with which the ‘fares’ resign themselvesgained—four other boats follow close astern; there are and their luggage into the hands of the porters, whonot two boats’ length between them—the shouting is seize all the packages at once as a matter of course,tremendous, and the interest intense. ‘Go on, Pink’— and run away with them, heaven knows where, is laughablein the extreme. A Margate boat lies alongside the’Give it her, Red’—’Sulliwin for ever’—’Bravo! George’—’Now, Tom, now—now—now—why don’t your partner wharf, the Gravesend boat (which starts first) liesstretch out?’—’Two pots to a pint on Yellow,’ &c., &c. alongside that again; and as a temporary communicationis formed between the two, by means of a plankEvery little public-house fires its gun, and hoists its flag;and the men who win the heat, come in, amidst a splashingand shouting, and banging and confusion, which no no means diminished.and hand-rail, the natural confusion of the scene is byone can imagine who has not witnessed it, and of which ‘Gravesend?’ inquires a stout father of a stout family,any description would convey a very faint idea. who follow him, under the guidance of their mother,100

Charles Dickensand a servant, at the no small risk of two or three of way; and that if the luggage isn’t restored without delay,he will take care it shall be put in the papers, forthem being left behind in the confusion. ‘Gravesend?’‘Pass on, if you please, sir,’ replies the attendant— the public is not to be the victim of these great monopolies.To this, the officer, in his turn, replies, that’other boat, sir.’Hereupon the stout father, being rather mystified, and that company, ever since it has been St. Kat’rine’s Dockthe stout mother rather distracted by maternal anxiety, Company, has protected life and property; that if it hadthe whole party deposit themselves in the Margate boat, been the London Bridge Wharf Company, indeed, heand after having congratulated himself on having securedvery comfortable seats, the stout father sallies to that company (they being the opposition) can’t be an-shouldn’t have wondered, seeing that the morality ofthe chimney to look for his luggage, which he has a swered for, by no one; but as it is, he’s convinced therefaint recollection of having given some man, something, must be some mistake, and he wouldn’t mind making ato take somewhere. No luggage, however, bearing the solemn oath afore a magistrate that the gentleman’llmost remote resemblance to his own, in shape or form, find his luggage afore he gets to Margate.is to be discovered; on which the stout father calls very Here the stout father, thinking he is making a capitalloudly for an officer, to whom he states the case, in the point, replies, that as it happens, he is not going topresence of another father of another family—a little Margate at all, and that ‘Passenger to Gravesend’ was onthin man—who entirely concurs with him (the stout the luggage, in letters of full two inches long; on whichfather) in thinking that it’s high time something was the officer rapidly explains the mistake, and the stoutdone with these steam companies, and that as the CorporationBill failed to do it, something else must; for hurried with all possible despatch on board themother, and the stout children, and the servant, arereally people’s property is not to be sacrificed in this Gravesend boat, which they reached just in time to dis-101

Sketches by Bozcover that their luggage is there, and that their comfortableseats are not. Then the bell, which is the signal quently replenished from a flat bottle like a stomachwiches,and pass round a wine-glass, which is fre-for the Gravesend boat starting, begins to ring most warmer, with considerable glee: handing it first to thefuriously: and people keep time to the bell, by running gentleman in the foraging-cap, who plays the harp—in and out of our boat at a double-quick pace. The bell partly as an expression of satisfaction with his previousexertions, and partly to induce him to playstops; the boat starts: people who have been takingleave of their friends on board, are carried away against ‘Dumbledumbdeary,’ for ‘Alick’ to dance to; which beingdone, Alick, who is a damp earthy child in redtheir will; and people who have been taking leave oftheir friends on shore, find that they have performed a worsted socks, takes certain small jumps upon the deck,very needless ceremony, in consequence of their not to the unspeakable satisfaction of his family circle.being carried away at all. The regular passengers, who Girls who have brought the first volume of some newhave season tickets, go below to breakfast; people who novel in their reticule, become extremely plaintive, andhave purchased morning papers, compose themselves expatiate to Mr. Brown, or young Mr. O’Brien, who hasto read them; and people who have not been down the been looking over them, on the blueness of the sky,river before, think that both the shipping and the water,look a great deal better at a distance.Mr. O’Brien, as the case may be, remarks in a low voiceand brightness of the water; on which Mr. Brown orWhen we get down about as far as Blackwall, and that he has been quite insensible of late to the beautiesof nature, that his whole thoughts and wishesbegin to move at a quicker rate, the spirits of the passengersappear to rise in proportion. Old women who have centred in one object alone—whereupon thehave brought large wicker hand-baskets with them, young lady looks up, and failing in her attempt toset seriously to work at the demolition of heavy sand-appear unconscious, looks down again; and turns over102

Charles Dickensthe next leaf with great difficulty, in order to affordCHAPTER XI—ASTLEY’Sopportunity for a lengthened pressure of the hand.Telescopes, sandwiches, and glasses of brandy-andwatercold without, begin to be in great requisition; tals, in a book, or shop-window, or placarded on a wall,WE NEVER SEE any very large, staring, black Roman capi-and bashful men who have been looking down the hatchwayat the engine, find, to their great relief, a subject distinct and confused recollection of the time when wewithout their immediately recalling to our mind an in-on which they can converse with one another—and a were first initiated in the mysteries of the alphabet. Wecopious one too—Steam.almost fancy we see the pin’s point following the letter,‘Wonderful thing steam, sir.’ ‘Ah! (a deep-drawn sigh) to impress its form more strongly on our bewilderedit is indeed, sir.’ ‘Great power, sir.’ ‘Immense—immense!’ imagination; and wince involuntarily, as we remember‘Great deal done by steam, sir.’ ‘Ah! (another sigh at the the hard knuckles with which the reverend old ladyimmensity of the subject, and a knowing shake of the who instilled into our mind the first principles of educationfor ninepence per week, or ten and sixpence perhead) you may say that, sir.’ ‘Still in its infancy, theysay, sir.’ Novel remarks of this kind, are generally the quarter, was wont to poke our juvenile head occasionally,by way of adjusting the confusion of ideas in whichcommencement of a conversation which is prolongeduntil the conclusion of the trip, and, perhaps, lays the we were generally involved. The same kind of feelingfoundation of a speaking acquaintance between half-adozengentlemen, who, having their families at place which recalls so strongly our recollections of child-pursues us in many other instances, but there is noGravesend, take season tickets for the boat, and dine hood as Astley’s. It was not a ‘Royal Amphitheatre’ inon board regularly every afternoon.those days, nor had Ducrow arisen to shed the light ofclassic taste and portable gas over the sawdust of the103

Sketches by Bozcircus; but the whole character of the place was the very audible voice from the box-door, occupied the frontsame, the pieces were the same, the clown’s jokes were row; then two more little girls were ushered in by athe same, the riding-masters were equally grand, the young lady, evidently the governess. Then came threecomic performers equally witty, the tragedians equally more little boys, dressed like the first, in blue jacketshoarse, and the ‘highly-trained chargers’ equally spirited.Astley’s has altered for the better—we have in a braided frock and high state of astonishment, withand trousers, with lay-down shirt-collars: then a childchanged for the worse. Our histrionic taste is gone, and very large round eyes, opened to their utmost width,with shame we confess, that we are far more delighted was lifted over the seats—a process which occasioned aand amused with the audience, than with the pageantry considerable display of little pink legs—then came mawe once so highly appreciated.and pa, and then the eldest son, a boy of fourteen yearsWe like to watch a regular Astley’s party in the Easteror Midsummer holidays—pa and ma, and nine or belong to the family.old, who was evidently trying to look as if he did notten children, varying from five foot six to two foot The first five minutes were occupied in taking theeleven: from fourteen years of age to four. We had just shawls off the little girls, and adjusting the bows whichtaken our seat in one of the boxes, in the centre of the ornamented their hair; then it was providentially discoveredthat one of the little boys was seated behind ahouse, the other night, when the next was occupiedby just such a party as we should have attempted to pillar and could not see, so the governess was stuckdescribe, had we depicted our beau deal of a group of behind the pillar, and the boy lifted into her place. ThenAstley’s visitors.pa drilled the boys, and directed the stowing away ofFirst of all, there came three little boys and a little their pocket-handkerchiefs, and ma having first noddedand winked to the governess to pull the girls’ frocksgirl, who, in pursuance of pa’s directions, issued in a104

Charles Dickensa little more off their shoulders, stood up to review the tered that ‘William always was encouraged in his impertinence;’and assumed a look of profound contempt,little troop—an inspection which appeared to terminatemuch to her own satisfaction, for she looked with which lasted the whole evening.a complacent air at pa, who was standing up at the The play began, and the interest of the little boysfurther end of the seat. Pa returned the glance, and knew no bounds. Pa was clearly interested too, althoughblew his nose very emphatically; and the poor governesspeeped out from behind the pillar, and timidly tried wasn’t. As for ma, she was perfectly overcome by thehe very unsuccessfully endeavoured to look as if heto catch ma’s eye, with a look expressive of her high drollery of the principal comedian, and laughed till everyone of the immense bows on her ample cap trembled,admiration of the whole family. Then two of the littleboys who had been discussing the point whether Astley’s at which the governess peeped out from behind thewas more than twice as large as Drury Lane, agreed to pillar again, and whenever she could catch ma’s eye,refer it to ‘George’ for his decision; at which ‘George,’ put her handkerchief to her mouth, and appeared, as inwho was no other than the young gentleman before duty bound, to be in convulsions of laughter also. Thennoticed, waxed indignant, and remonstrated in no very when the man in the splendid armour vowed to rescuegentle terms on the gross impropriety of having his name the lady or perish in the attempt, the little boys applaudedvehemently, especially one little fellow who wasrepeated in so loud a voice at a public place, on whichall the children laughed very heartily, and one of the apparently on a visit to the family, and had been carryingon a child’s flirtation, the whole evening, with alittle boys wound up by expressing his opinion, that‘George began to think himself quite a man now,’ whereuponboth pa and ma laughed too; and George (who model of her mamma on a reduced scale; and who, insmall coquette of twelve years old, who looked like acarried a dress cane and was cultivating whiskers) mut-common with the other little girls (who generally speak-105

Sketches by Bozing have even more coquettishness about them than We defy any one who has been to Astley’s two or threemuch older ones), looked very properly shocked, when times, and is consequently capable of appreciating thethe knight’s squire kissed the princess’s confidential perseverance with which precisely the same jokes arechambermaid.repeated night after night, and season after season,When the scenes in the circle commenced, the childrenwere more delighted than ever; and the wish to least—we mean the scenes in the circle. For ourself, wenot to be amused with one part of the performances atsee what was going forward, completely conquering pa’s know that when the hoop, composed of jets of gas, isdignity, he stood up in the box, and applauded as loudly let down, the curtain drawn up for the convenience ofas any of them. Between each feat of horsemanship, the half-price on their ejectment from the ring, the orange-peelcleared away, and the sawdust shaken, withthe governess leant across to ma, and retailed the cleverremarks of the children on that which had preceded: mathematical precision, into a completeand ma, in the openness of her heart, offered the governessan acidulated drop, and the governess, gratified present; and actually join in the laugh which followscircle, we feel as much enlivened as the youngest childto be taken notice of, retired behind her pillar again the clown’s shrill shout of ‘Here we are!’ just for oldwith a brighter countenance: and the whole party acquaintance’ sake. Nor can we quite divest ourself ofseemed quite happy, except the exquisite in the back of our old feeling of reverence for the riding-master, whothe box, who, being too grand to take any interest in follows the clown with a long whip in his hand, andthe children, and too insignificant to be taken notice of bows to the audience with graceful dignity. He is noneby anybody else, occupied himself, from time to time, of your second-rate riding-masters in nankeen dressing-gowns,with brown frogs, but the regular gentle-in rubbing the place where the whiskers ought to be,and was completely alone in his glory.man-attendant on the principal riders, who always wears106

Charles Dickensa military uniform with a table-cloth inside the breast When Miss Woolford, and the horse, and the orchestra,all stop together to take breath, he urbanely takesof the coat, in which costume he forcibly reminds oneof a fowl trussed for roasting. He is—but why should part in some such dialogue as the following (commencedwe attempt to describe that of which no description by the clown): ‘I say, sir!’—‘Well, sir?’ (it’s always conductedin the politest manner.)—‘Did you ever happencan convey an adequate idea? Everybody knows theman, and everybody remembers his polished boots, his to hear I was in the army, sir?’—’No, sir.’—‘Oh, yes, sir—graceful demeanour, stiff, as some misjudging persons I can go through my exercise, sir.’—’Indeed, sir!’—’Shallhave in their jealousy considered it, and the splendid I do it now, sir?’—’If you please, sir; come, sir—makehead of black hair, parted high on the forehead, to haste’ (a cut with the long whip, and ‘Ha’ done now—Iimpart to the countenance an appearance of deep don’t like it,’ from the clown). Here the clown throwsthought and poetic melancholy. His soft and pleasing himself on the ground, and goes through a variety ofvoice, too, is in perfect unison with his noble bearing, gymnastic convulsions, doubling himself up, and untyinghimself again, and making himself look very like aas he humours the clown by indulging in a little badinage;and the striking recollection of his own dignity, man in the most hopeless extreme of human agony, towith which he exclaims, ‘Now, sir, if you please, inquirefor Miss Woolford, sir,’ can never be forgotten. rupted by a second cut from the long whip, and a re-the vociferous delight of the gallery, until he is inter-The graceful air, too, with which he introduces Miss quest to see ‘what Miss Woolford’s stopping for?’ OnWoolford into the arena, and, after assisting her to the which, to the inexpressible mirth of the gallery, he exclaims,‘Now, Miss Woolford, what can I come for to go,saddle, follows her fairy courser round the circle, cannever fail to create a deep impression in the bosom of for to fetch, for to bring, for to carry, for to do, for you,every female servant present.ma’am?’ On the lady’s announcing with a sweet smile107

Sketches by Bozthat she wants the two flags, they are, with sundry grimaces,procured and handed up; the clown facetiously them. That young fellow in the faded brown coat, andto think they are exhibiting; the lamps are ever beforeobserving after the performance of the latter ceremony— very full light green trousers, pulls down the wristbands’He, he, oh! I say, sir, Miss Woolford knows me; she smiled of his check shirt, as ostentatiously as if it were of theat me.’ Another cut from the whip, a burst from the finest linen, and cocks the white hat of the summerbefore-lastas knowingly over his right eye, as if it wereorchestra, a start from the horse, and round goes MissWoolford again on her graceful performance, to the delightof every member of the audience, young or old. gloves, and the cheap silk handkerchief stuck in thea purchase of yesterday. Look at the dirty white BerlinThe next pause affords an opportunity for similar witticisms,the only additional fun being that of the clown for an instant, and not come to the conclusion that hebosom of his threadbare coat. Is it possible to see himmaking ludicrous grimaces at the riding-master every is the walking gentleman who wears a blue surtout,time his back is turned; and finally quitting the circle clean collar, and white trousers, for half an hour, andby jumping over his head, having previously directed then shrinks into his worn-out scanty clothes: who hashis attention another way.to boast night after night of his splendid fortune, withDid any of our readers ever notice the class of people, the painful consciousness of a pound a-week and hiswho hang about the stage-doors of our minor theatres boots to find; to talk of his father’s mansion in thein the daytime? You will rarely pass one of these entranceswithout seeing a group of three or four men back, in the New Cut; and to be envied and flattered ascountry, with a dreary recollection of his own two-pairconversing on the pavement, with an indescribable public-house-parlourswagger, and a kind of conscious air, while that the ex-dancer at home is in the family way,the favoured lover of a rich heiress, remembering all thepeculiar to people of this description. They always seem and out of an engagement?108

Charles DickensNext to him, perhaps, you will see a thin pale man, Yes—it is, it is my child!’—‘My father!’ exclaims thewith a very long face, in a suit of shining black, thoughtfullyknocking that part of his boot which once had a over each other’s shoulders, and the audience give threechild; and they fall into each other’s arms, and lookheel, with an ash stick. He is the man who does the rounds of applause.heavy business, such as prosy fathers, virtuous servants, To return from this digression, we were about to say,curates, landlords, and so forth.that these are the sort of people whom you see talking,By the way, talking of fathers, we should very much and attitudinising, outside the stage-doors of our minortheatres. At Astley’s they are always more numer-like to see some piece in which all the dramatis personaewere orphans. Fathers are invariably great nuisances ous than at any other place. There is generally a groomon the stage, and always have to give the hero or heroinea long explanation of what was done before the dirty shabby-genteel men in checked neckerchiefs, andor two, sitting on the window-sill, and two or threecurtain rose, usually commencing with ‘It is now nineteenyears, my dear child, since your blessed mother under one arm, a pair of stage shoes badly wrapped upsallow linen, lounging about, and carrying, perhaps,(here the old villain’s voice falters) confided you to my in a piece of old newspaper. Some years ago we used tocharge. You were then an infant,’ &c., &c. Or else they stand looking, open-mouthed, at these men, with a feelingof mysterious curiosity, the very recollection of whichhave to discover, all of a sudden, that somebody whomthey have been in constant communication with, duringthree long acts, without the slightest suspicion, is not believe that the beings of light and elegance, inprovokes a smile at the moment we are writing. We couldtheir own child: in which case they exclaim, ‘Ah! what milk-white tunics, salmon-coloured legs, and blue scarfs,do I see? This bracelet! That smile! These documents! who flitted on sleek cream-coloured horses before ourThose eyes! Can I believe my senses?—It must be!— eyes at night, with all the aid of lights, music, and arti-109

Sketches by Bozficial flowers, could be the pale, dissipated-looking creatureswe beheld by day.CHAPTER XII—GREENWICH FAIRWe can hardly believe it now. Of the lower class of IF THE PARKS be ‘the lungs of London,’ we wonder whatactors we have seen something, and it requires no great Greenwich Fair is—a periodical breaking out, we suppose,a sort of spring-rash: a three days’ fever, whichexercise of imagination to identify the walking gentlemanwith the ‘dirty swell,’ the comic singer with the cools the blood for six months afterwards, and at thepublic-house chairman, or the leading tragedian with expiration of which London is restored to its old habitsdrunkenness and distress; but these other men are mysteriousbeings, never seen out of the ring, never beheld nothing had ever happened to disturb them.of plodding industry, as suddenly and completely as ifbut in the costume of gods and sylphs. With the exceptionof Ducrow, who can scarcely be classed among them, Greenwich Fair, for years. We have proceeded to, andIn our earlier days, we were a constant frequenter ofwho ever knew a rider at Astley’s, or saw him but on returned from it, in almost every description of vehicle.horseback? Can our friend in the military uniform ever We cannot conscientiously deny the charge of havingappear in threadbare attire, or descend to the comparativelyun-wadded costume of every-day life? Impossible! thirteen gentlemen, fourteen ladies, an unlimited num-once made the passage in a spring-van, accompanied byWe cannot—we will not—believe it.ber of children, and a barrel of beer; and we have avague recollection of having, in later days, found ourselfthe eighth outside, on the top of a hackney-coach,at something past four o’clock in the morning, with arather confused idea of our own name, or place of residence.We have grown older since then, and quiet, and110

Charles Dickenssteady: liking nothing better than to spend our Easter, servants-of-all-work, who are not allowed to have followers,and have got a holiday for the day, make theand all our other holidays, in some quiet nook, withpeople of whom we shall never tire; but we think we most of their time with the faithful admirer who waitsstill remember something of Greenwich Fair, and of those for a stolen interview at the corner of the street everywho resort to it. At all events we will try.night, when they go to fetch the beer—apprentices growThe road to Greenwich during the whole of Easter Monday,is in a state of perpetual bustle and noise. Cabs, is anxious to get on, and actuated by the common wishsentimental, and straw-bonnet makers kind. Everybodyhackney-coaches, ‘shay’ carts, coal-waggons, stages, to be at the fair, or in the park, as soon as possible.omnibuses, sociables, gigs, donkey-chaises—all crammed Pedestrians linger in groups at the roadside, unablewith people (for the question never is, what the horse to resist the allurements of the stout proprietress of thecan draw, but what the vehicle will hold), roll along at ‘Jack-in-the-box, three shies a penny,’ or the more splendidoffers of the man with three thimbles and a pea ontheir utmost speed; the dust flies in clouds, ginger-beercorks go off in volleys, the balcony of every public-house a little round board, who astonishes the bewildered crowdis crowded with people, smoking and drinking, half the with some such address as, ‘Here’s the sort o’ game toprivate houses are turned into tea-shops, fiddles are in make you laugh seven years arter you’re dead, and turngreat request, every little fruit-shop displays its stall of ev’ry air on your ed gray vith delight! Three thimblesgilt gingerbread and penny toys; turnpike men are in and vun little pea—with a vun, two, three, and a two,despair; horses won’t go on, and wheels will come off; three, vun: catch him who can, look on, keep your eyesladies in ‘carawans’ scream with fright at every fresh open, and niver say die! niver mind the change, andconcussion, and their admirers find it necessary to sit the expense: all fair and above board: them as don’tremarkably close to them, by way of encouragement; play can’t vin, and luck attend the ryal sportsman! Bet111

Sketches by Bozany gen’lm’n any sum of money, from harf-a-crown up public-houses, is the park, in which the principalto a suverin, as he doesn’t name the thimble as kivers amusement is to drag young ladies up the steep hillthe pea!’ Here some greenhorn whispers his friend that which leads to the Observatory, and then drag themhe distinctly saw the pea roll under the middle down again, at the very top of their speed, greatly tothimble—an impression which is immediately confirmedby a gentleman in top-boots, who is standing much to the edification of lookers-on from below. ‘Kissthe derangement of their curls and bonnet-caps, andby, and who, in a low tone, regrets his own inability to in the Ring,’ and ‘Threading my Grandmother’s Needle,’bet, in consequence of having unfortunately left his too, are sports which receive their full share of patronage.Love-sick swains, under the influence of gin-purse at home, but strongly urges the stranger not toneglect such a golden opportunity. The ‘plant’ is successful,the bet is made, the stranger of course loses: affectionate: and the fair objects of their regard enand-water,and the tender passion, become violentlyand the gentleman with the thimbles consoles him, as hance the value of stolen kisses, by a vast deal of struggling,and holding down of heads, and cries of ‘Oh! Ha’he pockets the money, with an assurance that it’s ‘allthe fortin of war! this time I vin, next time you vin: done, then, George—Oh, do tickle him for me, Mary—niver mind the loss of two bob and a bender! Do it up Well, I never!’ and similar Lucretian ejaculations. Littlein a small parcel, and break out in a fresh place. Here’s old men and women, with a small basket under onethe sort o’ game,’ &c.—and the eloquent harangue, with arm, and a wine-glass, without a foot, in the othersuch variations as the speaker’s exuberant fancy suggests,is again repeated to the gaping crowd, reinforced groups; and young ladies, who are persuaded to in-hand, tender ‘a drop o’ the right sort’ to the differentby the accession of several new-comers.dulge in a drop of the aforesaid right sort, display aThe chief place of resort in the daytime, after the pleasing degree of reluctance to taste it, and cough112

Charles Dickensafterwards with great propriety.fied herself, and leaving those behind her perfectly satisfiedalso: and the prophecy, like many other propheciesThe old pensioners, who, for the moderate charge of apenny, exhibit the mast-house, the Thames and shipping,the place where the men used to hang in chains, But it grows dark: the crowd has gradually dispersed,of greater importance, fulfils itself in time.and other interesting sights, through a telescope, are and only a few stragglers are left behind. The light inasked questions about objects within the range of the the direction of the church shows that the fair is illuminated;and the distant noise proves it to be filling fast.glass, which it would puzzle a Solomon to answer; andrequested to find out particular houses in particular The spot, which half an hour ago was ringing with thestreets, which it would have been a task of some difficultyfor Mr. Horner (not the young gentleman who ate nothing could ever disturb its serenity: the fine old trees,shouts of boisterous mirth, is as calm and quiet as ifmince-pies with his thumb, but the man of Colosseum the majestic building at their feet, with the noble rivernotoriety) to discover. Here and there, where some three beyond, glistening in the moonlight, appear in all theiror four couple are sitting on the grass together, you will beauty, and under their most favourable aspect; the voicessee a sun-burnt woman in a red cloak ‘telling fortunes’ of the boys, singing their evening hymn, are borne gentlyon the air; and the humblest mechanic who has beenand prophesying husbands, which it requires no extraordinaryobservation to describe, for the originals are beforeher. Thereupon, the lady concerned laughs and the same dull round from week to week in the pavedlingering on the grass so pleasant to the feet that beatblushes, and ultimately buries her face in an imitation streets of London, feels proud to think as he surveys thecambric handkerchief, and the gentleman described looks scene before him, that he belongs to the country whichextremely foolish, and squeezes her hand, and fees the has selected such a spot as a retreat for its oldest andgipsy liberally; and the gipsy goes away, perfectly satis-best defenders in the decline of their lives.113

Sketches by BozFive minutes’ walking brings you to the fair; a scene Imagine yourself in an extremely dense crowd, whichcalculated to awaken very different feelings. The entranceis occupied on either side by the vendors of gin-but the right one; add to this the screams of women,swings you to and fro, and in and out, and every waygerbread and toys: the stalls are gaily lighted up, the the shouts of boys, the clanging of gongs, the firing ofmost attractive goods profusely disposed, and pistols, the ringing of bells, the bellowings of speakingtrumpets,the squeaking of penny dittos, the noise of aunbonneted young ladies, in their zeal for the interestof their employers, seize you by the coat, and use all dozen bands, with three drums in each, all playing differenttunes at the same time, the hallooing of show-the blandishments of ‘Do, dear’—’There’s a love’—’Don’tbe cross, now,’ &c., to induce you to purchase half a men, and an occasional roar from the wild-beast shows;pound of the real spice nuts, of which the majority of and you are in the very centre and heart of the fair.the regular fair-goers carry a pound or two as a present This immense booth, with the large stage in front, sosupply, tied up in a cotton pocket-handkerchief. Occasionallyyou pass a deal table, on which are exposed burning fat, is ‘Richardson’s,’ where you have a melo-brightly illuminated with variegated lamps, and pots ofpen’orths of pickled salmon (fennel included), in little drama (with three murders and a ghost), a pantomime,white saucers: oysters, with shells as large as cheeseplates,and divers specimens of a species of snail (wilks, all done in five-and-twenty minutes.a comic song, an overture, and some incidental music,we think they are called), floating in a somewhat bilious-lookinggreen liquid. Cigars, too, are in great de-dignity of wigs, spangles, red-ochre, and whitening. SeeThe company are now promenading outside in all themand; gentlemen must smoke, of course, and here they with what a ferocious air the gentleman who personatesthe Mexican chief, paces up and down, and withare, two a penny, in a regular authentic cigar-box, witha lighted tallow candle in the centre.what an eye of calm dignity the principal tragedian gazes114

Charles Dickenson the crowd below, or converses confidentially with crowds. The band suddenly strikes up, the harlequin andthe harlequin! The four clowns, who are engaged in a columbine set the example, reels are formed in less thanmock broadsword combat, may be all very well for the no time, the Roman heroes place their arms a-kimbo, andlow-minded holiday-makers; but these aredance with considerable agility; and the leading tragicthe people for the reflective portion of the community. actress, and the gentleman who enacts the ‘swell’ in theThey look so noble in those Roman dresses, with their pantomime, foot it to perfection. ‘All in to begin,’ shoutsyellow legs and arms, long black curly heads, bushy eyebrows,and scowl expressive of assassination, and ven-‘come for’erd,’ and away rush the leading members of thethe manager, when no more people can be induced togeance, and everything else that is grand and solemn. company to do the dreadful in the first piece.Then, the ladies—were there ever such innocent and A change of performance takes place every day duringthe fair, but the story of the tragedy is always prettyawful-looking beings; as they walk up and down theplatform in twos and threes, with their arms round each much the same. There is a rightful heir, who loves aother’s waists, or leaning for support on one of those young lady, and is beloved by her; and a wrongful heir,majestic men! Their spangled muslin dresses and blue who loves her too, and isn’t beloved by her; and thesatin shoes and sandals (a leetle the worse for wear) are wrongful heir gets hold of the rightful heir, and throwsthe admiration of all beholders; and the playful manner him into a dungeon, just to kill him off when convenient,for which purpose he hires a couple of assas-in which they check the advances of the clown, is perfectlyenchanting.sins—a good one and a bad one—who, the moment‘Just a-going to begin! Pray come for’erd, come for’erd,’ they are left alone, get up a little murder on their ownexclaims the man in the countryman’s dress, for the seventiethtime: and people force their way up the steps in one wounding the good one. Then the rightful heiraccount, the good one killing the bad one, and the badis115

Sketches by Bozdiscovered in prison, carefully holding a long chain in full length. Then the good assassin staggers in, and sayshis hands, and seated despondingly in a large arm-chair; he was hired in conjunction with the bad assassin, byand the young lady comes in to two bars of soft music, the wrongful heir, to kill the rightful heir; and he’s killedand embraces the rightful heir; and then the wrongful a good many people in his time, but he’s very sorry forheir comes in to two bars of quick music (technically it, and won’t do so any more—a promise which he immediatelyredeems, by dying off hand without any non-called ‘a hurry’), and goes on in the most shocking manner,throwing the young lady about as if she was nobody,and calling the rightful heir ‘Ar-recreant—ar-chain; and then two men, a sailor, and a young womansense about it. Then the rightful heir throws down hiswretch!’ in a very loud voice, which answers the double (the tenantry of the rightful heir) come in, and thepurpose of displaying his passion, and preventing the ghost makes dumb motions to them, which they, bysound being deadened by the sawdust. The interest becomesintense; the wrongful heir draws his sword, and can; and the ghost (who can’t do anything without bluesupernatural interference, understand—for no one elserushes on the rightful heir; a blue smoke is seen, a fire) blesses the rightful heir and the young lady, bygong is heard, and a tall white figure (who has been all half suffocating them with smoke: and then a muffinbellrings, and the curtain drops.this time, behind the arm-chair, covered over with atable-cloth), slowly rises to the tune of ‘Oft in the stilly The exhibitions next in popularity to these itinerantnight.’ This is no other than the ghost of the rightful theatres are the travelling menageries, or, to speak moreheir’s father, who was killed by the wrongful heir’s father,at sight of which the wrongful heir becomes apo-in beef-eater’s costume, with leopard-skin caps, play in-intelligibly, the ‘Wild-beast shows,’ where a military bandplectic, and is literally ‘struck all of a heap,’ the stage cessantly; and where large highly-coloured representationsof tigers tearing men’s heads open, and a lion beingnot being large enough to admit of his falling down at116

Charles Dickensburnt with red-hot irons to induce him to drop his victim,are hung up outside, by way of attracting visitors. of a penny, they attract very numerous audiences. Theties, are usually exhibited together for the small chargeThe principal officer at these places is generally a very best thing about a dwarf is, that he has always a littletall, hoarse man, in a scarlet coat, with a cane in his box, about two feet six inches high, into which, byhand, with which he occasionally raps the pictures we long practice, he can just manage to get, by doublinghave just noticed, by way of illustrating his description—somethingin this way. ‘Here, here, here; the lion, like a six-roomed house, and as the crowd see him ringhimself up like a boot-jack; this box is painted outsidethe lion (tap), exactly as he is represented on the canvasoutside (three taps): no waiting, remember; no de-verily believe that it is his ordinary town residence,a bell, or fire a pistol out of the first-floor window, theyception. The fe-ro-cious lion (tap, tap) who bit off the divided like other mansions into drawing-rooms, dining-parlour,and bedchambers. Shut up in this case, thegentleman’s head last Cambervel vos a twelvemonth, andhas killed on the awerage three keepers a-year ever since unfortunate little object is brought out to delight thehe arrived at matoority. No extra charge on this accountrecollect; the price of admission is only sixpence.’ etor: in the course of which, the dwarf (who is alwaysthrong by holding a facetious dialogue with the propri-This address never fails to produce a considerable sensation,and sixpences flow into the treasury with wonder-inside, and pays various compliments to the ladies, whichparticularly drunk) pledges himself to sing a comic songful rapidity.induce them to ‘come for’erd’ with great alacrity. As aThe dwarfs are also objects of great curiosity, and as a giant is not so easily moved, a pair of indescribables ofdwarf, a giantess, a living skeleton, a wild Indian, ‘a most capacious dimensions, and a huge shoe, are usuallybrought out, into which two or three stout men getyoung lady of singular beauty, with perfectly white hairand pink eyes,’ and two or three other natural curiosi-all at once, to the enthusiastic delight of the crowd,117

Sketches by Bozwho are quite satisfied with the solemn assurance that nets, or with the more expensive ornaments of falsethese habiliments form part of the giant’s everyday noses, and low-crowned, tinder-box-looking hats: playingchildren’s drums, and accompanied by ladies on thecostume.The grandest and most numerously-frequented booth penny trumpet.in the whole fair, however, is ‘The Crown and Anchor’— The noise of these various instruments, the orchestra,the shouting, the ‘scratchers,’ and the dancing, isa temporary ball-room -we forget how many hundredfeet long, the price of admission to which is one shilling.Immediately on your right hand as you enter, afscription—everyfigure lasts about an hour, and theperfectly bewildering. The dancing, itself, beggars deterpaying your money, is a refreshment place, at which ladies bounce up and down the middle, with a degree ofcold beef, roast and boiled, French rolls, stout, wine, spirit which is quite indescribable. As to the gentlemen,they stamp their feet against the ground, everytongue, ham, even fowls, if we recollect right, are displayedin tempting array. There is a raised orchestra, time ‘hands four round’ begins, go down the middle andand the place is boarded all the way down, in patches, up again, with cigars in their mouths, and silk handkerchiefsin their hands, and whirl their partners round,just wide enough for a country dance.There is no master of the ceremonies in this artificial nothing loth, scrambling and falling, and embracing,Eden—all is primitive, unreserved, and unstudied. The and knocking up against the other couples, until theydust is blinding, the heat insupportable, the company are fairly tired out, and can move no longer. The samesomewhat noisy, and in the highest spirits possible: the scene is repeated again and again (slightly varied by anladies, in the height of their innocent animation, dancingin the gentlemen’s hats, and the gentlemen prom-many clerks and ‘prentices find themselves next morn-occasional ‘row’) until a late hour at night: and a greatenading ‘the gay and festive scene’ in the ladies’ boningwith aching heads, empty pockets, damaged hats,118

Charles Dickensand a very imperfect recollection of how it was they did wear a real sword, and what is better still, he must drawnot get home.it, several times in the course of the piece. The soliloquiesalone are well worth fifteen shillings; then thereCHAPTER XIII—PRIVATE THEATRESis the stabbing King Henry—decidedly cheap at threeand-sixpence,that’s eighteen-and-sixpence; bullying the‘RICHARD THE THIRD.—DUKE OF GLO’STER 2L.; EARL coffin-bearers—say eighteen-pence, though it’s worthOF RICHMOND, 1L; DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, 15S.; much more—that’s a pound. Then the love scene withCATESBY, 12S.; TRESSEL, 10S. 6D.; LORD STANLEY, 5S.; Lady Ann, and the bustle of the fourth act can’t be dearLORD MAYOR OF LONDON, 2S. 6D.’at ten shillings more—that’s only one pound ten, includingthe ‘off with his head!’—which is sure to bringSUCH ARE THE WRITTEN placards wafered up in the down the applause, and it is very easy to do—’Orf withgentlemen’s dressing-room, or the green-room (where his ed’ (very quick and loud;—then slow andthere is any), at a private theatre; and such are the sneeringly)—’So much for Bu-u-u-!’ Lay the emphasissums extracted from the shop-till, or overcharged in on the ‘uck;’ get yourself gradually into a corner, andthe office expenditure, by the donkeys who are prevailedupon to pay for permission to exhibit their la-you were feeling your way, and it’s sure to do. The tentwork with your right hand, while you’re saying it, as ifmentable ignorance and boobyism on the stage of a privatetheatre. This they do, in proportion to the scope have the fight in, gratis, and everybody knows what anscene is confessedly worth half-a-sovereign, and so youafforded by the character for the display of their imbecility.For instance, the Duke of Glo’ster is well worth three—four—over; then, one—two—three—four—un-effect may be produced by a good combat. One—two—two pounds, because he has it all to himself; he must der; then thrust; then dodge and slide about; then fall119

Sketches by Bozdown on one knee; then fight upon it, and then get up take their masters’ money for their own; and a choiceagain and stagger. You may keep on doing this, as long miscellany of idle vagabonds. The proprietor of a privatetheatre may be an ex-scene-painter, a low coffee-as it seems to take—say ten minutes—and then falldown (backwards, if you can manage it without hurting house-keeper, a disappointed eighth-rate actor, a retiredsmuggler, or uncertificated bankrupt. The theatreyourself), and die game: nothing like it for producingan effect. They always do it at Astley’s and Sadler’s Wells, itself may be in Catherine-street, Strand, the purlieusand if they don’t know how to do this sort of thing, of the city, the neighbourhood of Gray’s-inn-lane, orwho in the world does? A small child, or a female in the vicinity of Sadler’s Wells; or it may, perhaps, formwhite, increases the interest of a combat materially— the chief nuisance of some shabby street, on the Surreyindeed, we are not aware that a regular legitimate terrificbroadsword combat could be done without; but it The lady performers pay nothing for their characters,side of Waterloo-bridge.would be rather difficult, and somewhat unusual, to and it is needless to add, are usually selected from oneintroduce this effect in the last scene of Richard the class of society; the audiences are necessarily of muchThird, so the only thing to be done, is, just to make the the same character as the performers, who receive, inbest of a bad bargain, and be as long as possible fightingit out.ets to the amount of the money they pay.return for their contributions to the management, tick-The principal patrons of private theatres are dirty boys, All the minor theatres in London, especially the lowest,constitute the centre of a little stage-strucklow copying-clerks, in attorneys’ offices, capaciousheadedyouths from city counting-houses, Jews whose neighbourhood. Each of them has an audience exclusivelyits own; and at any you will see dropping intobusiness, as lenders of fancy dresses, is a sure passportto the amateur stage, shop-boys who now and then mis-the pit at half-price, or swaggering into the back of a120

Charles Dickensbox, if the price of admission be a reduced one, divers Dorntons, Rovers, Captain Absolutes, and Charles Surfaces—aprivate theatre.boys of from fifteen to twenty-one years of age, whothrow back their coat and turn up their wristbands, See them at the neighbouring public-house or theafter the portraits of Count D’Orsay, hum tunes and theatrical coffee-shop! They are the kings of the place,whistle when the curtain is down, by way of persuading supposing no real performers to be present; and rollthe people near them, that they are not at all anxious about, hats on one side, and arms a-kimbo, as if theyto have it up again, and speak familiarly of the inferior had actually come into possession of eighteen shillingsperformers as Bill Such-a-one, and Ned So-and-so, or a-week, and a share of a ticket night. If one of themtell each other how a new piece called The Unknown does but know an Astley’s supernumerary he is a happyBandit of the Invisitble Cavern, is in rehearsal; how MisterPalmer is to play The Unknown Bandit; how Charley which his companions will regard him, as he conversesfellow. The mingled air of envy and admiration withScarton is to take the part of an English sailor, and familiarly with some mouldy-looking man in a fancyfight a broadsword combat with six unknown bandits, neckerchief, whose partially corked eyebrows, and halfrougedface, testify to the fact of his having just leftat one and the same time (one theatrical sailor is alwaysequal to half a dozen men at least); how Mister the stage or the circle, sufficiently shows in what highPalmer and Charley Scarton are to go through a double admiration these public characters are held.hornpipe in fetters in the second act; how the interior With the double view of guarding against the discoveryof friends or employers, and enhancing the interestof the invisible cavern is to occupy the whole extent ofthe stage; and other town-surprising theatrical announcements.These gentlemen are the amateurs—the name to its representative, these geniuses assume ficti-of an assumed character, by attaching a high-soundingRichards, Shylocks, Beverleys, and Othellos—the Young tious names, which are not the least amusing part of121

Sketches by Bozthe play-bill of a private theatre. Belville, Melville, respectable persons would be admitted into that closeTreville, Berkeley, Randolph, Byron, St. Clair, and so fellowship with them, which acting engenders. Theyforth, are among the humblest; and the less imposing place implicit reliance on the manager, no doubt; andtitles of Jenkins, Walker, Thomson, Barker, Solomons, as to the manager, he is all affability when he knows&c., are completely laid aside. There is something imposingin this, and it is an excellent apology for shabbi-your money once, and entertains confident hopes ofyou well, - or, in other words, when he has pocketedness into the bargain. A shrunken, faded coat, a decayedhat, a patched and soiled pair of trousers—nay, A quarter before eight—there will be a full house to-doing so again.even a very dirty shirt (and none of these appearances night—six parties in the boxes, already; four little boysare very uncommon among the members of the Corps and a woman in the pit; and two fiddles and a flute inDramatique), may be worn for the purpose of disguise, the orchestra, who have got through five overtures sinceand to prevent the remotest chance of recognition. Then seven o’clock (the hour fixed for the commencement ofit prevents any troublesome inquiries or explanations the performances), and have just begun the sixth. Thereabout employment and pursuits; everybody is a gentlemanat large, for the occasion, and there are none of is enough in the bill to last six hours at least.will be plenty of it, though, when it does begin, for therethose unpleasant and unnecessary distinctions to which That gentleman in the white hat and checked shirt,even genius must occasionally succumb elsewhere. As brown coat and brass buttons, lounging behind the stageboxon the O. P. side, is Mr. Horatio St. Julien, alias Jemto the ladies (God bless them), they are quite above anyformal absurdities; the mere circumstance of your being Larkins. His line is genteel comedy—his father’s, coalbehind the scenes is a sufficient introduction to their and potato. He DOES Alfred Highflier in the last piece,society—for of course they know that none but strictly and very well he’ll do it—at the price. The party of gentle-122

Charles Dickensmen in the opposite box, to whom he has just nodded, glass beads, sitting by her; she is being brought up toare friends and supporters of Mr. Beverley (otherwise ‘the profession.’ Pantomime is to be her line, and she isLoggins), the MacBethof the night. You observe their attemptsto appear easy and gentlemanly, each member of The short thin man beside Mr. St. Julien, whose whitecoming out to-night, in a hornpipe after the tragedy.the party, with his feet cocked upon the cushion in front face is so deeply seared with the small-pox, and whoseof the box! They let them do these things here, upon the dirty shirt-front is inlaid with open-work, and embossedsame humane principle which permits poor people’s childrento knock double knocks at the door of an empty comic singer of the establishment. The remainder of thewith coral studs like ladybirds, is the low comedian andhouse—because they can’t do it anywhere else. The two audience—a tolerably numerous one by this time—arestout men in the centre box, with an opera-glass ostentatiouslyplaced before them, are friends of the propri-The foot-lights have just made their appearance: thea motley group of dupes and blackguards.etor—opulent country managers, as he confidentially informsevery individual among the crew behind the cur-boxes, are being turned up, and the additional light thuswicks of the six little oil lamps round the only tier oftain—opulent country managers looking out for recruits; afforded serves to show the presence of dirt, and absencea representation which Mr. Nathan, the dresser, who is in of paint, which forms a prominent feature in the audiencepart of the house. As these preparations, however,the manager’s interest, and has just arrived with the costumes,offers to confirm upon oath if required—corroborativeevidence, however, is quite unnecessary, for the take a peep ‘behind,’ previous to the ringing-up.announce the speedy commencement of the play, let usgulls believe it at once.The little narrow passages beneath the stage are neitherespecially clean nor too brilliantly lighted; and theThe stout Jewess who has just entered, is the motherof the pale, bony little girl, with the necklace of blue absence of any flooring, together with the damp mildewy123

Sketches by Bozsmell which pervades the place, does not conduce in any the Lady MacBeth of the night; she is always selected togreat degree to their comfortable appearance. Don’t fall play the part, because she is tall and stout, and looks aover this plate basket—it’s one of the ‘properties’—the little like Mrs. Siddons—at a considerable distance. Thatcaldron for the witches’ cave; and the three uncouthlookingfigures, with broken clothes-props in their hands, a kind of man whom you can warrant town-made—isstupid-looking milksop, with light hair and bow legs—who are drinking gin-and-water out of a pint pot, are the fresh caught; he plays Malcolm to-night, just to accustomhimself to an audience. He will get on better byweird sisters. This miserable room, lighted by candles insconces placed at lengthened intervals round the wall, is degrees; he will play Othello in a month, and in a monththe dressing-room, common to the gentlemen performers,and the square hole in the ceiling is the trap-door of embezzlement. The black-eyed female with whom he ismore, will very probably be apprehended on a charge ofthe stage above. You will observe that the ceiling is ornamentedwith the beams that support the boards, and is her first appearance, too—in that character. The boytalking so earnestly, is dressed for the ‘gentlewoman.’ Ittastefully hung with cobwebs.of fourteen who is having his eyebrows smeared withThe characters in the tragedy are all dressed, and their soap and whitening, is Duncan, King of Scotland; andown clothes are scattered in hurried confusion over the the two dirty men with the corked countenances, inwooden dresser which surrounds the room. That snuffshop-lookingfigure, in front of the glass, is Banquo, ‘Look sharp below there, gents,’ exclaims the dresser,very old green tunics, and dirty drab boots, are the ‘army.’and the young lady with the liberal display of legs, who a red-headed and red-whiskered Jew, calling throughis kindly painting his face with a hare’s foot, is dressed the trap, ‘they’re a-going to ring up. The flute says he’llfor Fleance. The large woman, who is consulting the be blowed if he plays any more, and they’re getting preciousnoisy in front.’ A general rush immediately takesstage directions in Cumberland’s edition of MacBeth, is124

Charles Dickensplace to the half-dozen little steep steps leading to the White, ring the second music-bell.’ The actors who arestage, and the heterogeneous group are soon assembled to be discovered, are hastily arranged, and the actorsat the side scenes, in breathless anxiety and motley who are not to be discovered place themselves, in theirconfusion.anxiety to peep at the house, just where the audience‘Now,’ cries the manager, consulting the written list can see them. The bell rings, and the orchestra, in acknowledgmentof the call, play three distinct chords.which hangs behind the first P. S, wing, ‘Scene 1, opencountry—lamps down—thunder and lightning—all The bell rings—the tragedy (!) opens—and our descriptioncloses.ready, White?’ [This is addressed to one of the army.]‘All ready.’—’Very well. Scene 2, front chamber. Is thefront chamber down?’—’Yes.’—’Very well.’—‘Jones’ [to CHAPTER XIV—VAUXHALL-GARDENS BY DAYthe other army who is up in the flies]. ‘Hallo!’—‘Windup the open country when we ring up.’—’I’ll take care.’— THERE WAS A TIME when if a man ventured to wonder how‘Scene 3, back perspective with practical bridge. Bridge Vauxhall-gardens would look by day, he was hailed withready, White? Got the tressels there?’—’All right.’ a shout of derision at the absurdity of the idea. Vauxhall‘Very well. Clear the stage,’ cries the manager, hastily by daylight! A porter-pot without porter, the House ofpacking every member of the company into the little Commons without the Speaker, a gas-lamp without thespace there is between the wings and the wall, and one gas—pooh, nonsense, the thing was not to be thoughtwing and another. ‘Places, places. Now then, Witches— of. It was rumoured, too, in those times, that Vauxhallgardensby day, were the scene of secret and hiddenDuncan—Malcolm—bleeding officer—where’s the bleedingofficer?’—’Here!’ replies the officer, who has been experiments; that there, carvers were exercised in therose-pinking for the character. ‘Get ready, then; now, mystic art of cutting a moderate-sized ham into slices125

Sketches by Bozthin enough to pave the whole of the grounds; that night. The temples and saloons and cosmoramas andbeneath the shade of the tall trees, studious men were fountains glittered and sparkled before our eyes; theconstantly engaged in chemical experiments, with the beauty of the lady singers and the elegant deportmentview of discovering how much water a bowl of negus of the gentlemen, captivated our hearts; a few hundredthousand of additional lamps dazzled our senses;could possibly bear; and that in some retired nooks,appropriated to the study of ornithology, other sage a bowl or two of punch bewildered our brains; and weand learned men were, by a process known only to themselves,incessantly employed in reducing fowls to a mere In an evil hour, the proprietors of Vauxhall-gardenswere happy.combination of skin and bone.took to opening them by day. We regretted this, as rudelyVague rumours of this kind, together with many othersof a similar nature, cast over Vauxhall-gardens an hung about the property for many years, and which noneand harshly disturbing that veil of mystery which hadair of deep mystery; and as there is a great deal in the but the noonday sun, and the late Mr. Simpson, had evermysterious, there is no doubt that to a good many people, penetrated. We shrunk from going; at this moment weat all events, the pleasure they afforded was not a little scarcely know why. Perhaps a morbid consciousness ofenhanced by this very circumstance.approaching disappointment—perhaps a fatal presentiment—perhapsthe weather; whatever it was, we did notOf this class of people we confess to having madeone. We loved to wander among these illuminated groves, go until the second or third announcement of a race betweentwo balloons tempted us, and we went.thinking of the patient and laborious researches whichhad been carried on there during the day, and witnessingtheir results in the suppers which were served up the first time, that the entrance, if there had been anyWe paid our shilling at the gate, and then we saw forbeneath the light of lamps and to the sound of music at magic about it at all, was now decidedly disenchanted,126

Charles Dickensbeing, in fact, nothing more nor less than a combination It was for the concert in the orchestra. A small partyof very roughly-painted boards and sawdust. We glanced of dismal men in cocked hats were ‘executing’ the overtureto Tancredi, and a numerous assemblage of ladiesat the orchestra and supper-room as we hurried past—we just recognised them, and that was all. We bent our and gentlemen, with their families, had rushed from theirsteps to the firework-ground; there, at least, we should half-emptied stout mugs in the supper boxes, and crowdednot be disappointed. We reached it, and stood rooted to to the spot. Intense was the low murmur of admirationthe spot with mortification and astonishment. That the when a particularly small gentleman, in a dress coat, ledMoorish tower—that wooden shed with a door in the on a particularly tall lady in a blue sarcenet pelisse andcentre, and daubs of crimson and yellow all round, like a bonnet of the same, ornamented with large white feathers,and forthwith commenced a plaintive duet.gigantic watch-case! That the place where night afternight we had beheld the undaunted Mr. Blackmore make We knew the small gentleman well; we had seen a lithographedsemblance of him, on many a piece of music,his terrific ascent, surrounded by flames of fire, and pealsof artillery, and where the white garments of Madame with his mouth wide open as if in the act of singing; aSomebody (we forget even her name now), who nobly wine-glass in his hand; and a table with two decantersdevoted her life to the manufacture of fireworks, had so and four pine-apples on it in the background. The talloften been seen fluttering in the wind, as she called up a lady, too, we had gazed on, lost in raptures of admiration,many and many a time—how different people DOred, blue, or party-coloured light to illumine her temple!that the—but at this moment the bell rung; the people look by daylight, and without punch, to be sure! It was ascampered away, pell-mell, to the spot from whence the beautiful duet: first the small gentleman asked a question,and then the tall lady answered it; then the smallsound proceeded; and we, from the mere force of habit,found ourself running among the first, as if for very life. gentleman and the tall lady sang together most melodi-127

Sketches by Bozously; then the small gentleman went through a little every turn; our favourite views were mere patches ofpiece of vehemence by himself, and got very tenor indeed,in the excitement of his feelings, to which the tall lamp-light, presented very much the appearance of apaint; the fountain that had sparkled so showily bylady responded in a similar manner; then the small gentlemanhad a shake or two, after which the tall lady had and all the walks gloomy. There was a spectral attemptwater-pipe that had burst; all the ornaments were dingy,the same, and then they both merged imperceptibly into at rope-dancing in the little open theatre. The sun shonethe original air: and the band wound themselves up to a upon the spangled dresses of the performers, and theirpitch of fury, and the small gentleman handed the tall evolutions were about as inspiriting and appropriate aslady out, and the applause was rapturous.a country-dance in a family vault. So we retraced ourThe comic singer, however, was the especial favourite; steps to the firework-ground, and mingled with the littlewe really thought that a gentleman, with his dinner in a crowd of people who were contemplating Mr. Green.pocket-handkerchief, who stood near us, would have Some half-dozen men were restraining the impetuosityof one of the balloons, which was completely filled,fainted with excess of joy. A marvellously facetious gentlemanthat comic singer is; his distinguishing characteristicsare, a wig approaching to the flaxen, and an aged gone abroad that a Lord was ‘going up,’ the crowd wereand had the car already attached; and as rumours hadcountenance, and he bears the name of one of the Englishcounties, if we recollect right. He sang a very good little man in faded black, with a dirty face and a rustymore than usually anxious and talkative. There was onesong about the seven ages, the first half-hour of which black neckerchief with a red border, tied in a narrow wispafforded the assembly the purest delight; of the rest we round his neck, who entered into conversation with everybody,and had something to say upon every remarkcan make no report, as we did not stay to hear any more.We walked about, and met with a disappointment at that was made within his hearing. He was standing with128

Charles Dickenshis arms folded, staring up at the balloon, and every now own son and his wife a jostling up against them in another,and all of them going twenty or thirty mile inand then vented his feelings of reverence for the aeronaut,by saying, as he looked round to catch somebody’s three hours or so, and then coming back in pochayses?eye, ‘He’s a rum ‘un is Green; think o’ this here being I don’t know where this here science is to stop, mindup’ards of his two hundredth ascent; ecod, the man as is you; that’s what bothers me.’ekal to Green never had the toothache yet, nor won’t Here there was a considerable talking among the femalesin the spencers.have within this hundred year, and that’s all about it.When you meets with real talent, and native, too, encourageit, that’s what I say;’ and when he had delivered little man, condescendingly.‘What’s the ladies a laughing at, sir?’ inquired thehimself to this effect, he would fold his arms with more ‘It’s only my sister Mary,’ said one of the girls, ‘as saysdetermination than ever, and stare at the balloon with a she hopes his lordship won’t be frightened when he’s insort of admiring defiance of any other man alive, beyond the car, and want to come out again.’himself and Green, that impressed the crowd with the ‘Make yourself easy about that there, my dear,’ repliedopinion that he was an oracle.the little man. ‘If he was so much as to move a inch‘Ah, you’re very right, sir,’ said another gentleman, with without leave, Green would jist fetch him a crack overhis wife, and children, and mother, and wife’s sister, and a the head with the telescope, as would send him intohost of female friends, in all the gentility of white pockethandkerchiefs,frills, and spencers, ‘Mr. Green is a steady they come down again.’the bottom of the basket in no time, and stun him tillhand, sir, and there’s no fear about him.’‘Would he, though?’ inquired the other man.‘Fear!’ said the little man: ‘isn’t it a lovely thing to ‘Yes, would he,’ replied the little one, ‘and think nothingof it, neither, if he was the king himself. see him and his wife a going up in one balloon, and hisGreen’s129

Sketches by Bozpresence of mind is wonderful.’oughfares people rushed out of their shops into theJust at this moment all eyes were directed to the preparationswhich were being made for starting. The car was two little black objects till they almost dislocated theirmiddle of the road, and having stared up in the air atattached to the second balloon, the two were brought necks, walked slowly in again, perfectly satisfied.pretty close together, and a military band commenced The next day there was a grand account of the ascentplaying, with a zeal and fervour which would render in the morning papers, and the public were informedthe most timid man in existence but too happy to acceptany means of quitting that particular spot of earth membrance; how they retained sight of the earth tillhow it was the finest day but four in Mr. Green’s re-on which they were stationed. Then Mr. Green, sen., they lost it behind the clouds; and how the reflectionand his noble companion entered one car, and Mr. Green, of the balloon on the undulating masses of vapour wasjun., and his companion the other; and then the balloonswent up, and the aerial travellers stood up, and about the refraction of the sun’s rays, and some myste-gorgeously picturesque; together with a little sciencethe crowd outside roared with delight, and the two rious hints respecting atmospheric heat and eddyinggentlemen who had never ascended before, tried to wave currents of air.their flags, as if they were not nervous, but held on There was also an interesting account how a man in avery fast all the while; and the balloons were wafted boat was distinctly heard by Mr. Green, jun., to exclaim,gently away, our little friend solemnly protesting, long ‘My eye!’ which Mr. Green, jun., attributed to his voiceafter they were reduced to mere specks in the air, that rising to the balloon, and the sound being thrown backhe could still distinguish the white hat of Mr. Green. from its surface into the car; and the whole concludedThe gardens disgorged their multitudes, boys ran up and with a slight allusion to another ascent next Wednesday,all of which was very instructive and very amus-down screaming ‘bal-loon;’ and in all the crowded thor-130

Charles Dickensing, as our readers will see if they look to the papers. If grass, in the sacred cause of religion, we would havewe have forgotten to mention the date, they have only lain by very quietly till we got hold of some especiallyto wait till next summer, and take the account of the obstinate miscreant, who positively refused to be convertedto our faith, and then we would have bookedfirst ascent, and it will answer the purpose equally well.him for an inside place in a small coach, which travelledday and night: and securing the remainder of theCHAPTER XV—EARLY COACHESplaces for stout men with a slight tendency to coughingand spitting, we would have started him forth onWE HAVE OFTEN wondered how many months’ incessanttravelling in a post-chaise it would take to kill a man; his last travels: leaving him mercilessly to all the tortureswhich the waiters, landlords, coachmen, guards,and wondering by analogy, we should very much liketo know how many months of constant travelling in a boots, chambermaids, and other familiars on his linesuccession of early coaches, an unfortunate mortal of road, might think proper to inflict.could endure. Breaking a man alive upon the wheel, Who has not experienced the miseries inevitably consequentupon a summons to undertake a hasty jour-would be nothing to breaking his rest, his peace, hisheart—everything but his fast—upon four; and the ney? You receive an intimation from your place of business—whereverthat may be, or whatever you may be—punishment of Ixion (the only practical person, bythe-bye,who has discovered the secret of the perpetual that it will be necessary to leave town without delay.motion) would sink into utter insignificance before You and your family are forthwith thrown into a statethe one we have suggested. If we had been a powerful of tremendous excitement; an express is immediatelychurchman in those good times when blood was shed dispatched to the washerwoman’s; everybody is in aas freely as water, and men were mowed down like bustle; and you, yourself, with a feeling of dignity which131

Sketches by Bozyou cannot altogether conceal, sally forth to the booking-officeto secure your place. Here a painful conscious-full-length portrait of Napoleon; the other with his hathands behind him, is standing in front of the fire, like aness of your own unimportance first rushes on your half off his head, enters the passengers’ names in themind—the people are as cool and collected as if nobody books with a coolness which is inexpressibly provoking;and the villain whistles—actually whistles—whilewere going out of town, or as if a journey of a hundredodd miles were a mere nothing. You enter a mouldylookingroom, ornamented with large posting-bills; the Holyhead!—in frosty weather, too! They are clearly ana man asks him what the fare is outside, all the way togreater part of the place enclosed behind a huge, lumbering,rough counter, and fitted up with recesses that ings in common with the rest of mankind. Your turnisolated race, evidently possessing no sympathies or feel-look like the dens of the smaller animals in a travelling comes at last, and having paid the fare, you tremblinglymenagerie, without the bars. Some half-dozen people inquire—’What time will it be necessary for me to beare ‘booking’ brown-paper parcels, which one of the here in the morning?’—’Six o’clock,’ replies the whistler,carelessly pitching the sovereign you have justclerks flings into the aforesaid recesses with an air ofrecklessness which you, remembering the new carpetbagyou bought in the morning, feel considerably an-before than arter,’ adds the man with the semi-roastedparted with, into a wooden bowl on the desk. ‘Rathernoyed at; porters, looking like so many Atlases, keep unmentionables, with just as much ease and complacencyas if the whole world got out of bed at five. Yourushing in and out, with large packages on their shoulders;and while you are waiting to make the necessary turn into the street, ruminating as you bend your stepsinquiries, you wonder what on earth the booking-office homewards on the extent to which men become hardenedin cruelty, by custom.clerks can have been before they were booking-officeclerks; one of them with his pen behind his ear, and his If there be one thing in existence more miserable than132

Charles Dickensanother, it most unquestionably is the being compelled as if into a new state of existence, by a singular illusion.You are apprenticed to a trunk-maker; how, orto rise by candlelight. If you have ever doubted thefact, you are painfully convinced of your error, on the why, or when, or wherefore, you don’t take the troublemorning of your departure. You left strict orders, overnight,to be called at half-past four, and you have done lid of a portmanteau. Confound that other apprenticeto inquire; but there you are, pasting the lining in thenothing all night but doze for five minutes at a time, in the back shop, how he is hammering!—rap, rap, rap—and start up suddenly from a terrific dream of a large what an industrious fellow he must be! you have heardchurch-clock with the small hand running round, with him at work for half an hour past, and he has beenastonishing rapidity, to every figure on the dial-plate. hammering incessantly the whole time. Rap, rap, rap,At last, completely exhausted, you fall gradually into a again—he’s talking now—what’s that he said? Fiverefreshing sleep—your thoughts grow confused—the o’clock! You make a violent exertion, and start up instage-coaches, which have been ‘going off’ before your bed. The vision is at once dispelled; the trunk-maker’seyes all night, become less and less distinct, until they shop is your own bedroom, and the other apprenticego off altogether; one moment you are driving with all your shivering servant, who has been vainly endeavouringto wake you for the last quarter of an hour, atthe skill and smartness of an experienced whip—thenext you are exhibiting E LA Ducrow, on the off-leader; the imminent risk of breaking either his own knucklesanon you are closely muffled up, inside, and have just or the panels of the door.recognised in the person of the guard an old schoolfellow, You proceed to dress yourself, with all possible dispatch.The flaring flat candle with the long snuff, giveswhose funeral, even in your dream, you remember tohave attended eighteen years ago. At last you fall into a light enough to show that the things you want, are notstate of complete oblivion, from which you are aroused, where they ought to be, and you undergo a trifling de-133

Sketches by Bozlay in consequence of having carefully packed up one larity, which betokens a duration of four-and-twentyof your boots in your over-anxiety of the preceding hours at least; the damp hangs upon the house-topsnight. You soon complete your toilet, however, for you and lamp-posts, and clings to you like an invisible cloak.are not particular on such an occasion, and you shaved The water is ‘coming in’ in every area, the pipes haveyesterday evening; so mounting your Petersham greatcoat,and green travelling shawl, and grasping your car-seem to be doing matches against time, pump-handlesburst, the water-butts are running over; the kennelspet-bag in your right hand, you walk lightly down-stairs, descend of their own accord, horses in market-carts falllest you should awaken any of the family, and after down, and there’s no one to help them up again, policemenlook as if they had been carefully sprinkled withpausing in the common sitting-room for one moment,just to have a cup of coffee (the said common sittingroomlooking remarkably comfortable, with everything slowly along, with a bit of list round each foot to keeppowdered glass; here and there a milk-woman trudgesout of its place, and strewed with the crumbs of last her from slipping; boys who ‘don’t sleep in the house,’night’s supper), you undo the chain and bolts of the and are not allowed much sleep out of it, can’t wakestreet-door, and find yourself fairly in the street. their masters by thundering at the shop-door, and cryA thaw, by all that is miserable! The frost is completelybroken up. You look down the long perspective on the pavement, is a couple of inches thick—nobodywith the cold—the compound of ice, snow, and waterof Oxford-street, the gas-lights mournfully reflected on ventures to walk fast to keep himself warm, and nobodycould succeed in keeping himself warm if he did.the wet pavement, and can discern no speck in the roadto encourage the belief that there is a cab or a coach to It strikes a quarter past five as you trudge down Waterloo-placeon your way to the Golden Cross, and yoube had—the very coachmen have gone home in despair.The cold sleet is drizzling down with that gentle regu-discover, for the first time, that you were called about134

Charles Dickensan hour too early. You have not time to go back; there which occurs exactly two minutes and a half before theis no place open to go into, and you have, therefore, no time fixed for the starting of the coach.resource but to go forward, which you do, feeling remarkablysatisfied with yourself, and everything about steeple, just as you take the first sip of the boiling liq-The first stroke of six, peals from St. Martin’s churchyou. You arrive at the office, and look wistfully up the uid. You find yourself at the booking-office in two seconds,and the tap-waiter finds himself much comfortedyard for the Birmingham High-flier, which, for aughtyou can see, may have flown away altogether, for preparationsappear to be on foot for the departure of any coach is out; the horses are in, and the guard and two orby your brandy-and-water, in about the same period. Thevehicle in the shape of a coach. You wander into the three porters, are stowing the luggage away, and runningup the steps of the booking-office, and down thebooking-office, which with the gas-lights and blazingfire, looks quite comfortable by contrast—that is to say, steps of the booking-office, with breathless rapidity. Theif any place can look comfortable at half-past five on a place, which a few minutes ago was so still and quiet, iswinter’s morning. There stands the identical book-keeper now all bustle; the early vendors of the morning papersin the same position as if he had not moved since you have arrived, and you are assailed on all sides with shoutssaw him yesterday. As he informs you, that the coach is of ‘Times, gen’lm’n, Times,’ ‘Here’s Chron—Chron—Chron,’up the yard, and will be brought round in about a quarterof an hour, you leave your bag, and repair to ‘The rious case o’ breach o’ promise, ladies.’ The inside passen-‘Herald, ma’am,’ ‘Highly interesting murder, gen’lm’n,’ ‘Cu-Tap’—not with any absurd idea of warming yourself, gers are already in their dens, and the outsides, with thebecause you feel such a result to be utterly hopeless, exception of yourself, are pacing up and down the pavementto keep themselves warm; they consist of two youngbut for the purpose of procuring some hot brandy-andwater,which you do,—when the kettle boils! an event men with very long hair, to which the sleet has commu-135

Sketches by Boznicated the appearance of crystallised rats’ tails; one thin go, Harry, give ‘em their heads,’ cries the coachman—young woman cold and peevish, one old gentleman ditto and off we start as briskly as if the morning were ‘allditto, and something in a cloak and cap, intended to right,’ as well as the coach: and looking forward as anxiouslyto the termination of our journey, as we fear ourrepresent a military officer; every member of the party,with a large stiff shawl over his chin, looking exactly as readers will have done, long since, to the conclusion ofif he were playing a set of Pan’s pipes.our paper.‘Take off the cloths, Bob,’ says the coachman, whonow appears for the first time, in a rough blue greatcoat,of which the buttons behind are so far apart, thatCHAPTER XVI—OMNIBUSESyou can’t see them both at the same time. ‘Now, gen’lm’n,’ IT IS VERY GENERALLY allowed that public conveyancescries the guard, with the waybill in his hand. ‘Five minutesbehind time already!’ Up jump the passengers— tion. Of all the public conveyances that have been con-afford an extensive field for amusement and observa-the two young men smoking like lime-kilns, and the structed since the days of the Ark—we think that isold gentleman grumbling audibly. The thin young woman the earliest on record—to the present time, commendis got upon the roof, by dint of a great deal of pulling, us to an omnibus. A long stage is not to be despised,and pushing, and helping and trouble, and she repays it but there you have only six insides, and the chancesby expressing her solemn conviction that she will never are, that the same people go all the way with you—be able to get down again.there is no change, no variety. Besides, after the first‘All right,’ sings out the guard at last, jumping up as twelve hours or so, people get cross and sleepy, andthe coach starts, and blowing his horn directly afterwards,in proof of the soundness of his wind. ‘Let ‘em respect for him; at least, that is the case with us. Thenwhen you have seen a man in his nightcap, you lose all136

Charles Dickenson smooth roads people frequently get prosy, and tell tion, while he is looking behind them, it suddenly occurslong stories, and even those who don’t talk, may have to him that he put it in the fore- boot. Bang goes thevery unpleasant predilections. We once travelled four door; the parcel is immediately found; off starts the coachhundred miles, inside a stage-coach, with a stout man, again; and the guard plays the key-bugle as loud as hewho had a glass of rum-and-water, warm, handed in at can play it, as if in mockery of your wretchedness.the window at every place where we changed horses. Now, you meet with none of these afflictions in anThis was decidedly unpleasant. We have also travelled omnibus; sameness there can never be. The passengersoccasionally, with a small boy of a pale aspect, with change as often in the course of one journey as the figuresin a kaleidoscope, and though not so glittering, arelight hair, and no perceptible neck, coming up to townfrom school under the protection of the guard, and directedto be left at the Cross Keys till called for. This is, record, of a man’s having gone to sleep in one of thesefar more amusing. We believe there is no instance onperhaps, even worse than rum-and-water in a close atmosphere.Then there is the whole train of evils conse-tell a long story in an omnibus? and even if he did, wherevehicles. As to long stories, would any man venture toquent on a change of the coachman; and the misery of would be the harm? nobody could possibly hear what hethe discovery—which the guard is sure to make the was talking about. Again; children, though occasionally,moment you begin to doze—that he wants a brownpaperparcel, which he distinctly remembers to have they are, if the vehicle be full, as is generally the case,are not often to be found in an omnibus; and even whendeposited under the seat on which you are reposing. A somebody sits upon them, and we are unconscious ofgreat deal of bustle and groping takes place, and when their presence. Yes, after mature reflection, and considerableexperience, we are decidedly of opinion, that ofyou are thoroughly awakened, and severely cramped,by holding your legs up by an almost supernatural exer-all known vehicles, from the glass-coach in which we137

Sketches by Bozwere taken to be christened, to that sombre caravan in certained, how many passengers our omnibus will contain.The impression on the cad’s mind evidently is,which we must one day make our last earthly journey,there is nothing like an omnibus.that it is amply sufficient for the accommodation ofWe will back the machine in which we make our daily any number of persons that can be enticed into it. ‘Anyperegrination from the top of Oxford-street to the city, room?’ cries a hot pedestrian. ‘Plenty o’ room, sir,’ repliesthe conductor, gradually opening the door, andagainst any ‘buss’ on the road, whether it be for thegaudiness of its exterior, the perfect simplicity of its not disclosing the real state of the case, until theinterior, or the native coolness of its cad. This young wretched man is on the steps. ‘Where?’ inquires thegentleman is a singular instance of self-devotion; his entrapped individual, with an attempt to back out again.somewhat intemperate zeal on behalf of his employers, ‘Either side, sir,’ rejoins the cad, shoving him in, andis constantly getting him into trouble, and occasionally slamming the door. ‘All right, Bill.’ Retreat is impossible;the new-comer rolls about, till he falls down some-into the house of correction. He is no sooner emancipated,however, than he resumes the duties of his professionwith unabated ardour. His principal distinction As we get into the city a little before ten, four or fivewhere, and there he stops.is his activity. His great boast is, ‘that he can chuck an of our party are regular passengers. We always take themold gen’lm’n into the buss, shut him in, and rattle off, up at the same places, and they generally occupy theafore he knows where it’s a-going to’—a feat which he same seats; they are always dressed in the same manner,and invariably discuss the same topics—the increas-frequently performs, to the infinite amusement of everyone but the old gentleman concerned, who, somehowor other, never can see the joke of the thing. tions evinced by omnibus men. There is a little testying rapidity of cabs, and the disregard of moral obliga-We are not aware that it has ever been precisely as-old man, with a powdered head, who always sits on the138

Charles Dickensright-hand side of the door as you enter, with his hands business to do so. Why are you stopping?’folded on the top of his umbrella. He is extremely impatient,and sits there for the purpose of keeping a sharp cause we perfer stopping here to going on.’‘Vy, sir, that’s a difficult question. I think it is be-eye on the cad, with whom he generally holds a runningdialogue. He is very officious in helping people in vehemence, ‘I’ll pull you up to-morrow; I’ve often threat-‘Now mind,’ exclaims the little old man, with greatand out, and always volunteers to give the cad a poke ened to do it; now I will.’with his umbrella, when any one wants to alight. He ‘Thankee, sir,’ replies the cad, touching his hat with ausually recommends ladies to have sixpence ready, to mock expression of gratitude;—’werry much obliged toprevent delay; and if anybody puts a window down, that you indeed, sir.’ Here the young men in the omnibushe can reach, he immediately puts it up again. laugh very heartily, and the old gentleman gets very‘Now, what are you stopping for?’ says the little man red in the face, and seems highly exasperated.every morning, the moment there is the slightest indicationof ‘pulling up’ at the corner of Regent-street, other end of the vehicle, looks very prophetic, and saysThe stout gentleman in the white neckcloth, at thewhen some such dialogue as the following takes place that something must shortly be done with these fellows,or there’s no saying where all this will end; andbetween him and the cad:‘What are you stopping for?’the shabby-genteel man with the green bag, expressesHere the cad whistles, and affects not to hear the his entire concurrence in the opinion, as he has donequestion.regularly every morning for the last six months.‘I say [a poke], what are you stopping for?’A second omnibus now comes up, and stops immediatelybehind us. Another old gentleman elevates his‘For passengers, sir. Ba—nk.—Ty.’‘I know you’re stopping for passengers; but you’ve no cane in the air, and runs with all his might towards our139

Sketches by Bozomnibus; we watch his progress with great interest; the some notion of this kind, and that he considers theirdoor is opened to receive him, he suddenly disappears— entry as a sort of negative impertinence.he has been spirited away by the opposition. Hereupon Conversation is now entirely dropped; each personthe driver of the opposition taunts our people with his gazes vacantly through the window in front of him, andhaving ‘regularly done ‘em out of that old swell,’ and everybody thinks that his opposite neighbour is staringat him. If one man gets out at Shoe-lane, and an-the voice of the ‘old swell’ is heard, vainly protestingagainst this unlawful detention. We rattle off, the other other at the corner of Farringdon-street, the little oldomnibus rattles after us, and every time we stop to take gentleman grumbles, and suggests to the latter, that ifup a passenger, they stop to take him too; sometimes he had got out at Shoe-lane too, he would have savedwe get him; sometimes they get him; but whoever don’t them the delay of another stoppage; whereupon theget him, say they ought to have had him, and the cads young men laugh again, and the old gentleman looksof the respective vehicles abuse one another accordingly.Bank, when he trots off as fast as he can, leaving us tovery solemn, and says nothing more till he gets to theAs we arrive in the vicinity of Lincoln’s-inn-fields, do the same, and to wish, as we walk away, that weBedford-row, and other legal haunts, we drop a great could impart to others any portion of the amusementmany of our original passengers, and take up fresh ones, we have gained for ourselves.who meet with a very sulky reception. It is rather remarkable,that the people already in an omnibus, alwayslook at newcomers, as if they entertained someundefined idea that they have no business to come inat all. We are quite persuaded the little old man has140

Charles DickensCHAPTER XVII—THE LAST CAB-DRIVER, AND THE contemplative mind, certain indications of a love ofFIRST OMNIBUS CADnature, and a taste for botany.His cabriolet was gorgeously painted—a bright red;OF ALL THE CABRIOLET-DRIVERS whom we have ever had and wherever we went, City or West End, Paddington orthe honour and gratification of knowing by sight—and Holloway, North, East, West, or South, there was theour acquaintance in this way has been most extensive— red cab, bumping up against the posts at the streetthere is one who made an impression on our mind which corners, and turning in and out, among hackney-coaches,can never be effaced, and who awakened in our bosom a and drays, and carts, and waggons, and omnibuses, andfeeling of admiration and respect, which we entertain a contriving by some strange means or other, to get outfatal presentiment will never be called forth again by of places which no other vehicle but the red cab couldany human being. He was a man of most simple and ever by any possibility have contrived to get into at all.prepossessing appearance. He was a brown-whiskered, Our fondness for that red cab was unbounded. How wewhite-hatted, no-coated cabman; his nose was generallyred, and his bright blue eye not unfrequently stood Our life upon it, that it should have performed suchshould have liked to have seen it in the circle at Astley’s!out in bold relief against a black border of artificial evolutions as would have put the whole company toworkmanship; his boots were of the Wellington form, shame—Indian chiefs, knights, Swiss peasants, and all.pulled up to meet his corduroy knee-smalls, or at least Some people object to the exertion of getting intoto approach as near them as their dimensions would cabs, and others object to the difficulty of getting outadmit of; and his neck was usually garnished with a of them; we think both these are objections which takebright yellow handkerchief. In summer he carried in his their rise in perverse and ill-conditioned minds. Themouth a flower; in winter, a straw—slight, but, to a getting into a cab is a very pretty and graceful process,141

Sketches by Bozwhich, when well performed, is essentially melodramatic. and trust to chance for alighting on your feet. If youFirst, there is the expressive pantomime of every one of make the driver alight first, and then throw yourselfthe eighteen cabmen on the stand, the moment you upon him, you will find that he breaks your fall materially.In the event of your contemplating an offer ofraise your eyes from the ground. Then there is yourown pantomime in reply—quite a little ballet. Four cabs eightpence, on no account make the tender, or showimmediately leave the stand, for your especial accommodation;and the evolutions of the animals who draw very bad policy attempting to save the fourpence. Youthe money, until you are safely on the pavement. It isthem, are beautiful in the extreme, as they grate the are very much in the power of a cabman, and he considersit a kind of fee not to do you any wilful damage.wheels of the cabs against the curb-stones, and sportplayfully in the kennel. You single out a particular cab, Any instruction, however, in the art of getting out of aand dart swiftly towards it. One bound, and you are on cab, is wholly unnecessary if you are going any distance,because the probability is, that you will be shotthe first step; turn your body lightly round to the right,and you are on the second; bend gracefully beneath the lightly out before you have completed the third mile.reins, working round to the left at the same time, and We are not aware of any instance on record in whichyou are in the cab. There is no difficulty in finding a a cab-horse has performed three consecutive miles withoutgoing down once. What of that? It is all excitement.seat: the apron knocks you comfortably into it at once,and off you go.And in these days of derangement of the nervous systemand universal lassitude, people are content to payThe getting out of a cab is, perhaps, rather more complicatedin its theory, and a shade more difficult in its handsomely for excitement; where can it be procured atexecution. We have studied the subject a great deal, a cheaper rate?and we think the best way is, to throw yourself out, But to return to the red cab; it was omnipresent. You142

Charles Dickenshad but to walk down Holborn, or Fleet-street, or any The ubiquity of this red cab, and the influence it exercisedover the risible muscles of justice itself, was per-of the principal thoroughfares in which there is a greatdeal of traffic, and judge for yourself. You had hardly fectly astonishing. You walked into the justice-room ofturned into the street, when you saw a trunk or two, the Mansion-house; the whole court resounded with merriment.The Lord Mayor threw himself back in his chair,lying on the ground: an uprooted post, a hat-box, aportmanteau, and a carpet-bag, strewed about in a very in a state of frantic delight at his own joke; every vein inpicturesque manner: a horse in a cab standing by, lookingabout him with great unconcern; and a crowd, shout-at the Lord Mayor’s facetiousness, but more at his own;Mr. Hobler’s countenance was swollen with laughter, partlying and screaming with delight, cooling their flushed the constables and police-officers were (as in duty bound)faces against the glass windows of a chemist’s shop.— in ecstasies at Mr. Hobler and the Lord Mayor combined;’What’s the matter here, can you tell me?’—‘O’ny a cab, and the very paupers, glancing respectfully at the beadle’ssir.’—’Anybody hurt, do you know?’—’O’ny the fare, sir. countenance, tried to smile, as even he relaxed. A tall,I see him a turnin’ the corner, and I ses to another weazen-faced man, with an impediment in his speech,gen’lm’n “that’s a reg’lar little oss that, and he’s a comin’ would be endeavouring to state a case of impositionalong rayther sweet, an’t he?”—”He just is,” ses the against the red cab’s driver; and the red cab’s driver, andother gen’lm’n, ven bump they cums agin the post, and the Lord Mayor, and Mr. Hobler, would be having a littleout flies the fare like bricks.’ Need we say it was the red fun among themselves, to the inordinate delight of everybodybut the complainant. In the end, justice wouldcab; or that the gentleman with the straw in his mouth,who emerged so coolly from the chemist’s shop and be so tickled with the red cab-driver’s native humour,philosophically climbing into the little dickey, started that the fine would be mitigated, and he would go awayoff at full gallop, was the red cab’s licensed driver? full gallop, in the red cab, to impose on somebody else143

Sketches by Bozwithout loss of time.had not received above eighteenpence more than hisThe driver of the red cab, confident in the strength of fare, and consequently laboured under a great deal ofhis own moral principles, like many other philosophers, very natural indignation. The dispute had attained awas wont to set the feelings and opinions of society at pretty considerable height, when at last the loquaciouscomplete defiance. Generally speaking, perhaps, he little gentleman, making a mental calculation of thewould as soon carry a fare safely to his destination, as distance, and finding that he had already paid morehe would upset him—sooner, perhaps, because in that than he ought, avowed his unalterable determinationcase he not only got the money, but had the additional to ‘pull up’ the cabman in the morning.amusement of running a longer heat against some smart ‘Now, just mark this, young man,’ said the little gentleman,‘I’ll pull you up to-morrow morning.’rival. But society made war upon him in the shape ofpenalties, and he must make war upon society in his ‘No! will you though?’ said our friend, with a sneer.own way. This was the reasoning of the red cab-driver. ‘I will,’ replied the little gentleman, ‘mark my words,So, he bestowed a searching look upon the fare, as he that’s all. If I live till to-morrow morning, you shallput his hand in his waistcoat pocket, when he had gone repent this.’half the mile, to get the money ready; and if he brought There was a steadiness of purpose, and indignation offorth eightpence, out he went.speech, about the little gentleman, as he took an angryThe last time we saw our friend was one wet evening pinch of snuff, after this last declaration, which made ain Tottenham-court-road, when he was engaged in a visible impression on the mind of the red cab-driver. Hevery warm and somewhat personal altercation with a appeared to hesitate for an instant. It was only for anloquacious little gentleman in a green coat. Poor fellow!there were great excuses to be made for him: he ‘You’ll pull me up, will you?’ said our friend.instant; his resolve was soon taken.144

Charles Dickens‘I will,’ rejoined the little gentleman, with even greater began to think that the little gentleman in the greenvehemence an before.coat must have relented, when, as we were traversing‘Very well,’ said our friend, tucking up his shirt sleeves the kitchen-garden, which lies in a sequestered part ofvery calmly. ‘There’ll be three veeks for that. Wery good; the prison, we were startled by hearing a voice, whichthat’ll bring me up to the middle o’ next month. Three apparently proceeded from the wall, pouring forth itsveeks more would carry me on to my birthday, and then soul in the plaintive air of ‘All round my hat,’ which wasI’ve got ten pound to draw. I may as well get board, then just beginning to form a recognised portion of ourlodgin’, and washin’, till then, out of the county, as pay national music.for it myself; consequently here goes!’We started.—’What voice is that?’ said we. The Governorshook his head.So, without more ado, the red cab-driver knocked thelittle gentleman down, and then called the police to take ‘Sad fellow,’ he replied, ‘very sad. He positively refusedto work on the wheel; so, after many trials, I washimself into custody, with all the civility in the world.A story is nothing without the sequel; and therefore, compelled to order him into solitary confinement. Hewe may state, that to our certain knowledge, the board, says he likes it very much though, and I am afraid helodging, and washing were all provided in due course. does, for he lies on his back on the floor, and singsWe happen to know the fact, for it came to our knowledgethus: We went over the House of Correction for the Shall we add, that our heart had not deceived us andcomic songs all day!’county of Middlesex shortly after, to witness the operationof the silent system; and looked on all the ‘wheels’ sought friend, the red cab-driver?that the comic singer was no other than our eagerly-with the greatest anxiety, in search of our long-lost We have never seen him since, but we have strongfriend. He was nowhere to be seen, however, and we reason to suspect that this noble individual was a dis-145

Sketches by Boztant relative of a waterman of our acquaintance, who, penetrate the Lucinian mysteries of lying-in hospitals?on one occasion, when we were passing the coach-stand Mr. William Barker was born, or he had never been. Thereover which he presides, after standing very quietly to is a son—there was a father. There is an effect—theresee a tall man struggle into a cab, ran up very briskly was a cause. Surely this is sufficient information for thewhen it was all over (as his brethren invariably do), most Fatima-like curiosity; and, if it be not, we regretand, touching his hat, asked, as a matter of course, for our inability to supply any further evidence on the point.‘a copper for the waterman.’ Now, the fare was by no Can there be a more satisfactory, or more strictly parliamentarycourse? Impossible.means a handsome man; and, waxing very indignant atthe demand, he replied—’Money! What for? Coming up We at once avow a similar inability to record at whatand looking at me, I suppose!’—’Vell, sir,’ rejoined the precise period, or by what particular process, thiswaterman, with a smile of immovable complacency, gentleman’s patronymic, of William Barker, became corruptedinto ‘Bill Boorker.’ Mr. Barker acquired a high‘That’s worth twopence.’The identical waterman afterwards attained a very standing, and no inconsiderable reputation, among theprominent station in society; and as we know somethingof his life, and have often thought of telling what devoted his energies; and to them he was generallymembers of that profession to which he more peculiarlywe do know, perhaps we shall never have a better opportunitythan the present.or the flattering designation of ‘Aggerawatin Bill,’ theknown, either by the familiar appellation of ‘Bill Boorker,’Mr. William Barker, then, for that was the gentleman’s latter being a playful and expressive sobriquet, illustrativeof Mr. Barker’s great talent in ‘aggerawatin’ andname, Mr. William Barker was born—but why need werelate where Mr. William Barker was born, or when? Why rendering wild such subjects of her Majesty as are conveyedfrom place to place, through the instrumentalityscrutinise the entries in parochial ledgers, or seek to146

Charles Dickensof omnibuses. Of the early life of Mr. Barker little is There is something very affecting in this. It is stillknown, and even that little is involved in considerable more affecting to know, that such philanthropy is butdoubt and obscurity. A want of application, a restlessnessof purpose, a thirsting after porter, a love of all Millbank, are a poor return for general benevolence,imperfectly rewarded. Bow-street, Newgate, andthat is roving and cadger-like in nature, shared in commonwith many other great geniuses, appear to have objects. Mr. Barker felt it so. After a lengthened inter-evincing itself in an irrepressible love for all createdbeen his leading characteristics. The busy hum of a parochialfree-school, and the shady repose of a county ungrateful country, with the consent, and at the exviewwith the highest legal authorities, he quitted hisgaol, were alike inefficacious in producing the slightest pense, of its Government; proceeded to a distant shore;alteration in Mr. Barker’s disposition. His feverish attachmentto change and variety nothing could repress; in clearing and cultivating the soil—a peaceful pursuit,and there employed himself, like another Cincinnatus,his native daring no punishment could subdue. in which a term of seven years glided almost imperceptiblyaway.If Mr. Barker can be fairly said to have had any weaknessin his earlier years, it was an amiable one—love; Whether, at the expiration of the period we have justlove in its most comprehensive form—a love of ladies, mentioned, the British Government required Mr. Barker’sliquids, and pocket-handkerchiefs. It was no selfish presence here, or did not require his residence abroad,feeling; it was not confined to his own possessions, we have no distinct means of ascertaining. We shouldwhich but too many men regard with exclusive complacency.No; it was a nobler love—a general principle. asmuch as we do not find that he was advanced to anybe inclined, however, to favour the latter position, in-It extended itself with equal force to the property of other public post on his return, than the post at theother people.corner of the Haymarket, where he officiated as assis-147

Sketches by Boztant-waterman to the hackney-coach stand. Seated, in they ransomed themselves by the payment of sixpencethis capacity, on a couple of tubs near the curbstone, a-head, or, to adopt his own figurative expression in allwith a brass plate and number suspended round his neck its native beauty, ‘till they was rig’larly done over, andby a massive chain, and his ankles curiously enveloped forked out the stumpy.’in haybands, he is supposed to have made those observationson human nature which exercised so material soon presented itself. Rumours were rife on the hack-An opportunity for realising his fondest anticipations,an influence over all his proceedings in later life. ney-coach stands, that a buss was building, to run fromMr. Barker had not officiated for many months in this Lisson-grove to the Bank, down Oxford-street andcapacity, when the appearance of the first omnibus Holborn; and the rapid increase of busses on thecaused the public mind to go in a new direction, and Paddington-road, encouraged the idea. Mr. Barker secretlyand cautiously inquired in the proper quarters.prevented a great many hackney-coaches from going inany direction at all. The genius of Mr. Barker at once The report was correct; the ‘Royal William’ was to makeperceived the whole extent of the injury that would be its first journey on the following Monday. It was a crackeventually inflicted on cab and coach stands, and, by affair altogether. An enterprising young cabman, of establishedreputation as a dashing whip—for he had com-consequence, on watermen also, by the progress of thesystem of which the first omnibus was a part. He saw, promised with the parents of three scrunched children,too, the necessity of adopting some more profitable profession;and his active mind at once perceived how much lady—was the driver; and the spirited proprietor, know-and just ‘worked out’ his fine for knocking down an oldmight be done in the way of enticing the youthful and ing Mr. Barker’s qualifications, appointed him to theunwary, and shoving the old and helpless, into the wrong vacant office of cad on the very first application. Thebuss, and carrying them off, until, reduced to despair, buss began to run, and Mr. Barker entered into a new148

Charles Dickenssuit of clothes, and on a new sphere of action. ever much malevolent spirits may pretend to doubt theTo recapitulate all the improvements introduced by accuracy of the statement, they well know it to be anthis extraordinary man into the omnibus system—gradually,indeed, but surely—would occupy a far greater space ety of ancient persons of either sex, to both places,established fact, that he has forcibly conveyed a vari-than we are enabled to devote to this imperfect memoir.To him is universally assigned the original sugges-going anywhere at all.who had not the slightest or most distant intention oftion of the practice which afterwards became so general—ofthe driver of a second buss keeping constantly guished himself, some time since, by keeping a trades-Mr. Barker was the identical cad who nobly distin-behind the first one, and driving the pole of his vehicle man on the step—the omnibus going at full speed alleither into the door of the other, every time it was the time—till he had thrashed him to his entire satisfaction,and finally throwing him away, when he hadopened, or through the body of any lady or gentlemanwho might make an attempt to get into it; a humorous quite done with him. Mr. Barker it ought to have been,and pleasant invention, exhibiting all that originality who honestly indignant at being ignominiously ejectedof idea, and fine, bold flow of spirits, so conspicuous in from a house of public entertainment, kicked the landlordin the knee, and thereby caused his death. We sayevery action of this great man.Mr. Barker had opponents of course; what man in it ought to have been Mr. Barker, because the actionpublic life has not? But even his worst enemies cannot was not a common one, and could have emanated fromdeny that he has taken more old ladies and gentlemen no ordinary mind.to Paddington who wanted to go to the Bank, and more It has now become matter of history; it is recorded inold ladies and gentlemen to the Bank who wanted to go the Newgate Calendar; and we wish we could attributeto Paddington, than any six men on the road; and how-this piece of daring heroism to Mr. Barker. We regret149

Sketches by Bozbeing compelled to state that it was not performed by one occasion, followed by a committal to prison. It washim. Would, for the family credit we could add, that it not in the power of trifles such as these, however, towas achieved by his brother!subdue the freedom of his spirit. As soon as they passedIt was in the exercise of the nicer details of his profession,that Mr. Barker’s knowledge of human nature was abated ardour.away, he resumed the duties of his profession with un-beautifully displayed. He could tell at a glance where a We have spoken of Mr. Barker and of the red cab-driver,passenger wanted to go to, and would shout the name of in the past tense. Alas! Mr. Barker has again become anthe place accordingly, without the slightest reference to absentee; and the class of men to which they both belongedis fast disappearing. Improvement has peered be-the real destination of the vehicle. He knew exactly thekind of old lady that would be too much flurried by the neath the aprons of our cabs, and penetrated to the veryprocess of pushing in and pulling out of the caravan, to innermost recesses of our omnibuses. Dirt and fustiandiscover where she had been put down, until too late; will vanish before cleanliness and livery. Slang will behad an intuitive perception of what was passing in a forgotten when civility becomes general: and that enlightened,eloquent, sage, and profound body, the Magis-passenger’s mind when he inwardly resolved to ‘pull thatcad up to-morrow morning;’ and never failed to make tracy of London, will be deprived of half their amusement,and half their occupation.himself agreeable to female servants, whom he would placenext the door, and talk to all the way.Human judgment is never infallible, and it would occasionallyhappen that Mr. Barker experimentalised withthe timidity or forbearance of the wrong person, in whichcase a summons to a Police-office, was, on more than150

Charles DickensCHAPTER XVIII—A PARLIAMENTARY SKETCH sometimes by way of novelty, as if speakers were occasionallyin the habit of standing on their heads. TheWE HOPE OUR READERS will not be alarmed at this rather members are pouring in, one after the other, in shoals.ominous title. We assure them that we are not about to The few spectators who can obtain standing-room inbecome political, neither have we the slightest intentionof being more prosy than usual—if we can help it. utmost interest, and the man who can identify a mem-the passages, scrutinise them as they pass, with theIt has occurred to us that a slight sketch of the general ber occasionally, becomes a person of great importance.aspect of ‘the House,’ and the crowds that resort to it on Every now and then you hear earnest whispers of ‘That’sthe night of an important debate, would be productive Sir John Thomson.’ ‘Which? him with the gilt order roundof some amusement: and as we have made some few his neck?’ ‘No, no; that’s one of the messengers—thatcalls at the aforesaid house in our time—have visited it other with the yellow gloves, is Sir John Thomson.’ ‘Here’squite often enough for our purpose, and a great deal Mr. Smith.’ ‘Lor!’ ‘Yes, how d’ye do, sir?—(He is our newtoo often for our personal peace and comfort—we have member)—How do you do, sir?’ Mr. Smith stops: turnsdetermined to attempt the description. Dismissing from round with an air of enchanting urbanity (for the rumourour minds, therefore, all that feeling of awe, which vague of an intended dissolution has been very extensivelyideas of breaches of privilege, Serjeant-at-Arms, heavy circulated this morning); seizes both the hands of hisdenunciations, and still heavier fees, are calculated to gratified constituent, and, after greeting him with theawaken, we enter at once into the building, and upon most enthusiastic warmth, darts into the lobby with anour subject.extraordinary display of ardour in the public cause, leavingan immense impression in his favour on the mind ofHalf-past four o’clock—and at five the mover of theAddress will be ‘on his legs,’ as the newspapers announce his ‘fellow-townsman.’151

Sketches by BozThe arrivals increase in number, and the heat and noise ‘How can you ask such questions, sir?’ replies the functionary,in an incredibly loud key, and pettishly grasp-increase in very unpleasant proportion. The livery servantsform a complete lane on either side of the passage,and you reduce yourself into the smallest possible not, sir. I beg of you; pray do not, sir.’ The little maning the thick stick he carries in his right hand. ‘Pray dospace to avoid being turned out. You see that stout looks remarkably out of his element, and the uninitiatedpart of the throng are in positive convulsions ofman with the hoarse voice, in the blue coat, queercrowned,broad-brimmed hat, white corduroy breeches, laughter.and great boots, who has been talking incessantly for Just at this moment some unfortunate individual appears,with a very smirking air, at the bottom of thehalf an hour past, and whose importance has occasionedno small quantity of mirth among the strangers. That is long passage. He has managed to elude the vigilance ofthe great conservator of the peace of Westminster. You the special constable downstairs, and is evidently congratulatinghimself on having made his way so far.cannot fail to have remarked the grace with which hesaluted the noble Lord who passed just now, or the excessivedignity of his air, as he expostulates with the hoarse one, with tremendous emphasis of voice and ges-‘Go back, sir—you must not come here,’ shouts thecrowd. He is rather out of temper now, in consequence ture, the moment the offender catches his eye.of the very irreverent behaviour of those two young The stranger pauses.fellows behind him, who have done nothing but laugh ‘Do you hear, sir—will you go back?’ continues theall the time they have been here.official dignitary, gently pushing the intruder some halfdozenyards.‘Will they divide to-night, do you think, Mr.—’ timidlyinquires a little thin man in the crowd, hoping to ‘Come, don’t push me,’ replies the stranger, turningconciliate the man of office.angrily round.152

Charles Dickens‘I will, sir.’‘Make way, gentlemen,—pray make way for the Members,I beg of you!’ shouts the zealous officer, turning‘You won’t, sir.’‘Go out, sir.’back, and preceding a whole string of the liberal and‘Take your hands off me, sir.’independent.‘Go out of the passage, sir.’You see this ferocious-looking gentleman, with a complexionalmost as sallow as his linen, and whose large‘You’re a Jack-in-office, sir.’‘A what?’ ejaculates he of the boots.black moustache would give him the appearance of a‘A Jack-in-office, sir, and a very insolent fellow,’ reiteratesthe stranger, now completely in a passion. sessed the thought which is communicated to thosefigure in a hairdresser’s window, if his countenance pos-‘Pray do not force me to put you out, sir,’ retorts the waxen caricatures of the human face divine. He is aother —‘pray do not—my instructions are to keep this militia-officer, and the most amusing person in thepassage clear—it’s the Speaker’s orders, sir.’House. Can anything be more exquisitely absurd than‘D-n the Speaker, sir!’ shouts the intruder.the burlesque grandeur of his air, as he strides up to the‘Here, Wilson!—Collins!’ gasps the officer, actually paralysedat this insulting expression, which in his mind cheap Dutch clock? He never appears without that bundlelobby, his eyes rolling like those of a Turk’s head in ais all but high treason; ‘take this man out—take him of dirty papers which he carries under his left arm, andout, I say! How dare you, sir?’ and down goes the unfortunateman five stairs at a time, turning round at every estimates for 1804, or some equally important docu-which are generally supposed to be the miscellaneousstoppage, to come back again, and denouncing bitter ments. He is very punctual in his attendance at thevengeance against the commander-in-chief, and all his House, and his self-satisfied ‘He-ar-He-ar,’ is notsupernumeraries.unfrequently the signal for a general titter.153

Sketches by BozThis is the gentleman who once actually sent a messengerup to the Strangers’ gallery in the old House of vet facings and cuffs, who wears his D’Orsay hat so rak-That smart-looking fellow in the black coat with vel-Commons, to inquire the name of an individual who was ishly, is ‘Honest Tom,’ a metropolitan representative; andusing an eye-glass, in order that he might complain to the large man in the cloak with the white lining—notthe Speaker that the person in question was quizzing the man by the pillar; the other with the light hairhim! On another occasion, he is reported to have repaired hanging over his coat collar behind—is his colleague.to Bellamy’s kitchen—a refreshment-room, where personswho are not Members are admitted on sufferance, as gray trousers, white neckerchief and gloves, whoseThe quiet gentlemanly-looking man in the blue surtout,it were—and perceiving two or three gentlemen at supper,who, he was aware, were not Members, and could broad chest to great advantage, is a very well-knownclosely-buttoned coat displays his manly figure andnot, in that place, very well resent his behaviour, he character. He has fought a great many battles in hisindulged in the pleasantry of sitting with his booted leg time, and conquered like the heroes of old, with noon the table at which they were supping! He is generally other arms than those the gods gave him. The old hardfeaturedman who is standing near him, is really a goodharmless, though, and always amusing.By dint of patience, and some little interest with our specimen of a class of men, now nearly extinct. He is afriend the constable, we have contrived to make our way county Member, and has been from time whereof theto the Lobby, and you can just manage to catch an occasionalglimpse of the House, as the door is opened for the wide, brown coat, with capacious pockets on each side;memory of man is not to the contrary. Look at his loose,admission of Members. It is tolerably full already, and the knee-breeches and boots, the immensely long waistcoat,and silver watch-chain dangling below it, the wide-little groups of Members are congregated together here,discussing the interesting topics of the day.brimmed brown hat, and the white handkerchief tied in154

Charles Dickensa great bow, with straggling ends sticking out beyond once divided on the question, that fresh candles be nowhis shirt-frill. It is a costume one seldom sees nowadays,and when the few who wear it have died off, it in the chair by accident, at the conclusion of business,brought in; how the Speaker was once upon a time leftwill be quite extinct. He can tell you long stories of and was obliged to sit in the House by himself for threeFox, Pitt, Sheridan, and Canning, and how much better hours, till some Member could be knocked up andthe House was managed in those times, when they used brought back again, to move the adjournment; and ato get up at eight or nine o’clock, except on regular great many other anecdotes of a similar description.field-days, of which everybody was apprised beforehand. There he stands, leaning on his stick; looking at theHe has a great contempt for all young Members of Parliament,and thinks it quite impossible that a man can contempt; and conjuring up, before his mind’s eye, thethrong of Exquisites around him with most profoundsay anything worth hearing, unless he has sat in the scenes he beheld in the old House, in days gone by,House for fifteen years at least, without saying anythingat all. He is of opinion that ‘that young Macaulay’ when, as he imagines, wit, talent, and patriotism flour-when his own feelings were fresher and brighter, andwas a regular impostor; he allows, that Lord Stanley ished more brightly too.may do something one of these days, but ‘he’s too young, You are curious to know who that young man in thesir—too young.’ He is an excellent authority on points rough great-coat is, who has accosted every Memberof precedent, and when he grows talkative, after his who has entered the House since we have been standinghere. He is not a Member; he is only an ‘hereditarywine, will tell you how Sir Somebody Something, whenhe was whipper-in for the Government, brought four bondsman,’ or, in other words, an Irish correspondent ofmen out of their beds to vote in the majority, three of an Irish newspaper, who has just procured his fortysecondfrank from a Member whom he never saw in whom died on their way home again; how the Househis155

Sketches by Bozlife before. There he goes again—another! Bless the man, home thoroughly satisfied that the place must be remarkablyfull indeed.*he has his hat and pockets full already.We will try our fortune at the Strangers’ gallery, though Retracing our steps through the long passage, descendingthe stairs, and crossing Palace-yard, we halt at athe nature of the debate encourages very little hope ofsuccess. What on earth are you about? Holding up your small temporary doorway adjoining the King’s entranceorder as if it were a talisman at whose command the to the House of Lords. The order of the serjeant-at-armswicket would fly open? Nonsense. Just preserve the will admit you into the Reporters’ gallery, from whenceorder for an autograph, if it be worth keeping at all, you can obtain a tolerably good view of the House. Takeand make your appearance at the door with your thumb care of the stairs, they are none of the best; throughand forefinger expressively inserted in your waistcoatpocket.This tall stout man in black is the door-keeper. little used to the mist of the place, and the glare of thethis little wicket—there. As soon as your eyes become a‘Any room?’ ‘Not an inch—two or three dozen gentlemenwaiting down-stairs on the chance of somebody’s tant personage on the Ministerial side of the House (tochandeliers below you, you will see that some unimpor-going out.’ Pull out your purse—’Are you quite sure your right hand) is speaking, amidst a hum of voicesthere’s no room?’—’I’ll go and look,’ replies the doorkeeper,with a wistful glance at your purse, ‘but I’m cumstance of its being all in one language.and confusion which would rival Babel, but for the cir-afraid there’s not.’ He returns, and with real feeling assuresyou that it is morally impossible to get near the ceeded from our warlike friend with the moustache; heThe ‘hear, hear,’ which occasioned that laugh, pro-gallery. It is of no use waiting. When you are refused is sitting on the back seat against the wall, behind theadmission into the Strangers’ gallery at the House of *This paper was written before the practice of exhibitingCommons, under such circumstances, you may return Members of Parliament, like other curiosities, for the smallcharge of half-a-crown, was abolished.156

Charles DickensMember who is speaking, looking as ferocious and intellectualas usual. Take one look around you, and reing;either to give their ‘conscientious votes’ on ques-whippers-in, when the House is on the point of dividtire!The body of the House and the side galleries are tions of which they are conscientiously innocent offull of Members; some, with their legs on the back of knowing anything whatever, or to find a vent for thethe opposite seat; some, with theirs stretched out to playful exuberance of their wine-inspired fancies, intheir utmost length on the floor; some going out, otherscoming in; all talking, laughing, lounging, cough-little howling, barking, crowing, or other ebullitions ofboisterous shouts of ‘Divide,’ occasionally varied with aing, oh-ing, questioning, or groaning; presenting a conglomerationof noise and confusion, to be met with in When you have ascended the narrow staircase which,senatorial pleasantry.no other place in existence, not even excepting in the present temporary House of Commons, leads toSmithfield on a market-day, or a cock-pit in its glory. the place we are describing, you will probably observe aBut let us not omit to notice Bellamy’s kitchen, or, in couple of rooms on your right hand, with tables spreadother words, the refreshment-room, common to both for dining. Neither of these is the kitchen, althoughHouses of Parliament, where Ministerialists and Oppositionists,Whigs and Tories, Radicals, Peers, and is further on to our left, up these half-dozen stairs.they are both devoted to the same purpose; the kitchenDestructives, strangers from the gallery, and the more Before we ascend the staircase, however, we must requestyou to pause in front of this little bar-place withfavoured strangers from below the bar, are alike at libertyto resort; where divers honourable members prove the sash-windows; and beg your particular attention totheir perfect independence by remaining during the the steady, honest-looking old fellow in black, who iswhole of a heavy debate, solacing themselves with the its sole occupant. Nicholas (we do not mind mentioningcreature comforts; and whence they are summoned by the old fellow’s name, for if Nicholas be not a public157

Sketches by Bozman, who is?—and public men’s names are public property)—Nicholasis the butler of Bellamy’s, and has held than a column of our poor description could convey.black—would give you a better idea of his real characterthe same place, dressed exactly in the same manner, Nicholas is rather out of his element now; he cannotand said precisely the same things, ever since the oldestof its present visitors can remember. An excellent one window of his glass-case opened into the room, andsee the kitchen as he used to in the old House; there,servant Nicholas is—an unrivalled compounder of saladdressing—anadmirable preparer of soda-water and questioners, he would stand for an hour together, an-then, for the edification and behoof of more juvenilelemon—a special mixer of cold grog and punch—and, swering deferential questions about Sheridan, andabove all, an unequalled judge of cheese. If the old man Percival, and Castlereagh, and Heaven knows who beside,with manifest delight, always inserting a ‘Mister’have such a thing as vanity in his composition, this iscertainly his pride; and if it be possible to imagine that before every commoner’s name.anything in this world could disturb his impenetrable Nicholas, like all men of his age and standing, has acalmness, we should say it would be the doubting his great idea of the degeneracy of the times. He seldom expressesany political opinions, but we managed to ascer-judgment on this important point.We needn’t tell you all this, however, for if you have tain, just before the passing of the Reform Bill, that Nicholaswas a thorough Reformer. What was our astonishmentan atom of observation, one glance at his sleek, knowing-lookinghead and face—his prim white neckerchief, to discover shortly after the meeting of the first reformedwith the wooden tie into which it has been regularly Parliament, that he was a most inveterate and decidedfolded for twenty years past, merging by imperceptible Tory! It was very odd: some men change their opinionsdegrees into a small-plaited shirt-frill—and his comfortable-lookingform encased in a well-brushed suit of spiration; but that Nicholas should undergo any changefrom necessity, others from expediency, others from in-158

Charles Dickensin any respect, was an event we had never contemplated, were at their height, and declared his resolute intentionof falling with the floor. He must have been gotand should have considered impossible. His strong opinionagainst the clause which empowered the metropolitandistricts to return Members to Parliament, too, was looking as he always does, as if he had been in a bandboxout by force. However, he was got out—here he is again,perfectly unaccountable.ever since the last session. There he is, at his old postWe discovered the secret at last; the metropolitan every night, just as we have described him: and, as charactersare scarce, and faithful servants scarcer, long mayMembers always dined at home. The rascals! As for givingadditional Members to Ireland, it was even worse— he be there, say we!decidedly unconstitutional. Why, sir, an Irish Member Now, when you have taken your seat in the kitchen,would go up there, and eat more dinner than three EnglishMembers put together. He took no wine; drank end of the room—the little table for washing glassesand duly noticed the large fire and roasting-jack at onetable-beer by the half-gallon; and went home to and draining jugs at the other—the clock over the windowopposite St. Margaret’s Church—the deal tables andManchester-buildings, or Millbank-street, for his whiskey-and-water.And what was the consequence? Why, wax candles—the damask table-cloths and bare floor—the concern lost—actually lost, sir—by his patronage. the plate and china on the tables, and the gridiron onA queer old fellow is Nicholas, and as completely a part the fire; and a few other anomalies peculiar to theof the building as the house itself. We wonder he ever place—we will point out to your notice two or three ofleft the old place, and fully expected to see in the papers,the morning after the fire, a pathetic account of them the most worthy of remark.the people present, whose station or absurdities renderan old gentleman in black, of decent appearance, who It is half-past twelve o’clock, and as the division iswas seen at one of the upper windows when the flames not expected for an hour or two, a few Members are159

Sketches by Bozlounging away the time here in preference to standing The small gentleman with the sharp nose, who hasat the bar of the House, or sleeping in one of the side just saluted him, is a Member of Parliament, an ex-Alderman,and a sort of amateur fireman. He, and thegalleries. That singularly awkward and ungainly-lookingman, in the brownish-white hat, with the stragglingblack trousers which reach about half-way down ably active at the conflagration of the two Houses ofcelebrated fireman’s dog, were observed to be remark-the leg of his boots, who is leaning against the meatscreen,apparently deluding himself into the belief that out, getting under people’s feet, and into everybody’sParliament—they both ran up and down, and in andhe is thinking about something, is a splendid sample of way, fully impressed with the belief that they were doinga great deal of good, and barking tremendously. Thea Member of the House of Commons concentrating inhis own person the wisdom of a constituency. Observe dog went quietly back to his kennel with the engine,the wig, of a dark hue but indescribable colour, for if it but the gentleman kept up such an incessant noise forbe naturally brown, it has acquired a black tint by long some weeks after the occurrence, that he became a positivenuisance. As no more parliamentary fires have oc-service, and if it be naturally black, the same cause hasimparted to it a tinge of rusty brown; and remark how curred, however, and as he has consequently had novery materially the great blinker-like spectacles assist more opportunities of writing to the newspapers to relatehow, by way of preserving pictures he cut them outthe expression of that most intelligent face. Seriouslyspeaking, did you ever see a countenance so expressive of their frames, and performed other great national services,he has gradually relapsed into his old state ofof the most hopeless extreme of heavy dulness, or beholda form so strangely put together? He is no great calmness.speaker: but when he does address the House, the effectis absolutely irresistible.Day-Bill Baronet has just chucked under the chin; theThat female in black—not the one whom the Lord’s-160

Charles Dickensshorter of the two—is ‘Jane:’ the Hebe of Bellamy’s. Jane The two persons who are seated at the table in theis as great a character as Nicholas, in her way. Her leadingfeatures are a thorough contempt for the great mastantguests here, for many years past; and one of themcorner, at the farther end of the room, have been conjorityof her visitors; her predominant quality, love of has feasted within these walls, many a time, with theadmiration, as you cannot fail to observe, if you mark most brilliant characters of a brilliant period. He hasthe glee with which she listens to something the young gone up to the other House since then; the greater partMember near her mutters somewhat unintelligibly in her of his boon companions have shared Yorick’s fate, andear (for his speech is rather thick from some cause or his visits to Bellamy’s are comparatively few.other), and how playfully she digs the handle of a fork If he really be eating his supper now, at what hourinto the arm with which he detains her, by way of reply. can he possibly have dined! A second solid mass of rumpsteakhas disappeared, and he eat the first in four min-Jane is no bad hand at repartees, and showers themabout, with a degree of liberality and total absence of utes and three quarters, by the clockthe window. Wasreserve or constraint, which occasionally excites no small there ever such a personification of Falstaff! Mark theamazement in the minds of strangers. She cuts jokes air with which he gloats over that Stilton, as he removesthe napkin which has been placed beneath hiswith Nicholas, too, but looks up to him with a greatdeal of respect—the immovable stolidity with which chin to catch the superfluous gravy of the steak, andNicholas receives the aforesaid jokes, and looks on, at with what gusto he imbibes the porter which has beencertain pastoral friskings and rompings (Jane’s only recreations,and they are very innocent too) which occa-the hoarse sound of that voice, kept down as it is byfetched, expressly for him, in the pewter pot. Listen tosionally take place in the passage, is not the least amusingpart of his character.us if you ever saw such a perfect picture of alayers of solids, and deep draughts of rich wine, and tellregular161

Sketches by Bozgourmand; and whether he is not exactly the man whom and-water to sustain them during the division; peopleyou would pitch upon as having been the partner of who have ordered supper, countermand it, and prepareSheridan’s parliamentary carouses, the volunteer driver to go down-stairs, when suddenly a bell is heard to ringof the hackney-coach that took him home, and the involuntaryupsetter of the whole party?heard in the passage. This is enough; away rush thewith tremendous violence, and a cry of ‘Di-vi-sion!’ isWhat an amusing contrast between his voice and appearance,and that of the spare, squeaking old man, the noise rapidly dies away; you hear the creaking ofmembers pell-mell. The room is cleared in an instant;who sits at the same table, and who, elevating a little the last boot on the last stair, and are left alone withcracked bantam sort of voice to its highest pitch, invokesdamnation upon his own eyes or somebody else’sthe leviathan of rump-steaks.at the commencement of every sentence he utters. ‘TheCHAPTER XIX—PUBLIC DINNERSCaptain,’ as they call him, is a very old frequenter ofBellamy’s; much addicted to stopping ‘after the House ALL PUBLIC DINNERS in London, from the Lord Mayor’sis up’ (an inexpiable crime in Jane’s eyes), and a completewalking reservoir of spirits and water.anniversary at White Conduit House; from the Gold-annual banquet at Guildhall, to the Chimney-sweepers’The old Peer—or rather, the old man—for his peerage smiths’ to the Butchers’, from the Sheriffs’ to the LicensedVictuallers’; are amusing scenes. Of all enter-is of comparatively recent date—has a huge tumbler ofhot punch brought him; and the other damns and drinks, tainments of this description, however, we think theand drinks and damns, and smokes. Members arrive everymoment in a great bustle to report that ‘The Chaning.At a Company’s dinner, the people are nearly allannual dinner of some public charity is the most amuscellorof the Exchequer’s up,’ and to get glasses of brandy-alike—regular old stagers, who make it a matter of busi-162

Charles Dickensness, and a thing not to be laughed at. At a political the entrance of the indigent orphans’ friends. You heardinner, everybody is disagreeable, and inclined to speechify—muchthe same thing, by-the-bye; but at a charity ity of your being the noble Lord who is announced togreat speculations as you pay the fare, on the possibil-dinner you see people of all sorts, kinds, and descriptions.The wine may not be remarkably special, to be to hear it eventually decided that you are only afill the chair on the occasion, and are highly gratifiedsure, and we have heard some hardhearted monsters ‘wocalist.’grumble at the collection; but we really think the amusementto be derived from the occasion, sufficient to coun-the astonishing importance of the committee. You ob-The first thing that strikes you, on your entrance, isterbalance even these disadvantages.serve a door on the first landing, carefully guarded byLet us suppose you are induced to attend a dinner of two waiters, in and out of which stout gentlemen withthis description—’Indigent Orphans’ Friends’ BenevolentInstitution,’ we think it is. The name of the charity highly unbecoming the gravity of persons of their yearsvery red faces keep running, with a degree of speedis a line or two longer, but never mind the rest. You and corpulency. You pause, quite alarmed at the bustle,have a distinct recollection, however, that you purchased and thinking, in your innocence, that two or threea ticket at the solicitation of some charitable friend: people must have been carried out of the dining-roomand you deposit yourself in a hackney-coach, the driver in fits, at least. You are immediately undeceived by theof which—no doubt that you may do the thing in style— waiter—’Up-stairs, if you please, sir; this is the committee-room.’Up-stairs you go, accordingly; wondering,turns a deaf ear to your earnest entreaties to be setdown at the corner of Great Queen-street, and persists as you mount, what the duties of the committee canin carrying you to the very door of the Freemasons’, be, and whether they ever do anything beyond confusingeach other, and running over the round which a crowd of people are assembled to witnesswaiters.163

Sketches by BozHaving deposited your hat and cloak, and received a of the tables, looking into plate after plate with franticremarkably small scrap of pasteboard in exchange eagerness, the expression of their countenances growingmore and more dismal as they meet with everybody’s(which, as a matter of course, you lose, before you requireit again), you enter the hall, down which there card but their own.are three long tables for the less distinguished guests, You turn round to take a look at the table behindwith a cross table on a raised platform at the upper end you, and—not being in the habit of attending publicfor the reception of the very particular friends of the dinners—are somewhat struck by the appearance of theindigent orphans. Being fortunate enough to find a plate party on which your eyes rest. One of its principal membersappears to be a little man, with a long and ratherwithout anybody’s card in it, you wisely seat yourselfat once, and have a little leisure to look about you. inflamed face, and gray hair brushed bolt upright inWaiters, with wine-baskets in their hands, are placing front; he wears a wisp of black silk round his neck,decanters of sherry down the tables, at very respectable without any stiffener, as an apology for a neckerchief,distances; melancholy-looking salt-cellars, and decayed and is addressed by his companions by the familiar appellationof ‘Fitz,’ or some such monosyllable. Near himvinegar-cruets, which might have belonged to the parentsof the indigent orphans in their time, are scattered is a stout man in a white neckerchief and buff waistcoat,with shining dark hair, cut very short in front,at distant intervals on the cloth; and the knives andforks look as if they had done duty at every public dinnerin London since the accession of George the First. studiously preserves a half sentimental simper. Next him,and a great, round, healthy-looking face, on which heThe musicians are scraping and grating and screwing again, is a large-headed man, with black hair and bushytremendously—playing no notes but notes of preparation;and several gentlemen are gliding along the sides one of whom is a little round-faced person, in a dress-whiskers; and opposite them are two or three others,164

Charles Dickensstock and blue under-waistcoat. There is something As to the dinner itself—the mere dinner—it goes offpeculiar in their air and manner, though you could hardly much the same everywhere. Tureens of soup are emptiedwith awful rapidity—waiters take plates of turbotdescribe what it is; you cannot divest yourself of theidea that they have come for some other purpose than away, to get lobster-sauce, and bring back plates of lobster-saucewithout turbot; people who can carve poul-mere eating and drinking. You have no time to debatethe matter, however, for the waiters (who have been try, are great fools if they own it, and people who can’tarranged in lines down the room, placing the dishes on have no wish to learn. The knives and forks form a pleasingaccompaniment to Auber’s music, and Auber’s musictable) retire to the lower end; the dark man in the bluecoat and bright buttons, who has the direction of the would form a pleasing accompaniment to the dinner, ifmusic, looks up to the gallery, and calls out ‘band’ in a you could hear anything besides the cymbals. The substantialsdisappear—moulds of jelly vanish like light-very loud voice; out burst the orchestra, up rise thevisitors, in march fourteen stewards, each with a long ning—hearty eaters wipe their foreheads, and appearwand in his hand, like the evil genius in a pantomime; rather overcome by their recent exertions—people whothen the chairman, then the titled visitors; they all have looked very cross hitherto, become remarkablymake their way up the room, as fast as they can, bowing,and smiling, and smirking, and looking remarkably manner possible—old gentlemen direct your attentionbland, and ask you to take wine in the most friendlyamiable. The applause ceases, grace is said, the clatter to the ladies’ gallery, and take great pains to impressof plates and dishes begins; and every one appears highly you with the fact that the charity is always peculiarlygratified, either with the presence of the distinguished favoured in this respect—every one appears disposedvisitors, or the commencement of the anxiously-expected to become talkative—and the hum of conversation isdinner.loud and general.165

Sketches by Boz‘Pray, silence, gentlemen, if you please, for non nobis!’shouts the toast-master with stentorian lungs—a The moment the noise ceases, up starts the toast-of doubt, shout ‘Encore!’ most vociferously.toast-master’s shirt-front, waistcoat, and neckerchief, master:—‘Gentlemen, charge your glasses, if you please!’by-the-bye, always exhibit three distinct shades of Decanters having been handed about, and glasses filled,cloudy-white.—’Pray, silence, gentlemen, for non nobis!’The singers, whom you discover to be no other ‘Gentlemen—air—you—all charged? Pray—silence—the toast-master proceeds, in a regular ascending scale:-than the very party that excited your curiosity at first, gentlemen—for—the cha-i-r!’ The chairman rises, and,after ‘pitching’ their voices immediately begin too-tooing after stating that he feels it quite unnecessary to prefacethe toast he is about to propose, with any observa-most dismally, on which the regular old stagers burstinto occasional cries of—’Sh—Sh—waiters!—Silence, tions whatever, wanders into a maze of sentences, andwaiters—stand still, waiters—keep back, waiters,’ and flounders about in the most extraordinary manner, presentinga lamentable spectacle of mystified humanity,other exorcisms, delivered in a tone of indignant remonstrance.The grace is soon concluded, and the companyresume their seats. The uninitiated portion of the of these realms,’ at which elderly gentlemen exclaimuntil he arrives at the words, ‘constitutional sovereignguests applaud non nobis as vehemently as if it were a ‘Bravo!’ and hammer the table tremendously with theircapital comic song, greatly to the scandal and indignationof the regular diners, who immediately attempt to him the greatest pride, it would give him the greatestknife-handles. ‘Under any circumstances, it would givequell this sacrilegious approbation, by cries of ‘Hush, pleasure—he might almost say, it would afford him satisfaction[cheers] to propose that toast. What must behush!’ whereupon the others, mistaking these soundsfor hisses, applaud more tumultuously than before, and, his feelings, then, when he has the gratification of announcing,that he has received her Majesty’s commandsby way of placing their approval beyond the possibility166

Charles Dickensto apply to the Treasurer of her Majesty’s Household, ously received; and the toast having been drunk, thefor her Majesty’s annual donation of 25L. in aid of the stewards (looking more important than ever) leave thefunds of this charity!’ This announcement (which has room, and presently return, heading a procession of indigentorphans, boys and girls, who walk round the room,been regularly made by every chairman, since the firstfoundation of the charity, forty-two years ago) calls forth curtseying, and bowing, and treading on each other’sthe most vociferous applause; the toast is drunk with a heels, and looking very much as if they would like agreat deal of cheering and knocking; and ‘God save the glass of wine apiece, to the high gratification of theQueen’ is sung by the ‘professional gentlemen;’ the unprofessionalgentlemen joining in the chorus, and givessesin the gallery. Exeunt children, and re-enter stew-company generally, and especially of the lady patroningthe national anthem an effect which the newspapers,with great justice, describe as ‘perfectly electrical.’ a lively air; the majority of the company put their handsards, each with a blue plate in his hand. The band playsThe other ‘loyal and patriotic’ toasts having been drunk in their pockets and look rather serious; and the noisewith all due enthusiasm, a comic song having been well of sovereigns, rattling on crockery, is heard from allsung by the gentleman with the small neckerchief, and parts of the room.a sentimental one by the second of the party, we come After a short interval, occupied in singing and toasting,the secretary puts on his spectacles, and proceedsto the most important toast of the evening—‘Prosperityto the charity.’ Here again we are compelled to adopt to read the report and list of subscriptions, the latternewspaper phraseology, and to express our regret at being listened to with great attention. ‘Mr. Smith, onebeing ‘precluded from giving even the substance of the guinea—Mr. Tompkins, one guinea—Mr. Wilson, onenoble lord’s observations.’ Suffice it to say, that the guinea—Mr. Hickson, one guinea—Mr. Nixon, onespeech, which is somewhat of the longest, is raptur-guinea—Mr. Charles Nixon, one guinea—[hear, hear!]—167

Sketches by BozMr. James Nixon, one guinea—Mr. Thomas Nixon, one the only other toast of importance being ‘The Lady Patronessesnow present!’ on which all the gentlemen turnpound one [tremendous applause]. Lord Fitz Binkle, thechairman of the day, in addition to an annual donation their faces towards the ladies’ gallery, shouting tremendously;and little priggish men, who have imbibed moreof fifteen pounds—thirty guineas [prolonged knocking:several gentlemen knock the stems off their wineglasses,in the vehemence of their approbation]. Lady, ing contortions of visage.wine than usual, kiss their hands and exhibit distress-Fitz Binkle, in addition to an annual donation of ten We have protracted our dinner to so great a length,pound—twenty pound’ [protracted knocking and shouts that we have hardly time to add one word by way ofof ‘Bravo!’] The list being at length concluded, the chairmanrises, and proposes the health of the secretary, because we have attempted to extract some amusementgrace. We can only entreat our readers not to imagine,than whom he knows no more zealous or estimable individual.The secretary, in returning thanks, observes underrate, either the excellence of the benevolent in-from a charity dinner, that we are at all disposed tothat he knows no more excellent individual than the stitutions with which London abounds, or the estimablechairman—except the senior officer of the charity, whose motives of those who support them.health he begs to propose. The senior officer, in returningthanks, observes that he knows no more worthyman than the secretary—except Mr. Walker, the auditor,whose health he begs to propose. Mr. Walker, inreturning thanks, discovers some other estimable individual,to whom alone the senior officer is inferior—and so they go on toasting and lauding and thanking:168

Charles DickensCHAPTER XX—THE FIRST OF MAYimpressions which every lovely object stamps upon itsheart! The hardy traveller wanders through the maze of‘Now ladies, up in the sky-parlour: only once a year, if thick and pathless woods, where the sun’s rays neveryou please!’ Young lady with brass ladle.shone, and heaven’s pure air never played; he stands on‘Sweep—sweep—sw-e-ep!’ Illegal watchword. the brink of the roaring waterfall, and, giddy and bewildered,watches the foaming mass as it leaps from stoneTHE FIRST OF MAY! There is a merry freshness in the sound, to stone, and from crag to crag; he lingers in the fertilecalling to our minds a thousand thoughts of all that is plains of a land of perpetual sunshine, and revels inpleasant in nature and beautiful in her most delightful the luxury of their balmy breath. But what are theform. What man is there, over whose mind a bright spring deep forests, or the thundering waters, or the richestmorning does not exercise a magic influence—carrying landscapes that bounteous nature ever spread, to charmhim back to the days of his childish sports, and conjuringup before him the old green field with its gently-with the recollection of the old scenes of his earlythe eyes, and captivate the senses of man, comparedwaving trees, where the birds sang as he has never heard youth? Magic scenes indeed; for the fancies of childhooddressed them in colours brighter than the rain-them since—where the butterfly fluttered far more gailythan he ever sees him now, in all his ramblings—where bow, and almost as fleeting!the sky seemed bluer, and the sun shone more brightly— In former times, spring brought with it not only suchwhere the air blew more freshly over greener grass, and associations as these, connected with the past, but sportssweeter-smelling flowers—where everything wore a richer and games for the present—merry dances round rusticand more brilliant hue than it is ever dressed in now! pillars, adorned with emblems of the season, and rearedSuch are the deep feelings of childhood, and such are the in honour of its coming. Where are they now! Pillars we169

Sketches by Bozhave, but they are no longer rustic ones; and as to dancers,they are used to rooms, and lights, and would not a portion of it descended to the sweepsspring-time, but, it did not entirely destroy it, either; forshow well in the open air. Think of the immorality, too! with the dancing, and rendered them objects of greatWhat would your sabbath enthusiasts say, to an aristocraticring encircling the Duke of York’s column in Carlton-Legends were in existence of wealthy gentlemen who hadinterest. A mystery hung over the sweeps in those days.terrace—a grand poussette of the middle classes, round lost children, and who, after many years of sorrow andAlderman Waithman’s monument in Fleet- street,—or a suffering, had found them in the character of sweeps.general hands-four-round of ten-pound householders, at Stories were related of a young boy who, having beenthe foot of the Obelisk in St. George’s-fields? Alas! romancecan make no head against the riot act; and pasto-occupation of chimney-sweeping, was sent, in the coursestolen from his parents in his infancy, and devoted to theral simplicity is not understood by the police.of his professional career, to sweep the chimney of hisWell; many years ago we began to be a steady and mother’s bedroom; and how, being hot and tired when hematter-of-fact sort of people, and dancing in spring being came out of the chimney, he got into the bed he had sobeneath our dignity, we gave it up, and in course of often slept in as an infant, and was discovered andtime it descended to the sweeps—a fall certainly, because,though sweeps are very good fellows in their way, her life, thereafter, requested the pleasure of the com-recognised therein by his mother, who once every year ofand moreover very useful in a civilised community, they pany of every London sweep, at half-past one o’clock, toare not exactly the sort of people to give the tone to roast beef, plum-pudding, porter, and sixpence.the little elegances of society. The sweeps, however, got Such stories as these, and there were many such, threwthe dancing to themselves, and they kept it up, and an air of mystery round the sweeps, and produced forhanded it down. This was a severe blow to the romance of them some of those good effects which animals derive170

Charles Dickensfrom the doctrine of the transmigration of souls. No owned by a lord: and we never heard the church-bellsone (except the masters) thought of ill-treating a sweep, ring, or saw a flag hoisted in the neighbourhood, withoutthinking that the happy event had at last occurred,because no one knew who he might be, or whatnobleman’s or gentleman’s son he might turn out. Chimney-sweepingwas, by many believers in the marvellous, six, to take him home to Grosvenor-square. He neverand that his long-lost parent had arrived in a coach andconsidered as a sort of probationary term, at an earlier came, however; and, at the present moment, the youngor later period of which, divers young noblemen were gentleman in question is settled down as a master sweepto come into possession of their rank and titles: and in the neighbourhood of Battle-bridge, his distinguishingcharacteristics being a decided antipathy to wash-the profession was held by them in great respect accordinglyinghimself, and the possession of a pair of legs veryWe remember, in our young days, a little sweep about inadequate to the support of his unwieldy and corpulentbody.our own age, with curly hair and white teeth, whom wedevoutly and sincerely believed to be the lost son and The romance of spring having gone out before ourheir of some illustrious personage - an impression which time, we were fain to console ourselves as we best couldwas resolved into an unchangeable conviction on our with the uncertainty that enveloped the birth and parentageof its attendant dancers, the sweeps; and we didinfant mind, by the subject of our speculations informingus, one day, in reply to our question, propounded a console ourselves with it, for many years. But, evenfew moments before his ascent to the summit of the this wicked source of comfort received a shock fromkitchen chimney, ‘that he believed he’d been born in which it has never recovered—a shock which has beenthe vurkis, but he’d never know’d his father.’ We felt in reality its death-blow. We could not disguise fromcertain, from that time forth, that he would one day be ourselves the fact that whole families of sweeps were171

Sketches by Bozregularly born of sweeps, in the rural districts of Somers last, did we meet with accounts of similar applications.Town and Camden Town—that the eldest son succeeded The veil was removed, all mystery was at an end, andto the father’s business, that the other branches assistedhim therein, and commenced on their own ac-pursuit. There is no longer any occasion to steal boys;chimney-sweeping had become a favourite and chosencount; that their children again, were educated to the for boys flock in crowds to bind themselves. The romanceof the trade has fled, and the chimney-sweeperprofession; and that about their identity there could beno mistake whatever. We could not be blind, we say, to of the present day, is no more like unto him of thirtythis melancholy truth, but we could not bring ourselves years ago, than is a Fleet-street pickpocket to a Spanishto admit it, nevertheless, and we lived on for some years brigand, or Paul Pry to Caleb Williams.in a state of voluntary ignorance. We were roused from This gradual decay and disuse of the practice of leadingnoble youths into captivity, and compelling themour pleasant slumber by certain dark insinuations thrownout by a friend of ours, to the effect that children in to ascend chimneys, was a severe blow, if we may sothe lower ranks of life were beginning to choose chimney-sweepingas their particular walk; that applications romance of spring at the same time. But even this wasspeak, to the romance of chimney-sweeping, and to thehad been made by various boys to the constituted authorities,to allow them to pursue the object of their began to decline; small sweeps were observed to con-not all, for some few years ago the dancing on May-dayambition with the full concurrence and sanction of the gregate in twos or threes, unsupported by a ‘green,’ withlaw; that the affair, in short, was becoming one of mere no ‘My Lord’ to act as master of the ceremonies, and nolegal contract. We turned a deaf ear to these rumours at ‘My Lady’ to preside over the exchequer. Even in companieswhere there was a ‘green’ it was an absolute noth-first, but slowly and surely they stole upon us. Monthafter month, week after week, nay, day after day, at ing—a mere sprout—and the instrumental accompani-172

Charles Dickensments rarely extended beyond the shovels and a set of authority not the most malignant of our opponents canPanpipes, better known to the many, as a ‘mouth-organ.ing:‘That now he’d cotcht the cheerman’s hi, he vishedcall in question, expressed himself in a manner follow-These were signs of the times, portentous omens of a he might be jolly vell blessed, if he worn’t a goin’ tocoming change; and what was the result which they have his innings, vich he vould say these hereshadowed forth? Why, the master sweeps, influenced by obserwashuns—that how some mischeevus coves asa restless spirit of innovation, actually interposed their know’d nuffin about the consarn, had tried to sit peopleauthority, in opposition to the dancing, and substituted agin the mas’r swips, and take the shine out o’ theira dinner—an anniversary dinner at White Conduit bis’nes, and the bread out o’ the traps o’ their preshusHouse—where clean faces appeared in lieu of black ones kids, by a makin’ o’ this here remark, as chimblies couldsmeared with rose pink; and knee cords and tops supersedednankeen drawers and rosetted shoes.makin’ use o’ boys for that there purpuss vos barbareous;be as vell svept by ‘sheenery as by boys; and that theGentlemen who were in the habit of riding shy horses; vereas, he ‘ad been a chummy—he begged theand steady-going people who have no vagrancy in their cheerman’s parding for usin’ such a wulgar hexpression—souls, lauded this alteration to the skies, and the conductof the master sweeps was described beyond the chimbley—and he know’d uncommon vell as ‘sheenerymore nor thirty year—he might say he’d been born in areach of praise. But how stands the real fact? Let any vos vus nor o’ no use: and as to kerhewelty to the boys,man deny, if he can, that when the cloth had been everybody in the chimbley line know’d as vell as he did,removed, fresh pots and pipes laid upon the table, and that they liked the climbin’ better nor nuffin as vos.’the customary loyal and patriotic toasts proposed, the From this day, we date the total fall of the last lingeringremnant of May-day dancing, among the elite of celebrated Mr. Sluffen, of Adam-and-Eve-court, whosethe173

Sketches by Bozprofession: and from this period we commence a new under false pretences. We cling with peculiar fondnessera in that portion of our spring associations which to the custom of days gone by, and have shut out convictionas long as we could, but it has forced itself uponrelates to the first of May.We are aware that the unthinking part of the populationwill meet us here, with the assertion, that dancing May-day dancers are not sweeps. The size of them, alone,us; and we now proclaim to a deluded public, that theon May-day still continues—that ‘greens’ are annually is sufficient to repudiate the idea. It is a notorious factseen to roll along the streets—that youths in the garb that the widely-spread taste for register-stoves hasof clowns, precede them, giving vent to the ebullitions materially increased the demand for small boys; whereasof their sportive fancies; and that lords and ladies followin their wake.the streets on the first of May nowadays, would be athe men, who, under a fictitious character, dance aboutGranted. We are ready to acknowledge that in outwardshow, these processions have greatly improved: This is strong presumptive evidence, but we have posi-tight fit in a kitchen flue, to say nothing of the parlour.we do not deny the introduction of solos on the drum; tive proof—the evidence of our own senses. And here iswe will even go so far as to admit an occasional fantasia our testimony.on the triangle, but here our admissions end. We positivelydeny that the sweeps have art or part in these of May, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hun-Upon the morning of the second of the merry monthproceedings. We distinctly charge the dustmen with dred and thirty-six, we went out for a stroll, with athrowing what they ought to clear away, into the eyes kind of forlorn hope of seeing something or other whichof the public. We accuse scavengers, brickmakers, and might induce us to believe that it was really spring, andgentlemen who devote their energies to the not Christmas. After wandering as far as Copenhagencostermongering line, with obtaining money once a-year, House, without meeting anything calculated to dispel174

Charles Dickensour impression that there was a mistake in the After staring vacantly about us for some minutes, wealmanacks, we turned back down Maidenlane, with the appealed, touching the cause of this assemblage, to aintention of passing through the extensive colony lyingbetween it and Battle-bridge, which is inhabited by pipe on our right hand; but as the only answer we ob-gentleman in a suit of tarpaulin, who was smoking hisproprietors of donkey-carts, boilers of horse-flesh, makers tained was a playful inquiry whether our mother hadof tiles, and sifters of cinders; through which colony we disposed of her mangle, we determined to await theshould have passed, without stoppage or interruption, issue in silence.if a little crowd gathered round a shed had not attracted Judge of our virtuous indignation, when the streetdoorof the shed opened, and a party emerged there-our attention, and induced us to pause.When we say a ‘shed,’ we do not mean the conservatorysort of building, which, according to the old song, ance, of May-day sweeps!from, clad in the costume and emulating the appear-Love tenanted when he was a young man, but a wooden The first person who appeared was ‘my lord,’ habited inhouse with windows stuffed with rags and paper, and a a blue coat and bright buttons, with gilt paper tackedsmall yard at the side, with one dust-cart, two baskets, over the seams, yellow knee-breeches, pink cotton stockings,and shoes; a cocked hat, ornamented with shredsa few shovels, and little heaps of cinders, and fragmentsof china and tiles, scattered about it. Before this invitingspot we paused; and the longer we looked, the more size of a prize cauliflower in his button-hole, a long Belcherof various-coloured paper, on his head, a bouquet thewe wondered what exciting circumstance it could be, handkerchief in his right hand, and a thin cane in histhat induced the foremost members of the crowd to flattentheir noses against the parlour window, in the vain was chiefly composed of his lordship’s personal friends),left. A murmur of applause ran through the crowd (whichhope of catching a glimpse of what was going on inside. when this graceful figure made his appearance, which175

Sketches by Bozswelled into a burst of applause as his fair partner in the squeaked, the shovels rattled, the ‘green’ rolled about,dance bounded forth to join him. Her ladyship was attiredin pink crape over bed-furniture, with a low body lady threw her right foot over her left ankle, and herpitching first on one side and then on the other; myand short sleeves. The symmetry of her ankles was partiallyconcealed by a very perceptible pair of frilled trou-few paces forward, and butted at the ‘green,’ and then aleft foot over her right ankle, alternately; my lord ran asers; and the inconvenience which might have resulted few paces backward upon the toes of the crowd, andfrom the circumstance of her white satin shoes being a then went to the right, and then to the left, and thenfew sizes too large, was obviated by their being firmly dodged my lady round the ‘green;’ and finally drew herattached to her legs with strong tape sandals.arm through his, and called upon the boys to shout,Her head was ornamented with a profusion of artificialflowers; and in her hand she bore a large brass ladle, We passed the same group, accidentally, in thewhich they did lustily—for this was the dancing.wherein to receive what she figuratively denominated evening. We never saw a ‘green’ so drunk, a lord so‘the tin.’ The other characters were a young gentleman quarrelsome (no: not even in the house of peers afterin girl’s clothes and a widow’s cap; two clowns who dinner), a pair of clowns so melancholy, a lady sowalked upon their hands in the mud, to the immeasurabledelight of all the spectators; a man with a drum; How has May-day decayed!muddy, or a party so miserable.another man with a flageolet; a dirty woman in a largeshawl, with a box under her arm for the money,—andlast, though not least, the ‘green,’ animated by no less apersonage than our identical friend in the tarpaulin suit.The man hammered away at the drum, the flageolet176

Charles DickensCHAPTER XXI—BROKERS’ AND MARINE-STORE SHOPS lished with the pleasing device of a mail-coach at fullspeed, or a strange animal, supposed to have been originallyintended for a dog, with a mass of worsted-workWHEN WE AFFIRM that brokers’ shops are strange places,and that if an authentic history of their contents could in his mouth, which conjecture has likened to a basketbe procured, it would furnish many a page of amusement,and many a melancholy tale, it is necessary to This, by-the-bye, is a tempting article to young wivesof flowers.explain the class of shops to which we allude. Perhaps in the humbler ranks of life, who have a first-floor frontwhen we make use of the term ‘Brokers’ Shop,’ the minds to furnish—they are lost in admiration, and hardly knowof our readers will at once picture large, handsome warehouses,exhibiting a long perspective of French-polished they have a dog already on the best tea-tray, and twowhich to admire most. The dog is very beautiful, butdining-tables, rosewood chiffoniers, and mahogany washhand-stands,with an occasional vista of a four-post genteel about that mail-coach; and the passengers out-more on the mantel-piece. Then, there is something sobedstead and hangings, and an appropriate foreground side (who are all hat) give it such an air of reality!of dining-room chairs. Perhaps they will imagine that The goods here are adapted to the taste, or ratherwe mean an humble class of second-hand furniture repositories.Their imagination will then naturally lead the most beautiful looking Pembroke tables that wereto the means, of cheap purchasers. There are some ofthem to that street at the back of Long-acre, which is ever beheld: the wood as green as the trees in thecomposed almost entirely of brokers’ shops; where you Park, and the leaves almost as certain to fall off inwalk through groves of deceitful, showy-looking furniture,and where the prospect is occasionally enlivened assortment of tent and turn-up bedsteads, made ofthe course of a year. There is also a most extensiveby a bright red, blue, and yellow hearth-rug, embel-stained wood, and innumerable specimens of that base177

Sketches by Bozimposition on society—a sofa bedstead.ject of this sketch. The shops to which we advert, areA turn-up bedstead is a blunt, honest piece of furniture;it may be slightly disguised with a sham drawer; pearance we have slightly touched. Our readers mustimmeasurably inferior to those on whose outward ap-and sometimes a mad attempt is even made to pass it often have observed in some by-street, in a pooroff for a book-case; ornament it as you will, however, neighbourhood, a small dirty shop, exposing for salethe turn-up bedstead seems to defy disguise, and to the most extraordinary and confused jumble of old, wornout,wretched articles, that can well be imagined. Ourinsist on having it distinctly understood that he is aturn-up bedstead, and nothing else—that he is indispensablynecessary, and that being so useful, he dis-equalled by our astonishment at the idea of their everwonder at their ever having been bought, is only to bedains to be ornamental.being sold again. On a board, at the side of the door, areHow different is the demeanour of a sofa bedstead! placed about twenty books—all odd volumes; and asAshamed of its real use, it strives to appear an article of many wine-glasses—all different patterns; several locks,luxury and gentility—an attempt in which it miserably an old earthenware pan, full of rusty keys; two or threefails. It has neither the respectability of a sofa, nor the gaudy chimney-ornaments—cracked, of course; the remainsof a lustre, without any drops; a round frame likevirtues of a bed; every man who keeps a sofa bedsteadin his house, becomes a party to a wilful and designing a capital O, which has once held a mirror; a flute, completewith the exception of the middle joint; a pair offraud—we question whether you could insult him more,than by insinuating that you entertain the least suspicionof its real use.window, are ranged some half-dozen high-backed chairs,curling-irons; and a tinder-box. In front of the shop-To return from this digression, we beg to say, that with spinal complaints and wasted legs; a corner cupboard;two or three very dark mahogany tables withneither of these classes of brokers’ shops, forms the sub-178

Charles Dickensflaps like mathematical problems; some pickle-jars, some Take Drury-Lane and Covent-garden for example.surgeons’ ditto, with gilt labels and without stoppers; This is essentially a theatrical neighbourhood. Therean unframed portrait of some lady who flourished about is not a potboy in the vicinity who is not, to a greaterthe beginning of the thirteenth century, by an artist or less extent, a dramatic character. The errand-boyswho never flourished at all; an incalculable host of miscellaniesof every description, including bottles and they ‘gets up’ plays in back kitchens hired for the pur-and chandler’s-shop-keepers’ sons, are all stage-struck:cabinets, rags and bones, fenders and street-door knockers,fire-irons, wearing apparel and bedding, a hall-lamp, contemplating a great staring portrait of Mr. Somebodypose, and will stand before a shop-window for hours,and a room-door. Imagine, in addition to this incongruousmass, a black doll in a white frock, with two faces— the character of Tongo the Denounced.’ The consequenceor other, of the Royal Coburg Theatre, ‘as he appeared inone looking up the street, and the other looking down, is, that there is not a marine-store shop in theswinging over the door; a board with the squeezed-up neighbourhood, which does not exhibit for sale someinscription ‘Dealer in marine stores,’ in lanky white letters,whose height is strangely out of proportion to their pairs of soiled buff boots with turn-over red tops, here-faded articles of dramatic finery, such as three or fourwidth; and you have before you precisely the kind of tofore worn by a ‘fourth robber,’ or ‘fifth mob;’ a pair ofshop to which we wish to direct your attention. rusty broadswords, a few gauntlets, and certain resplendentornaments, which, if they were yellow instead ofAlthough the same heterogeneous mixture of thingswill be found at all these places, it is curious to observe white, might be taken for insurance plates of the Sunhow truly and accurately some of the minor articles Fire-office. There are several of these shops in the narrowstreets and dirty courts, of which there are so manywhich are exposed for sale—articles of wearing apparel,for instance—mark the character of the neighbourhood. near the national theatres, and they all have tempting179

Sketches by Bozgoods of this description, with the addition, perhaps, ladies without bonnets who passed just now. The furnitureis much the same as elsewhere, with the additionof a lady’s pink dress covered with spangles; whitewreaths, stage shoes, and a tiara like a tin lamp reflector.They have been purchased of some wretched super-naval engagements in still older frames. In the window,of one or two models of ships, and some old prints ofnumeraries, or sixth-rate actors, and are now offered are a few compasses, a small tray containing silverfor the benefit of the rising generation, who, on conditionof making certain weekly payments, amounting in lid of each ornamented with a ship, or an anchor, orwatches in clumsy thick cases; and tobacco-boxes, thethe whole to about ten times their value, may avail some such trophy. A sailor generally pawns or sells allthemselves of such desirable bargains.he has before he has been long ashore, and if he doesLet us take a very different quarter, and apply it to not, some favoured companion kindly saves him thethe same test. Look at a marine-store dealer’s, in that trouble. In either case, it is an even chance that hereservoir of dirt, drunkenness, and drabs: thieves, oysters,baked potatoes, and pickled salmon—Ratcliff-high-at a higher price than he gave for them at first.afterwards unconsciously repurchases the same thingsway. Here, the wearing apparel is all nautical. Rough Again: pay a visit with a similar object, to a part ofblue jackets, with mother-of-pearl buttons, oil-skin hats, London, as unlike both of these as they are to eachcoarse checked shirts, and large canvas trousers that other. Cross over to the Surrey side, and look at suchlook as if they were made for a pair of bodies instead of shops of this description as are to be found near thea pair of legs, are the staple commodities. Then, there King’s Bench prison, and in ‘the Rules.’ How different,are large bunches of cotton pocket-handkerchiefs, in and how strikingly illustrative of the decay of some ofcolour and pattern unlike any one ever saw before, with the unfortunate residents in this part of the metropolis!Imprisonment and neglect have done their work.the exception of those on the backs of the three young180

Charles DickensThere is contamination in the profligate denizens of a materials tell of better days; and the older they are, thedebtor’s prison; old friends have fallen off; the recollectionof former prosperity has passed away; and with it once adorned.greater the misery and destitution of those whom theyall thoughts for the past, all care for the future. First,watches and rings, then cloaks, coats, and all the moreCHAPTER XXII—GIN-SHOPSexpensive articles of dress, have found their way to thepawnbroker’s. That miserable resource has failed at last, IT IS A REMARKABLE circumstance, that different tradesand the sale of some trifling article at one of these shops, appear to partake of the disease to which elephants andhas been the only mode left of raising a shilling or two, dogs are especially liable, and to run stark, staring, ravingmad, periodically. The great distinction between theto meet the urgent demands of the moment. Dressingcasesand writing-desks, too old to pawn but too good animals and the trades, is, that the former run madto keep; guns, fishing-rods, musical instruments, all in with a certain degree of propriety—they are very regularin their irregularities. We know the period at whichthe same condition; have first been sold, and the sacrificehas been but slightly felt. But hunger must be allayed,and what has already become a habit, is easily ingly. If an elephant run mad, we are all ready for him—the emergency will arise, and provide against it accord-resorted to, when an emergency arises. Light articles of kill or cure—pills or bullets, calomel in conserve of roses,clothing, first of the ruined man, then of his wife, at or lead in a musket-barrel. If a dog happen to look unpleasantlywarm in the summer months, and to trotlast of their children, even of the youngest, have beenparted with, piecemeal. There they are, thrown carelesslytogether until a purchaser presents himself, old, yard of tongue hanging out of his mouth, a thick leatherabout the shady side of the streets with a quarter of aand patched and repaired, it is true; but the make and muzzle, which has been previously prepared in compli-181

Sketches by Bozance with the thoughtful injunctions of the Legislature,is instantly clapped over his head, by way of mak-and there is no knowing what would have been done, ifsquares of glass into one; one shopman into a dozen;ing him cooler, and he either looks remarkably unhappy it had not been fortunately discovered, just in time,for the next six weeks, or becomes legally insane, and that the Commissioners of Bankruptcy were as competentto decide such cases as the Commissioners of Lu-goes mad, as it were, by Act of Parliament. But thesetrades are as eccentric as comets; nay, worse, for no one nacy, and that a little confinement and gentle examinationdid wonders. The disease abated. It died away. Acan calculate on the recurrence of the strange appearanceswhich betoken the disease. Moreover, the contagionis general, and the quickness with which it difdenlyit burst out again amongst the chemists; the symp-year or two of comparative tranquillity ensued. Sudfusesitself, almost incredible.toms were the same, with the addition of a strong desireto stick the royal arms over the shop-door, and aWe will cite two or three cases in illustration of ourmeaning. Six or eight years ago, the epidemic began to great rage for mahogany, varnish, and expensive floorcloth.Then, the hosiers were infected, and began todisplay itself among the linen-drapers and haberdashers.The primary symptoms were an inordinate love of pull down their shop-fronts with frantic recklessness.plate-glass, and a passion for gas-lights and gilding. The mania again died away, and the public began toThe disease gradually progressed, and at last attained a congratulate themselves on its entire disappearance,fearful height. Quiet, dusty old shops in different parts when it burst forth with tenfold violence among theof town, were pulled down; spacious premises with stuccoedfronts and gold letters, were erected instead; floors ment it has spread among them with unprecedentedpublicans, and keepers of ‘wine vaults.’ From that mo-were covered with Turkey carpets; roofs supported by rapidity, exhibiting a concatenation of all the previousmassive pillars; doors knocked into windows; a dozen symptoms; onward it has rushed to every part of town,182

Charles Dickensknocking down all the old public-houses, and depositingsplendid mansions, stone balustrades, rosewood fit-equally inviting and wholesome liqueurs. AlthoughButter Gin,’ ‘The regular Flare-up,’ and a dozen other,tings, immense lamps, and illuminated clocks, at the places of this description are to be met with in everycorner of every street.second street, they are invariably numerous and splendidin precise proportion to the dirt and poverty ofThe extensive scale on which these places are established,and the ostentatious manner in which the businessof even the smallest among them is divided into near Drury-Lane, Holborn, St. Giles’s, Covent-garden,the surrounding neighbourhood. The gin-shops in andbranches, is amusing. A handsome plate of ground glass and Clare-market, are the handsomest in London. Therein one door directs you ‘To the Counting-house;’ anotherto the ‘Bottle Department; a third to the ‘Whole-thorough-fares than in any part of this mighty city.is more of filth and squalid misery near those greatsale Department;’ a fourth to ‘The Wine Promenade;’ and We will endeavour to sketch the bar of a large ginshop,and its ordinary customers, for the edification ofso forth, until we are in daily expectation of meetingwith a ‘Brandy Bell,’ or a ‘Whiskey Entrance.’ Then, ingenuityis exhausted in devising attractive titles for the of observing such scenes; and on the chance of findingsuch of our readers as may not have had opportunitiesdifferent descriptions of gin; and the dram-drinking one well suited to our purpose, we will make for Druryportionof the community as they gaze upon the giganticblack and white announcements, which are only to divide it from Oxford-street, and that classical spot ad-Lane, through the narrow streets and dirty courts whichbe equalled in size by the figures beneath them, are left joining the brewery at the bottom of Tottenham-courtroad,best known to the initiated as the ‘Rookery.’in a state of pleasing hesitation between ‘The Cream ofthe Valley,’ ‘The Out and Out,’ ‘The No Mistake,’ ‘The Good The filthy and miserable appearance of this part offor Mixing,’ ‘The real Knock- me-down,’ ‘The celebrated London can hardly be imagined by those (and there are183

Sketches by Bozmany such) who have not witnessed it. Wretched houses the two streets opposite; and the gay building with thewith broken windows patched with rags and paper: everyroom let out to a different family, and in many in-the plate-glass windows surrounded by stucco rosettes,fantastically ornamented parapet, the illuminated clock,stances to two or even three—fruit and ‘sweet-stuff’ and its profusion of gas-lights in richly-gilt burners, ismanufacturers in the cellars, barbers and red-herring perfectly dazzling when contrasted with the darknessvendors in the front parlours, cobblers in the back; a and dirt we have just left. The interior is even gayerbird-fancier in the first floor, three families on the second,starvation in the attics, Irishmen in the passage, a elegantly carved, extends the whole width of the place;than the exterior. A bar of French-polished mahogany,‘musician’ in the front kitchen, and a charwoman and and there are two side-aisles of great casks, paintedfive hungry children in the back one—filth everywhere— green and gold, enclosed within a light brass rail, anda gutter before the houses and a drain behind— bearing such inscriptions, as ‘Old Tom, 549;’ ‘Young Tom,clothes drying and slops emptying, from the windows; 360;’ ‘Samson, 1421'—the figures agreeing, we presume,girls of fourteen or fifteen, with matted hair, walking with ‘gallons,’ understood. Beyond the bar is a lofty andabout barefoot, and in white great-coats, almost their spacious saloon, full of the same enticing vessels, withonly covering; boys of all ages, in coats of all sizes and a gallery running round it, equally well furnished. Onno coats at all; men and women, in every variety of the counter, in addition to the usual spirit apparatus,scanty and dirty apparel, lounging, scolding, drinking, are two or three little baskets of cakes and biscuits,smoking, squabbling, fighting, and swearing.which are carefully secured at top with wicker-work, toYou turn the corner. What a change! All is light and prevent their contents being unlawfully abstracted. Behindit, are two showily-dressed damsels with large neck-brilliancy. The hum of many voices issues from thatsplendid gin-shop which forms the commencement of laces, dispensing the spirits and ‘compounds.’ They are184

Charles Dickensassisted by the ostensible proprietor of the concern, a Mary, my dear,’ replies the gentleman in brown. ‘My namestout, coarse fellow in a fur cap, put on very much on an’t Mary as it happens,’ says the young girl, rather relaxingas she delivers the change. ‘Well, if it an’t, it ought toone side to give him a knowing air, and to display hissandy whiskers to the best advantage.be,’ responds the irresistible one; ‘all the Marys as ever IThe two old washerwomen, who are seated on the see, was handsome gals.’ Here the young lady, not preciselyremembering how blushes are managed in suchlittle bench to the left of the bar, are rather overcomeby the head-dresses and haughty demeanour of the cases, abruptly ends the flirtation by addressing the femalein the faded feathers who has just entered, andyoung ladies who officiate. They receive their halfquarternof gin and peppermint, with considerable deference,prefacing a request for ‘one of them soft bis-misunderstanding, that ‘this gentleman pays,’ calls for ‘awho, after stating explicitly, to prevent any subsequentcuits,’ with a ‘Jist be good enough, ma’am.’ They are glass of port wine and a bit of sugar.’quite astonished at the impudent air of the young fellowin a brown coat and bright buttons, who, ushering finished their third quartern a few seconds ago; theyThose two old men who came in ‘just to have a drain,’in his two companions, and walking up to the bar in as have made themselves crying drunk; and the fat comfortable-lookingelderly women, who had ‘a glass ofcareless a manner as if he had been used to green andgold ornaments all his life, winks at one of the young rum-srub’ each, having chimed in with their complaintsladies with singular coolness, and calls for a ‘kervorten on the hardness of the times, one of the women hasand a three-out-glass,’ just as if the place were his own. agreed to stand a glass round, jocularly observing that‘Gin for you, sir?’ says the young lady when she has ‘grief never mended no broken bones, and as gooddrawn it: carefully looking every way but the right one, people’s wery scarce, what I says is, make the most onto show that the wink had no effect upon her. ‘For me, ‘em, and that’s all about it!’ a sentiment which ap-185

Sketches by Bozpears to afford unlimited satisfaction to those who have borne off to the station-house, and the remainder slinknothing to pay.home to beat their wives for complaining, and kick theIt is growing late, and the throng of men, women, children for daring to be hungry.and children, who have been constantly going in and We have sketched this subject very slightly, not onlyout, dwindles down to two or three occasional stragglers—cold,wretched-looking creatures, in the last stage were pursued farther, it would be painful and repulsive.because our limits compel us to do so, but because, if itof emaciation and disease. The knot of Irish labourers Well-disposed gentlemen, and charitable ladies, wouldat the lower end of the place, who have been alternatelyshaking hands with, and threatening the life of of the drunken besotted men, and wretched broken-alike turn with coldness and disgust from a descriptioneach other, for the last hour, become furious in their down miserable women, who form no inconsiderabledisputes, and finding it impossible to silence one man, portion of the frequenters of these haunts; forgetting,who is particularly anxious to adjust the difference, they in the pleasant consciousness of their own rectitude,resort to the expedient of knocking him down and jumpingon him afterwards. The man in the fur cap, and the Gin-drinking is a great vice in England, but wretched-the poverty of the one, and the temptation of the other.potboy rush out; a scene of riot and confusion ensues; ness and dirt are a greater; and until you improve thehalf the Irishmen get shut out, and the other half get homes of the poor, or persuade a half-famished wretchshut in; the potboy is knocked among the tubs in no not to seek relief in the temporary oblivion of his owntime; the landlord hits everybody, and everybody hits misery, with the pittance which, divided among his family,would furnish a morsel of bread for each, gin-shopsthe landlord; the barmaids scream; the police come in;the rest is a confused mixture of arms, legs, staves, torn will increase in number and splendour. If Temperancecoats, shouting, and struggling. Some of the party are Societies would suggest an antidote against hunger, filth,186

Charles Dickensand foul air, or could establish dispensaries for the gratuitousdistribution of bottles of Lethe-water, gin-paliancalico shirt, the silver fork and the flat iron, thepoverty. The aristocratic Spanish cloak and the plebeaceswould be numbered among the things that were. muslin cravat and the Belcher neckerchief, would butill assort together; so, the better sort of pawnbrokerCHAPTER XXIII—THE PAWNBROKER’S SHOP calls himself a silver-smith, and decorates his shop withhandsome trinkets and expensive jewellery, while theOF THE NUMEROUS receptacles for misery and distress with more humble money-lender boldly advertises his calling,and invites observation. It is with pawnbrokers’which the streets of London unhappily abound, thereare, perhaps, none which present such striking scenes shops of the latter class, that we have to do. We haveas the pawnbrokers’ shops. The very nature and descriptionof these places occasions their being but little scribe it.selected one for our purpose, and will endeavour to de-known, except to the unfortunate beings whose profligacyor misfortune drives them to seek the temporary at the corner of a court, which affords a side entranceThe pawnbroker’s shop is situated near Drury-Lane,relief they offer.subject may appear, at first sight, to be for the accommodation of such customers as may beanything but an inviting one, but we venture on it nevertheless,in the hope that, as far as the limits of our or the chance of recognition in the public street. It is adesirous of avoiding the observation of the passers-by,present paper are concerned, it will present nothing to low, dirty-looking, dusty shop, the door of which standsdisgust even the most fastidious reader.always doubtfully, a little way open: half inviting, halfThere are some pawnbrokers’ shops of a very superior repelling the hesitating visitor, who, if he be as yetdescription. There are grades in pawning as in everythingelse, and distinctions must be observed even in the window for a minute or two with affecteduninitiated, examines one of the old garnet brooches ineager-187

Sketches by Bozness, as if he contemplated making a purchase; and boors carousing: each boor with one leg painfully elevatedin the air, by way of expressing his perfect free-then looking cautiously round to ascertain that no onewatches him, hastily slinks in: the door closing of itself dom and gaiety; several sets of chessmen, two or threeafter him, to just its former width. The shop front and flutes, a few fiddles, a round-eyed portrait staring inthe window-frames bear evident marks of having been astonishment from a very dark ground; some gaudilyboundprayer-books and testaments, two rows of silveronce painted; but, what the colour was originally, or atwhat date it was probably laid on, are at this remote watches quite as clumsy and almost as large as Ferguson’speriod questions which may be asked, but cannot be first; numerous old-fashioned table and tea spoons, displayed,fan-like, in half-dozens; strings of coral withanswered. Tradition states that the transparency in thefront door, which displays at night three red balls on a great broad gilt snaps; cards of rings and brooches, fastenedand labelled separately, like the insects in theblue ground, once bore also, inscribed in graceful waves,the words ‘Money advanced on plate, jewels, wearing British Museum; cheap silver penholders and snuff-boxes,apparel, and every description of property,’ but a few with a masonic star, complete the jewellery department;illegible hieroglyphics are all that now remain to attest while five or six beds in smeary clouded ticks, strings ofthe fact. The plate and jewels would seem to have disappeared,together with the announcement, for the ar-wearing apparel of every description, form the moreblankets and sheets, silk and cotton handkerchiefs, andticles of stock, which are displayed in some profusion useful, though even less ornamental, part, of the articlesexposed for sale. An extensive collection of planes,in the window, do not include any very valuable luxuriesof either kind. A few old china cups; some modern chisels, saws, and other carpenters’ tools, which havevases, adorned with paltry paintings of three Spanish been pledged, and never redeemed, form the foregroundcavaliers playing three Spanish guitars; or a party of of the picture; while the large frames full of ticketed188

Charles Dickensbundles, which are dimly seen through the dirty casementup-stairs—the squalid neighbourhood—the ad-secured on the inside by bolts) open into a correspondsagefrom which some half-dozen doors (which may bejoining houses, straggling, shrunken, and rotten, with ing number of little dens, or closets, which face theone or two filthy, unwholesome-looking heads thrust counter. Here, the more timid or respectable portion ofout of every window, and old red pans and stunted plants the crowd shroud themselves from the notice of theexposed on the tottering parapets, to the manifest hazardof the heads of the passers-by—the noisy men loihindthe counter, with the curly black hair, diamondremainder, and patiently wait until the gentleman beteringunder the archway at the corner of the court, or ring, and double silver watch-guard, shall feel disposedabout the gin-shop next door—and their wives patiently to favour them with his notice—a consummation whichstanding on the curb-stone, with large baskets of cheap depends considerably on the temper of the aforesaidvegetables slung round them for sale, are its immediate gentleman for the time being.auxiliaries.At the present moment, this elegantly-attired individualis in the act of entering the duplicate he has justIf the outside of the pawnbroker’s shop be calculatedto attract the attention, or excite the interest, of the made out, in a thick book: a process from which he isspeculative pedestrian, its interior cannot fail to producethe same effect in an increased degree. The front on with another young man similarly employed at adiverted occasionally, by a conversation he is carryingdoor, which we have before noticed, opens into the commonshop, which is the resort of all those customers bottle of soda-water last night,’ and ‘how regularly roundlittle distance from him, whose allusions to ‘that lastwhose habitual acquaintance with such scenes renders my hat he felt himself when the young ‘ooman gave ‘emthem indifferent to the observation of their companionsin poverty. The side door opens into a small pas-some stolen joviality of the preceding evening. Thein charge,’ would appear to refer to the consequences ofcus-189

Sketches by Boztomers generally, however, seem unable to participate and taking out again, three times a week.’ ‘Oh! you’re ain the amusement derivable from this source, for an old rum un, you are,’ replies the old woman, laughing extremely,as in duty bound; ‘I wish I’d got the gift of thesallow-looking woman, who has been leaning with botharms on the counter with a small bundle before her, for gab like you; see if I’d be up the spout so often then!half an hour previously, suddenly interrupts the conversationby addressing the jewelled shopman—’Now, beautiful silk ankecher, as belongs to my husband. HeNo, no; it an’t the petticut; it’s a child’s frock and aMr. Henry, do make haste, there’s a good soul, for my gave four shillin’ for it, the werry same blessed day astwo grandchildren’s locked up at home, and I’m afeer’d he broke his arm.’—’What do you want upon these?’of the fire.’ The shopman slightly raises his head, with inquires Mr. Henry, slightly glancing at the articles,an air of deep abstraction, and resumes his entry with which in all probability are old acquaintances. ‘What doas much deliberation as if he were engraving. ‘You’re in you want upon these?’—’Eighteenpence.’—’Lend youa hurry, Mrs. Tatham, this ev’nin’, an’t you?’ is the only ninepence.’—‘Oh, make it a shillin’; there’s a dear—donotice he deigns to take, after the lapse of five minutes now?’—’Not another farden.’—’Well, I suppose I mustor so. ‘Yes, I am indeed, Mr. Henry; now, do serve me take it.’ The duplicate is made out, one ticket pinned onnext, there’s a good creetur. I wouldn’t worry you, only the parcel, the other given to the old woman; the parcelis flung carelessly down into a corner, and someit’s all along o’ them botherin’ children.’ ‘What have yougot here?’ inquires the shopman, unpinning the other customer prefers his claim to be served withoutbundle—’old concern, I suppose—pair o’ stays and a further delay.petticut. You must look up somethin’ else, old ‘ooman; The choice falls on an unshaven, dirty, sottish-lookingI can’t lend you anything more upon them; they’re completelyworn out by this time, if it’s only by putting in, one eye, communicates an additionally repulsive expres-fellow, whose tarnished paper-cap, stuck negligently over190

Charles Dickenssion to his very uninviting countenance. He was enjoyinga little relaxation from his sedentary pursuits a quar-drunken look of savage stupidity, aiming at the sameyourself!’ replies the gentleman addressed, with ater of an hour ago, in kicking his wife up the court. He time a blow at the woman which fortunately misses itshas come to redeem some tools:—probably to complete a object. ‘Go and hang yourself; and wait till I come andjob with, on account of which he has already received cut you down.’—’Cut you down,’ rejoins the woman, ‘Isome money, if his inflamed countenance and drunken wish I had the cutting of you up, you wagabond! (loud.)staggers may be taken as evidence of the fact. Having Oh! you precious wagabond! (rather louder.) Where’s yourwaited some little time, he makes his presence known by wife, you willin? (louder still; women of this class areventing his ill-humour on a ragged urchin, who, being always sympathetic, and work themselves into a tremendouspassion on the shortest notice.) Your poor dearunable to bring his face on a level with the counter byany other process, has employed himself in climbing up, wife as you uses worser nor a dog—strike a woman—and then hooking himself on with his elbows—an uneasyperch, from which he has fallen at intervals, gener-you, I would, if I died for it!’—’Now be civil,’ retorts theyou a man! (very shrill;) I wish I had you—I’d murderally alighting on the toes of the person in his immediate man fiercely. ‘Be civil, you wiper!’ ejaculates the womanvicinity. In the present case, the unfortunate little wretch contemptuously. ‘An’t it shocking?’ she continues, turninground, and appealing to an old woman who is peep-has received a cuff which sends him reeling to this door;and the donor of the blow is immediately the object of ing out of one of the little closets we have before described,and who has not the slightest objection to joingeneral indignation.‘What do you strike the boy for, you brute?’ exclaims in the attack, possessing, as she does, the comfortablea slipshod woman, with two flat irons in a little basket. conviction that she is bolted in. ‘Ain’t it shocking,‘Do you think he’s your wife, you willin?’ ‘Go and hang ma’am? (Dreadful! says the old woman in a parenthesis,191

Sketches by Boznot exactly knowing what the question refers to.) He’s my shop at no price; so make yourself scarce, before Igot a wife, ma’am, as takes in mangling, and is as make you scarcer.’‘dustrious and hard-working a young ‘ooman as can be, This eloquent address produces anything but the effectdesired; the women rail in concert; the man hits(very fast) as lives in the back parlour of our ‘ous, whichmy husband and me lives in the front one (with great about him in all directions, and is in the act of establishingan indisputable claim to gratuitous lodgings forrapidity)—and we hears him a beaten’ on her sometimeswhen he comes home drunk, the whole night the night, when the entrance of his wife, a wretched,through, and not only a beaten’ her, but beaten’ his worn-out woman, apparently in the last stage of consumption,whose face bears evident marks of recent ill-own child too, to make her more miserable—ugh, youbeast! and she, poor creater, won’t swear the peace agin usage, and whose strength seems hardly equal to thehim, nor do nothin’, because she likes the wretch arter burden—light enough, God knows!—of the thin, sicklyall—worse luck!’ Here, as the woman has completely child she carries in her arms, turns his cowardly rage inrun herself out of breath, the pawnbroker himself, who a safer direction. ‘Come home, dear,’ cries the miserablehas just appeared behind the counter in a gray dressing-gown,embraces the favourable opportunity of put-good fellow, and go to bed.’—’Go home yourself,’ rejoinscreature, in an imploring tone; ‘Do come home, there’s ating in a word:- ‘Now I won’t have none of this sort of the furious ruffian. ‘Do come home quietly,’ repeats thething on my premises!’ he interposes with an air of authority.‘Mrs. Mackin, keep yourself to yourself, or you husband again, enforcing his argument by a blow whichwife, bursting into tears. ‘Go home yourself,’ retorts thedon’t get fourpence for a flat iron here; and Jinkins, sends the poor creature flying out of the shop. Her ‘naturalprotector’ follows her up the court, alternately vent-you leave your ticket here till you’re sober, and sendyour wife for them two planes, for I won’t have you in ing his rage in accelerating her progress, and in knock-192

Charles Dickensing the little scanty blue bonnet of the unfortunate They are a small gold chain and a ‘Forget me not’ ring:child over its still more scanty and faded-looking face. the girl’s property, for they are both too small for theIn the last box, which is situated in the darkest and mother; given her in better times; prized, perhaps, once,most obscure corner of the shop, considerably removed for the giver’s sake, but parted with now without afrom either of the gas-lights, are a young delicate girl struggle; for want has hardened the mother, and herof about twenty, and an elderly female, evidently her example has hardened the girl, and the prospect of receivingmoney, coupled with a recollection of the mis-mother from the resemblance between them, who standat some distance back, as if to avoid the observation ery they have both endured from the want of it—theeven of the shopman. It is not their first visit to a coldness of old friends—the stern refusal of some, andpawnbroker’s shop, for they answer without a moment’s the still more galling compassion of others—appears tohesitation the usual questions, put in a rather respectfulmanner, and in a much lower tone than usual, of which the idea of their present situation would oncehave obliterated the consciousness of self-humiliation,‘What name shall I say?—Your own property, of have aroused.course?—Where do you live?—Housekeeper or lodger?’ In the next box, is a young female, whose attire, miserablypoor, but extremely gaudy, wretchedly cold, butThey bargain, too, for a higher loan than the shopmanis at first inclined to offer, which a perfect stranger extravagantly fine, too plainly bespeaks her station. Thewould be little disposed to do; and the elder female rich satin gown with its faded trimmings, the worn-outurges her daughter on, in scarcely audible whispers, to thin shoes, and pink silk stockings, the summer bonnetexert her utmost powers of persuasion to obtain an advanceof the sum, and expatiate on the value of the only serves as an index to the ravages of squanderedin winter, and the sunken face, where a daub of rougearticles they have brought to raise a present supply upon. health never to be regained, and lost happiness never193

Sketches by Bozto be restored, and where the practised smile is a There has been another spectator, in the person of awretched mockery of the misery of the heart, cannot be woman in the common shop; the lowest of the low;mistaken. There is something in the glimpse she has dirty, unbonneted, flaunting, and slovenly. Her curiositywas at first attracted by the little she could see ofjust caught of her young neighbour, and in the sight ofthe little trinkets she has offered in pawn, that seems the group; then her attention. The half-intoxicated leerto have awakened in this woman’s mind some slumberingrecollection, and to have changed, for an instant, and a feeling similar to that we have described, ap-changed to an expression of something like interest,her whole demeanour. Her first hasty impulse was to peared for a moment, and only a moment, to extendbend forward as if to scan more minutely the appearanceof her half-concealed companions; her next, on Who shall say how soon these women may changeitself even to her bosom.seeing them involuntarily shrink from her, to retreat to places? The last has but two more stages—the hospitalthe back of the box, cover her face with her hands, and and the grave. How many females situated as her twoburst into tears.companions are, and as she may have been once, haveThere are strange chords in the human heart, which terminated the same wretched course, in the samewill lie dormant through years of depravity and wickedness,but which will vibrate at last to some slight cir-with frightful rapidity. How soon may the other followwretched manner! One is already tracing her footstepscumstance apparently trivial in itself, but connected by her example! How many have done the same!some undefined and indistinct association, with pastdays that can never be recalled, and with bitter recollectionsfrom which the most degraded creature in existencecannot escape.194

Charles DickensCHAPTER XXIV—CRIMINAL COURTStion ‘Mr. Ketch;’ for we never imagined that the distinguishedfunctionary could by possibility live anywhereWE SHALL NEVER forget the mingled feelings of awe and else! The days of these childish dreams have passed away,respect with which we used to gaze on the exterior of and with them many other boyish ideas of a gayer nature.But we still retain so much of our original feeling,Newgate in our schoolboy days. How dreadful its roughheavy walls, and low massive doors, appeared to us— that to this hour we never pass the building withoutthe latter looking as if they were made for the express something like a shudder.purpose of letting people in, and never letting them What London pedestrian is there who has not, at someout again. Then the fetters over the debtors’ door, which time or other, cast a hurried glance through the wicketwe used to think were a bona fide set of irons, just hung at which prisoners are admitted into this gloomy mansion,and surveyed the few objects he could discern,up there, for convenience’ sake, ready to be taken downat a moment’s notice, and riveted on the limbs of some with an indescribable feeling of curiosity? The thickrefractory felon! We were never tired of wondering how door, plated with iron and mounted with spikes, justthe hackney-coachmen on the opposite stand could cut low enough to enable you to see, leaning over them, anjokes in the presence of such horrors, and drink pots of ill-looking fellow, in a broad-brimmed hat, Belcher handkerchiefand top-boots: with a brown coat, somethinghalf-and-half so near the last drop.Often have we strayed here, in sessions time, to catch between a great-coat and a ‘sporting’ jacket, on his back,a glimpse of the whipping-place, and that dark buildingon one side of the yard, in which is kept the gibbet lucky enough to pass, just as the gate is being opened;and an immense key in his left hand. Perhaps you arewith all its dreadful apparatus, and on the door of which then, you see on the other side of the lodge, anotherwe half expected to see a brass plate, with the inscrip-gate, the image of its predecessor, and two or three195

Sketches by Bozmore turnkeys, who look like multiplications of the first when he who had so long witnessed her struggles forone, seated round a fire which just lights up the whitewashedapartment sufficiently to enable you to catch a their joint support. He had formed dissolute connexions;himself, might be enabled to make some exertions forhasty glimpse of these different objects. We have a great idleness had led to crime; and he had been committedrespect for Mrs. Fry, but she certainly ought to have to take his trial for some petty theft. He had been longwritten more romances than Mrs. Radcliffe.in prison, and, after receiving some trifling additionalWe were walking leisurely down the Old Bailey, some punishment, had been ordered to be discharged thattime ago, when, as we passed this identical gate, it was morning. It was his first offence, and his poor old mother,opened by the officiating turnkey. We turned quickly still hoping to reclaim him, had been waiting at theround, as a matter of course, and saw two persons descendingthe steps. We could not help stopping and We cannot forget the boy; he descended the stepsgate to implore him to return home.observing them.with a dogged look, shaking his head with an air ofThey were an elderly woman, of decent appearance, bravado and obstinate determination. They walked athough evidently poor, and a boy of about fourteen or few paces, and paused. The woman put her hand uponfifteen. The woman was crying bitterly; she carried a his shoulder in an agony of entreaty, and the boy sullenlyraised his head as if in refusal. It was a brilliantsmall bundle in her hand, and the boy followed at ashort distance behind her. Their little history was obvious.The boy was her son, to whose early comfort she the broad, gay sunlight; he gazed round him for a fewmorning, and every object looked fresh and happy inhad perhaps sacrificed her own—for whose sake she moments, bewildered with the brightness of the scene,had borne misery without repining, and poverty withouta murmur—looking steadily forward to the time, gloomy walls of a prison. Perhaps the wretchedness offor it was long since he had beheld anything save the196

Charles Dickenshis mother made some impression on the boy’s heart; and the spectators, who having paid for their admission,look upon the whole scene as if it were got upperhaps some undefined recollection of the time whenhe was a happy child, and she his only friend, and best especially for their amusement. Look upon the wholecompanion, crowded on him—he burst into tears; and group in the body of the Court—some wholly engrossedcovering his face with one hand, and hurriedly placing in the morning papers, others carelessly conversing inthe other in his mother’s, walked away with her. low whispers, and others, again, quietly dozing awayCuriosity has occasionally led us into both Courts at an hour—and you can scarcely believe that the resultthe Old Bailey. Nothing is so likely to strike the person of the trial is a matter of life or death to one wretchedwho enters them for the first time, as the calm indifferencewith which the proceedings are conducted; every the prisoner attentively for a few moments; and thebeing present. But turn your eyes to the dock; watchtrial seems a mere matter of business. There is a great fact is before you, in all its painful reality. Mark howdeal of form, but no compassion; considerable interest, restlessly he has been engaged for the last ten minutes,but no sympathy. Take the Old Court for example. There in forming all sorts of fantastic figures with the herbssit the judges, with whose great dignity everybody is which are strewed upon the ledge before him; observeacquainted, and of whom therefore we need say no more. the ashy paleness of his face when a particular witnessThen, there is the Lord Mayor in the centre, looking as appears, and how he changes his position and wipes hiscool as a Lord Mayor can look, with an immense bouquetbefore him, and habited in all the splendour of his for the prosecution is closed, as if it were a relief to himclammy forehead, and feverish hands, when the caseoffice. Then, there are the Sheriffs, who are almost as to feel that the jury knew the worst.dignified as the Lord Mayor himself; and the Barristers, The defence is concluded; the judge proceeds to sumwho are quite dignified enough in their own opinion; up the evidence; and the prisoner watches the counte-197

Sketches by Boznances of the jury, as a dying man, clinging to life to self with a little declamation about the jurymen andthe very last, vainly looks in the face of his physician his country—asserts that all the witnesses have committedperjury, and hints that the police force gener-for a slight ray of hope. They turn round to consult; youcan almost hear the man’s heart beat, as he bites the ally have entered into a conspiracy ‘again’ him. Howeverprobable this statement may be, it fails to con-stalk of rosemary, with a desperate effort to appear composed.They resume their places—a dead silence prevailsas the foreman delivers in the verdict—’Guilty!’ A then takes place:vince the Court, and some such scene as the followingshriek bursts from a female in the gallery; the prisonercasts one look at the quarter from whence the noise COURT: Have you any witnesses to speak to your character,boy?proceeded; and is immediately hurried from the dockby the gaoler. The clerk directs one of the officers of theCourt to ‘take the woman out,’ and fresh business is BOY: Yes, my Lord; fifteen gen’lm’n is a vaten outside,proceeded with, as if nothing had occurred.and vos a vaten all day yesterday, vich they told me theNo imaginary contrast to a case like this, could be as night afore my trial vos a comin’ on.complete as that which is constantly presented in theNew Court, the gravity of which is frequently disturbed COURT. Inquire for these witnesses.in no small degree, by the cunning and pertinacity ofjuvenile offenders. A boy of thirteen is tried, say for Here, a stout beadle runs out, and vociferates for thepicking the pocket of some subject of her Majesty, and witnesses at the very top of his voice; for you hear histhe offence is about as clearly proved as an offence can cry grow fainter and fainter as he descends the steps intobe. He is called upon for his defence, and contents him-the court-yard below. After an absence of five minutes,198

Charles Dickenshe returns, very warm and hoarse, and informs the Court big vig!’ and as he declines to take the trouble of walkingfrom the dock, is forthwith carried out, congratu-of what it knew perfectly well before—namely, that thereare no such witnesses in attendance. Hereupon, the boy lating himself on having succeeded in giving everybodysets up a most awful howling; screws the lower part of as much trouble as possible.the palms of his hands into the corners of his eyes; andendeavours to look the picture of injured innocence. The CHAPTER XXV—A VISIT TO NEWGATEjury at once find him ‘guilty,’ and his endeavours tosqueeze out a tear or two are redoubled. The governor of ‘THE FORCE OF HABIT’ is a trite phrase in everybody’s mouth;the gaol then states, in reply to an inquiry from the and it is not a little remarkable that those who use itbench, that the prisoner has been under his care twice most as applied to others, unconsciously afford in theirbefore. This the urchin resolutely denies in some such own persons singular examples of the power which habitterms as—’S’elp me, gen’lm’n, I never vos in trouble and custom exercise over the minds of men, and of theafore—indeed, my Lord, I never vos. It’s all a howen to little reflection they are apt to bestow on subjects withmy having a twin brother, vich has wrongfully got into which every day’s experience has rendered them familiar.If Bedlam could be suddenly removed like anothertrouble, and vich is so exactly like me, that no vun everknows the difference atween us.’Aladdin’s palace, and set down on the space now occupiedby Newgate, scarcely one man out of a hundred,This representation, like the defence, fails in producingthe desired effect, and the boy is sentenced, perhaps,to seven years’ transportation. Finding it impos-Newgate-street, or the Old Bailey, would pass the build-whose road to business every morning lies throughsible to excite compassion, he gives vent to his feelings ing without bestowing a hasty glance on its small, gratedin an imprecation bearing reference to the eyes of ‘old windows, and a transient thought upon the condition199

Sketches by Bozof the unhappy beings immured in its dismal cells; and and corruption had already begun!yet these same men, day by day, and hour by hour, pass It was with some such thoughts as these that we determined,not many weeks since, to visit the interior ofand repass this gloomy depository of the guilt and miseryof London, in one perpetual stream of life and bustle, Newgate—in an amateur capacity, of course; and, havingcarried our intention into effect, we proceed to layutterly unmindful of the throng of wretched creaturespent up within it—nay, not even knowing, or if they its results before our readers, in the hope—founded moredo, not heeding, the fact, that as they pass one particularangle of the massive wall with a light laugh or a ous confidence in our own descriptive powers—that thisupon the nature of the subject, than on any presumptu-merry whistle, they stand within one yard of a fellowcreature,bound and helpless, whose hours are num-have only to premise, that we do not intend to fatiguepaper may not be found wholly devoid of interest. Webered, from whom the last feeble ray of hope has fled the reader with any statistical accounts of the prison;for ever, and whose miserable career will shortly terminatein a violent and shameful death. Contact with death merous committees, and a variety of authorities of equalthey will be found at length in numerous reports of nu-even in its least terrible shape, is solemn and appalling. weight. We took no notes, made no memoranda, measurednone of the yards, ascertained the exact number ofHow much more awful is it to reflect on this near vicinityto the dying—to men in full health and vigour, in inches in no particular room: are unable even to report ofthe flower of youth or the prime of life, with all their how many apartments the gaol is composed.faculties and perceptions as acute and perfect as your We saw the prison, and saw the prisoners; and what we didown; but dying, nevertheless—dying as surely—with see, and what we thought, we will tell at once in our own way.the hand of death imprinted upon them as indelibly— Having delivered our credentials to the servant whoas if mortal disease had wasted their frames to shadows, answered our knock at the door of the governor’s house,200

Charles Dickenswe were ushered into the ‘office;’ a little room, on the have afforded sufficient moral grounds for his instantright-hand side as you enter, with two windows looking execution at any time, even had there been no otherinto the Old Bailey: fitted up like an ordinary attorney’s evidence against him. Leaving this room also, by anoffice, or merchant’s counting-house, with the usual fixtures—awainscoted partition, a shelf or two, a desk, a on the Old Bailey; one side of which is plentifully gar-opposite door, we found ourself in the lodge which openscouple of stools, a pair of clerks, an almanack, a clock, nished with a choice collection of heavy sets of irons,and a few maps. After a little delay, occasioned by sendinginto the interior of the prison for the officer whose Sheppard—genuine; and those said to have been gracedincluding those worn by the redoubtable Jackduty it was to conduct us, that functionary arrived; a by the sturdy limbs of the no less celebrated Dickrespectable-looking man of about two or three and fifty, Turpin—doubtful. From this lodge, a heavy oaken gate,in a broad-brimmed hat, and full suit of black, who, but bound with iron, studded with nails of the same material,and guarded by another turnkey, opens on a fewfor his keys, would have looked quite as much like aclergyman as a turnkey. We were disappointed; he had steps, if we remember right, which terminate in a narrowand dismal stone passage, running parallel with thenot even top-boots on. Following our conductor by adoor opposite to that at which we had entered, we arrivedat a small room, without any other furniture than number of tortuous and intricate windings, guarded inOld Bailey, and leading to the different yards, through aa little desk, with a book for visitors’ autographs, and a their turn by huge gates and gratings, whose appearanceis sufficient to dispel at once the slightest hope ofshelf, on which were a few boxes for papers, and castsof the heads and faces of the two notorious murderers, escape that any new-comer may have entertained; andBishop and Williams; the former, in particular, exhibitinga style of head and set of features, which might the place again, involves one in a maze ofthe very recollection of which, on eventually traversingconfusion.201

Sketches by BozIt is necessary to explain here, that the buildings in soon as we had passed, we should require a gate atthe prison, or in other words the different wards—form every comma—we came to a door composed of thicka square, of which the four sides abut respectively on bars of wood, through which were discernible, passingthe Old Bailey, the old College of Physicians (now forminga part of Newgate-market), the Sessions-house, and majority of whom, however, as soon as they were awareto and fro in a narrow yard, some twenty women: theNewgate-street. The intermediate space is divided into of the presence of strangers, retreated to their wards.several paved yards, in which the prisoners take such One side of this yard is railed off at a considerable distance,and formed into a kind of iron cage, about fiveair and exercise as can be had in such a place. Theseyards, with the exception of that in which prisoners feet ten inches in height, roofed at the top, and defendedin front by iron bars, from which the friends ofunder sentence of death are confined (of which we shallpresently give a more detailed description), run parallel the female prisoners communicate with them. In onewith Newgate-street, and consequently from the Old corner of this singular-looking den, was a yellow, haggard,decrepit old woman, in a tattered gown that hadBailey, as it were, to Newgate-market. The women’s sideis in the right wing of the prison nearest the Sessionshouse.As we were introduced into this part of the buildnet,with faded ribbon of the same hue, in earnest con-once been black, and the remains of an old straw boningfirst, we will adopt the same order, and introduce versation with a young girl—a prisoner, of course—ofour readers to it also.about two-and-twenty. It is impossible to imagine a moreTurning to the right, then, down the passage to which poverty-stricken object, or a creature so borne down inwe just now adverted, omitting any mention of interveninggates—for if we noticed every gate that was the old woman. The girl was a good-looking, robust fe-soul and body, by excess of misery and destitution, asunlocked for us to pass through, and locked again as male, with a profusion of hair streaming about in the202

Charles Dickenswind—for she had no bonnet on—and a man’s silk A little farther on, a squalid-looking woman in a slovenly,thick-bordered cap, with her arms muffled in apocket-handkerchief loosely thrown over a most amplepair of shoulders. The old woman was talking in that large red shawl, the fringed ends of which straggledlow, stifled tone of voice which tells so forcibly of mentalanguish; and every now and then burst into an irremunicatingsome instructions to her visitor—her daugh-nearly to the bottom of a dirty white apron, was compressiblesharp, abrupt cry of grief, the most distressingsound that ears can hear. The girl was perfectly the cold. Some ordinary word of recognition passed beterevidently. The girl was thinly clad, and shaking withunmoved. Hardened beyond all hope of redemption, she tween her and her mother when she appeared at thelistened doggedly to her mother’s entreaties,grating, but neither hope, condolence, regret, nor affectionwas expressed on either side. The mother whis-whatever they were: and, beyond inquiring after ‘Jem,’and eagerly catching at the few halfpence her miserable pered her instructions, and the girl received them withparent had brought her, took no more apparent interest her pinched-up, half-starved features twisted into anin the conversation than the most unconcerned spectators.Heaven knows there were enough of them, in the the woman’s defence that she was disclosing, perhaps;expression of careful cunning. It was some scheme forpersons of the other prisoners in the yard, who were no and a sullen smile came over the girl’s face for an instant,as if she were pleased: not so much at the prob-more concerned by what was passing before their eyes,and within their hearing, than if they were blind and ability of her mother’s liberation, as at the chance ofdeaf. Why should they be? Inside the prison, and out, her ‘getting off’ in spite of her prosecutors. The dialoguewas soon concluded; and with the same carelesssuch scenes were too familiar to them, to excite even apassing thought, unless of ridicule or contempt for feelingswhich they had long since forgotten.the mother turned towards the inner end of theindifference with which they had approached each other,yard,203

Sketches by Bozand the girl to the gate at which she had entered. of the grating, conversing with their friends, but a veryThe girl belonged to a class—unhappily but too extensive—thevery existence of which, should make men’s friends at all, beyond such of their old companions aslarge proportion of the prisoners appeared to have nohearts bleed. Barely past her childhood, it required but might happen to be within the walls. So, passing hastilydown the yard, and pausing only for an instant toa glance to discover that she was one of those children,born and bred in neglect and vice, who have never known notice the little incidents we have just recorded, wewhat childhood is: who have never been taught to love were conducted up a clean and well-lighted flight ofand court a parent’s smile, or to dread a parent’s frown. stone stairs to one of the wards. There are several inThe thousand nameless endearments of childhood, its this part of the building, but a description of one is agaiety and its innocence, are alike unknown to them. description of the whole.They have entered at once upon the stern realities and It was a spacious, bare, whitewashed apartment,miseries of life, and to their better nature it is almost lighted, of course, by windows looking into the interiorhopeless to appeal in after-times, by any of the referenceswhich will awaken, if it be only for a moment, reasonably expect to find in such a situation. There wasof the prison, but far more light and airy than one couldsome good feeling in ordinary bosoms, however corrupt a large fire with a deal table before it, round which tenthey may have become. Talk to them of parental solicitude,the happy days of childhood, and the merry games ner. Along both sides of the room ran a shelf; below it,or a dozen women were seated on wooden forms at din-of infancy! Tell them of hunger and the streets, beggary at regular intervals, a row of large hooks were fixed inand stripes, the gin-shop, the station-house, and the the wall, on each of which was hung the sleeping matpawnbroker’s, and they will understand you.of a prisoner: her rug and blanket being folded up, andTwo or three women were standing at different parts placed on the shelf above. At night, these mats are placed204

Charles Dickenson the floor, each beneath the hook on which it hangs the very end of the room, as if desirous to avoid evenduring the day; and the ward is thus made to answer the casual observation of the strangers. Some old Irishthe purposes both of a day-room and sleeping apartment.Over the fireplace, was a large sheet of paste-was no novelty, appeared perfectly indifferent to ourwomen, both in this and other wards, to whom the thingboard, on which were displayed a variety of texts from presence, and remained standing close to the seats fromScripture, which were also scattered about the room in which they had just risen; but the general feeling amongscraps about the size and shape of the copy-slips which the females seemed to be one of uneasiness during theare used in schools. On the table was a sufficient provisionof a kind of stewed beef and brown bread, in pew-Not a word was uttered during the time of our remain-period of our stay among them: which was very brief.ter dishes, which are kept perfectly bright, and displayedon shelves in great order and regularity when question which we put to the turnkey who accompaing,unless, indeed, by the wardswoman in reply to somethey are not in use.nied us. In every ward on the female side, a wardswomanThe women rose hastily, on our entrance, and retired is appointed to preserve order, and a similar regulationin a hurried manner to either side of the fireplace. They is adopted among the males. The wardsmen andwere all cleanly—many of them decently—attired, and wardswomen are all prisoners, selected for good conduct.They alone are allowed the privilege of sleepingthere was nothing peculiar, either in their appearanceor demeanour. One or two resumed the needlework which on bedsteads; a small stump bedstead being placed inthey had probably laid aside at the commencement of every ward for that purpose. On both sides of the gaol,their meal; others gazed at the visitors with listless is a small receiving-room, to which prisoners are conductedon their first reception, and whence they curiosity; and a few retired behind their companions tocan-205

Sketches by Boznot be removed until they have been examined by the exception we believe, had been committed for trial onsurgeon of the prison.*charges of pocket-picking; and fourteen such terribleRetracing our steps to the dismal passage in which little faces we never beheld.—There was not one redeemingfeature among them—not a glance of honesty—we found ourselves at first (and which, by-the-bye, containsthree or four dark cells for the accommodation of not a wink expressive of anything but the gallows andrefractory prisoners), we were led through a narrow yard the hulks, in the whole collection. As to anything liketo the ‘school’—a portion of the prison set apart for shame or contrition, that was entirely out of the question.They were evidently quite gratified at beingboys under fourteen years of age. In a tolerable-sizedroom, in which were writing-materials and some copybooks,was the schoolmaster, with a couple of his pupearedto be, that we had come to see Newgate as athought worth the trouble of looking at; their idea appils;the remainder having been fetched from an adjoiningapartment, the whole were drawn up in line for of the show; and every boy as he ‘fell in’ to the line,grand affair, and that they were an indispensable partour inspection. There were fourteen of them in all, some actually seemed as pleased and important as if he hadwith shoes, some without; some in pinafores without done something excessively meritorious in getting therejackets, others in jackets without pinafores, and one in at all. We never looked upon a more disagreeable sight,scarce anything at all. The whole number, without an because we never saw fourteen such hopeless creaturesof neglect, before.*The regulations of the prison relative to the confinementof prisoners during the day, their sleeping at night,On either side of the school-yard is a yard for men, inone of which—that towards Newgate-street—prisonerstheir taking their meals, and other matters of gaoleconomy, have been all altered-greatly for the better—of the more respectable class are confined. Of the other,since this sketch was first published. Even the constructionof the prison itself has been changed.we have little description to offer, as the different wards206

Charles Dickensnecessarily partake of the same character. They are provided,like the wards on the women’s side, with mats termediate space of about a yard in width between thefriends, is through two close iron gratings, with an in-and rugs, which are disposed of in the same manner two, so that nothing can be handed across, nor can theduring the day; the only very striking difference betweentheir appearance and that of the wards inhabited person who visits him. The married men have a sepa-prisoner have any communication by touch with theby the females, is the utter absence of any employment.Huddled together on two opposite forms, by the struction is the same.rate grating, at which to see their wives, but its con-fireside, sit twenty men perhaps; here, a boy in livery; The prison chapel is situated at the back of thethere, a man in a rough great-coat and top-boots; fartheron, a desperate-looking fellow in his shirt-sleeves, into the interior of the prison. Whether the associa-governor’s house: the latter having no windows lookingwith an old Scotch cap upon his shaggy head; near him tions connected with the place—the knowledge thatagain, a tall ruffian, in a smock-frock; next to him, a here a portion of the burial service is, on some dreadfulmiserable being of distressed appearance, with his head occasions, performed over the quick and not upon theresting on his hand;—all alike in one respect, all idle dead—cast over it a still more gloomy and sombre airand listless. When they do leave the fire, sauntering than art has imparted to it, we know not, but its appearanceis very striking. There is something in a silentmoodily about, lounging in the window, or leaningagainst the wall, vacantly swinging their bodies to and and deserted place of worship, solemn and impressivefro. With the exception of a man reading an old newspaper,in two or three instances, this was the case in any we have been accustomed to, only enhances theat any time; and the very dissimilarity of this one fromevery ward we entered.impression. The meanness of its appointments—the bareThe only communication these men have with their and scanty pulpit, with the paltry painted pillars on207

Sketches by Bozeither side—the women’s gallery with its great heavy their fate, and urging themselves, while there is yet time—curtain—the men’s with its unpainted benches and dingy nearly four-and-twenty hours—to ‘turn, and flee fromfront—the tottering little table at the altar, with the the wrath to come!’ Imagine what have been the feelingscommandments on the wall above it, scarcely legible of the men whom that fearful pew has enclosed, and ofthrough lack of paint, and dust and damp—so unlike whom, between the gallows and the knife, no mortal remnantmay now remain! Think of the hopeless clinging tothe velvet and gilding, the marble and wood, of a modernchurch—are strange and striking. There is one object,too, which rivets the attention and fascinates the anguish the felon’s death itself, by which they have heardlife to the last, and the wild despair, far exceeding ingaze, and from which we may turn horror-stricken in the certainty of their speedy transmission to anothervain, for the recollection of it will haunt us, waking world, with all their crimes upon their heads, rung intoand sleeping, for a long time afterwards. Immediately their ears by the officiating clergyman!below the reading-desk, on the floor of the chapel, and At one time—and at no distant period either—theforming the most conspicuous object in its little area, is coffins of the men about to be executed, were placed inThe Condemned Pew; a huge black pen, in which the that pew, upon the seat by their side, during the wholewretched people, who are singled out for death, are service. It may seem incredible, but it is true. Let usplaced on the Sunday preceding their execution, in sight hope that the increased spirit of civilisation and humanitywhich abolished this frightful and degradingof all their fellow-prisoners, from many of whom theymay have been separated but a week before, to hear custom, may extend itself to other usages equally barbarous;usages which have not even the plea of utilityprayers for their own souls, to join in the responses oftheir own burial service, and to listen to an address, in their defence, as every year’s experience has shownwarning their recent companions to take example by them to be more and more inefficacious.208

Charles DickensLeaving the chapel, descending to the passage so frequentlyalluded to, and crossing the yard before noersare allowed to see their friends; a turnkey alwaysthat before described. Through these grates the prisonticedas being allotted to prisoners of a more respectabledescription than the generality of men confined interview. Immediately on the right as you enter, is aremaining in the vacant space between, during the wholehere, the visitor arrives at a thick iron gate of great size building containing the press-room, day-room, and cells;and strength. Having been admitted through it by the the yard is on every side surrounded by lofty walls guardedturnkey on duty, he turns sharp round to the left, and by Chevaux de Frise; and the whole is under the constantpauses before another gate; and, having passed this last inspection of vigilant and experienced turnkeys.barrier, he stands in the most terrible part of this gloomy In the first apartment into which we were conducted—building—the condemned ward.which was at the top of a staircase, and immediately overThe press-yard, well known by name to newspaper the press-room—were five-and-twenty or thirty prisoners,all under sentence of death, awaiting the result ofreaders, from its frequent mention in accounts of executions,is at the corner of the building, and next to the recorder’s report—men of all ages and appearances,the ordinary’s house, in Newgate-street: running from from a hardened old offender with swarthy face and grizzlybeard of three days’ growth, to a handsome boy, notNewgate-street, towards the centre of the prison, parallelwith Newgate-market. It is a long, narrow court, of fourteen years old, and of singularly youthful appearanceeven for that age, who had been condemned forwhich a portion of the wall in Newgate-street forms oneend, and the gate the other. At the upper end, on the burglary. There was nothing remarkable in the appearanceof these prisoners. One or two decently-dressed menleft hand—that is, adjoining the wall in Newgatestreet—isa cistern of water, and at the bottom a double were brooding with a dejected air over the fire; severalgrating (of which the gate itself forms a part) similar to little groups of two or three had been engaged in conver-209

Sketches by Bozsation at the upper end of the room, or in the windows; since his trial, which had been humanely representedand the remainder were crowded round a young man in the proper quarter. The other two had nothing toseated at a table, who appeared to be engaged in teachingthe younger ones to write. The room was large, airy, sealed; no plea could be urged in extenuation of theirexpect from the mercy of the crown; their doom wasand clean. There was very little anxiety or mental sufferingdepicted in the countenance of any of the men;— hope in this world. ‘The two short ones,’ the turnkeycrime, and they well knew that for them there was nothey had all been sentenced to death, it is true, and the whispered, ‘were dead men.’recorder’s report had not yet been made; but, we questionwhether there was a man among them, notwith-some hopes of escape, was lounging, at the greatestThe man to whom we have alluded as entertainingstanding, who did not know that although he had undergonethe ceremony, it never was intended that his life panions, in the window nearest to the door. He wasdistance he could place between himself and his com-should be sacrificed. On the table lay a Testament, but probably aware of our approach, and had assumed anthere were no tokens of its having been in recent use. air of courageous indifference; his face was purposelyIn the press-room below, were three men, the nature averted towards the window, and he stirred not an inchof whose offence rendered it necessary to separate them, while we were present. The other two men were at theeven from their companions in guilt. It is a long, sombreroom, with two windows sunk into the stone wall, fectly seen in the dim light, had his back towards us,upper end of the room. One of them, who was imper-and here the wretched men are pinioned on the morningof their execution, before moving towards the scaf-the mantel-piece, and his head sunk upon it. The otherand was stooping over the fire, with his right arm onfold. The fate of one of these prisoners was uncertain; was leaning on the sill of the farthest window. The lightsome mitigatory circumstances having come to light fell full upon him, and communicated to his pale, hag-210

Charles Dickensgard face, and disordered hair, an appearance which, at story opens; and from it alone can they be approached.that distance, was ghastly. His cheek rested upon his There are three of these passages, and three of thesehand; and, with his face a little raised, and his eyes ranges of cells, one above the other; but in size, furnitureand appearance, they are all precisely alike. Priorwildly staring before him, he seemed to be unconsciouslyintent on counting the chinks in the opposite wall. We to the recorder’s report being made, all the prisonerspassed this room again afterwards. The first man was under sentence of death are removed from the day-roompacing up and down the court with a firm military step— at five o’clock in the afternoon, and locked up in thesehe had been a soldier in the foot-guards—and a cloth cells, where they are allowed a candle until ten o’clock;cap jauntily thrown on one side of his head. He bowed and here they remain until seven next morning. Whenrespectfully to our conductor, and the salute was returned.The other two still remained in the positions moved to the cells and confined in one of them until hethe warrant for a prisoner’s execution arrives, he is re-we have described, and were as motionless as statues.* leaves it for the scaffold. He is at liberty to walk in theA few paces up the yard, and forming a continuation yard; but, both in his walks and in his cell, he is constantlyattended by a turnkey who never leaves him onof the building, in which are the two rooms we havejust quitted, lie the condemned cells. The entrance is any pretence.by a narrow and obscure stair-case leading to a dark We entered the first cell. It was a stone dungeon,passage, in which a charcoal stove casts a lurid tint eight feet long by six wide, with a bench at the upperover the objects in its immediate vicinity, and diffuses end, under which were a common rug, a bible, andsomething like warmth around. From the left-hand side prayer-book. An iron candlestick was fixed into the wallof this passage, the massive door of every cell on the at the side; and a small high window in the back admittedas much air and light as could struggle in between*These two men were executed shortly afterwards. Theother was respited during his Majesty’s pleasure.211

Sketches by Boza double row of heavy, crossed iron bars. It contained Hours have glided by, and still he sits upon the sameno other furniture of any description.stone bench with folded arms, heedless alike of the fastConceive the situation of a man, spending his last decreasing time before him, and the urgent entreatiesnight on earth in this cell. Buoyed up with some vague of the good man at his side. The feeble light is wastingand undefined hope of reprieve, he knew not why— gradually, and the deathlike stillness of the street without,broken only by the rumbling of some passing ve-indulging in some wild and visionary idea of escaping,he knew not how—hour after hour of the three precedingdays allowed him for preparation, has fled with a warns him that the night is waning fast away. The deephicle which echoes mournfully through the empty yards,speed which no man living would deem possible, for bell of St. Paul’s strikes—one! He heard it; it has rousednone but this dying man can know. He has wearied his him. Seven hours left! He paces the narrow limits of hisfriends with entreaties, exhausted the attendants with cell with rapid strides, cold drops of terror starting onimportunities, neglected in his feverish restlessness the his forehead, and every muscle of his frame quiveringtimely warnings of his spiritual consoler; and, now that with agony. Seven hours! He suffers himself to be led tothe illusion is at last dispelled, now that eternity is his seat, mechanically takes the bible which is placedbefore him and guilt behind, now that his fears of death in his hand, and tries to read and listen. No: his thoughtsamount almost to madness, and an overwhelming sense will wander. The book is torn and soiled by use—andof his helpless, hopeless state rushes upon him, he is like the book he read his lessons in, at school, justlost and stupefied, and has neither thoughts to turn to, forty years ago! He has never bestowed a thought uponnor power to call upon, the Almighty Being, from whom it, perhaps, since he left it as a child: and yet the place,alone he can seek mercy and forgiveness, and before the time, the room—nay, the very boys he played with,whom his repentance can alone avail.crowd as vividly before him as if they were scenes of212

Charles Dickensyesterday; and some forgotten phrase, some childish used when he loved her—long, long ago, before miseryword, rings in his ears like the echo of one uttered but and ill-treatment had altered her looks, and vice hada minute since. The voice of the clergyman recalls him changed his nature, and she is leaning upon his arm, andto himself. He is reading from the sacred book its solemnpromises of pardon for repentance, and its awful and he does NOT strike her now, nor rudely shake herlooking up into his face with tenderness and affection—denunciation of obdurate men. He falls upon his knees from him. And oh! how glad he is to tell her all he hadand clasps his hands to pray. Hush! what sound was forgotten in that last hurried interview, and to fall on histhat? He starts upon his feet. It cannot be two yet. knees before her and fervently beseech her pardon for allHark! Two quarters have struck; —the third—the fourth. the unkindness and cruelty that wasted her form andIt is! Six hours left. Tell him not of repentance! Six broke her heart! The scene suddenly changes. He is onhours’ repentance for eight times six years of guilt and his trial again: there are the judge and jury, and prosecutors,and witnesses, just as they were before. How fullsin! He buries his face in his hands, and throws himselfon the bench.the court is—what a sea of heads—with a gallows, too,Worn with watching and excitement, he sleeps, and and a scaffold—and how all those people stare at him!the same unsettled state of mind pursues him in his Verdict, ‘Guilty.’ No matter; he will escape.dreams. An insupportable load is taken from his breast; The night is dark and cold, the gates have been lefthe is walking with his wife in a pleasant field, with the open, and in an instant he is in the street, flying frombright sky above them, and a fresh and boundless prospecton every side—how different from the stone walls are cleared, the open fields are gained and the broad,the scene of his imprisonment like the wind. The streetsof Newgate! She is looking—not as she did when he saw wide country lies before him. Onward he dashes in theher for the last time in that dreadful place, but as she midst of darkness, over hedge and ditch, through mud213

Sketches by Bozand pool, bounding from spot to spot with a speed and existence is a matter of interest to no one save himself;lightness, astonishing even to himself. At length he he cannot be said to be forgotten when he dies, for nopauses; he must be safe from pursuit now; he will stretch one remembered him when he was alive. There is a numerousclass of people in this great metropolis who seemhimself on that bank and sleep till sunrise.A period of unconsciousness succeeds. He wakes, cold not to possess a single friend, and whom nobody appearsto care for. Urged by imperative necessity in theand wretched. The dull, gray light of morning is stealinginto the cell, and falls upon the form of the attendantturnkey. Confused by his dreams, he starts from of employment, and the means of subsistence. It is hard,first instance, they have resorted to London in searchhis uneasy bed in momentary uncertainty. It is but we know, to break the ties which bind us to our homesmomentary. Every object in the narrow cell is too frightfullyreal to admit of doubt or mistake. He is the conollectionsof happy days and old times, which have beenand friends, and harder still to efface the thousand recdemnedfelon again, guilty and despairing; and in two slumbering in our bosoms for years, and only rush uponhours more will be dead.the mind, to bring before it associations connected withthe friends we have left, the scenes we have beheld tooCHARACTERSprobably for the last time, and the hopes we once cherished,but may entertain no more. These men, however,CHAPTER I—THOUGHTS ABOUT PEOPLE happily for themselves, have long forgotten suchthoughts. Old country friends have died or emigrated;IT IS STRANGE WITH HOW LITTLE NOTICE, good, bad, or indifferent,a man may live and die in London. He awakens in the crowd and turmoil of some busy city; and theyformer correspondents have become lost, like themselves,no sympathy in the breast of any single person; his have gradually settled down into mere passive creatures214

Charles Dickensof habit and endurance.about, chatting and laughing; but the man walkedWe were seated in the enclosure of St. James’s Park steadily up and down, unheeding and unheeded histhe other day, when our attention was attracted by a spare, pale face looking as if it were incapable of bearingthe expression of curiosity or interest.man whom we immediately put down in our own mindas one of this class. He was a tall, thin, pale person, in There was something in the man’s manner and appearancewhich told us, we fancied, his whole life, ora black coat, scanty gray trousers, little pinched-upgaiters, and brown beaver gloves. He had an umbrella in rather his whole day, for a man of this sort has no varietyof days. We thought we almost saw the dingy littlehis hand—not for use, for the day was fine—but, evidently,because he always carried one to the office in back office into which he walks every morning, hanginghis hat on the same peg, and placing his legs be-the morning. He walked up and down before the littlepatch of grass on which the chairs are placed for hire, neath the same desk: first, taking off that black coatnot as if he were doing it for pleasure or recreation, but which lasts the year through, and putting on the oneas if it were a matter of compulsion, just as he would which did duty last year, and which he keeps in hiswalk to the office every morning from the back settlementsof Islington. It was Monday; he had escaped for working on, all day, as regularly as the dial over thedesk to save the other. There he sits till five o’clock,four-and-twenty hours from the thraldom of the desk; mantel-piece, whose loud ticking is as monotonous asand was walking here for exercise and amusement— his whole existence: only raising his head when someperhaps for the first time in his life. We were inclined to one enters the counting-house, or when, in the midstthink he had never had a holiday before, and that he of some difficult calculation, he looks up to the ceilingdid not know what to do with himself. Children were as if there were inspiration in the dusty skylight with aplaying on the grass; groups of people were loitering green knot in the centre of every pane of glass. About215

Sketches by Bozfive, or half-past, he slowly dismounts from his accustomedstool, and again changing his coat, proceeds to home, at his usual pace, to his little back room atagain sallies forth, in about half an hour. He then walkshis usual dining-place, somewhere near Bucklersbury. Islington, where he has his tea; perhaps solacing himselfduring the meal with the conversation of hisThe waiter recites the bill of fare in a rather confidentialmanner—for he is a regular customer—and after landlady’s little boy, whom he occasionally rewards withinquiring ‘What’s in the best cut?’ and ‘What was up a penny, for solving problems in simple addition. Sometimes,there is a letter or two to take up to his employer’s,last?’ he orders a small plate of roast beef, with greens,and half-a-pint of porter. He has a small plate to-day, in Russell-square; and then, the wealthy man of business,hearing his voice, calls out from the dining-because greens are a penny more than potatoes, and hehad ‘two breads’ yesterday, with the additional enormityof ‘a cheese’ the day before. This important point his hat at the feet of one of the hall chairs, walks timparlour,—‘Comein, Mr. Smith:’ and Mr. Smith, puttingsettled, he hangs up his hat—he took it off the momenthe sat down—and bespeaks the paper after the carefully tucks his legs under his chair, and sits at aidly in, and being condescendingly desired to sit down,next gentleman. If he can get it while he is at dinner, considerable distance from the table while he drinkshe eats with much greater zest; balancing it against the the glass of sherry which is poured out for him by thewater-bottle, and eating a bit of beef, and reading a eldest boy, and after drinking which, he backs and slidesline or two, alternately. Exactly at five minutes before out of the room, in a state of nervous agitation fromthe hour is up, he produces a shilling, pays the reckoning,carefully deposits the change in his waistcoat-pocket self once more in the Islington-road. Poor, harmless crea-which he does not perfectly recover, until he finds him-(first deducting a penny for the waiter), and returns to tures such men are; contented but not happy; brokenspiritedand humbled, they may feel no pain, but theythe office, from which, if it is not foreign post night, he216

Charles Dickensnever know pleasure.and collect books, plate, and pictures about him in profusion;not so much for his own gratification, as to beCompare these men with another class of beings who,like them, have neither friend nor companion, but whose superior to those who have the desire, but not the means,position in society is the result of their own choice. to compete with him. He belongs to two or three clubs,These are generally old fellows with white heads and and is envied, and flattered, and hated by the membersred faces, addicted to port wine and Hessian boots, who of them all. Sometimes he will be appealed to by a poorfrom some cause, real or imaginary—generally the relation—a married nephew perhaps—for some littleformer, the excellent reason being that they are rich, assistance: and then he will declaim with honest indignationon the improvidence of young married people,and their relations poor—grow suspicious of everybody,and do the misanthropical in chambers, taking great the worthlessness of a wife, the insolence of having adelight in thinking themselves unhappy, and making family, the atrocity of getting into debt with a hundredeverybody they come near, miserable. You may see such and twenty-five pounds a year, and other unpardonablemen as these, anywhere; you will know them at coffeehousesby their discontented exclamations and the review of his own conduct, and a delicate allusion tocrimes; winding up his exhortations with a complacentluxury of their dinners; at theatres, by their always sittingin the same place and looking with a jaundiced eye plexy, having bequeathed his property to a Public Soci-parochial relief. He dies, some day after dinner, of apo-on all the young people near them; at church, by the ety, and the Institution erects a tablet to his memory,pomposity with which they enter, and the loud tone in expressive of their admiration of his Christian conductwhich they repeat the responses; at parties, by their in this world, and their comfortable conviction of hisgetting cross at whist and hating music. An old fellow happiness in the next.of this kind will have his chambers splendidly furnished, But, next to our very particular friends, hackney-217

Sketches by Bozcoachmen, cabmen and cads, whom we admire in proportionto the extent of their cool impudence and per-many bridegrooms, light trousers of unprecedented pat-of them, all arm-in-arm, with white kid gloves like sofect self-possession, there is no class of people who terns, and coats for which the English language has yetamuse us more than London apprentices. They are no no name—a kind of cross between a great-coat and alonger an organised body, bound down by solemn compactto terrify his Majesty’s subjects whenever it pleases other, and pockets peculiar to themselves.surtout, with the collar of the one, the skirts of thethem to take offence in their heads and staves in their Each of the gentlemen carried a thick stick, with ahands. They are only bound, now, by indentures, and, large tassel at the top, which he occasionally twirledas to their valour, it is easily restrained by the wholesomedread of the New Police, and a perspective view of easy and unconcerned, were walking with a paralyticgracefully round; and the whole four, by way of lookinga damp station-house, terminating in a police-office and swagger irresistibly ludicrous. One of the party had aa reprimand. They are still, however, a peculiar class, watch about the size and shape of a reasonable Ribstoneand not the less pleasant for being inoffensive. Can any pippin, jammed into his waistcoat-pocket, which heone fail to have noticed them in the streets on Sunday? carefully compared with the clocks at St. Clement’s andAnd were there ever such harmless efforts at the grand the New Church, the illuminated clock at Exeter ‘Change,and magnificent as the young fellows display! We walked the clock of St. Martin’s Church, and the clock of thedown the Strand, a Sunday or two ago, behind a little Horse Guards. When they at last arrived in St. James’sgroup; and they furnished food for our amusement the Park, the member of the party who had the best-madewhole way. They had come out of some part of the city; boots on, hired a second chair expressly for his feet,it was between three and four o’clock in the afternoon; and flung himself on this two-pennyworth of sylvanand they were on their way to the Park. There were four luxury with an air which levelled all distinctions be-218

Charles Dickenstween Brookes’s and Snooks’s, Crockford’s and Bagnigge mas has found some cherished hope, or happy prospect,of the year before, dimmed or passed away; thatWells.We may smile at such people, but they can never exciteour anger. They are usually on the best terms with cumstances and straitened incomes—of the feasts theythe present only serves to remind them of reduced cir-themselves, and it follows almost as a matter of course, once bestowed on hollow friends, and of the cold looksin good humour with every one about them. Besides, that meet them now, in adversity and misfortune. Neverthey are always the faint reflection of higher lights; heed such dismal reminiscences. There are few men whoand, if they do display a little occasional foolery in their have lived long enough in the world, who cannot callown proper persons, it is surely more tolerable than up such thoughts any day in the year. Then do notprecocious puppyism in the Quadrant, whiskered dandyismin Regent-street and Pall-mall, or gallantry in its for your doleful recollections, but draw your chair nearerselect the merriest of the three hundred and sixty-fivedotage anywhere.the blazing fire—fill the glass and send round the song—and if your room be smaller than it was a dozen yearsCHAPTER II—A CHRISTMAS DINNER ago, or if your glass be filled with reeking punch, insteadof sparkling wine, put a good face on the matter,CHRISTMAS TIME! That man must be a misanthrope indeed,in whose breast something like a jovial feeling is the old ditty you used to sing, and thank God it’s noand empty it off-hand, and fill another, and troll offnot roused—in whose mind some pleasant associations worse. Look on the merry faces of your children (if youare not awakened—by the recurrence of Christmas. There have any) as they sit round the fire. One little seat mayare people who will tell you that Christmas is not to be empty; one slight form that gladdened the father’sthem what it used to be; that each succeeding Christ-heart, and roused the mother’s pride to look upon, may219

Sketches by Boznot be there. Dwell not upon the past; think not that that have yearned towards each other, but have beenone short year ago, the fair child now resolving into withheld by false notions of pride and self-dignity, aredust, sat before you, with the bloom of health upon its again reunited, and all is kindness and benevolence!cheek, and the gaiety of infancy in its joyous eye. Reflectupon your present blessings—of which every man it ought), and that the prejudices and passions whichWould that Christmas lasted the whole year through (ashas many—not on your past misfortunes, of which all deform our better nature, were never called into actionmen have some. Fill your glass again, with a merry face among those to whom they should ever be strangers!and contented heart. Our life on it, but your Christmas The Christmas family-party that we mean, is not ashall be merry, and your new year a happy one! mere assemblage of relations, got up at a week or two’sWho can be insensible to the outpourings of good notice, originating this year, having no family precedentin the last, and not likely to be repeated in thefeeling, and the honest interchange of affectionate attachment,which abound at this season of the year? A next. No. It is an annual gathering of all the accessibleChristmas family-party! We know nothing in nature more members of the family, young or old, rich or poor; anddelightful! There seems a magic in the very name of all the children look forward to it, for two months beforehand,in a fever of anticipation. Formerly, it wasChristmas. Petty jealousies and discords are forgotten;social feelings are awakened, in bosoms to which they held at grandpapa’s; but grandpapa getting old, andhave long been strangers; father and son, or brother grandmamma getting old too, and rather infirm, theyand sister, who have met and passed with averted gaze, have given up house-keeping, and domesticated themselveswith uncle George; so, the party always takesor a look of cold recognition, for months before, profferand return the cordial embrace, and bury their past place at uncle George’s house, but grandmamma sendsanimosities in their present happiness. Kindly hearts in most of the good things, and grandpapa always will220

Charles Dickenstoddle down, all the way to Newgate-market, to buy the good-humouredly does, to the vociferous delight ofturkey, which he engages a porter to bring home behindhim in triumph, always insisting on the man’s be-a glorious game of blind-man’s-buff, in an early stagethe children and servants. The evening concludes withing rewarded with a glass of spirits, over and above his of which grandpapa takes great care to be caught, inhire, to drink ‘a merry Christmas and a happy new year’ order that he may have an opportunity of displayingto aunt George. As to grandmamma, she is very secret his dexterity.and mysterious for two or three days beforehand, but On the following morning, the old couple, with asnot sufficiently so, to prevent rumours getting afloat many of the children as the pew will hold, go to churchthat she has purchased a beautiful new cap with pink in great state: leaving aunt George at home dustingribbons for each of the servants, together with sundry decanters and filling casters, and uncle George carryingbooks, and pen-knives, and pencil-cases, for the younger bottles into the dining-parlour, and calling for corkscrews,and getting into everybody’s way.branches; to say nothing of divers secret additions tothe order originally given by aunt George at the pastrycook’s,such as another dozen of mince-pies for the din-produces a small sprig of mistletoe from his pocket, andWhen the church-party return to lunch, grandpapaner, and a large plum-cake for the children.tempts the boys to kiss their little cousins under it—aOn Christmas-eve, grandmamma is always in excellentspirits, and after employing all the children, dur-gentleman unlimited satisfaction, but which rather out-proceeding which affords both the boys and the olding the day, in stoning the plums, and all that, insists, rages grandmamma’s ideas of decorum, until grandpaparegularly every year, on uncle George coming down says, that when he was just thirteen years and threeinto the kitchen, taking off his coat, and stirring the months old, he kissed grandmamma under a mistletoepudding for half an hour or so, which uncle George too, on which the children clap their hands, and laugh221

Sketches by Bozvery heartily, as do aunt George and uncle George; and kisses her daughter, and the confusion of this first entryhas scarcely subsided, when some other aunts andgrandmamma looks pleased, and says, with a benevolentsmile, that grandpapa was an impudent young dog, uncles with more cousins arrive, and the grown-up cousinsflirt with each other, and so do the little cousinson which the children laugh very heartily again, andgrandpapa more heartily than any of them.too, for that matter, and nothing is to be heard but aBut all these diversions are nothing to the subsequent confused din of talking, laughing, and merriment.excitement when grandmamma in a high cap, and slatecolouredsilk gown; and grandpapa with a beautifully during a momentary pause in the conversation, excitesA hesitating double knock at the street-door, heardplaited shirt-frill, and white neckerchief; seat themselveson one side of the drawing-room fire, with uncle dren, who have been standing at the window, announcea general inquiry of ‘Who’s that?’ and two or three chil-George’s children and little cousins innumerable, seated in a low voice, that it’s ‘poor aunt Margaret.’ Upon which,in the front, waiting the arrival of the expected visitors.Suddenly a hackney-coach is heard to stop, and and grandmamma draws herself up, rather stiff andaunt George leaves the room to welcome the new-comer;uncle George, who has been looking out of the window, stately; for Margaret married a poor man without herexclaims ‘Here’s Jane!’ on which the children rush to consent, and poverty not being a sufficiently weightythe door, and helter-skelter down-stairs; and uncle Robertand aunt Jane, and the dear little baby, and the friends, and debarred the society of her dearest rela-punishment for her offence, has been discarded by hernurse, and the whole party, are ushered up-stairs amidst tives. But Christmas has come round, and the unkindtumultuous shouts of ‘Oh, my!’ from the children, and feelings that have struggled against better dispositionsfrequently repeated warnings not to hurt baby from the during the year, have melted away before its genial influence,like half-formed ice beneath the morning sun.nurse. And grandpapa takes the child, and grandmamma222

Charles DickensIt is not difficult in a moment of angry feeling for a and disposed to please and be pleased. Grandpapa relatesa circumstantial account of the purchase of theparent to denounce a disobedient child; but, to banishher at a period of general good-will and hilarity, from turkey, with a slight digression relative to the purchasethe hearth, round which she has sat on so many anniversariesof the same day, expanding by slow degrees grandmamma corroborates in the minutest particular.of previous turkeys, on former Christmas-days, whichfrom infancy to girlhood, and then bursting, almost imperceptibly,into a woman, is widely different. The air wine, and jokes with the children at the side-table, andUncle George tells stories, and carves poultry, and takesof conscious rectitude, and cold forgiveness, which the winks at the cousins that are making love, or beingold lady has assumed, sits ill upon her; and when the made love to, and exhilarates everybody with his goodpoor girl is led in by her sister, pale in looks and broken humour and hospitality; and when, at last, a stout servantstaggers in with a gigantic pudding, with a sprigin hope—not from poverty, for that she could bear, butfrom the consciousness of undeserved neglect, and unmeritedunkindness—it is easy to see how much of it is ing, and clapping of little chubby hands, and kickingof holly in the top, there is such a laughing, and shout-assumed. A momentary pause succeeds; the girl breaks up of fat dumpy legs, as can only be equalled by thesuddenly from her sister and throws herself, sobbing, applause with which the astonishing feat of pouringon her mother’s neck. The father steps hastily forward, lighted brandy into mince-pies, is received by theand takes her husband’s hand. Friends crowd round to younger visitors. Then the dessert!—and the wine!—offer their hearty congratulations, and happiness and and the fun! Such beautiful speeches, and such songs,harmony again prevail.from aunt Margaret’s husband, who turns out to be suchAs to the dinner, it’s perfectly delightful—nothing a nice man, and SO attentive to grandmamma! Evengoes wrong, and everybody is in the very best of spirits, grandpapa not only sings his annual song with unprec-223

Sketches by Bozedented vigour, but on being honoured with an unanimousENCORE, according to annual custom, actuallyCHAPTER III—THE NEW YEARcomes out with a new one which nobody but NEXT TO CHRISTMAS-DAY, the most pleasant annual epochgrandmamma ever heard before; and a young scapegrace in existence is the advent of the New Year. There are aof a cousin, who has been in some disgrace with the old lachrymose set of people who usher in the New Yearpeople, for certain heinous sins of omission and commission—neglectingto call, and persisting in drinking attend as chief mourners at the obsequies of the oldwith watching and fasting, as if they were bound toBurton Ale—astonishes everybody into convulsions of one. Now, we cannot but think it a great deal morelaughter by volunteering the most extraordinary comic complimentary, both to the old year that has rolled away,songs that ever were heard. And thus the evening passes, and to the New Year that is just beginning to dawnin a strain of rational good-will and cheerfulness, doing upon us, to see the old fellow out, and the new one in,more to awaken the sympathies of every member of the with gaiety and glee.party in behalf of his neighbour, and to perpetuate their There must have been some few occurrences in thegood feeling during the ensuing year, than half the past year to which we can look back, with a smile ofhomilies that have ever been written, by half the Divinesthat have ever lived.thankfulness. And we are bound by every rule of justicecheerful recollection, if not with a feeling of heartfeltand equity to give the New Year credit for being a goodone, until he proves himself unworthy the confidencewe repose in him.This is our view of the matter; and entertaining it,notwithstanding our respect for the old year, one of224

Charles Dickensthe few remaining moments of whose existence passes as if we were duly dress-coated and pumped, and hadaway with every word we write, here we are, seated by just been announced at the drawing-room door.our fireside on this last night of the old year, one thousandeight hundred and thirty-six, penning this ar-know it is a quadrille party, because we saw some menTake the house with the green blinds for instance. Weticle with as jovial a face as if nothing extraordinary taking up the front drawing-room carpet while we sathad happened, or was about to happen, to disturb our at breakfast this morning, and if further evidence begood humour.required, and we must tell the truth, we just now sawHackney-coaches and carriages keep rattling up the one of the young ladies ‘doing’ another of the youngstreet and down the street in rapid succession, conveying,doubtless, smartly-dressed coachfuls to crowded unusual style of splendour, which nothing else but aladies’ hair, near one of the bedroom windows, in anparties; loud and repeated double knocks at the house quadrille party could possibly justify.with green blinds, opposite, announce to the whole The master of the house with the green blinds is in aneighbourhood that there’s one large party in the street public office; we know the fact by the cut of his coat,at all events; and we saw through the window, and the tie of his neckcloth, and the self-satisfaction of histhrough the fog too, till it grew so thick that we rung gait—the very green blinds themselves have a Somersetfor candles, and drew our curtains, pastry-cooks’ men House air about them.with green boxes on their heads, and rout-furniturewarehouse-carts,with cane seats and French lamps, a tidy sort of young man, with a tendency to cold andHark!—a cab! That’s a junior clerk in the same office;hurrying to the numerous houses where an annual festivalis held in honour of the occasion.fronts, and brings his shoes in his coat-pocket, whichcorns, who comes in a pair of boots with black clothWe can fancy one of these parties, we think, as well shoes he is at this very moment putting on in the hall.225

Sketches by BozNow he is announced by the man in the passage to anotherman in a blue coat, who is a disguised messenger of coffee! We see Tupple now, in our mind’s eye, in thean incessant hum of conversation and general sippingfrom the office.height of his glory. He has just handed that stout oldThe man on the first landing precedes him to the lady’s cup to the servant; and now, he dives among thedrawing-room door. ‘Mr. Tupple!’ shouts the messenger. crowd of young men by the door, to intercept the other‘How are you, Tupple?’ says the master of the house, servant, and secure the muffin-plate for the old lady’sadvancing from the fire, before which he has been talkingpolitics and airing himself. ‘My dear, this is Mr. Tupple passes the sofa on his way back, he bestows a glance ofdaughter, before he leaves the room; and now, as he(a courteous salute from the lady of the house); Tupple, recognition and patronage upon the young ladies asmy eldest daughter; Julia, my dear, Mr. Tupple; Tupple, condescending and familiar as if he had known themmy other daughters; my son, sir;’ Tupple rubs his hands from infancy.very hard, and smiles as if it were all capital fun, and Charming person Mr. Tupple—perfect ladies’ man—keeps constantly bowing and turning himself round, such a delightful companion, too! Laugh!—nobody evertill the whole family have been introduced, when he understood papa’s jokes half so well as Mr. Tupple, whoglides into a chair at the corner of the sofa, and opens laughs himself into convulsions at every fresh burst ofa miscellaneous conversation with the young ladies upon facetiousness. Most delightful partner! talks throughthe weather, and the theatres, and the old year, and the the whole set! and although he does seem at first ratherlast new murder, and the balloon, and the ladies’ sleeves, gay and frivolous, so romantic and with so much feeling!Quite a love. No great favourite with the youngand the festivities of the season, and a great many othertopics of small talk.men, certainly, who sneer at, and affect to despise him;More double knocks! what an extensive party! what but everybody knows that’s only envy, and they needn’t226

Charles Dickensgive themselves the trouble to depreciate his merits at ers accordingly: and Mr. Tupple being informed by theany rate, for Ma says he shall be asked to every future master of the house that they are all charged, and waitingfor his toast, rises, and begs to remind the gentle-dinner-party, if it’s only to talk to people between thecourses, and distract their attention when there’s any men present, how much they have been delighted byunexpected delay in the kitchen.the dazzling array of elegance and beauty which theAt supper, Mr. Tupple shows to still greater advantage drawing-room has exhibited that night, and how theirthan he has done throughout the evening, and when Pa senses have been charmed, and their hearts captivated,requests every one to fill their glasses for the purpose by the bewitching concentration of female lovelinessof drinking happiness throughout the year, Mr. Tupple which that very room has so recently displayed. (Loudis so droll: insisting on all the young ladies having their cries of ‘Hear!’) Much as he (Tupple) would be disposedglasses filled, notwithstanding their repeated assurances to deplore the absence of the ladies, on other grounds,that they never can, by any possibility, think of emptyingthem and subsequently begging permission to say a tion that the very circumstance of their not beinghe cannot but derive some consolation from the reflec-few words on the sentiment which has just been utteredby Pa—when he makes one of the most brilliant have otherwise been prevented from giving—that toastpresent, enables him to propose a toast, which he wouldand poetical speeches that can possibly be imagined, he begs to say is—’The Ladies!’ (Great applause.) Theabout the old year and the new one. After the toast has Ladies! among whom the fascinating daughters of theirbeen drunk, and when the ladies have retired, Mr. Tupple excellent host, are alike conspicuous for their beauty,requests that every gentleman will do him the favour of their accomplishments, and their elegance. He begs themfilling his glass, for he has a toast to propose: on which to drain a bumper to ‘The Ladies, and a happy new yearall the gentlemen cry ‘Hear! hear!’ and pass the decant-to them!’ (Prolonged approbation; above which the noise227

Sketches by Bozof the ladies dancing the Spanish dance among themselves,overhead, is distinctly audible.)(Tupple’s) heart, and declare his confident belief that athe host.) He (Tupple) can lay his hand upon hisThe applause consequent on this toast, has scarcely better man, a better husband, a better father, a bettersubsided, when a young gentleman in a pink underwaistcoat,sitting towards the bottom of the table, is of life, than Dobble, never existed. (Loud cries of ‘Hear!’)brother, a better son, a better relation in any relationobserved to grow very restless and fidgety, and to evince They have seen him to-night in the peaceful bosom ofstrong indications of some latent desire to give vent to his family; they should see him in the morning, in thehis feelings in a speech, which the wary Tupple at once trying duties of his office. Calm in the perusal of theperceiving, determines to forestall by speaking himself. morning papers, uncompromising in the signature ofHe, therefore, rises again, with an air of solemn importance,and trusts he may be permitted to propose an-stranger applicants, deferential in his behaviour to hishis name, dignified in his replies to the inquiries ofother toast (unqualified approbation, and Mr. Tupple superiors, majestic in his deportment to the messengers.(Cheers.) When he bears this merited testimony toproceeds). He is sure they must all be deeply impressedwith the hospitality—he may say the splendour—with the excellent qualities of his friend Dobble, what can hewhich they have been that night received by their worthyhost and hostess. (Unbounded applause.) Although requisite for him to expatiate on the qualities of thatsay in approaching such a subject as Mrs. Dobble? Is itthis is the first occasion on which he has had the pleasureand delight of sitting at that board, he has known feelings; he will spare the feelings of his friend—if heamiable woman? No; he will spare his friend Dobble’shis friend Dobble long and intimately; he has been connectedwith him in business—he wishes everybody Mr. Dobble, junior. (Here Mr. Dobble, junior, who haswill allow him to have the honour of calling him so—present knew Dobble as well as he does. (A cough from been previously distending his mouth to a considerable228

Charles Dickenswidth, by thrusting a particularly fine orange into thatfeature, suspends operations, and assumes a proper appearanceof intense melancholy). He will simply say—and he is quite certain it is a sentiment in which allwho hear him will readily concur—that his friend Dobbleis as superior to any man he ever knew, as Mrs. Dobbleis far beyond any woman he ever saw (except her daughters);and he will conclude by proposing their worthy‘Host and Hostess, and may they live to enjoy manymore new years!’The toast is drunk with acclamation; Dobble returnsthanks, and the whole party rejoin the ladies in thedrawing-room. Young men who were too bashful to dancebefore supper, find tongues and partners; the musiciansexhibit unequivocal symptoms of having drunk the newyear in, while the company were out; and dancing iskept up, until far in the first morning of the new year.We have scarcely written the last word of the previoussentence, when the first stroke of twelve, peals fromthe neighbouring churches. There certainly—we mustconfess it now—is something awful in the sound. Strictlyspeaking, it may not be more impressive now, than atany other time; for the hours steal as swiftly on, atother periods, and their flight is little heeded. But, wemeasure man’s life by years, and it is a solemn knellthat warns us we have passed another of the landmarkswhich stands between us and the grave. Disguise it aswe may, the reflection will force itself on our minds,that when the next bell announces the arrival of a newyear, we may be insensible alike of the timely warningwe have so often neglected, and of all the warm feelingsthat glow within us now.CHAPTER IV—MISS EVANS AND THE EAGLEMR. SAMUEL WILKINS was a carpenter, a journeyman carpenterof small dimensions, decidedly below the middlesize—bordering, perhaps, upon the dwarfish. His facewas round and shining, and his hair carefully twistedinto the outer corner of each eye, till it formed a varietyof that description of semi-curls, usually known as‘aggerawators.’ His earnings were all-sufficient for his229

Sketches by Bozwants, varying from eighteen shillings to one pound before. The family were just going to tea, and were sofive, weekly—his manner undeniable—his sabbath glad to see him. It was quite a little feast; two ounceswaistcoats dazzling. No wonder that, with these qualifications,Samuel Wilkins found favour in the eyes of of the best fresh; and Mr. Wilkins had brought a pintof seven-and-sixpenny green, and a quarter of a poundthe other sex: many women have been captivated by far of shrimps, neatly folded up in a clean belcher, to giveless substantial qualifications. But, Samuel was proof a zest to the meal, and propitiate Mrs. Ivins. Jemimaagainst their blandishments, until at length his eyes was ‘cleaning herself’ up-stairs; so Mr. Samuel Wilkinsrested on those of a Being for whom, from that time sat down and talked domestic economy with Mrs. Ivins,forth, he felt fate had destined him. He came, and conquered—proposed,and was accepted—loved, and was lighted brown paper between the bars under the kettle,whilst the two youngest Miss Ivinses poked bits ofbeloved. Mr. Wilkins ‘kept company’ with Jemima Evans. to make the water boil for tea.Miss Evans (or Ivins, to adopt the pronunciation most ‘I wos a thinking,’ said Mr. Samuel Wilkins, during ain vogue with her circle of acquaintance) had adopted pause in the conversation—’I wos a thinking of takingin early life the useful pursuit of shoe-binding, to which J’mima to the Eagle to-night.’—’O my!’ exclaimed Mrs.she had afterwards superadded the occupation of a Ivins. ‘Lor! how nice!’ said the youngest Miss Ivins. ‘Well,straw-bonnet maker. Herself, her maternal parent, and I declare!’ added the youngest Miss Ivins but one. ‘Telltwo sisters, formed an harmonious quartett in the most J’mima to put on her white muslin, Tilly,’ screamed Mrs.secluded portion of Camden-town; and here it was that Ivins, with motherly anxiety; and down came J’mimaMr. Wilkins presented himself, one Monday afternoon, herself soon afterwards in a white muslin gown carefullyhooked and eyed, a little red shawl, plentifullyin his best attire, with his face more shining and hiswaistcoat more bright than either had ever appeared pinned, a white straw bonnet trimmed with red rib-230

Charles Dickensbons, a small necklace, a large pair of bracelets, Denmarksatin shoes, and open-worked stockings; white consented to do. Having tasted it once, they were eas-hiding of faces in elaborate pocket-handkerchiefs, theycotton gloves on her fingers, and a cambric pocket-handkerchief,carefully folded up, in her hand—all quite the garden tasting shrub, and looking at the Bussesily prevailed upon to taste it again; and they sat out ingenteel and ladylike. And away went Miss J’mima Ivins alternately, till it was just the proper time to go to theand Mr. Samuel Wilkins, and a dress-cane, with a gilt Eagle; and then they resumed their journey, and walkedknob at the top, to the admiration and envy of the very fast, for fear they should lose the beginning of thestreet in general, and to the high gratification of Mrs. concert in the Rotunda.Ivins, and the two youngest Miss Ivinses in particular. ‘How ev’nly!’ said Miss J’mima Ivins, and Miss J’mimaThey had no sooner turned into the Pancras-road, than Ivins’s friend, both at once, when they had passed thewho should Miss J’mima Ivins stumble upon, by the gate and were fairly inside the gardens. There were themost fortunate accident in the world, but a young lady walks, beautifully gravelled and planted—and the refreshment-boxes,painted and ornamented like so manyas she knew, with her young man!—And it is sostrange how things do turn out sometimes—they were snuff-boxes—and the variegated lamps shedding theiractually going to the Eagle too. So Mr. Samuel Wilkins rich light upon the company’s heads—and the place forwas introduced to Miss J’mima Ivins’s friend’s young dancing ready chalked for the company’s feet—and aman, and they all walked on together, talking, and laughing,and joking away like anything; and when they got an opposition military band playing away at the other.Moorish band playing at one end of the gardens—andas far as Pentonville, Miss Ivins’s friend’s young man Then, the waiters were rushing to and fro with glasseswould have the ladies go into the Crown, to taste some of negus, and glasses of brandy-and-water, and bottlesshrub, which, after a great blushing and giggling, and of ale, and bottles of stout; and ginger-beer was going231

Sketches by Bozoff in one place, and practical jokes were going on in kers would stare at Miss J’mima Ivins, and anotheranother; and people were crowding to the door of the gentleman in a plaid waistcoat would wink at MissRotunda; and in short the whole scene was, as Miss J’mima Ivins’s friend; on which Miss Jemima Ivins’sJ’mima Ivins, inspired by the novelty, or the shrub, or friend’s young man exhibited symptoms of boiling over,both, observed—’one of dazzling excitement.’ As to the and began to mutter about ‘people’s imperence,’ andconcert-room, never was anything half so splendid. There ‘swells out o’ luck;’ and to intimate, in oblique terms,was an orchestra for the singers, all paint, gilding, and a vague intention of knocking somebody’s head off;plate-glass; and such an organ! Miss J’mima Ivins’s which he was only prevented from announcing morefriend’s young man whispered it had cost ‘four hundred emphatically, by both Miss J’mima Ivins and her friendpound,’ which Mr. Samuel Wilkins said was ‘not dear threatening to faint away on the spot if he said anotherword.neither;’ an opinion in which the ladies perfectly coincided.The audience were seated on elevated benches The concert commenced—overture on the organ. ‘Howround the room, and crowded into every part of it; and solemn!’ exclaimed Miss J’mima Ivins, glancing, perhapseverybody was eating and drinking as comfortably as unconsciously, at the gentleman with the whiskers. Mr.possible. Just before the concert commenced, Mr. Samuel Wilkins, who had been muttering apart for someSamuel Wilkins ordered two glasses of rum-and-water time past, as if he were holding a confidential conversationwith the gilt knob of the dress-cane, breathed‘warm with—’ and two slices of lemon, for himself andthe other young man, together with ‘a pint o’ sherry hard-breathing vengeance, perhaps,—but said nothing.wine for the ladies, and some sweet carraway-seed biscuits;’and they would have been quite comfortable cried Miss J’mima Ivins’s friend. ‘Ancore!’ shouted the‘The soldier tired,’ Miss Somebody in white satin. ‘Ancore!’and happy, only a strange gentleman with large whis-gentleman in the plaid waistcoat immediately, hammer-232

Charles Dickensing the table with a stout-bottle. Miss J’mima Ivins’s coat and whiskers did the same; and made divers remarkscomplimentary to the ankles of Miss J’mima Ivinsfriend’s young man eyed the man behind the waistcoatfrom head to foot, and cast a look of interrogative contempttowards Mr. Samuel Wilkins. Comic song, accom-with these numerous atrocities, they actually came upand friend, in an audible tone. At length, not satisfiedpanied on the organ. Miss J’mima Ivins was convulsed and asked Miss J’mima Ivins, and Miss J’mima Ivins’swith laughter—so was the man with the whiskers. Everythingthe ladies did, the plaid waistcoat and whis-Samuel Wilkins, and Miss J’mima Ivins’s friend’s youngfriend, to dance, without taking no more notice of Mr.kers did, by way of expressing unity of sentiment and man, than if they was nobody!congeniality of soul; and Miss J’mima Ivins, and Miss ‘What do you mean by that, scoundrel!’ exclaimed Mr.J’mima Ivins’s friend, grew lively and talkative, as Mr. Samuel Wilkins, grasping the gilt-knobbed dress-caneSamuel Wilkins, and Miss J’mima Ivins’s friend’s young firmly in his right hand. ‘What’s the matter with YOU,man, grew morose and surly in inverse proportion. you little humbug?’ replied the whiskers. ‘How dare youNow, if the matter had ended here, the little party insult me and my friend?’ inquired the friend’s youngmight soon have recovered their former equanimity; but man. ‘You and your friend be hanged!’ responded theMr. Samuel Wilkins and his friend began to throw looks waistcoat. ‘Take that,’ exclaimed Mr. Samuel Wilkins. Theof defiance upon the waistcoat and whiskers. And the ferrule of the gilt-knobbed dress-cane was visible for anwaistcoat and whiskers, by way of intimating the slight instant, and then the light of the variegated lamps shonedegree in which they were affected by the looks aforesaid,bestowed glances of increased admiration upon ‘Give it him,’ said the waistcoat. ‘Horficer!’ screamed thebrightly upon it as it whirled into the air, cane and all.Miss J’mima Ivins and friend. The concert and vaudevilleconcluded, they promenaded the gardens. The waist-man, lay gasping on the gravel, and the waistcoatladies. Miss J’mima Ivins’s beau, and the friend’s youngand233

Sketches by Bozwhiskers were seen no more.cent public-house, which we remembered to have passedMiss J’mima Ivins and friend being conscious that the but a moment before (it was not far from the City-road),affray was in no slight degree attributable to themselves, for the purpose of solacing ourself with a glass of ale.of course went into hysterics forthwith; declared themselvesthe most injured of women; exclaimed, in inco-illuminated palaces, but a modest public-house of theThe house was none of your stuccoed, French-polished,herent ravings, that they had been suspected—wrongfullysuspected—oh! that they should ever have lived lord, who, with a wife and daughter of the same pat-old school, with a little old bar, and a little old land-to see the day—and so forth; suffered a relapse every tern, was comfortably seated in the bar aforesaid—atime they opened their eyes and saw their unfortunate snug little room with a cheerful fire, protected by alittle admirers; and were carried to their respective large screen: from behind which the young lady emergedabodes in a hackney-coach, and a state of insensibility, on our representing our inclination for a glass of ale.compounded of shrub, sherry, and excitement.‘Won’t you walk into the parlour, sir?’ said the younglady, in seductive tones.CHAPTER V—THE PARLOUR ORATOR‘You had better walk into the parlour, sir,’ said the littleold landlord, throwing his chair back, and looking roundWE HAD BEEN LOUNGING ONE EVENING, down Oxford-street, one side of the screen, to survey our appearance.Holborn, Cheapside, Coleman-street, Finsbury-square, ‘You had much better step into the parlour, sir,’ saidand so on, with the intention of returning westward, the little old lady, popping out her head, on the otherby Pentonville and the New-road, when we began to side of the screen.feel rather thirsty, and disposed to rest for five or ten We cast a slight glance around, as if to express ourminutes. So, we turned back towards an old, quiet, de-ignorance of the locality so much recommended. The234

Charles Dickenslittle old landlord observed it; bustled out of the small At the furthest table, nearest the fire, with his facedoor of the small bar; and forthwith ushered us into the towards the door at the bottom of the room, sat a stoutishman of about forty, whose short, stiff, black hairparlour itself.It was an ancient, dark-looking room, with oaken curled closely round a broad high forehead, and a facewainscoting, a sanded floor, and a high mantel-piece. to which something besides water and exercise had communicateda rather inflamed appearance. He was smok-The walls were ornamented with three or four oldcoloured prints in black frames, each print representing ing a cigar, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, and hada naval engagement, with a couple of men-of-war bangingaway at each other most vigorously, while another leading politician, general authority, and universal an-that confident oracular air which marked him as thevessel or two were blowing up in the distance, and the ecdote-relater, of the place. He had evidently just deliveredhimself of something very weighty; for the remain-foreground presented a miscellaneous collection of brokenmasts and blue legs sticking up out of the water. der of the company were puffing at their respective pipesDepending from the ceiling in the centre of the room, and cigars in a kind of solemn abstraction, as if quitewere a gas-light and bell-pull; on each side were three overwhelmed with the magnitude of the subject recentlyor four long narrow tables, behind which was a thicklyplantedrow of those slippery, shiny-looking wooden On his right hand sat an elderly gentleman with a whiteunder discussion.chairs, peculiar to hostelries of this description. The head, and broad-brimmed brown hat; on his left, a sharpnosed,light-haired man in a brown surtout reaching nearlymonotonous appearance of the sanded boards was relievedby an occasional spittoon; and a triangular pile to his heels, who took a whiff at his pipe, and an admiringglance at the red-faced man, alternately.of those useful articles adorned the two upper cornersof the apartment.‘Very extraordinary!’ said the light-haired man after a235

Sketches by Bozpause of five minutes. A murmur of assent ran through proper person to represent the borough in Parliament.”the company.“Prove it,” says I. “He is a friend to Reform,” says Mr.‘Not at all extraordinary—not at all,’ said the redfacedman, awakening suddenly from his reverie, and tional debt, the unflinching opponent of pensions, theWilson. “Prove it,” says I. “The abolitionist of the na-turning upon the light-haired man, the moment he had uncompromising advocate of the negro, the reducer ofspoken.sinecures and the duration of Parliaments; the extender‘Why should it be extraordinary?—why is it extraordinary?—proveit to be extraordinary!’Wilson. “Prove it,” says I. “His acts prove it,” says he.of nothing but the suffrages of the people,” says Mr.‘Oh, if you come to that—’ said the light-haired “Prove them,” says I.man, meekly.‘And he could not prove them,’ said the red-faced man,‘Come to that!’ ejaculated the man with the red face; looking round triumphantly; ‘and the borough didn’t‘but we must come to that. We stand, in these times, have him; and if you carried this principle to the fullupon a calm elevation of intellectual attainment, and extent, you’d have no debt, no pensions, no sinecures,not in the dark recess of mental deprivation. Proof, is no negroes, no nothing. And then, standing upon anwhat I require—proof, and not assertions, in these stirringtimes. Every gen’lem’n that knows me, knows what the summit of popular prosperity, you might bid defi-elevation of intellectual attainment, and having reachedwas the nature and effect of my observations, when it ance to the nations of the earth, and erect yourselveswas in the contemplation of the Old-street Suburban in the proud confidence of wisdom and superiority. ThisRepresentative Discovery Society, to recommend a candidatefor that place in Cornwall there—I forget the and if I was a Member of the House of Commons to-is my argument—this always has been my argument—name of it. “Mr. Snobee,” said Mr. Wilson, “is a fit and morrow, I’d make ‘em shake in their shoes with it. And236

Charles Dickensthe red-faced man, having struck the table very hard ‘Why, as to inscribing it on your tomb,’ said a littlewith his clenched fist, to add weight to the declaration, greengrocer with a chubby face, ‘of course you can havesmoked away like a brewery.anything chalked up, as you likes to pay for, so far as it‘Well!’ said the sharp-nosed man, in a very slow and relates to yourself and your affairs; but, when you comesoft voice, addressing the company in general, ‘I always to talk about slaves, and that there abuse, you’d betterdo say, that of all the gentlemen I have the pleasure of keep it in the family, ‘cos I for one don’t like to bemeeting in this room, there is not one whose conversationI like to hear so much as Mr. Rogers’s, or who is ‘You are a slave,’ said the red-faced man, ‘and the mostcalled them names, night after night.’such improving company.’pitiable of all slaves.’‘Improving company!’ said Mr. Rogers, for that, it ‘Werry hard if I am,’ interrupted the greengrocer, ‘for Iseemed, was the name of the red-faced man. ‘You may got no good out of the twenty million that was paid forsay I am improving company, for I’ve improved you all ‘mancipation, anyhow.’to some purpose; though as to my conversation being ‘A willing slave,’ ejaculated the red-faced man, gettingas my friend Mr. Ellis here describes it, that is not for more red with eloquence, and contradiction—’resigningme to say anything about. You, gentlemen, are the the dearest birthright of your children—neglecting thebest judges on that point; but this I will say, when I sacred call of Liberty—who, standing imploringly beforecame into this parish, and first used this room, ten you, appeals to the warmest feelings of your heart, andyears ago, I don’t believe there was one man in it, who points to your helpless infants, but in vain.’knew he was a slave—and now you all know it, and ‘Prove it,’ said the greengrocer.writhe under it. Inscribe that upon my tomb, and I am ‘Prove it!’ sneered the man with the red face. ‘What!satisfied.’bending beneath the yoke of an insolent and factious237

Sketches by Bozoligarchy; bowed down by the domination of cruel laws; upon by every oppressor? Is he to be knocked down atgroaning beneath tyranny and oppression on every hand, everybody’s bidding? What’s freedom? Not a standing army.at every side, and in every corner. Prove it!—’ The redfacedman abruptly broke off, sneered melo-dramati-happiness? Not universal misery. Liberty ain’t the win-What’s a standing army? Not freedom. What’s generalcally, and buried his countenance and his indignation dow-tax, is it? The Lords ain’t the Commons, are they?’together, in a quart pot.And the red-faced man, gradually bursting into a radiatingsentence, in which such adjectives as ‘dastardly,’ ‘op-‘Ah, to be sure, Mr. Rogers,’ said a stout broker in alarge waistcoat, who had kept his eyes fixed on this pressive,’ ‘violent,’ and ‘sanguinary,’ formed the most conspicuouswords, knocked his hat indignantly over his eyes,luminary all the time he was speaking. ‘Ah, to be sure,’said the broker with a sigh, ‘that’s the point.’left the room, and slammed the door after him.‘Of course, of course,’ said divers members of the company,who understood almost as much about the matter ‘Splendid speaker!’ added the broker.‘Wonderful man!’ said he of the sharp nose.as the broker himself.‘Great power!’ said everybody but the greengrocer. And‘You had better let him alone, Tommy,’ said the broker,by way of advice to the little greengrocer; ‘he can teriously, and one by one retired, leaving us alone inas they said it, the whole party shook their heads mys-tell what’s o’clock by an eight-day, without looking at the old parlour.the minute hand, he can. Try it on, on some other suit; If we had followed the established precedent in allit won’t do with him, Tommy.’such instances, we should have fallen into a fit of musing,without delay. The ancient appearance of the room—‘What is a man?’ continued the red-faced specimen ofthe species, jerking his hat indignantly from its peg on the old panelling of the wall—the chimney blackenedthe wall. ‘What is an Englishman? Is he to be trampled with smoke and age—would have carried us back a hun-238

Charles Dickensdred years at least, and we should have gone dreaming CHAPTER VI—THE HOSPITAL PATIENTon, until the pewter-pot on the table, or the little beerchilleron the fire, had started into life, and addressed IN OUR RAMBLES through the streets of London afterto us a long story of days gone by. But, by some means evening has set in, we often pause beneath the windowsof some public hospital, and picture to ourself theor other, we were not in a romantic humour; and althoughwe tried very hard to invest the furniture with gloomy and mournful scenes that are passing within.vitality, it remained perfectly unmoved, obstinate, and The sudden moving of a taper as its feeble ray shootssullen. Being thus reduced to the unpleasant necessity from window to window, until its light gradually disappears,as if it were carried farther back into the room toof musing about ordinary matters, our thoughts revertedto the red-faced man, and his oratorical display. the bedside of some suffering patient, is enough toA numerous race are these red-faced men; there is awaken a whole crowd of reflections; the mere glimmeringof the low-burning lamps, which, when all othernot a parlour, or club-room, or benefit society, or humbleparty of any kind, without its red-faced man. Weakpateddolts they are, and a great deal of mischief they note the chamber where so many forms are writhinghabitations are wrapped in darkness and slumber, de-do to their cause, however good. So, just to hold a patternone up, to know the others by, we took his like-the most boisterous merriment.with pain, or wasting with disease, is sufficient to checkness at once, and put him in here. And that is the reasonwhy we have written this paper.the only sound the sick man hears, is the disjointedWho can tell the anguish of those weary hours, whenwanderings of some feverish slumberer near him, thelow moan of pain, or perhaps the muttered, long-forgottenprayer of a dying man? Who, but they who have239

Sketches by Bozfelt it, can imagine the sense of loneliness and desolationwhich must be the portion of those who in the bed, to them, when the recollections of a whole life ofdeath? What are the unwonted comforts of a roof and ahour of dangerous illness are left to be tended by strangers;for what hands, be they ever so gentle, can wipe a mockery, and sorrow comes too late?debasement stalk before them; when repentance seemsthe clammy brow, or smooth the restless bed, like About a twelvemonth ago, as we were strolling throughthose of mother, wife, or child?Covent-garden (we had been thinking about these thingsImpressed with these thoughts, we have turned away, over-night), we were attracted by the very prepossessingappearance of a pickpocket, who having declined tothrough the nearly-deserted streets; and the sight ofthe few miserable creatures still hovering about them, take the trouble of walking to the Police-office, on thehas not tended to lessen the pain which such meditationsawaken. The hospital is a refuge and resting-place all, was being conveyed thither in a wheelbarrow, toground that he hadn’t the slightest wish to go there atfor hundreds, who but for such institutions must die in the huge delight of a crowd.the streets and doorways; but what can be the feelings Somehow, we never can resist joining a crowd, so weof some outcasts when they are stretched on the bed of turned back with the mob, and entered the office, insickness with scarcely a hope of recovery? The wretched company with our friend the pickpocket, a couple ofwoman who lingers about the pavement, hours after policemen, and as many dirty-faced spectators as couldmidnight, and the miserable shadow of a man—the squeeze their way in.ghastly remnant that want and drunkenness have left— There was a powerful, ill-looking young fellow at thewhich crouches beneath a window-ledge, to sleep where bar, who was undergoing an examination, on the verythere is some shelter from the rain, have little to bind common charge of having, on the previous night, illtreateda woman, with whom he lived in some courtthem to life, but what have they to look back upon, in240

Charles Dickenshard by. Several witnesses bore testimony to acts of the pulled forward over his eyes. It was easy to see, though,grossest brutality; and a certificate was read from the by the whiteness of his countenance, and the constanthouse-surgeon of a neighbouring hospital, describing twitching of the muscles of his face, that he dreadedthe nature of the injuries the woman had received, and what was to come. After a short interval, the magistratesand clerk were bowed in by the house-surgeonintimating that her recovery was extremely doubtful.Some question appeared to have been raised about and a couple of young men who smelt very strong ofthe identity of the prisoner; for when it was agreed tobacco-smoke—they were introduced as ‘dressers’—andthat the two magistrates should visit the hospital at after one magistrate had complained bitterly of the cold,eight o’clock that evening, to take her deposition, it and the other of the absence of any news in the eveningwas settled that the man should be taken there also. He paper, it was announced that the patient was prepared;turned pale at this, and we saw him clench the bar very and we were conducted to the ‘casualty ward’ in whichhard when the order was given. He was removed directlyafterwards, and he spoke not a word.The dim light which burnt in the spacious room, in-she was lying.We felt an irrepressible curiosity to witness this interview,although it is hard to tell why, at this instant, for of the hapless creatures in the beds, which were rangedcreased rather than diminished the ghastly appearancewe knew it must be a painful one. It was no very difficult in two long rows on either side. In one bed, lay a childmatter for us to gain permission, and we obtained it. enveloped in bandages, with its body half-consumed byThe prisoner, and the officer who had him in custody, fire; in another, a female, rendered hideous by some dreadfulaccident, was wildly beating her clenched fists on thewere already at the hospital when we reached it, andwaiting the arrival of the magistrates in a small room coverlet, in pain; on a third, there lay stretched a youngbelow stairs. The man was handcuffed, and his hat was girl, apparently in the heavy stupor often the immediate241

Sketches by Bozprecursor of death: her face was stained with blood, and so, and stationed him at the bedside. The girl looked onher breast and arms were bound up in folds of linen. Two with a wild and troubled expression of face; but heror three of the beds were empty, and their recent occupantswere sitting beside them, but with faces so wan, ‘Take off his hat,’ said the magistrate. The officer did assight was dim, and she did not know him.and eyes so bright and glassy, that it was fearful to meet he was desired, and the man’s features were disclosed.their gaze. On every face was stamped the expression of The girl started up, with an energy quite preternatural;anguish and suffering.the fire gleamed in her heavy eyes, and the blood rushedThe object of the visit was lying at the upper end of to her pale and sunken cheeks. It was a convulsive effort.the room. She was a fine young woman of about two or She fell back upon her pillow, and covering her scarredthree and twenty. Her long black hair, which had been and bruised face with her hands, burst into tears. The manhastily cut from near the wounds on her head, streamed cast an anxious look towards her, but otherwise appearedover the pillow in jagged and matted locks. Her face wholly unmoved. After a brief pause the nature of thebore deep marks of the ill-usage she had received: her errand was explained, and the oath tendered.hand was pressed upon her side, as if her chief pain ‘Oh, no, gentlemen,’ said the girl, raising herself oncewere there; her breathing was short and heavy; and it more, and folding her hands together; ‘no, gentlemen,was plain to see that she was dying fast. She murmured for God’s sake! I did it myself—it was nobody’s fault—a few words in reply to the magistrate’s inquiry whether it was an accident. He didn’t hurt me; he wouldn’t forshe was in great pain; and, having been raised on the all the world. Jack, dear Jack, you know you wouldn’t!’pillow by the nurse, looked vacantly upon the strange Her sight was fast failing her, and her hand gropedcountenances that surrounded her bed. The magistrate over the bedclothes in search of his. Brute as the mannodded to the officer, to bring the man forward. He did was, he was not prepared for this. He turned his face242

Charles Dickensfrom the bed, and sobbed. The girl’s colour changed, CHAPTER VII—THE MISPLACED ATTACHMENT OFand her breathing grew more difficult. She was evidentlyMR. JOHN DOUNCEdying.‘We respect the feelings which prompt you to this,’ IF WE HAD to make a classification of society, there is asaid the gentleman who had spoken first, ‘but let me particular kind of men whom we should immediatelywarn you, not to persist in what you know to be untrue,until it is too late. It cannot save him.’most extensive dimensions the old boys would require.set down under the head of ‘Old Boys;’ and a column of‘Jack,’ murmured the girl, laying her hand upon his To what precise causes the rapid advance of old-boyarm, ‘they shall not persuade me to swear your life away. population is to be traced, we are unable to determine.He didn’t do it, gentlemen. He never hurt me.’ She grasped It would be an interesting and curious speculation, but,his arm tightly, and added, in a broken whisper, ‘I hope as we have not sufficient space to devote to it here, weGod Almighty will forgive me all the wrong I have done, simply state the fact that the numbers of the old boysand the life I have led. God bless you, Jack. Some kind have been gradually augmenting within the last fewgentleman take my love to my poor old father. Five years years, and that they are at this moment alarmingly onago, he said he wished I had died a child. Oh, I wish I the increase.had! I wish I had!’Upon a general review of the subject, and without consideringit minutely in detail, we should be disposed toThe nurse bent over the girl for a few seconds, andthen drew the sheet over her face. It covered a corpse. subdivide the old boys into two distinct classes—the gayold boys, and the steady old boys. The gay old boys, arepaunchy old men in the disguise of young ones, whofrequent the Quadrant and Regent-street in the day-time:243

Sketches by Bozthe theatres (especially theatres under lady management) Mr. John Dounce was an old boy of the latter classat night; and who assume all the foppishness and levity (we don’t mean immortal, but steady), a retired gloveof boys, without the excuse of youth or inexperience. and braces maker, a widower, resident with three daughters—allgrown up, and all unmarried—in Cursitor-The steady old boys are certain stout old gentlemen ofclean appearance, who are always to be seen in the same street, Chancery-lane. He was a short, round, large-faced,taverns, at the same hours every evening, smoking and tubbish sort of man, with a broad-brimmed hat, and adrinking in the same company.square coat; and had that grave, but confident, kind ofThere was once a fine collection of old boys to be seen roll, peculiar to old boys in general. Regular as clockwork—breakfastat nine—dress and tittivate a little—round the circular table at Offley’s every night, betweenthe hours of half-past eight and half-past eleven. We have down to the Sir Somebody’s Head—a glass of ale andlost sight of them for some time. There were, and may be the paper—come back again, and take daughters outstill, for aught we know, two splendid specimens in full for a walk—dinner at three—glass of grog and pipe—blossom at the Rainbow Tavern in Fleet-street, who alwaysused to sit in the box nearest the fireplace, and capital house—delightful evenings. There were Mr. Har-nap—tea—little walk—Sir Somebody’s Head again—smoked long cherry-stick pipes which went under the ris, the law-stationer, and Mr. Jennings, the robe-makertable, with the bowls resting on the floor. Grand old (two jolly young fellows like himself), and Jones, theboys they were—fat, red-faced, white-headed old fellows—alwaysthere—one on one side the table, and the pany—full of anecdote!—and there they sat every nightbarrister’s clerk—rum fellow that Jones—capital com-other opposite—puffing and drinking away in great till just ten minutes before twelve, drinking their brandyand-water,and smoking their pipes, and telling stories,state. Everybody knew them, and it was supposed bysome people that they were both immortal.and enjoying themselves with a kind of solemn joviality244

Charles Dickensparticularly edifying.tion and administered restoratives, and sent a blackSometimes Jones would propose a half-price visit to servant, six foot high, in blue and silver livery, nextDrury Lane or Covent Garden, to see two acts of a fiveactplay, and a new farce, perhaps, or a ballet, on which found himself, sir—by G-! Between the acts Mr. Douncemorning with their compliments, and to know how heoccasions the whole four of them went together: none and Mr. Harris, and Mr. Jennings, used to stand up, andof your hurrying and nonsense, but having their brandyand-waterfirst, comfortably, and ordering a steak and Jones—knew everybody—pointed out the fashionablelook round the house, and Jones—knowing fellow thatsome oysters for their supper against they came back, and celebrated Lady So-and-So in the boxes, at theand then walking coolly into the pit, when the ‘rush’ mention of whose name Mr. Dounce, after brushing uphad gone in, as all sensible people do, and did when Mr. his hair, and adjusting his neckerchief, would inspectDounce was a young man, except when the celebrated the aforesaid Lady So-and-So through an immense glass,Master Betty was at the height of his popularity, and and remark, either, that she was a ‘fine woman—verythen, sir,—then—Mr. Dounce perfectly well remembered fine woman, indeed,’ or that ‘there might be a littlegetting a holiday from business; and going to the pit more of her, eh, Jones?’ Just as the case might happendoors at eleven o’clock in the forenoon, and waiting to be. When the dancing began, John Dounce and thethere, till six in the afternoon, with some sandwiches other old boys were particularly anxious to see whatin a pocket-handkerchief and some wine in a phial; and was going forward on the stage, and Jones—wicked dogfainting after all, with the heat and fatigue, before the that Jones—whispered little critical remarks into theplay began; in which situation he was lifted out of the ears of John Dounce, which John Dounce retailed to Mr.pit, into one of the dress boxes, sir, by five of the finest Harris and Mr. Harris to Mr. Jennings; and then they allwomen of that day, sir, who compassionated his situa-four laughed, until the tears ran down out of their eyes.245

Sketches by BozWhen the curtain fell, they walked back together, two without wish for change, or care for variety, when hisand two, to the steaks and oysters; and when they came whole social system was suddenly upset and turned completelytopsy-turvy—not by an earthquake, or someto the second glass of brandy-and-water, Jones—hoaxingscamp, that Jones—used to recount how he had observeda lady in white feathers, in one of the pit boxes, be inclined to suppose, but by the simple agency of another dreadful convulsion of nature, as the reader wouldgazing intently on Mr. Dounce all the evening, and how oyster; and thus it happened.he had caught Mr. Dounce, whenever he thought no one Mr. John Dounce was returning one night from thewas looking at him, bestowing ardent looks of intense Sir Somebody’s Head, to his residence in Cursitor-street—devotion on the lady in return; on which Mr. Harris and not tipsy, but rather excited, for it was Mr. Jennings’sMr. Jennings used to laugh very heartily, and John Dounce birthday, and they had had a brace of partridges formore heartily than either of them, acknowledging, however,that the time HAD been when he might have done had been more than ordinarily amusing—when his eyessupper, and a brace of extra glasses afterwards, and Jonessuch things; upon which Mr. Jones used to poke him in rested on a newly-opened oyster-shop, on a magnificentscale, with natives laid, one deep, in circular marblethe ribs, and tell him he had been a sad dog in his time,which John Dounce with chuckles confessed. And after basins in the windows, together with little round barrelsof oysters directed to Lords and Baronets, and Colo-Mr. Harris and Mr. Jennings had preferred their claims tothe character of having been sad dogs too, they separatedharmoniously, and trotted home.Behind the natives were the barrels, and behind thenels and Captains, in every part of the habitable globe.The decrees of Fate, and the means by which they are barrels was a young lady of about five-and-twenty, allbrought about, are mysterious and inscrutable. John in blue, and all alone—splendid creature, charming faceDounce had led this life for twenty years and upwards, and lovely figure! It is difficult to say whether Mr. John246

Charles DickensDounce’s red countenance, illuminated as it was by the ‘Can you open me half-a-dozen more, my dear?’ inquiredMr. John Dounce.flickering gas-light in the window before which hepaused, excited the lady’s risibility, or whether a naturalexuberance of animal spirits proved too much for lady in blue, even more bewitchingly than before; and‘I’ll see what I can do for you, sir,’ replied the youngthat staidness of demeanour which the forms of society Mr. John Dounce eat half-a-dozen more of those atrather dictatorially prescribe. But certain it is, that the eightpence.lady smiled; then put her finger upon her lip, with a ‘You couldn’t manage to get me a glass of brandyand-water,my dear, I suppose?’ said Mr. John Dounce,striking recollection of what was due to herself; andfinally retired, in oyster-like bashfulness, to the very when he had finished the oysters: in a tone which clearlyback of the counter. The sad-dog sort of feeling came implied his supposition that she could.strongly upon John Dounce: he lingered—the lady in ‘I’ll see, sir,’ said the young lady: and away she ranblue made no sign. He coughed—still she came not. He out of the shop, and down the street, her long auburnentered the shop.ringlets shaking in the wind in the most enchanting‘Can you open me an oyster, my dear?’ said Mr. John manner; and back she came again, tripping over theDounce.coal-cellar lids like a whipping-top, with a tumbler of‘Dare say I can, sir,’ replied the lady in blue, with brandy-and-water, which Mr. John Dounce insisted onplayfulness. And Mr. John Dounce eat one oyster, and her taking a share of, as it was regular ladies’ grog—then looked at the young lady, and then eat another, hot, strong, sweet, and plenty of it.and then squeezed the young lady’s hand as she was So, the young lady sat down with Mr. John Dounce,opening the third, and so forth, until he had devoured in a little red box with a green curtain, and took a smalla dozen of those at eightpence in less than no time. sip of the brandy-and-water, and a small look at Mr.247

Sketches by BozJohn Dounce, and then turned her head away, and went with the extra brandy-and-water of the previous night;through various other serio-pantomimic fascinations, and, partly in the hope of cooling himself with an oyster,and partly with the view of ascertaining whetherwhich forcibly reminded Mr. John Dounce of the firsttime he courted his first wife, and which made him feel he owed the young lady anything, or not, went back tomore affectionate than ever; in pursuance of which affection,and actuated by which feeling, Mr. John Dounce tiful by night, she was perfectly irresistible by day; and,the oyster-shop. If the young lady had appeared beau-sounded the young lady on her matrimonial engagements,when the young lady denied having formed any John Dounce’s dream. He bought shirt-pins; wore a ringfrom this time forward, a change came over the spirit ofsuch engagements at all—she couldn’t abear the men, on his third finger; read poetry; bribed a cheap miniature-painterto perpetrate a faint resemblance to a youth-they were such deceivers; thereupon Mr. John Dounceinquired whether this sweeping condemnation was ful face, with a curtain over his head, six large books inmeant to include other than very young men; on which the background, and an open country in the distancethe young lady blushed deeply—at least she turned away (this he called his portrait); ‘went on’ altogether in suchher head, and said Mr. John Dounce had made her blush, an uproarious manner, that the three Miss Dounces wentso of course she did blush—and Mr. John Dounce was a off on small pensions, he having made the tenement inlong time drinking the brandy-and-water; and, at last, Cursitor-street too warm to contain them; and in short,John Dounce went home to bed, and dreamed of his comported and demeaned himself in every respect likefirst wife, and his second wife, and the young lady, and an unmitigated old Saracen, as he was.partridges, and oysters, and brandy-and-water, and disinterestedattachments.Somebody’s Head, he dropped off from them by gradualAs to his ancient friends, the other old boys, at the SirThe next morning, John Dounce was rather feverish degrees; for, even when he did go there, Jones—vulgar248

Charles Dickensfellow that Jones—persisted in asking ‘when it was to CHAPTER VIII—THE MISTAKEN MILLINER.be?’ and ‘whether he was to have any gloves?’ togetherA TALE OF AMBITIONwith other inquiries of an equally offensive nature: atwhich not only Harris laughed, but Jennings also; so, MISS AMELIA MARTIN WAS PALE, tallish, thin, and twoand-thirty—whatill-natured people would call plain,he cut the two, altogether, and attached himself solelyto the blue young lady at the smart oyster-shop. and police reports interesting. She was a milliner andNow comes the moral of the story—for it has a moral dressmaker, living on her business and not above it. Ifafter all. The last-mentioned young lady, having derivedsufficient profit and emolument from John Miss Martin, as a great many young ladies in serviceyou had been a young lady in service, and had wantedDounce’s attachment, not only refused, when matters did, you would just have stepped up, in the evening, tocame to a crisis, to take him for better for worse, but number forty-seven, Drummond-street, George-street,expressly declared, to use her own forcible words, that Euston-square, and after casting your eye on a brassshe ‘wouldn’t have him at no price;’ and John Dounce, door-plate, one foot ten by one and a half, ornamentedhaving lost his old friends, alienated his relations, and with a great brass knob at each of the four corners, andrendered himself ridiculous to everybody, made offers bearing the inscription ‘Miss Martin; millinery and dressmaking,in all its branches;’ you’d just have knockedsuccessively to a schoolmistress, a landlady, a femininetobacconist, and a housekeeper; and, being directly rejectedby each and every of them, was accepted by his have come Miss Martin herself, in a merino gown of thetwo loud knocks at the street-door; and down wouldcook, with whom he now lives, a henpecked husband, a newest fashion, black velvet bracelets on the genteelestmelancholy monument of antiquated misery, and a livingwarning to all uxorious old boys.provedprinciple, and other little elegancies of the most ap-description.249

Sketches by BozIf Miss Martin knew the young lady who called, or if on account of their own daughters, and were obliged tothe young lady who called had been recommended by keep their servants’ charms under, for fear they shouldany other young lady whom Miss Martin knew, Miss get married first, which was no uncommon circumstance—leastwaysshe had known two or three youngMartin would forthwith show her up-stairs into the twopairfront, and chat she would—so kind, and so comfortable—itreally wasn’t like a matter of business, she than their missises, and they were not very good-look-ladies in service, who had married a great deal betterwas so friendly; and, then Miss Martin, after contemplatingthe figure and general appearance of the young Martin, in confidence, that how one of their young laingeither; and then the young lady would inform Misslady in service with great apparent admiration, would dies was engaged to a young man and was a-going to besay how well she would look, to be sure, in a low dress married, and Missis was so proud about it there was nowith short sleeves; made very full in the skirts, with bearing of her; but how she needn’t hold her head quitefour tucks in the bottom; to which the young lady in so high neither, for, after all, he was only a clerk. And,service would reply in terms expressive of her entire after expressing due contempt for clerks in general, andconcurrence in the notion, and of the virtuous indignationwith which she reflected on the tyranny of ‘Missis,’ ion possible of themselves and each other, Miss Martinthe engaged clerk in particular, and the highest opin-who wouldn’t allow a young girl to wear a short sleeve and the young lady in service would bid each otherof an arternoon—no, nor nothing smart, not even a good night, in a friendly but perfectly genteel manner:pair of ear-rings; let alone hiding people’s heads of hair and the one went back to her ‘place,’ and the other, tounder them frightful caps. At the termination of this her room on the second-floor front.complaint, Miss Amelia Martin would distantly suggest There is no saying how long Miss Amelia Martin mightcertain dark suspicions that some people were jealous have continued this course of life; how extensive a con-250

Charles Dickensnection she might have established among young ladiesin service; or what amount her demands upon their washhouse and see how the pudding and boiled porkand receive the company, and then run into the littlequarterly receipts might have ultimately attained, had were getting on in the copper, and then pop back intonot an unforeseen train of circumstances directed her the parlour again, as snug and comfortable as possible.thoughts to a sphere of action very different from dressmakingor millinery.carpet—six bran-new cane-bottomed stained chairs—And such a parlour as it was! Beautiful KidderminsterA friend of Miss Martin’s who had long been keeping three wine-glasses and a tumbler on each sideboard—company with an ornamental painter and decorator’s farmer’s girl and farmer’s boy on the mantelpiece: girljourneyman, at last consented (on being at last asked tumbling over a stile, and boy spitting himself, on theto do so) to name the day which would make the aforesaidjourneyman a happy husband. It was a Monday that the window—and, in short, everything on the most gen-handle of a pitchfork—long white dimity curtains inwas appointed for the celebration of the nuptials, and teel scale imaginable.Miss Amelia Martin was invited, among others, to honour Then, the dinner. There was baked leg of mutton atthe wedding-dinner with her presence. It was a charmingparty; Somers-town the locality, and a front parlour fowls and leg of pork in the middle; porter-pots at thethe top, boiled leg of mutton at the bottom, pair ofthe apartment. The ornamental painter and decorator’s corners; pepper, mustard, and vinegar in the centre;journeyman had taken a house—no lodgings nor vulgarityof that kind, but a house—four beautiful rooms, pie and tartlets without number: to say nothing ofvegetables on the floor; and plum-pudding and apple-and a delightful little washhouse at the end of the passage—whichwas the most convenient thing in the of thing. As to the Company! Miss Amelia Martin herselfcheese, and celery, and water-cresses, and all that sortworld, for the bridesmaids could sit in the front parlour declared, on a subsequent occasion, that, much as she251

Sketches by Bozhad heard of the ornamental painter’s journeyman’s so they all said it was shameful treatment; and both Mr.connexion, she never could have supposed it was half and Mrs. Jennings Rodolph said it was shameful too;so genteel. There was his father, such a funny old gentleman—andhis mother, such a dear old lady—and his he knew who his malignant opponents were, but theyand Mr. Jennings Rodolph looked very serious, and saidsister, such a charming girl—and his brother, such a had better take care how far they went, for if they irritatedhim too much he had not quite made up his mindmanly-looking young man—with such a eye! But evenall these were as nothing when compared with his musicalfriends, Mr. and Mrs. Jennings Rodolph, from White ment; and they all agreed that it ‘’ud serve ‘em quitewhether he wouldn’t bring the subject before Parlia-Conduit, with whom the ornamental painter’s journeymanhad been fortunate enough to contract an inti-be made an example of.’ So Mr. Jennings Rodolph saidright, and it was very proper that such people shouldmacy while engaged in decorating the concert-room of he’d think of it.that noble institution. To hear them sing separately, When the conversation resumed its former tone, Mr.was divine, but when they went through the tragic duet Jennings Rodolph claimed his right to call upon a lady,of ‘Red Ruffian, retire!’ it was, as Miss Martin afterwards and the right being conceded, trusted Miss Martin wouldremarked, ‘thrilling.’ And why (as Mr. Jennings Rodolph favour the company—a proposal which met with unanimousapprobation, whereupon Miss Martin, after sun-observed) why were they not engaged at one of thepatent theatres? If he was to be told that their voices dry hesitatings and coughings, with a preparatory chokewere not powerful enough to fill the House, his only or two, and an introductory declaration that she wasreply was, that he would back himself for any amount frightened to death to attempt it before such great judgesto fill Russell-square—a statement in which the company,after hearing the duet, expressed their full belief; containing frequent allusions to some young gentlemanof the art, commenced a species of treble chirruping252

Charles Dickensof the name of Hen-e-ry, with an occasional reference song had properly seven verses, but as he couldn’t recollectmore than the first one, he sang that over sevento madness and broken hearts. Mr. Jennings Rodolphfrequently interrupted the progress of the song, by ejaculating‘Beautiful!’—‘Charming!’—’Brilliant!’—’Oh! splenfication.And then all the company sang the nationaltimes, apparently very much to his own personal gratidid,’&c.; and at its close the admiration of himself, and anthem with national independence—each for himself,his lady, knew no bounds.without reference to the other—and finally separated:‘Did you ever hear so sweet a voice, my dear?’ inquiredMr. Jennings Rodolph of Mrs. Jennings Rodolph. evening: and Miss Martin inwardly resolving to adoptall declaring that they never had spent so pleasant an‘Never; indeed I never did, love,’ replied Mrs. Jennings the advice of Mr. Jennings Rodolph, and to ‘come out’Rodolph.without delay.‘Don’t you think Miss Martin, with a little cultivation,would be very like Signora Marra Boni, my dear?’ ciety, or facetiousness, or anything else, is all very well,Now, ‘coming out,’ either in acting, or singing, or so-asked Mr. Jennings Rodolph.and remarkably pleasant to the individual principally‘Just exactly the very thing that struck me, my love,’ concerned, if he or she can but manage to come outanswered Mrs. Jennings Rodolph.with a burst, and being out, to keep out, and not go inAnd thus the time passed away; Mr. Jennings Rodolph again; but, it does unfortunately happen that both consummationsare extremely difficult to accomplish, andplayed tunes on a walking-stick, and then went behindthe parlour-door and gave his celebrated imitations of that the difficulties, of getting out at all in the firstactors, edge-tools, and animals; Miss Martin sang severalother songs with increased admiration every time; the second, are pretty much on a par, and no slightinstance, and if you surmount them, of keeping out inand even the funny old gentleman began singing. His ones either—and so Miss Amelia Martin shortly discov-253

Sketches by Bozered. It is a singular fact (there being ladies in the case) man’ whose benefit it was. The comic gentleman was allthat Miss Amelia Martin’s principal foible was vanity, smiles and blandness—he had composed a duet, expresslyfor the occasion, and Miss Martin should sing itand the leading characteristic of Mrs. Jennings Rodolphan attachment to dress. Dismal wailings were heard to with him. The night arrived; there was an immenseissue from the second-floor front of number forty-seven, room—ninety-seven sixpenn’orths of gin-and-water,Drummond-street, George-street, Euston-square; it was thirty-two small glasses of brandy-and-water, five-andtwentybottled ales, and forty-one neguses; and the or-Miss Martin practising. Half-suppressed murmurs disturbedthe calm dignity of the White Conduit orchestra namental painter’s journeyman, with his wife and a selectcircle of acquaintance, were seated at one of theat the commencement of the season. It was the appearanceof Mrs. Jennings Rodolph in full dress, that occasionedthem. Miss Martin studied incessantly—the prac-sentimental—by a light-haired young gentleman in aside-tables near the orchestra. The concert began. Song—tising was the consequence. Mrs. Jennings Rodolph blue coat, and bright basket buttons—[applause]. Anothersong, doubtful, by another gentleman in anothertaught gratuitously now and then—the dresses werethe result.blue coat and more bright basket buttons—[increasedWeeks passed away; the White Conduit season had applause]. Duet, Mr. Jennings Rodolph, and Mrs.begun, and progressed, and was more than half over. Jennings Rodolph, ‘Red Ruffian, retire!’—[great applause].Solo, Miss Julia Montague (positively on thisThe dressmaking business had fallen off, from neglect;and its profits had dwindled away almost imperceptibly.A benefit-night approached; Mr. Jennings Rodolph duet, comic—Mr. H. Taplin (the comic gentleman) andoccasion only)—’I am a Friar’—[enthusiasm]. Originalyielded to the earnest solicitations of Miss Amelia Martin,and introduced her personally to the ‘comic gentle-the ornamental painter’s journeyman’s party, as MissMiss Martin—’The Time of Day.’ ‘Brayvo!—Brayvo!’ cried254

Charles DickensMartin was gracefully led in by the comic gentleman. ‘Bray-vo!’ shouted the painter’s party. It wouldn’t do—‘Go to work, Harry,’ cried the comic gentleman’s personalfriends. ‘Tap-tap-tap,’ went the leader’s bow on ceremony than she had entered it; and, as she couldn’tMiss Amelia Martin left the orchestra, with much lessthe music-desk. The symphony began, and was soon sing out, never came out. The general good humour wasafterwards followed by a faint kind of ventriloquial not restored until Mr. Jennings Rodolph had become purplechirping, proceeding apparently from the deepest recessesof the interior of Miss Amelia Martin. ‘Sing out’— hour, without being able to render himself audible; and,in the face, by imitating divers quadrupeds for half anshouted one gentleman in a white great-coat. ‘Don’t to this day, neither has Miss Amelia Martin’s good humourbe afraid to put the steam on, old gal,’ exclaimed another,‘S-s-s-s-s-s-s’-went the five-and-twenty bottled Mrs. Jennings Rodolph, nor the local abilities which Mr.been restored, nor the dresses made for and presented toales. ‘Shame, shame!’ remonstrated the ornamental Jennings Rodolph once staked his professional reputationthat Miss Martin possessed.painter’s journeyman’s party—’S-s-s-s’ went the bottledales again, accompanied by all the gins, and a majorityof the brandies.CHAPTER IX—THE DANCING ACADEMY‘Turn them geese out,’ cried the ornamental painter’sjourneyman’s party, with great indignation.OF ALL THE DANCING ACADEMIES that ever were established,‘Sing out,’ whispered Mr. Jennings Rodolph.there never was one more popular in its immediate vicinitythan Signor Billsmethi’s, of the ‘King’s Theatre.’ It‘So I do,’ responded Miss Amelia Martin.‘Sing louder,’ said Mrs. Jennings Rodolph.was not in Spring-gardens, or Newman-street, or Bernersstreet,or Gower-street, or Charlotte-street, or Percy-‘I can’t,’ replied Miss Amelia Martin.‘Off, off, off,’ cried the rest of the audience.street, or any other of the numerous streets which have255

Sketches by Bozbeen devoted time out of mind to professional people, Billsmethi, of the King’s Theatre, intended opening fordispensaries, and boarding-houses; it was not in the the season with a Grand Ball.West-end at all—it rather approximated to the eastern Now, Mr. Augustus Cooper was in the oil and colourportion of London, being situated in the populous and line—just of age, with a little money, a little business,improving neighbourhood of Gray’s-inn-lane. It was not and a little mother, who, having managed her husbanda dear dancing academy—four-and-sixpence a quarter and his business in his lifetime, took to managing heris decidedly cheap upon the whole. It was very select, son and his business after his decease; and so, somehowor other, he had been cooped up in the little backthe number of pupils being strictly limited to seventyfive,and a quarter’s payment in advance being rigidly parlour behind the shop on week-days, and in a littleexacted. There was public tuition and private tuition— deal box without a lid (called by courtesy a pew) atan assembly-room and a parlour. Signor Billsmethi’s familywere always thrown in with the parlour, and included the world than if he had been an infant all his days;Bethel Chapel, on Sundays, and had seen no more ofin parlour price; that is to say, a private pupil had SignorBillsmethi’s parlour to dance in, and Signor three years younger than him, had been flaring awaywhereas Young White, at the gas-fitter’s over the way,Billsmethi’s family to dance with; and when he had been like winkin’—going to the theatre—supping at harmonicsufficiently broken in in the parlour, he began to run in meetings—eating oysters by the barrel—drinking stoutcouples in the assembly-room.by the gallon—even out all night, and coming home asSuch was the dancing academy of Signor Billsmethi, cool in the morning as if nothing had happened. So Mr.when Mr. Augustus Cooper, of Fetter-lane, first saw an Augustus Cooper made up his mind that he would notunstamped advertisement walking leisurely down stand it any longer, and had that very morning expressedHolborn-hill, announcing to the world that Signor to his mother a firm determination to be ‘blowed,’ in the256

Charles Dickensevent of his not being instantly provided with a streetdoorkey. And he was walking down Holborn-hill, think-there was only just one vacancy, and even that onefull, but it was a most extraordinary circumstance thating about all these things, and wondering how he could would have been filled up, that very morning, onlymanage to get introduced into genteel society for the Signor Billsmethi was dissatisfied with the reference,first time, when his eyes rested on Signor Billsmethi’s and, being very much afraid that the lady wasn’t select,wouldn’t take her.announcement, which it immediately struck him wasjust the very thing he wanted; for he should not only ‘And very much delighted I am, Mr. Cooper,’ said SignorBillsmethi, ‘that I did not take her. I assure you,be able to select a genteel circle of acquaintance at once,out of the five-and-seventy pupils at four-and-sixpence Mr. Cooper—I don’t say it to flatter you, for I knowa quarter, but should qualify himself at the same time you’re above it—that I consider myself extremely fortunatein having a gentleman of your manners and ap-to go through a hornpipe in private society, with perfectease to himself and great delight to his friends. So, pearance, sir.’he stopped the unstamped advertisement—an animated ‘I am very glad of it too, sir,’ said Augustus Cooper.sandwich, composed of a boy between two boards—and ‘And I hope we shall be better acquainted, sir,’ saidhaving procured a very small card with the Signor’s addressindented thereon, walked straight at once to the ‘And I’m sure I hope we shall too, sir,’ respondedSignor Billsmethi.Signor’s house—and very fast he walked too, for fear Augustus Cooper. Just then, the door opened, and inthe list should be filled up, and the five-and-seventy came a young lady, with her hair curled in a crop all overcompleted, before he got there. The Signor was at home, her head, and her shoes tied in sandals all over her ankles.and, what was still more gratifying, he was an Englishman!Such a nice man—and so polite! The list was not the young lady didn’t know Mr. Cooper was there‘Don’t run away, my dear,’ said Signor Billsmethi; forwhen257

Sketches by Bozshe ran in, and was going to run out again in her modesty,all in confusion-like. ‘Don’t run away, my dear,’ out at the forthcoming ball.order that he might lose no time, and be able to comesaid Signor Billsmethi, ‘this is Mr. Cooper—Mr. Cooper, Well; Mr. Augustus Cooper went away to one of theof Fetter-lane. Mr. Cooper, my daughter, sir—Miss cheap shoemakers’ shops in Holborn, where gentlemen’sBillsmethi, sir, who I hope will have the pleasure of dress-pumps are seven-and-sixpence, and men’s strongdancing many a quadrille, minuet, gavotte, countrydance,fandango, double-hornpipe, and farinagholkajingo regular seven-and-sixpenny, long-quartered, town-walking just nothing at all, and bought a pair of thewith you, sir. She dances them all, sir; and so shall you, mades, in which he astonished himself quite as muchsir, before you’re a quarter older, sir.’as his mother, and sallied forth to Signor Billsmethi’s.And Signor Bellsmethi slapped Mr. Augustus Cooper There were four other private pupils in the parlour: twoon the back, as if he had known him a dozen years,—so ladies and two gentlemen. Such nice people! Not a bitfriendly;—and Mr. Cooper bowed to the young lady, and of pride about them. One of the ladies in particular,the young lady curtseyed to him, and Signor Billsmethi who was in training for a Columbine, was remarkablysaid they were as handsome a pair as ever he’d wish to affable; and she and Miss Billsmethi took such an interestin Mr. Augustus Cooper, and joked, and smiled, andsee; upon which the young lady exclaimed, ‘Lor, pa!’and blushed as red as Mr. Cooper himself—you might looked so bewitching, that he got quite at home, andhave thought they were both standing under a red lamp learnt his steps in no time. After the practising wasat a chemist’s shop; and before Mr. Cooper went away it over, Signor Billsmethi, and Miss Billsmethi, and Masterwas settled that he should join the family circle that Billsmethi, and a young lady, and the two ladies, andvery night—taking them just as they were—no ceremony the two gentlemen, danced a quadrille—none of yournor nonsense of that kind—and learn his positions in slipping and sliding about, but regular warm work, fly-258

Charles Dickensing into corners, and diving among chairs, and shootingout at the door,—something like dancing! Signor tice, after repeatedly expressing an uncontrollable de-when he was put to bed by main force by the appren-Billsmethi in particular, notwithstanding his having a sire to pitch his revered parent out of the second-floorlittle fiddle to play all the time, was out on the landing window, and to throttle the apprentice with his ownevery figure, and Master Billsmethi, when everybody neck-handkerchief.else was breathless, danced a hornpipe, with a cane in Weeks had worn on, and the seven-and-sixpenny townmadeshad nearly worn out, when the night arrived forhis hand, and a cheese-plate on his head, to the unqualifiedadmiration of the whole company. Then, SignorBillsmethi insisted, as they were so happy, that seventy pupils were to meet together, for the first timethe grand dress-ball at which the whole of the five-and-they should all stay to supper, and proposed sending that season, and to take out some portion of their respectivefour-and-sixpences in lamp-oil and fiddlers. Mr.Master Billsmethi for the beer and spirits, whereuponthe two gentlemen swore, ‘strike ‘em wulgar if they’d Augustus Cooper had ordered a new coat for the occasion—atwo-pound-tenner from Turnstile. It was his firststand that;’ and were just going to quarrel who shouldpay for it, when Mr. Augustus Cooper said he would, if appearance in public; and, after a grand Sicilian shawldanceby fourteen young ladies in character, he was tothey’d have the kindness to allow him—and they hadthe kindness to allow him; and Master Billsmethi brought open the quadrille department with Miss Billsmethi herself,with whom he had become quite intimate since histhe beer in a can, and the rum in a quart pot. They hada regular night of it; and Miss Billsmethi squeezed Mr. first introduction. It was a night! Everything was admirablyarranged. The sandwich-boy took the hats andAugustus Cooper’s hand under the table; and Mr.Augustus Cooper returned the squeeze, and returned bonnets at the street-door; there was a turn-up bedsteadin the back parlour, on which Miss Billsmethi home too, at something to six o’clock in the morning,made259

Sketches by Boztea and coffee for such of the gentlemen as chose to rustling, and fanning, and getting ladies into a tanglepay for it, and such of the ladies as the gentlemen with artificial flowers, and then disentangling themtreated; red port-wine negus and lemonade were handed again! And as to Mr. Augustus Cooper’s share in theround at eighteen-pence a head; and in pursuance of a quadrille, he got through it admirably. He was missingprevious engagement with the public-house at the cornerof the street, an extra potboy was laid on for the ered on such occasions to be either dancing with laud-from his partner, now and then, certainly, and discov-occasion. In short, nothing could exceed the arrangements,except the company. Such ladies! Such pink perspective, without any definite object; but, generallyable perseverance in another set, or sliding about insilk stockings! Such artificial flowers! Such a number speaking, they managed to shove him through the figure,until he turned up in the right place. Be this as itof cabs! No sooner had one cab set down a couple ofladies, than another cab drove up and set down anothercouple of ladies, and they all knew: not only gentlemen came up and complimented him very much,may, when he had finished, a great many ladies andone another, but the majority of the gentlemen into and said they had never seen a beginner do anythingthe bargain, which made it all as pleasant and lively like it before; and Mr. Augustus Cooper was perfectlyas could be. Signor Billsmethi, in black tights, with a satisfied with himself, and everybody else into the bargain;and ‘stood’ considerable quantities of spirits-and-large blue bow in his buttonhole, introduced the ladiesto such of the gentlemen as were strangers: and water, negus, and compounds, for the use and behoof ofthe ladies talked away—and laughed they did—it was two or three dozen very particular friends, selected fromdelightful to see them.the select circle of five-and-seventy pupils.As to the shawl-dance, it was the most exciting thing Now, whether it was the strength of the compounds,that ever was beheld; there was such a whisking, and or the beauty of the ladies, or what not, it did so hap-260

Charles Dickenspen that Mr. Augustus Cooper encouraged, rather than bed. Mr. Augustus Cooper, not being remarkable for quicknessof apprehension, was at a loss to understand whatrepelled, the very flattering attentions of a young ladyin brown gauze over white calico who had appeared all this meant, until Signor Billsmethi explained it in aparticularly struck with him from the first; and when most satisfactory manner, by stating to the pupils, thatthe encouragements had been prolonged for some time, Mr. Augustus Cooper had made and confirmed divers promisesof marriage to his daughter on divers occasions, andMiss Billsmethi betrayed her spite and jealousy thereatby calling the young lady in brown gauze a ‘creeter,’ which had now basely deserted her; on which, the indignationinduced the young lady in brown gauze to retort, in certainsentences containing a taunt founded on the pay-gentlemen inquired rather pressingly of Mr. Augustusof the pupils became universal; and as several chivalrousment of four-and-sixpence a quarter, which reference Mr. Cooper, whether he required anything for his own use,Augustus Cooper, being then and there in a state of considerablebewilderment, expressed his entire concurrence in. self,’ he deemed it prudent to make a precipitate retreat.or, in other words, whether he ‘wanted anything for him-Miss Billsmethi, thus renounced, forthwith began screamingin the loudest key of her voice, at the rate of four-came next day, and an action was commenced next week;And the upshot of the matter was, that a lawyer’s letterteen screams a minute; and being unsuccessful, in an and that Mr. Augustus Cooper, after walking twice to theonslaught on the eyes and face, first of the lady in gauze Serpentine for the purpose of drowning himself, and comingtwice back without doing it, made a confidante of hisand then of Mr. Augustus Cooper, called distractedly onthe other three-and-seventy pupils to furnish her with mother, who compromised the matter with twenty poundsoxalic acid for her own private drinking; and, the call from the till: which made twenty pounds four shillingsnot being honoured, made another rush at Mr. Cooper, and sixpence paid to Signor Billsmethi, exclusive of treatsand then had her stay-lace cut, and was carried off to and pumps. And Mr. Augustus Cooper went back and lived261

Sketches by Bozwith his mother, and there he lives to this day; and as he as the statue at Charing-cross, or the pump at Aldgate.has lost his ambition for society, and never goes into the It is worthy of remark, too, that only men are shabbygenteel;a woman is always either dirty and slovenlyworld, he will never see this account of himself, and willnever be any the wiser.in the extreme, or neat and respectable, however poverty-strickenin appearance. A very poor man, ‘whoCHAPTER X—SHABBY-GENTEEL PEOPLE has seen better days,’ as the phrase goes, is a strangecompound of dirty-slovenliness and wretched attemptsTHERE ARE CERTAIN DESCRIPTIONS of people who, oddly at faded smartness.enough, appear to appertain exclusively to the metropolis.You meet them, every day, in the streets of London, term which forms the title of this paper. If you meet aWe will endeavour to explain our conception of thebut no one ever encounters them elsewhere; they seem man, lounging up Drury-Lane, or leaning with his backindigenous to the soil, and to belong as exclusively to against a post in Long-acre, with his hands in the pocketsof a pair of drab trousers plentifully besprinkledLondon as its own smoke, or the dingy bricks and mortar.We could illustrate the remark by a variety of examples,but, in our present sketch, we will only advert boots, and ornamented with two cords down the out-with grease-spots: the trousers made very full over theto one class as a specimen—that class which is so aptly side of each leg—wearing, also, what has been a brownand expressively designated as ‘shabby-genteel.’ coat with bright buttons, and a hat very much pinchedNow, shabby people, God knows, may be found anywhere,and genteel people are not articles of greater him. He is not shabby-genteel. The ‘harmonic meetings’up at the side, cocked over his right eye—don’t pityscarcity out of London than in it; but this compound at some fourth-rate public-house, or the purlieus of aof the two—this shabby-gentility—is as purely local private theatre, are his chosen haunts; he entertains a262

Charles Dickensrooted antipathy to any kind of work, and is on familiar persecution from his imaginary gentleman-usher in blackterms with several pantomime men at the large houses. velvet, that we sustained from our friend in quondamBut, if you see hurrying along a by-street, keeping as black cloth. He first attracted our notice, by sitting oppositeto us in the reading-room at the British Museum;close as he can to the area-railings, a man of aboutforty or fifty, clad in an old rusty suit of threadbare and what made the man more remarkable was, that heblack cloth which shines with constant wear as if it had always had before him a couple of shabby-genteel books—been bees-waxed—the trousers tightly strapped down, two old dog’s-eared folios, in mouldy worm-eaten covers,partly for the look of the thing and partly to keep his which had once been smart. He was in his chair, everyold shoes from slipping off at the heels,—if you observe,too, that his yellowish-white neckerchief is care-last to leave the room in the afternoon; and when he did,morning, just as the clock struck ten; he was always thefully pinned up, to conceal the tattered garment underneath,and that his hands are encased in the re-else to go, for warmth and quiet. There he used to sit allhe quitted it with the air of a man who knew not wheremains of an old pair of beaver gloves, you may set him day, as close to the table as possible, in order to concealdown as a shabby-genteel man. A glance at that depressedface, and timorous air of conscious poverty, will deposited at his feet, where he evidently flattered him-the lack of buttons on his coat: with his old hat carefullymake your heart ache—always supposing that you are self it escaped observation.neither a philosopher nor a political economist.About two o’clock, you would see him munching aWe were once haunted by a shabby-genteel man; he French roll or a penny loaf; not taking it boldly out ofwas bodily present to our senses all day, and he was in his pocket at once, like a man who knew he was onlyour mind’s eye all night. The man of whom Sir Walter making a lunch; but breaking off little bits in hisScott speaks in his Demonology, did not suffer half the pocket, and eating them by stealth. He knew too well263

Sketches by Bozit was his dinner.the subject of his retirement from public life. We wereWhen we first saw this poor object, we thought it wondering whether he had hung himself, or thrown himselfoff a bridge—whether he really was dead or hadquite impossible that his attire could ever become worse.We even went so far, as to speculate on the possibility only been arrested—when our conjectures were suddenlyset at rest by the entry of the man himself. Heof his shortly appearing in a decent second-hand suit.We knew nothing about the matter; he grew more and had undergone some strange metamorphosis, and walkedmore shabby-genteel every day. The buttons dropped up the centre of the room with an air which showed heoff his waistcoat, one by one; then, he buttoned his was fully conscious of the improvement in his appearance.It was very odd. His clothes were a fine, deep,coat; and when one side of the coat was reduced to thesame condition as the waistcoat, he buttoned it over— glossy black; and yet they looked like the same suit;on the other side. He looked somewhat better at the nay, there were the very darns with which old acquaintancehad made us familiar. The hat, too—nobody couldbeginning of the week than at the conclusion, becausethe neckerchief, though yellow, was not quite so dingy; mistake the shape of that hat, with its high crown graduallyincreasing in circumference towards the top. Longand, in the midst of all this wretchedness, he neverappeared without gloves and straps. He remained in this service had imparted to it a reddish-brown tint; but,state for a week or two. At length, one of the buttons now, it was as black as the coat. The truth flashed suddenlyupon us—they had been ‘revived.’ It is a deceitfuon the back of the coat fell off, and then the man himselfdisappeared, and we thought he was dead. liquid that black and blue reviver; we have watched itsWe were sitting at the same table about a week after effects on many a shabby-genteel man. It betrays itshis disappearance, and as our eyes rested on his vacant victims into a temporary assumption of importance:chair, we insensibly fell into a train of meditation on possibly into the purchase of a new pair of gloves, or a264

Charles Dickenscheap stock, or some other trifling article of dress. It and practitioners, a great variety of them. We never wentelevates their spirits for a week, only to depress them, on ‘Change, by any chance, without seeing some shabbygenteelmen, and we have often wondered what earthlyif possible, below their original level. It was so in thiscase; the transient dignity of the unhappy man decreased,in exact proportion as the ‘reviver’ wore off. hours, leaning on great, dropsical, mildewed umbrellas,business they can have there. They will sit there, forThe knees of the unmentionables, and the elbows of or eating Abernethy biscuits. Nobody speaks to them,the coat, and the seams generally, soon began to get nor they to any one. On consideration, we remember toalarmingly white. The hat was once more deposited have occasionally seen two shabby-genteel men conversingtogether on ‘Change, but our experience assuresunder the table, and its owner crept into his seat asquietly as ever.us that this is an uncommon circumstance, occasionedThere was a week of incessant small rain and mist. At by the offer of a pinch of snuff, or some such civility.its expiration the ‘reviver’ had entirely vanished, and It would be a task of equal difficulty, either to assignthe shabby-genteel man never afterwards attempted to any particular spot for the residence of these beings, oreffect any improvement in his outward appearance. to endeavour to enumerate their general occupations.It would be difficult to name any particular part of We were never engaged in business with more than onetown as the principal resort of shabby-genteel men. We shabby-genteel man; and he was a drunken engraver,have met a great many persons of this description in and lived in a damp back-parlour in a new row of housesthe neighbourhood of the inns of court. They may be at Camden-town, half street, half brick-field, somewheremet with, in Holborn, between eight and ten any morning;and whoever has the curiosity to enter the Insolcupation,or he may be a corn agent, or a coal agent, ornear the canal. A shabby-genteel man may have no ocventDebtors’ Court will observe, both among spectators a wine merchant, or a collector of debts, or a broker’s265

Sketches by Bozassistant, or a broken-down attorney. He may be a clerk crown); and, as to the Pythiases, the few that haveof the lowest description, or a contributor to the press existed in these degenerate times, have had an unfortunateknack of making themselves scarce, at the veryof the same grade. Whether our readers have noticedthese men, in their walks, as often as we have, we know moment when their appearance would have been strictlynot; this we know—that the miserably poor man (no classical. If the actions of these heroes, however, canmatter whether he owes his distresses to his own conduct,or that of others) who feels his poverty and vainly We have Damon and Pythias on the one hand. We havefind no parallel in modern times, their friendship can.strives to conceal it, is one of the most pitiable objects Potter and Smithers on the other; and, lest the twoin human nature. Such objects, with few exceptions, last-mentioned names should never have reached theare shabby-genteel people.ears of our unenlightened readers, we can do no betterthan make them acquainted with the owners thereof.CHAPTER XI—MAKING A NIGHT OF ITMr. Thomas Potter, then, was a clerk in the city, andMr. Robert Smithers was a ditto in the same; their incomeswere limited, but their friendship was unbounded.DAMON AND PYTHIAS WERE undoubtedly very good fellowsin their way: the former for his extreme readiness to They lived in the same street, walked into town everyput in special bail for a friend: and the latter for a certaintrump-like punctuality in turning up just in the every day, and revelled in each other’s company verymorning at the same hour, dined at the same slap-bangvery nick of time, scarcely less remarkable. Many points night. They were knit together by the closest ties ofin their character have, however, grown obsolete. Damons intimacy and friendship, or, as Mr. Thomas Potter touchinglyobserved, they were ‘thick-and-thin pals, and noth-are rather hard to find, in these days of imprisonmentfor debt (except the sham ones, and they cost half-aingbut it.’ There was a spice of romance in Mr. Smithers’s266

Charles Dickensdisposition, a ray of poetry, a gleam of misery, a sort of on the receipt of their quarter’s salary, they would jointlyconsciousness of he didn’t exactly know what, coming and in company ‘spend the evening’—an evident misnomer—thespending applying, as everybody knows,across him he didn’t precisely know why—which stoodout in fine relief against the off-hand, dashing, amateur-pickpocket-sort-of-manner,which distinguished Mr. vidual may chance to be possessed of, on the occasionnot to the evening itself but to all the money the indi-Potter in an eminent degree.to which reference is made; and they had likewise agreedThe peculiarity of their respective dispositions, extendeditself to their individual costume. Mr. Smithers of it’—an expressive term, implying the borrowing ofthat, on the evening aforesaid, they would ‘make a nightgenerally appeared in public in a surtout and shoes, several hours from to-morrow morning, adding them towith a narrow black neckerchief and a brown hat, very the night before, and manufacturing a compound nightmuch turned up at the sides—peculiarities which Mr. of the whole.Potter wholly eschewed, for it was his ambition to do The quarter-day arrived at last—we say at last, becausequarter-days are as eccentric as comets: movingsomething in the celebrated ‘kiddy’ or stage-coach way,and he had even gone so far as to invest capital in the wonderfully quick when you have a good deal to pay,purchase of a rough blue coat with wooden buttons, and marvellously slow when you have a little to receive.made upon the fireman’s principle, in which,Mr. Thomas Potter and Mr. Robert Smithers met by appointmentto begin the evening with a dinner; and awith the addition of a low-crowned, flower-pot-saucershapedhat, he had created no inconsiderable sensation nice, snug, comfortable dinner they had, consisting ofat the Albion in Little Russell-street, and divers other a little procession of four chops and four kidneys, followingeach other, supported on either side by a pot ofplaces of public and fashionable resort.Mr. Potter and Mr. Smithers had mutually agreed that, the real draught stout, and attended by divers cushions267

Sketches by Bozof bread, and wedges of cheese.Havannahs, and to feel very much as if he had beenWhen the cloth was removed, Mr. Thomas Potter orderedthe waiter to bring in, two goes of his best Scotch As to Mr. Thomas Potter, he would keep laughing outsitting in a hackney-coach with his back to the horses.whiskey, with warm water and sugar, and a couple of loud, and volunteering inarticulate declarations that hehis ‘very mildest’ Havannahs, which the waiter did. Mr. was ‘all right;’ in proof of which, he feebly bespoke theThomas Potter mixed his grog, and lighted his cigar; evening paper after the next gentleman, but finding itMr. Robert Smithers did the same; and then, Mr. ThomasPotter jocularly proposed as the first toast, ‘the columns, or to ascertain distinctly whether it had anya matter of some difficulty to discover any news in itsabolition of all offices whatever’ (not sinecures, but columns at all, walked slowly out to look for the moon,counting-houses), which was immediately drunk by Mr. and, after coming back quite pale with looking up atRobert Smithers, with enthusiastic applause. So they the sky so long, and attempting to express mirth at Mr.went on, talking politics, puffing cigars, and sipping Robert Smithers having fallen asleep, by various galvanicchuckles, laid his head on his arm, and went towhiskey-and-water, until the ‘goes’—most appropriatelyso called—were both gone, which Mr. Robert Smithers sleep also. When he awoke again, Mr. Robert Smithersperceiving, immediately ordered in two more goes of awoke too, and they both very gravely agreed that itthe best Scotch whiskey, and two more of the very mildestHavannahs; and the goes kept coming in, and the with the chops, as it was a notorious fact that theywas extremely unwise to eat so many pickled walnutsmild Havannahs kept going out, until, what with the always made people queer and sleepy; indeed, if it haddrinking, and lighting, and puffing, and the stale ashes not been for the whiskey and cigars, there was no knowingwhat harm they mightn’t have done ‘em. So theyon the table, and the tallow-grease on the cigars, Mr.Robert Smithers began to doubt the mildness of the took some coffee, and after paying the bill,—twelve268

Charles Dickensand twopence the dinner, and the odd tenpence for the On his first entry, he contented himself by earnestlywaiter—thirteen shillings in all—started out on their calling upon the gentlemen in the gallery to ‘flare up,’expedition to manufacture a night.accompanying the demand with another request, expressiveof his wish that they would instantaneouslyIt was just half-past eight, so they thought theycouldn’t do better than go at half-price to the slips at ‘form a union,’ both which requisitions were respondedthe City Theatre, which they did accordingly. Mr. Robert to, in the manner most in vogue on such occasions.Smithers, who had become extremely poetical after the ‘Give that dog a bone!’ cried one gentleman in hissettlement of the bill, enlivening the walk by informing shirt-sleeves.Mr. Thomas Potter in confidence that he felt an inward ‘Where have you been a having half a pint of intermediatebeer?’ cried a second. ‘Tailor!’ screamed a third.presentiment of approaching dissolution, and subsequentlyembellishing the theatre, by falling asleep with ‘Barber’s clerk!’ shouted a fourth. ‘Throw him o-ver!’his head and both arms gracefully drooping over the roared a fifth; while numerous voices concurred in desiringMr. Thomas Potter to ‘go home to his mother!’ Allfront of the boxes.Such was the quiet demeanour of the unassuming these taunts Mr. Thomas Potter received with supremeSmithers, and such were the happy effects of Scotch contempt, cocking the low-crowned hat a little more onwhiskey and Havannahs on that interesting person! But one side, whenever any reference was made to his personalappearance, and, standing up with his arms a-Mr. Thomas Potter, whose great aim it was to be consideredas a ‘knowing card,’ a ‘fast-goer,’ and so forth, conductedhimself in a very different manner, and com-The overture—to which these various sounds had beenkimbo, expressing defiance melodramatically.menced going very fast indeed—rather too fast at last, an ad libitum accompaniment—concluded, the secondfor the patience of the audience to keep pace with him. piece began, and Mr. Thomas Potter, emboldened by im-269

Sketches by Bozpunity, proceeded to behave in a most unprecedented themselves shot with astonishing swiftness into theand outrageous manner. First of all, he imitated the road, without having had the trouble of once puttingshake of the principal female singer; then, groaned foot to ground during the whole progress of theirat the blue fire; then, affected to be frightened into rapid descent.convulsions of terror at the appearance of the ghost; Mr. Robert Smithers, being constitutionally one of theand, lastly, not only made a running commentary, in slow-goers, and having had quite enough of fast-going,an audible voice, upon the dialogue on the stage, but in the course of his recent expulsion, to last until theactually awoke Mr. Robert Smithers, who, hearing his quarter-day then next ensuing at the very least, had nocompanion making a noise, and having a very indistinctnotion where he was, or what was required of of Milton-street, than he proceeded to indulge in cir-sooner emerged with his companion from the precinctshim, immediately, by way of imitating a good example, cuitous references to the beauties of sleep, mingled withset up the most unearthly, unremitting, and appallinghowling that ever audience heard. It was too much. Islington, and testing the influence of their patentdistant allusions to the propriety of returning to‘Turn them out!’ was the general cry. A noise, as of Bramahs over the street-door locks to which they respectivelybelonged. Mr. Thomas Potter, however, wasshuffling of feet, and men being knocked up withviolence against wainscoting, was heard: a hurried valorous and peremptory. They had come out to make adialogue of ‘Come out?’—’I won’t!’—’You shall!’—’I night of it: and a night must be made. So Mr. Robertshan’t!’—’Give me your card, Sir?’—’You’re a scoundrel,Sir!’ and so forth, succeeded. A round of apmal,despairingly assented; and they went into a wine-Smithers, who was three parts dull, and the other displausebetokened the approbation of the audience, vaults, to get materials for assisting them in making aand Mr. Robert Smithers and Mr. Thomas Potter found night; where they found a good many young ladies, and270

Charles Dickensvarious old gentlemen, and a plentiful sprinkling of and beaten, in divers streets, at different times, five men,hackney-coachmen and cab-drivers, all drinking and four boys, and three women; how the said Thomas Pottertalking together; and Mr. Thomas Potter and Mr. Robert had feloniously obtained possession of five door-knockers,two bell-handles, and a bonnet; how Robert Smithers,Smithers drank small glasses of brandy, and large glassesof soda, until they began to have a very confused idea, his friend, had sworn, at least forty pounds’ worth ofeither of things in general, or of anything in particular; oaths, at the rate of five shillings apiece; terrified wholeand, when they had done treating themselves they beganto treat everybody else; and the rest of the enter-and alarms of fire; destroyed the uniforms of five police-streets full of Her Majesty’s subjects with awful shriekstainment was a confused mixture of heads and heels, men; and committed various other atrocities, too numerousto recapitulate. And the magistrate, after an appro-black eyes and blue uniforms, mud and gas-lights, thickdoors, and stone paving.priate reprimand, fined Mr. Thomas Potter and Mr. ThomasSmithers five shillings each, for being, what the lawThen, as standard novelists expressively inform us—’all was a blank!’ and in the morning the blank was filled vulgarly terms, drunk; and thirty-four pounds for seventeenassaults at forty shillings a-head, with liberty toup with the words ‘Station-House,’ and the station-housewas filled up with Mr. Thomas Potter, Mr. Robert Smithers, speak to the prosecutors.and the major part of their wine-vault companions of the The prosecutors were spoken to, and Messrs. Potterpreceding night, with a comparatively small portion of and Smithers lived on credit, for a quarter, as best theyclothing of any kind. And it was disclosed at the Policeoffice,to the indignation of the Bench, and the aston-readiness to be assaulted twice a week, on the samemight; and, although the prosecutors expressed theirishment of the spectators, how one Robert Smithers, aided terms, they have never since been detected in ‘makingand abetted by one Thomas Potter, had knocked down a night of it.’271

Sketches by BozCHAPTER XII—THE PRISONERS’ VAN getting up a little amusement among themselves, unlessthey had some absorbing object in view, the natural inquirynext in order was, ‘What are all these people wait-WE WERE PASSING THE CORNER of Bow-street, on our returnfrom a lounging excursion the other afternoon, when a ing here for?’ —‘Her Majesty’s carriage,’ replied the cobbler.This was still more extraordinary. We could not imag-crowd, assembled round the door of the Police-office, attractedour attention. We turned up the street accordingly.There were thirty or forty people, standing on the have at the Public Office, Bow-street. We were beginningine what earthly business Her Majesty’s carriage couldpavement and half across the road; and a few stragglers to ruminate on the possible causes of such an uncommonappearance, when a general exclamation from allwere patiently stationed on the opposite side of the way—all evidently waiting in expectation of some arrival. We the boys in the crowd of ‘Here’s the wan!’ caused us towaited too, a few minutes, but nothing occurred; so, we raise our heads, and look up the street.turned round to an unshorn, sallow-looking cobbler, who The covered vehicle, in which prisoners are conveyedwas standing next us with his hands under the bib of his from the police-offices to the different prisons, was comingalong at full speed. It then occurred to us, for theapron, and put the usual question of ‘What’s the matter?’The cobbler eyed us from head to foot, with superlative first time, that Her Majesty’s carriage was merely anothercontempt, and laconically replied ‘Nuffin.’name for the prisoners’ van, conferred upon it, not onlyNow, we were perfectly aware that if two men stop in by reason of the superior gentility of the term, but becausethe aforesaid van is maintained at Her Majesty’sthe street to look at any given object, or even to gaze inthe air, two hundred men will be assembled in no time; expense: having been originally started for the exclusivebut, as we knew very well that no crowd of people could accommodation of ladies and gentlemen under the necessityof visiting the various houses of call known byby possibility remain in a street for five minutes without272

Charles Dickensthe general denomination of ‘Her Majesty’s Gaols.’ them in both respects, which was rendered the moreThe van drew up at the office-door, and the people obvious by their being handcuffed together, it is impossibleto conceive a greater contrast than the demeanourthronged round the steps, just leaving a little alley forthe prisoners to pass through. Our friend the cobbler, of the two presented. The younger girl was weepingand the other stragglers, crossed over, and we followed bitterly—not for display, or in the hope of producingtheir example. The driver, and another man who had effect, but for very shame: her face was buried in herbeen seated by his side in front of the vehicle, dismounted,and were admitted into the office. The officepressiveof bitter and unavailing sorrow.handkerchief: and her whole manner was but too exdoorwas closed after them, and the crowd were on the ‘How long are you for, Emily?’ screamed a red-facedtiptoe of expectation.woman in the crowd. ‘Six weeks and labour,’ replied theAfter a few minutes’ delay, the door again opened, elder girl with a flaunting laugh; ‘and that’s better thanand the two first prisoners appeared. They were a couple the stone jug anyhow; the mill’s a deal better than theof girls, of whom the elder—could not be more than Sessions, and here’s Bella a-going too for the first time.sixteen, and the younger of whom had certainly not Hold up your head, you chicken,’ she continued, boisterouslytearing the other girl’s handkerchief away; ‘Holdattained her fourteenth year. That they were sisters,was evident, from the resemblance which still subsisted up your head, and show ‘em your face. I an’t jealous,between them, though two additional years of depravityhad fixed their brand upon the elder girl’s features, exclaimed a man in a paper cap, who, in common withbut I’m blessed if I an’t game!’—’That’s right, old gal,’as legibly as if a red-hot iron had seared them. They the greater part of the crowd, had been inexpressiblywere both gaudily dressed, the younger one especially; delighted with this little incident.— ‘Right!’ replied theand, although there was a strong similarity between girl; ‘ah, to be sure; what’s the odds, eh?’— ‘Come! In273

Sketches by Bozwith you,’ interrupted the driver. ‘Don’t you be in a hurry, after hour—they have become such matters of course,coachman,’ replied the girl, ‘and recollect I want to be set that they are utterly disregarded. The progress of thesedown in Cold Bath Fields—large house with a high garden-wallin front; you can’t mistake it. Hallo. Bella, where lence, resembling it too in its baneful influence andgirls in crime will be as rapid as the flight of a pesti-are you going to - you’ll pull my precious arm off?’ This wide-spreading infection. Step by step, how manywas addressed to the younger girl, who, in her anxiety to wretched females, within the sphere of every man’s observation,have become involved in a career of vice,hide herself in the caravan, had ascended the steps first,and forgotten the strain upon the handcuff. ‘Come down, frightful to contemplate; hopeless at its commencement,and let’s show you the way.’ And after jerking the miserablegirl down with a force which made her stagger on lorn, and unpitied, at its miserable conclusion!loathsome and repulsive in its course; friendless, for-the pavement, she got into the vehicle, and was followed There were other prisoners—boys of ten, as hardenedby her wretched companion.in vice as men of fifty—a houseless vagrant, going joyfullyto prison as a place of food and shelter, hand-These two girls had been thrown upon London streets,their vices and debauchery, by a sordid and rapacious cuffed to a man whose prospects were ruined, charactermother. What the younger girl was then, the elder had lost, and family rendered destitute, by his first offence.been once; and what the elder then was, the younger Our curiosity, however, was satisfied. The first groupmust soon become. A melancholy prospect, but how had left an impression on our mind we would gladlysurely to be realised; a tragic drama, but how often have avoided, and would willingly have effaced.acted! Turn to the prisons and police offices of London—nay,look into the very streets themselves. These load of guilt and misfortune; and we saw no more of theThe crowd dispersed; the vehicle rolled away with itsthings pass before our eyes, day after day, and hour Prisoners’ Van.274

Charles DickensTALESheart to boast, ‘all the way up.’ The bell-lamp in thepassage looked as clear as a soap-bubble; you could seeCHAPTER I—THE BOARDING-HOUSE. yourself in all the tables, and French-polish yourself onany one of the chairs. The banisters were bees-waxed;CHAPTER I.and the very stair-wires made your eyes wink, they wereso glittering.MRS. TIBBS WAS, BEYOND ALL DISPUTE, the most tidy, fidgety,thrifty little personage that ever inhaled the smoke Tibbs was by no means a large man. He had, moreover,Mrs. Tibbs was somewhat short of stature, and Mr.of London; and the house of Mrs. Tibbs was, decidedly, very short legs, but, by way of indemnification, his facethe neatest in all Great Coram-street. The area and the was peculiarly long. He was to his wife what the 0 is inarea-steps, and the street-door and the street-door steps, 90—he was of some importance with her—he was nothingwithout her. Mrs. Tibbs was always talking. Mr. Tibbsand the brass handle, and the door-plate, and theknocker, and the fan-light, were all as clean and bright, rarely spoke; but, if it were at any time possible to putas indefatigable white-washing, and hearth-stoning, and in a word, when he should have said nothing at all, hescrubbing and rubbing, could make them. The wonder had that talent. Mrs. Tibbs detested long stories, andwas, that the brass door-plate, with the interesting inscription‘Mrs. Tibbs,’ had never caught fire from con-been heard by his most intimate friends. It always be-Mr. Tibbs had one, the conclusion of which had neverstant friction, so perseveringly was it polished. There gan, ‘I recollect when I was in the volunteer corps, inwere meat-safe-looking blinds in the parlour-windows, eighteen hundred and six,’—but, as he spoke very slowlyblue and gold curtains in the drawing-room, and springrollerblinds, as Mrs. Tibbs was wont in the pride of her he rarely got beyond the introductory sentence. Heand softly, and his better half very quickly and loudly,was275

Sketches by Boza melancholy specimen of the story-teller. He was the utes’ walk of’—everywhere. Answers out of number werewandering Jew of Joe Millerism.received, with all sorts of initials; all the letters of theMr. Tibbs enjoyed a small independence from the pension-list—about43£. 15S. 10D. a year. His father, out boarding and lodging; voluminous was the corre-alphabet seemed to be seized with a sudden wish to gomother, and five interesting scions from the same stock, spondence between Mrs. Tibbs and the applicants; anddrew a like sum from the revenue of a grateful country, most profound was the secrecy observed. ‘E.’ didn’t likethough for what particular service was never known. this; ‘I.’ couldn’t think of putting up with that; ‘I. O. U.’But, as this said independence was not quite sufficient didn’t think the terms would suit him; and ‘G. R.’ hadto furnish two people with all the luxuries of this life, never slept in a French bed. The result, however, was,it had occurred to the busy little spouse of Tibbs, that that three gentlemen became inmates of Mrs. Tibbs’sthe best thing she could do with a legacy of 700£., house, on terms which were ‘agreeable to all parties.’ Inwould be to take and furnish a tolerable house—somewherein that partially-explored tract of country which daughters, proposed to increase—not their families, butwent the advertisement again, and a lady with her twolies between the British Museum, and a remote village Mrs. Tibbs’s.called Somers-town—for the reception of boarders. Great ‘Charming woman, that Mrs. Maplesone!’ said Mrs.Coram-street was the spot pitched upon. The house had Tibbs, as she and her spouse were sitting by the firebeen furnished accordingly; two female servants and a after breakfast; the gentlemen having gone out on theirboy engaged; and an advertisement inserted in the morningpapers, informing the public that ‘Six individuals little Mrs. Tibbs, more by way of soliloquy than any-several avocations. ‘Charming woman, indeed!’ repeatedwould meet with all the comforts of a cheerful musical thing else, for she never thought of consulting her husband.‘And the two daughters are delightful. We musthome in a select private family, residing within ten min-276

Charles Dickenshave some fish to-day; they’ll join us at dinner for the marriage, indeed to rob me of my boarders—no, not forfirst time.’the world.’Mr. Tibbs placed the poker at right angles with the Tibbs thought in his own mind that the event was byfire shovel, and essayed to speak, but recollected he no means unlikely, but, as he never argued with hishad nothing to say.wife, he put a stop to the dialogue, by observing it was‘The young ladies,’ continued Mrs. T., ‘have kindly volunteeredto bring their own piano.’in the morning, and returned at five in the afternoon,‘time to go to business.’ He always went out at ten o’clockTibbs thought of the volunteer story, but did not ventureit.Nobody knew what he was, or where he went; but Mrs.with an exceedingly dirty face, and smelling mouldy.A bright thought struck him -Tibbs used to say with an air of great importance, that‘It’s very likely—’ said he.he was engaged in the City.‘Pray don’t lean your head against the paper,’ interruptedMrs. Tibbs; ‘and don’t put your feet on the steel arrived in the course of the afternoon in a hackney-The Miss Maplesones and their accomplished parentfender; that’s worse.’coach, and accompanied by a most astonishing numberTibbs took his head from the paper, and his feet from of packages. Trunks, bonnet-boxes, muff-boxes and parasols,guitar-cases, and parcels of all imaginable shapes,the fender, and proceeded. ‘It’s very likely one of theyoung ladies may set her cap at young Mr. Simpson, done up in brown paper, and fastened with pins, filledand you know a marriage—’the passage. Then, there was such a running up and‘A what!’ shrieked Mrs. Tibbs. Tibbs modestly repeated down with the luggage, such scampering for warm waterfor the ladies to wash in, and such a bustle, andhis former suggestion.‘I beg you won’t mention such a thing,’ said Mrs. T. ‘A confusion, and heating of servants, and curling-irons,277

Sketches by Bozas had never been known in Great Coram-street before. gentlemen are on the stage, only infinitely worse skilledLittle Mrs. Tibbs was quite in her element, bustling about, in his vocation than the most indifferent artist. He wastalking incessantly, and distributing towels and soap, like as empty-headed as the great bell of St. Paul’s; alwaysa head nurse in a hospital. The house was not restored to dressed according to the caricatures published in theits usual state of quiet repose, until the ladies were safely monthly fashion; and spelt Character with a K.shut up in their respective bedrooms, engaged in the ‘I saw a devilish number of parcels in the passageimportant occupation of dressing for dinner.when I came home,’ simpered Mr. Simpson.‘Are these gals ‘andsome?’ inquired Mr. Simpson of Mr. ‘Materials for the toilet, no doubt,’ rejoined the DonSeptimus Hicks, another of the boarders, as they were Juan reader.amusing themselves in the drawing-room, before dinner,by lolling on sofas, and contemplating their pumps. — ‘Much linen, lace, and several pair‘Don’t know,’ replied Mr. Septimus Hicks, who was a Of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete;tallish, white-faced young man, with spectacles, and a With other articles of ladies fair,black ribbon round his neck instead of a neckerchief— To keep them beautiful, or leave them neat.’a most interesting person; a poetical walker of the hospitals,and a ‘very talented young man.’ He was fond of ‘Is that from Milton?’ inquired Mr. Simpson.‘lugging’ into conversation all sorts of quotations from ‘No—from Byron,’ returned Mr. Hicks, with a look ofDon Juan, without fettering himself by the propriety of contempt. He was quite sure of his author, because hetheir application; in which particular he was remarkablyindependent. The other, Mr. Simpson, was one of and they both commenced talking in a very loud key.had never read any other. ‘Hush! Here come the gals,’those young men, who are in society what walking ‘Mrs. Maplesone and the Miss Maplesones, Mr. Hicks.278

Charles DickensMr. Hicks—Mrs. Maplesone and the Miss Maplesones,’ ‘Don’t stoop.’—This was said for the purpose of directinggeneral attention to Miss Julia’s figure, whichsaid Mrs. Tibbs, with a very red face, for she had beensuperintending the cooking operations below stairs, and was undeniable. Everybody looked at her, accordingly,looked like a wax doll on a sunny day. ‘Mr. Simpson, I and there was another pause.beg your pardon—Mr. Simpson—Mrs. Maplesone and the ‘We had the most uncivil hackney-coachman to-day,Miss Maplesones’—and vice versa. The gentlemen immediatelybegan to slide about with much politeness, confidential tone.you can imagine,’ said Mrs. Maplesone to Mrs. Tibbs, in aand to look as if they wished their arms had been legs, ‘Dear me!’ replied the hostess, with an air of greatso little did they know what to do with them. The ladiessmiled, curtseyed, and glided into chairs, and dived again appeared at the door, and commenced telegraph-commiseration. She couldn’t say more, for the servantfor dropped pocket-handkerchiefs: the gentlemen leant ing most earnestly to her ‘Missis.’against two of the curtain-pegs; Mrs. Tibbs went through ‘I think hackney-coachmen generally ARE uncivil,’ saidan admirable bit of serious pantomime with a servant Mr. Hicks in his most insinuating tone.who had come up to ask some question about the fishsauce;and then the two young ladies looked at each as if the idea had never struck her before.‘Positively I think they are,’ replied Mrs. Maplesone,other; and everybody else appeared to discover somethingvery attractive in the pattern of the fender. a failure, for no one intimated, by word or sign, the‘And cabmen, too,’ said Mr. Simpson. This remark was‘Julia, my love,’ said Mrs. Maplesone to her youngest slightest knowledge of the manners and customs ofdaughter, in a tone loud enough for the remainder of cabmen.the company to hear—‘Julia.’‘Robinson, what do you want?’ said Mrs. Tibbs to the‘Yes, Ma.’servant, who, by way of making her presence known to279

Sketches by Bozher mistress, had been giving sundry hems and sniffs were broached, or, to pursue the comparison, if anybodyoutside the door during the preceding five minutes. lifted him up, he would hammer away with surprising‘Please, ma’am, master wants his clean things,’ replied rapidity. He had the tic-douloureux occasionally, and thenthe servant, taken off her guard. The two young men he might be said to be muffled, because he did not maketurned their faces to the window, and ‘went off’ like a quite as much noise as at other times, when he would gocouple of bottles of ginger-beer; the ladies put their on prosing, rat-tat-tat the same thing over and over again.handkerchiefs to their mouths; and little Mrs. Tibbs He had never been married; but he was still on the lookoutfor a wife with money. He had a life interest worthbustled out of the room to give Tibbs his clean linen,—and the servant warning.about 300£. a year—he was exceedingly vain, and inordinatelyselfish. He had acquired the reputation of beingMr. Calton, the remaining boarder, shortly afterwardsmade his appearance, and proved a surprising promoter the very pink of politeness, and he walked round theof the conversation. Mr. Calton was a superannuated park, and up Regent-street, every day.beau—an old boy. He used to say of himself that althoughhis features were not regularly handsome, they render himself exceedingly agreeable to Mrs.This respectable personage had made up his mind towere striking. They certainly were. It was impossible to Maplesone—indeed, the desire of being as amiable aslook at his face without being reminded of a chubby streetdoorknocker, half-lion half-monkey; and the compari-having considered it an admirable little bit of manage-possible extended itself to the whole party; Mrs. Tibbsson might be extended to his whole character and conversation.He had stood still, while everything else had reason to believe the ladies were fortunes, and to hintment to represent to the gentlemen that she had somebeen moving. He never originated a conversation, or to the ladies, that all the gentlemen were ‘eligible.’ Astarted an idea; but if any commonplace topiclittle flirtation, she thought, might keep her house full,280

Charles Dickenswithout leading to any other result.in the pantomime at ‘Richardson’s Show.’Mrs. Maplesone was an enterprising widow of about ‘What whiskers!’ said Miss Julia.fifty: shrewd, scheming, and good-looking. She was amiablyanxious on behalf of her daughters; in proof whereof hair was like a wig, and distinguished by that insinuat-‘Charming!’ responded her sister; ‘and what hair!’ Hisshe used to remark, that she would have no objection to ing wave which graces the shining locks of those chefd’oeuvresof art surmounting the waxen images inmarry again, if it would benefit her dear girls—she couldhave no other motive. The ‘dear girls’ themselves were Bartellot’s window in Regent-street; his whiskers meetingbeneath his chin, seemed strings wherewith to tienot at all insensible to the merits of ‘a good establishment.’One of them was twenty-five; the other, three years it on, ere science had rendered them unnecessary byyounger. They had been at different watering-places, for her patent invisible springs.four seasons; they had gambled at libraries, read books ‘Dinner’s on the table, ma’am, if you please,’ said thein balconies, sold at fancy fairs, danced at assemblies, boy, who now appeared for the first time, in a revivedtalked sentiment—in short, they had done all that industriousgirls could do—but, as yet, to no purpose. ‘Oh! Mr. Calton, will you lead Mrs. Maplesone?—Thankblack coat of his master’s.‘What a magnificent dresser Mr. Simpson is!’ whisperedMatilda Maplesone to her sister Julia.Septimus Hicks escorted the lovely Matilda; and theyou.’ Mr. Simpson offered his arm to Miss Julia; Mr.‘Splendid!’ returned the youngest. The magnificent procession proceeded to the dining-room. Mr. Tibbsindividual alluded to wore a maroon-coloured dress-coat, was introduced, and Mr. Tibbs bobbed up and down towith a velvet collar and cuffs of the same tint—very the three ladies like a figure in a Dutch clock, with alike that which usually invests the form of the distinguishedunknown who condescends to play the ‘swell’ dived rapidly into his seat at the bottom of thepowerful spring in the middle of his body, and thentable,281

Sketches by Bozdelighted to screen himself behind a soup-tureen, The knocker gave a single rap. He was busy eating thewhich he could just see over, and that was all. The fish with his eyes: so he only ejaculated, ‘Ah!’boarders were seated, a lady and gentleman alternately, ‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Tibbs to her spouse after everylike the layers of bread and meat in a plate of sandwiches;and then Mrs. Tibbs directed James to take off inquiry was accompanied with a look intimating thatone else had been helped, ‘what do you take?’ Thethe covers. Salmon, lobster-sauce, giblet-soup, and the he mustn’t say fish, because there was not much left.usual accompaniments were discovered: potatoes like Tibbs thought the frown referred to the island on thepetrifactions, and bits of toasted bread, the shape and table-cloth; he therefore coolly replied, ‘Why—I’ll takesize of blank dice.a little—fish, I think.’‘Soup for Mrs. Maplesone, my dear,’ said the bustling ‘Did you say fish, my dear?’ (another frown).Mrs. Tibbs. She always called her husband ‘my dear’ beforecompany. Tibbs, who had been eating his bread, acute hunger depicted in his countenance. The tears‘Yes, dear,’ replied the villain, with an expression ofand calculating how long it would be before he should almost started to Mrs. Tibbs’s eyes, as she helped herget any fish, helped the soup in a hurry, made a small ‘wretch of a husband,’ as she inwardly called him, to theisland on the table-cloth, and put his glass upon it, to last eatable bit of salmon on the dish.hide it from his wife.‘James, take this to your master, and take away your‘Miss Julia, shall I assist you to some fish?’master’s knife.’ This was deliberate revenge, as Tibbs never‘If you please—very little—oh! plenty, thank you’ (a could eat fish without one. He was, however, constrainedbit about the size of a walnut put upon the plate). to chase small particles of salmon round and round his‘Julia is a very little eater,’ said Mrs. Maplesone to plate with a piece of bread and a fork, the number ofMr. Calton.successful attempts being about one in seventeen.282

Charles Dickens‘Take away, James,’ said Mrs. Tibbs, as Tibbs swallowed ‘But beef is rare within these oxless isles;the fourth mouthful—and away went the plates like Goats’ flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton,lightning.And when a holiday upon them smiles,‘I’ll take a bit of bread, James,’ said the poor ‘master A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on.’of the house,’ more hungry than ever.‘Never mind your master now, James,’ said Mrs. Tibbs, ‘Very ungentlemanly behaviour,’ thought little Mrs.‘see about the meat.’ This was conveyed in the tone in Tibbs, ‘to talk in that way.’which ladies usually give admonitions to servants in ‘Ah,’ said Mr. Calton, filling his glass. ‘Tom Moore iscompany, that is to say, a low one; but which, like a my poet.’stage whisper, from its peculiar emphasis, is most distinctlyheard by everybody present.‘And mine,’ said Miss Julia.‘And mine,’ said Mrs. Maplesone.A pause ensued, before the table was replenished—a ‘And mine,’ added Mr. Simpson.sort of parenthesis in which Mr. Simpson, Mr. Calton, ‘Look at his compositions,’ resumed the knocker.and Mr. Hicks, produced respectively a bottle of sauterne,bucellas, and sherry, and took wine with every-‘Look at Don Juan,’ replied Mr. Septimus Hicks.‘To be sure,’ said Simpson, with confidence.body—except Tibbs. No one ever thought of him. ‘Julia’s letter,’ suggested Miss Matilda.Between the fish and an intimated sirloin, there was ‘Can anything be grander than the Fire Worshippers?’a prolonged interval.inquired Miss Julia.Here was an opportunity for Mr. Hicks. He could not ‘To be sure,’ said Simpson.resist the singularly appropriate quotation—‘Or Paradise and the Peri,’ said the old beau.‘Yes; or Paradise and the Peer,’ repeated Simpson, who283

Sketches by Bozthought he was getting through it capitally.ease. Tibbs himself most certainly did, because he went‘It’s all very well,’ replied Mr. Septimus Hicks, who, as to sleep immediately after dinner. Mr. Hicks and thewe have before hinted, never had read anything but ladies discoursed most eloquently about poetry, and theDon Juan. ‘Where will you find anything finer than the theatres, and Lord Chesterfield’s Letters; and Mr. Caltondescription of the siege, at the commencement of the followed up what everybody said, with continuous doubleseventh canto?’knocks. Mrs. Tibbs highly approved of every observationthat fell from Mrs. Maplesone; and as Mr. Simpson‘Talking of a siege,’ said Tibbs, with a mouthful of bread—’when I was in the volunteer corps, in eighteen hundred sat with a smile upon his face and said ‘Yes,’ or ‘Certainly,’at intervals of about four minutes each, he re-and six, our commanding officer was Sir Charles Rampart;and one day, when we were exercising on the ground on ceived full credit for understanding what was going forward.The gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the draw-which the London University now stands, he says, says he,Tibbs (calling me from the ranks), Tibbs—‘ing-room very shortly after they had left the diningparlour.Mrs. Maplesone and Mr. Calton played cribbage,‘Tell your master, James,’ interrupted Mrs. Tibbs, in anawfully distinct tone, ‘tell your master if he won’t carve and the ‘young people’ amused themselves with musicthose fowls, to send them to me.’ The discomfited volunteerinstantly set to work, and carved the fowls al-fascinating duets, and accompanied themselves on gui-and conversation. The Miss Maplesones sang the mostmost as expeditiously as his wife operated on the haunch tars, ornamented with bits of ethereal blue ribbon. Mr.of mutton. Whether he ever finished the story is not Simpson put on a pink waistcoat, and said he was inknown but, if he did, nobody heard it.raptures; and Mr. Hicks felt in the seventh heaven ofAs the ice was now broken, and the new inmates more poetry or the seventh canto of Don Juan—it was theat home, every member of the company felt more at same thing to him. Mrs. Tibbs was quite charmed with284

Charles Dickensthe newcomers; and Mr. Tibbs spent the evening in his Septimus to the boy. ‘Stop—is Mr. Calton unwell?’ inquiredthis excited walker of hospitals, as he put on ausual way—he went to sleep, and woke up, and went tosleep again, and woke at supper-time.bed-furniture-looking dressing-gown.‘Not as I knows on, sir,’ replied the boy. ‘ Please, sir, he* * * * *looked rather rum, as it might be.’‘Ah, that’s no proof of his being ill,’ returned Hicks,WE ARE NOT ABOUT TO ADOPT the licence of novel-writers, unconsciously. ‘Very well: I’ll be down directly.’ Downstairsran the boy with the message, and down went theand to let ‘years roll on;’ but we will take the liberty ofrequesting the reader to suppose that six months have excited Hicks himself, almost as soon as the messageelapsed, since the dinner we have described, and that was delivered. ‘Tap, tap.’ ‘Come in.’—Door opens, andMrs. Tibbs’s boarders have, during that period, sang, discovers Mr. Calton sitting in an easy chair. Mutualand danced, and gone to theatres and exhibitions, together,as ladies and gentlemen, wherever they board, motioned to a seat. A short pause. Mr. Hicks coughed,shakes of the hand exchanged, and Mr. Septimus Hicksoften do. And we will beg them, the period we have and Mr. Calton took a pinch of snuff. It was one of thosementioned having elapsed, to imagine farther, that Mr. interviews where neither party knows what to say. Mr.Septimus Hicks received, in his own bedroom (a front Septimus Hicks broke silence.attic), at an early hour one morning, a note from Mr. ‘I received a note—’ he said, very tremulously, in aCalton, requesting the favour of seeing him, as soon as voice like a Punch with a cold.convenient to himself, in his (Calton’s) dressing-room ‘Yes,’ returned the other, ‘you did.’on the second-floor back.‘Exactly.’‘Tell Mr. Calton I’ll come down directly,’ said Mr. ‘Yes.’285

Sketches by BozNow, although this dialogue must have been satisfactory,both gentlemen felt there was something more with an inflamed countenance, and his hair standinghad a hand in the business,’ responded the agitated Hicks,important to be said; therefore they did as most men in on end as if he were on the stool of an electrifyingsuch a situation would have done—they looked at the machine in full operation.table with a determined aspect. The conversation had ‘People must know that, some time or other—withinbeen opened, however, and Mr. Calton had made up his a year, I imagine,’ said Mr. Calton, with an air of greatmind to continue it with a regular double knock. He self-complacency. ‘We may have a family.’always spoke very pompously.‘We!—That won’t affect you, surely?’‘Hicks,’ said he, ‘I have sent for you, in consequence ‘The devil it won’t!’of certain arrangements which are pending in this house, ‘No! how can it?’ said the bewildered Hicks. Caltonconnected with a marriage.’was too much inwrapped in the contemplation of his‘With a marriage!’ gasped Hicks, compared with whose happiness to see the equivoque between Hicks and himself;and threw himself back in his chair. ‘Oh, Matilda!’expression of countenance, Hamlet’s, when he sees hisfather’s ghost, is pleasing and composed.sighed the antique beau, in a lack-a-daisical voice, and‘With a marriage,’ returned the knocker. ‘I have sent applying his right hand a little to the left of the fourthfor you to prove the great confidence I can repose in button of his waistcoat, counting from the bottom. ‘Oh,you.’Matilda!’‘And will you betray me?’ eagerly inquired Hicks, who ‘What Matilda?’ inquired Hicks, starting up.in his alarm had even forgotten to quote.‘Matilda Maplesone,’ responded the other, doing the‘I betray you! Won’t you betray me?’same.‘Never: no one shall know, to my dying day, that you ‘I marry her to-morrow morning,’ said Hicks.286

Charles Dickens‘It’s false,’ rejoined his companion: ‘I marry her!’ sequence of the other; but it is not usual to act in both‘You marry her?’at the same time. There’s Simpson—I have no doubt‘I marry her!’he’ll do it for you.’‘You marry Matilda Maplesone?’‘I don’t like to ask him,’ replied Calton, ‘he’s such a‘Matilda Maplesone.’donkey.’‘Miss Maplesone marry you?’Mr. Septimus Hicks looked up at the ceiling, and down‘Miss Maplesone! No; Mrs. Maplesone.’at the floor; at last an idea struck him. ‘Let the man of‘Good Heaven!’ said Hicks, falling into his chair: ‘You the house, Tibbs, be the father,’ he suggested; and thenmarry the mother, and I the daughter!’he quoted, as peculiarly applicable to Tibbs and the pair—‘Most extraordinary circumstance!’ replied Mr. Calton,‘and rather inconvenient too; for the fact is, that owing ‘Oh Powers of Heaven! what dark eyes meets she there?to Matilda’s wishing to keep her intention secret from ’Tis—’tis her father’s—fixed upon the pair.’her daughters until the ceremony had taken place, shedoesn’t like applying to any of her friends to give her ‘The idea has struck me already,’ said Mr. Calton: ‘but,away. I entertain an objection to making the affair known you see, Matilda, for what reason I know not, is veryto my acquaintance just now; and the consequence is, anxious that Mrs. Tibbs should know nothing about it,that I sent to you to know whether you’d oblige me by till it’s all over. It’s a natural delicacy, after all, you know.’acting as father.’‘He’s the best-natured little man in existence, if you‘I should have been most happy, I assure you,’ said manage him properly,’ said Mr. Septimus Hicks. ‘Tell himHicks, in a tone of condolence; ‘but, you see, I shall be not to mention it to his wife, and assure him she won’tacting as bridegroom. One character is frequently a con-mind it, and he’ll do it directly. My marriage is to be a287

Sketches by Bozsecret one, on account of the mother and my father; to say, to your wife.’therefore he must be enjoined to secrecy.’Tibbs acquiesced, wondering in his own mind whatA small double knock, like a presumptuous single one, the deuce the other could have done, and imaginingwas that instant heard at the street-door. It was Tibbs; that at least he must have broken the best decanters.it could be no one else; for no one else occupied five Mr. Calton resumed; ‘I am placed, Mr. Tibbs, in ratherminutes in rubbing his shoes. He had been out to pay an unpleasant situation.’the baker’s bill.Tibbs looked at Mr. Septimus Hicks, as if he thought‘Mr. Tibbs,’ called Mr. Calton in a very bland tone, lookingover the banisters.boarder might constitute the unpleasantness of his situ-Mr. H.’s being in the immediate vicinity of his fellow-‘Sir!’ replied he of the dirty face.ation; but as he did not exactly know what to say, he‘Will you have the kindness to step up-stairs for a merely ejaculated the monosyllable ‘Lor!’moment?’‘Now,’ continued the knocker, ‘let me beg you will exhibitno manifestations of surprise, which may be over-‘Certainly, sir,’ said Tibbs, delighted to be taken noticeof. The bedroom-door was carefully closed, and Tibbs, heard by the domestics, when I tell you—command yourhaving put his hat on the floor (as most timid men do), feelings of astonishment—that two inmates of this houseand been accommodated with a seat, looked as astounded intend to be married to-morrow morning.’ And he drewas if he were suddenly summoned before the familiars back his chair, several feet, to perceive the effect of theof the Inquisition.unlooked-for announcement.‘A rather unpleasant occurrence, Mr. Tibbs,’ said Calton, If Tibbs had rushed from the room, staggered downstairs,and fainted in the passage—if he had instanta-in a very portentous manner, ‘obliges me to consult you,and to beg you will not communicate what I am about neously jumped out of the window into the mews be-288

Charles Dickenshind the house, in an agony of surprise - his behaviour ‘Certainly not,’ replied Tibbs; still without evincingwould have been much less inexplicable to Mr. Calton an atom of surprise.than it was, when he put his hands into his inexpressible-pockets,and said with a half-chuckle, ‘Just so.’ ‘Decidedly not,’ reiterated Tibbs, still as calm as a pot‘You will not?’‘You are not surprised, Mr. Tibbs?’ inquired Mr. Calton. of porter with the head off.‘Bless you, no, sir,’ returned Tibbs; ‘after all, its very Mr. Calton seized the hand of the petticoat-governednatural. When two young people get together, you little man, and vowed eternal friendship from that hour.know—’Hicks, who was all admiration and surprise, did the same.‘Certainly, certainly,’ said Calton, with an indescribableair of self-satisfaction.up his hat, ‘were you not a little surprised?’‘Now, confess,’ asked Mr. Calton of Tibbs, as he picked‘You don’t think it’s at all an out-of-the-way affair ‘I b’lieve you!’ replied that illustrious person, holdingthen?’ asked Mr. Septimus Hicks, who had watched the up one hand; ‘I b’lieve you! When I first heard of it.’countenance of Tibbs in mute astonishment.‘So sudden,’ said Septimus Hicks.‘No, sir,’ replied Tibbs; ‘I was just the same at his age.’ ‘So strange to ask me, you know,’ said Tibbs.He actually smiled when he said this.‘So odd altogether!’ said the superannuated lovemaker;and then all three laughed.‘How devilish well I must carry my years!’ thoughtthe delighted old beau, knowing he was at least ten ‘I say,’ said Tibbs, shutting the door which he hadyears older than Tibbs at that moment.previously opened, and giving full vent to a hitherto‘Well, then, to come to the point at once,’ he continued,‘I have to ask you whether you will object to act as ther say?’corked-up giggle, ‘what bothers me is, what will his fa-father on the occasion?’Mr. Septimus Hicks looked at Mr. Calton.289

Sketches by Boz‘Yes; but the best of it is,’ said the latter, giggling in pected announcement. Equally impossible is it to describe,although perhaps it is easier for our lady read-his turn, ‘I haven’t got a father—he! he! he!’‘You haven’t got a father. No; but he has,’ said Tibbs. ers to, what arts the three ladies could have used, so‘Who has?’ inquired Septimus Hicks.completely to entangle their separate partners. Whateverthey were, however, they were successful. The‘Why, him.’‘Him, who? Do you know my secret? Do you mean me?’ mother was perfectly aware of the intended marriage‘You! No; you know who I mean,’ returned Tibbs with of both daughters; and the young ladies were equallya knowing wink.acquainted with the intention of their estimable parent.They agreed, however, that it would have a much‘For Heaven’s sake, whom do you mean?’ inquired Mr.Calton, who, like Septimus Hicks, was all but out of his better appearance if each feigned ignorance of thesenses at the strange confusion.other’s engagement; and it was equally desirable that‘Why Mr. Simpson, of course,’ replied Tibbs; ‘who else all the marriages should take place on the same day,could I mean?’to prevent the discovery of one clandestine alliance,‘I see it all,’ said the Byron-quoter; ‘Simpson marries operating prejudicially on the others. Hence, the mystificationof Mr. Calton and Mr. Septimus Hicks, andJulia Maplesone to-morrow morning!’‘Undoubtedly,’ replied Tibbs, thoroughly satisfied, ‘of the pre-engagement of the unwary Tibbs.course he does.’On the following morning, Mr. Septimus Hicks wasIt would require the pencil of Hogarth to illustrate— united to Miss Matilda Maplesone. Mr. Simpson also enteredinto a ‘holy alliance’ with Miss Julia; Tibbs actingour feeble pen is inadequate to describe—the expressionwhich the countenances of Mr. Calton and Mr. as father, ‘his first appearance in that character.’ Mr.Septimus Hicks respectively assumed, at this unex-Calton, not being quite so eager as the two young men,290

Charles Dickenswas rather struck by the double discovery; and as he he had necessarily many opportunities of making himselfacquainted with the habits, and style of thinking,had found some difficulty in getting any one to givethe lady away, it occurred to him that the best mode of of the exclusive portion of the nobility of this kingdom.obviating the inconvenience would be not to take her To this fortunate circumstance are we indebted for theat all. The lady, however, ‘appealed,’ as her counsel said production of those brilliant efforts of genius, his fashionablenovels, which so long as good taste, unsulliedon the trial of the cause, Maplesone v. Calton, for a breachof promise, ‘with a broken heart, to the outraged laws by exaggeration, cant, and quackery, continues to exist,cannot fail to instruct and amuse the thinking por-of her country.’ She recovered damages to the amount of1,000£. which the unfortunate knocker was compelled tion of the community.to pay. Mr. Septimus Hicks having walked the hospitals, It only remains to add, that this complication of disorderscompletely deprived poor Mrs. Tibbs of all hertook it into his head to walk off altogether. His injuredwife is at present residing with her mother at Boulogne. inmates, except the one whom she could have bestMr. Simpson, having the misfortune to lose his wife six spared—her husband. That wretched little man returnedweeks after marriage (by her eloping with an officer home, on the day of the wedding, in a state of partialduring his temporary sojourn in the Fleet Prison, in intoxication; and, under the influence of wine, excitement,and despair, actually dared to brave the anger ofconsequence of his inability to discharge her littlemantua-maker’s bill), and being disinherited by his father,who died soon afterwards, was fortunate enough taken his meals in the kitchen, to which apartment, ithis wife. Since that ill-fated hour he has constantlyto obtain a permanent engagement at a fashionable is understood, his witticisms will be in future confined:haircutter’s; hairdressing being a science to which he a turn-up bedstead having been conveyed there by Mrs.had frequently directed his attention. In this situation Tibbs’s order for his exclusive accommodation. It is pos-291

Sketches by Bozsible that he will be enabled to finish, in that seclusion,his story of the volunteers.The postman drew near the house. He paused—so didery of humming a tune.The advertisement has again appeared in the morning Mrs. Tibbs. A knock—a bustle—a letter—post-paid.papers. Results must be reserved for another chapter.‘T. I. presents compt. to I. T. and T. I. begs To say thatCHAPTER THE SECOND.i see the advertisement And she will Do Herself the pleasureof calling On you at 12 o’clock to-morrow morning.‘WELL!’ SAID LITTLE MRS. TIBBS to herself, as she sat in ‘T. I. as To apologise to I. T. for the shortness Of thethe front parlour of the Coram-street mansion one morning,mending a piece of stair-carpet off the first Land-notice But i hope it will not unconvenience you.ings;—’Things have not turned out so badly, either, and‘I remain yours Trulyif I only get a favourable answer to the advertisement,we shall be full again.’‘Wednesday evening.’Mrs. Tibbs resumed her occupation of making worstedlattice-work in the carpet, anxiously listening to Little Mrs. Tibbs perused the document, over and overthe twopenny postman, who was hammering his way again; and the more she read it, the more was she confusedby the mixture of the first and third person; thedown the street, at the rate of a penny a knock. Thehouse was as quiet as possible. There was only one low substitution of the ‘i’ for the ‘T. I.;’ and the transitionsound to be heard—it was the unhappy Tibbs cleaning from the ‘I. T.’ to the ‘You.’ The writing looked like athe gentlemen’s boots in the back kitchen, and accompanyinghimself with a buzzing noise, in wretched mock-folded into a perfect square, with the direction squeezedskein of thread in a tangle, and the note was ingeniously292

Charles Dickensup into the right-hand corner, as if it were ashamed of The visitor (who was very fat and red-faced) was shownitself. The back of the epistle was pleasingly ornamented into the drawing-room; Mrs. Tibbs presented herself, andwith a large red wafer, which, with the addition of divers the negotiation commenced.ink-stains, bore a marvellous resemblance to a black ‘I called in consequence of an advertisement,’ said thebeetle trodden upon. One thing, however, was perfectly stranger, in a voice as if she had been playing a set ofclear to the perplexed Mrs. Tibbs. Somebody was to call Pan’s pipes for a fortnight without leaving off.at twelve. The drawing-room was forthwith dusted for ‘Yes!’ said Mrs. Tibbs, rubbing her hands very slowly,the third time that morning; three or four chairs were and looking the applicant full in the face—two thingspulled out of their places, and a corresponding number she always did on such occasions.of books carefully upset, in order that there might be a ‘Money isn’t no object whatever to me,’ said the lady,due absence of formality. Down went the piece of staircarpetbefore noticed, and up ran Mrs. Tibbs ‘to make sion.’‘so much as living in a state of retirement and obtru-herself tidy.’Mrs. Tibbs, as a matter of course, acquiesced in suchThe clock of New Saint Pancras Church struck twelve, an exceedingly natural desire.and the Foundling, with laudable politeness, did the ‘I am constantly attended by a medical man,’ resumedsame ten minutes afterwards, Saint something else struck the pelisse wearer; ‘I have been a shocking unitarianthe quarter, and then there arrived a single lady with a for some time—I, indeed, have had very little peacedouble knock, in a pelisse the colour of the interior of a since the death of Mr. Bloss.’damson pie; a bonnet of the same, with a regular conservatoryof artificial flowers; a white veil, and a green and thought he must have had very little peace in hisMrs. Tibbs looked at the relict of the departed Bloss,parasol, with a cobweb border.time. Of course she could not say so; so she looked very293

Sketches by Bozsympathising.‘Very well,’ returned Mrs. Tibbs, in her most amiable‘I shall be a good deal of trouble to you,’ said Mrs. tone; for satisfactory references had ‘been given andBloss; ‘but, for that trouble I am willing to pay. I am required,’ and it was quite certain that the new-comergoing through a course of treatment which renders attentionnecessary. I have one mutton-chop in bed at Tibbs, with what was meant for a most bewitching smile,had plenty of money. ‘It’s rather singular,’ continued Mrs.half-past eight, and another at ten, every morning.’ ‘that we have a gentleman now with us, who is in a veryMrs. Tibbs, as in duty bound, expressed the pity she delicate state of health—a Mr. Gobler.—His apartmentfelt for anybody placed in such a distressing situation; is the back drawing-room.’and the carnivorous Mrs. Bloss proceeded to arrange the ‘The next room?’ inquired Mrs. Bloss.various preliminaries with wonderful despatch. ‘Now ‘The next room,’ repeated the hostess.mind,’ said that lady, after terms were arranged; ‘I am to ‘How very promiscuous!’ ejaculated the widow.have the second-floor front, for my bed-room?’‘He hardly ever gets up,’ said Mrs. Tibbs in a whisper.‘Yes, ma’am.’‘Lor!’ cried Mrs. Bloss, in an equally low tone.‘And you’ll find room for my little servant Agnes?’ ‘And when he is up,’ said Mrs. Tibbs, ‘we never can‘Oh! certainly.’persuade him to go to bed again.’‘And I can have one of the cellars in the area for my ‘Dear me!’ said the astonished Mrs. Bloss, drawing herbottled porter.’chair nearer Mrs. Tibbs. ‘What is his complaint?’‘With the greatest pleasure;—James shall get it ready ‘Why, the fact is,’ replied Mrs. Tibbs, with a most communicativeair, ‘he has no stomach whatever.’for you by Saturday.’‘And I’ll join the company at the breakfast-table on Sundaymorning,’ said Mrs. Bloss. ‘I shall get up on purpose.’ indescribable alarm.‘No what?’ inquired Mrs. Bloss, with a look of the most294

Charles Dickens‘No stomach,’ repeated Mrs. Tibbs, with a shake of the consolatory promise Mrs. Bloss was obliged to be contented.She accordingly walked slowly down the stairs,head.‘Lord bless us! what an extraordinary case!’ gasped Mrs. detailing her complaints all the way; and Mrs. Tibbs followedher, uttering an exclamation of compassion at ev-Bloss, as if she understood the communication in its literalsense, and was astonished at a gentleman without a ery step. James (who looked very gritty, for he was cleaningthe knives) fell up the kitchen-stairs, and openedstomach finding it necessary to board anywhere.‘When I say he has no stomach,’ explained the chatty the street-door; and, after mutual farewells, Mrs. Blosslittle Mrs. Tibbs, ‘I mean that his digestion is so much slowly departed, down the shady side of the street.impaired, and his interior so deranged, that his stomachis not of the least use to him;—in fact, it’s an in-we have just shown out at the street-door (and whomIt is almost superfluous to say, that the lady whomconvenience.’the two female servants are now inspecting from the‘Never heard such a case in my life!’ exclaimed Mrs. second-floor windows) was exceedingly vulgar, ignorant,Bloss. ‘Why, he’s worse than I am.’and selfish. Her deceased better-half had been an eminentcork-cutter, in which capacity he had amassed a‘Oh, yes!’ replied Mrs. Tibbs;—’certainly.’ She said thiswith great confidence, for the damson pelisse suggested decent fortune. He had no relative but his nephew, andthat Mrs. Bloss, at all events, was not suffering under no friend but his cook. The former had the insolenceMr. Gobler’s complaint.one morning to ask for the loan of fifteen pounds; and,‘You have quite incited my curiosity,’ said Mrs. Bloss, by way of retaliation, he married the latter next day; heas she rose to depart. ‘How I long to see him!’made a will immediately afterwards, containing a burst‘He generally comes down, once a week,’ replied Mrs. of honest indignation against his nephew (who supportedhimself and two sisters on 100£. a year), and Tibbs; ‘I dare say you’ll see him on Sunday.’ With thisa295

Sketches by Bozbequest of his whole property to his wife. He felt ill stoical indifference, and Mrs. Tibbs devoted all her energiesto prepare for the reception of the valetudinarian.after breakfast, and died after dinner. There is a mantelpiece-lookingtablet in a civic parish church, setting The second-floor front was scrubbed, and washed, andforth his virtues, and deploring his loss. He never flannelled, till the wet went through to the drawingroomceiling. Clean white counterpanes, and curtains,dishonoured a bill, or gave away a halfpenny.The relict and sole executrix of this noble-minded man and napkins, water-bottles as clear as crystal, blue jugs,was an odd mixture of shrewdness and simplicity, liberalityand meanness. Bred up as she had been, she knew increased the comfort, of the apartment. The warming-and mahogany furniture, added to the splendour, andno mode of living so agreeable as a boarding-house: and pan was in constant requisition, and a fire lighted in thehaving nothing to do, and nothing to wish for, she naturallyimagined she must be ill—an impression which by instalments. First, there came a large hamper ofroom every day. The chattels of Mrs. Bloss were forwardedwas most assiduously promoted by her medical attendant,Dr. Wosky, and her handmaid Agnes: both of whom, then, a pair of clogs and a bandbox; then, an easy chairGuinness’s stout, and an umbrella; then, a train of trunks;doubtless for good reasons, encouraged all her extravagantnotions.ing packages; and—’though last not least’—Mrs. Blosswith an air-cushion; then, a variety of suspicious-look-Since the catastrophe recorded in the last chapter, Mrs. and Agnes: the latter in a cherry-coloured merino dress,Tibbs had been very shy of young-lady boarders. Her open-work stockings, and shoes with sandals: like a disguisedColumbine.present inmates were all lords of the creation, and sheavailed herself of the opportunity of their assemblage at The installation of the Duke of Wellington, as Chancellorof the University of Oxford, was nothing, in point ofthe dinner-table, to announce the expected arrival of Mrs.Bloss. The gentlemen received the communication with bustle and turmoil, to the installation of Mrs. Bloss in296

Charles Dickensher new quarters. True, there was no bright doctor of that Ms. Tibbs makes him clean the gentlemen’s boots;civil law to deliver a classical address on the occasion; and that he cleans the windows, too, sometimes; andbut there were several other old women present, who that one morning early, when he was in the front balconycleaning the drawing-room windows, he called outspoke quite as much to the purpose, and understood themselvesequally well. The chop-eater was so fatigued with to a gentleman on the opposite side of the way, whothe process of removal that she declined leaving her room used to live here—“Ah! Mr. Calton, sir, how are you?”’until the following morning; so a mutton-chop, pickle, a Here the attendant laughed till Mrs. Bloss was in seriousapprehension of her chuckling herself into a fit.pill, a pint bottle of stout, and other medicines, werecarried up-stairs for her consumption.‘Well, I never!’ said Mrs. Bloss.‘Why, what do you think, ma’am?’ inquired the inquisitiveAgnes of her mistress, after they had been in and-water sometimes; and then he cries, and says he hates‘Yes. And please, ma’am, the servants gives him gin-the house some three hours; ‘what do you think, ma’am? his wife and the boarders, and wants to tickle them.’the lady of the house is married.’‘Tickle the boarders!’ exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, seriously‘Married!’ said Mrs. Bloss, taking the pill and a draught alarmed.of Guinness—’married! Unpossible!’‘No, ma’am, not the boarders, the servants.’‘She is indeed, ma’am,’ returned the Columbine; ‘and ‘Oh, is that all!’ said Mrs. Bloss, quite satisfied.her husband, ma’am, lives—he—he—he—lives in the ‘He wanted to kiss me as I came up the kitchen-stairs,kitchen, ma’am.’just now,’ said Agnes, indignantly; ‘but I gave it him—‘In the kitchen!’a little wretch!’‘Yes, ma’am: and he—he—he—the housemaid says, This intelligence was but too true. A long course ofhe never goes into the parlour except on Sundays; and snubbing and neglect; his days spent in the kitchen,297

Sketches by Bozand his nights in the turn-up bedstead, had completely Tibbs flew to a chair; and a stern-looking man, of aboutbroken the little spirit that the unfortunate volunteer fifty, with very little hair on his head, and a Sundayhad ever possessed. He had no one to whom he could paper in his hand, entered the room.detail his injuries but the servants, and they were almostof necessity his chosen confidants. It is no less with something between a nod and a bow.‘Good morning, Mr. Evenson,’ said Tibbs, very humbly,strange than true, however, that the little weaknesses ‘How do you do, Mr. Tibbs?’ replied he of the slippers,which he had incurred, most probably during his militarycareer, seemed to increase as his comforts dimin-without saying another word.as he sat himself down, and began to read his paperished. He was actually a sort of journeyman Giovanni of ‘Is Mr. Wisbottle in town to-day, do you know, sir?’the basement story.inquired Tibbs, just for the sake of saying something.The next morning, being Sunday, breakfast was laid ‘I should think he was,’ replied the stern gentleman.in the front parlour at ten o’clock. Nine was the usual ‘He was whistling “The Light Guitar,” in the next roomtime, but the family always breakfasted an hour later to mine, at five o’clock this morning.’on sabbath. Tibbs enrobed himself in his Sunday costume—ablack coat, and exceedingly short, thin trou-smirk.‘He’s very fond of whistling,’ said Tibbs, with a slightsers; with a very large white waistcoat, white stockings ‘Yes—I ain’t,’ was the laconic reply.and cravat, and Blucher boots—and mounted to the Mr. John Evenson was in the receipt of an independentincome, arising chiefly from various houses heparlour aforesaid. Nobody had come down, and heamused himself by drinking the contents of the milkpot owned in the different suburbs. He was very morosewith a teaspoon.and discontented. He was a thorough radical, and usedA pair of slippers were heard descending the stairs. to attend a great variety of public meetings, for the298

Charles Dickensexpress purpose of finding fault with everything that that turned up—he was not particular. He was on familiarterms with two small Irish members, and gotwas proposed. Mr. Wisbottle, on the other hand, was ahigh Tory. He was a clerk in the Woods and Forests Office,which he considered rather an aristocratic employ-that his intrinsic merits must procure him a high des-franks for everybody in the house. He felt convincedment; he knew the peerage by heart, and, could tell tiny. He wore shepherd’s-plaid inexpressibles, and usedyou, off-hand, where any illustrious personage lived. to look under all the ladies’ bonnets as he walked alongHe had a good set of teeth, and a capital tailor. Mr. the streets. His manners and appearance reminded oneEvenson looked on all these qualifications with profoundcontempt; and the consequence was that the two ‘Here comes Mr. Wisbottle,’ said Tibbs; and Mr. Wisbottleof Orson.were always disputing, much to the edification of the forthwith appeared in blue slippers, and a shawl dressing-gown,whistling ‘Di Piacer.’rest of the house. It should be added, that, in additionto his partiality for whistling, Mr. Wisbottle had a great ‘Good morning, sir,’ said Tibbs again. It was almostidea of his singing powers. There were two other boarders,besides the gentleman in the back drawing-room— ‘How are you, Tibbs?’ condescendingly replied the ama-the only thing he ever said to anybodyMr. Alfred Tomkins and Mr. Frederick O’Bleary. Mr. teur; and he walked to the window, and whistled louderTomkins was a clerk in a wine-house; he was a connoisseurin paintings, and had a wonderful eye for the pic-‘Pretty air, that!’ said Evenson, with a snarl, and with-than ever.turesque. Mr. O’Bleary was an Irishman, recently imported;he was in a perfectly wild state; and had come ‘Glad you like it,’ replied Wisbottle, highly gratified.out taking his eyes off the paper.over to England to be an apothecary, a clerk in a governmentoffice, an actor, a reporter, or anything else it a little louder?’ inquired the‘Don’t you think it would sound better, if you whistledmastiff.299

Sketches by Boz‘No; I don’t think it would,’ rejoined the unconscious Mr. Wisbottle started from the table, and every oneWisbottle.looked up.‘I’ll tell you what, Wisbottle,’ said Evenson, who had ‘Do you see,’ said the connoisseur, placing Wisbottlebeen bottling up his anger for some hours—’the next in the right position—’a little more this way: there—time you feel disposed to whistle “The Light Guitar” at do you see how splendidly the light falls upon the leftfive o’clock in the morning, I’ll trouble you to whistle it side of that broken chimney-pot at No. 48?’with your head out o’ window. If you don’t, I’ll learn the ‘Dear me! I see,’ replied Wisbottle, in a tone of admiration.triangle—I will, by—’‘I never saw an object stand out so beautifully againstThe entrance of Mrs. Tibbs (with the keys in a little the clear sky in my life,’ ejaculated Alfred. Everybody (exceptJohn Evenson) echoed the sentiment; for Mr. Tomkinsbasket) interrupted the threat, and prevented its conclusion.had a great character for finding out beauties which noMrs. Tibbs apologised for being down rather late; the one else could discover—he certainly deserved it.bell was rung; James brought up the urn, and received ‘I have frequently observed a chimney-pot in Collegegreen,Dublin, which has a much better effect,’ said thean unlimited order for dry toast and bacon. Tibbs satdown at the bottom of the table, and began eating water-cresseslike a Nebuchadnezzar. Mr. O’Bleary appeared, done on any point.patriotic O’Bleary, who never allowed Ireland to be out-and Mr. Alfred Tomkins. The compliments of the morningwere exchanged, and the tea was made.for Mr. Tomkins declared that no other chimney-pot inThe assertion was received with obvious incredulity,‘God bless me!’ exclaimed Tomkins, who had been lookingout at the window. ‘Here—Wisbottle—pray come beautiful as the one at No. 48.the United Kingdom, broken or unbroken, could be sohere—make haste.’The room-door was suddenly thrown open, and Agnes300

Charles Dickensappeared, leading in Mrs. Bloss, who was dressed in a appearance of the ladies going to the Drawing-room thegeranium-coloured muslin gown, and displayed a gold other day, Mr. O’Bleary?’ said Mrs. Tibbs, hoping to startwatch of huge dimensions; a chain to match; and a splendidassortment of rings, with enormous stones. A gen-‘Yes,’ replied Orson, with a mouthful of toast.a topic.eral rush was made for a chair, and a regular introductiontook place. Mr. John Evenson made a slight incligestedWisbottle.‘Never saw anything like it before, I suppose?’ sugnationof the head; Mr. Frederick O’Bleary, Mr. Alfred ‘No—except the Lord Lieutenant’s levees,’ repliedTomkins, and Mr. Wisbottle, bowed like the mandarins O’Bleary.in a grocer’s shop; Tibbs rubbed hands, and went round ‘Are they at all equal to our drawing-rooms?’in circles. He was observed to close one eye, and to ‘Oh, infinitely superior!’assume a clock-work sort of expression with the other; ‘Gad! I don’t know,’ said the aristocratic Wisbottle,this has been considered as a wink, and it has been ‘the Dowager Marchioness of Publiccash was most magnificentlydressed, and so was the Baronreported that Agnes was its object. We repel the calumny,and challenge contradiction.Slappenbachenhausen.’Mrs. Tibbs inquired after Mrs. Bloss’s health in a low ‘What was he presented on?’ inquired Evenson.tone. Mrs. Bloss, with a supreme contempt for the ‘On his arrival in England.’memory of Lindley Murray, answered the various questionsin a most satisfactory manner; and a pause en-these fellows being presented on their going away again.‘I thought so,’ growled the radical; ‘you never hear ofsued, during which the eatables disappeared with awfulrapidity.‘Unless somebody pervades them with an apintment,’They know better than that.’‘You must have been very much pleased with the said Mrs. Bloss, joining in the conversation in a faint voice.301

Sketches by Boz‘Well,’ said Wisbottle, evading the point, ‘it’s a splendidsight.’to-day, and come back by the steamer. There are somethe company in general, ‘I shall ride down to Richmond‘And did it never occur to you,’ inquired the radical, splendid effects of light and shade on the Thames; thewho never would be quiet; ‘did it never occur to you, contrast between the blueness of the sky and the yellowwater is frequently exceedingly beautiful.’ Mr.that you pay for these precious ornaments of society?’‘It certainly has occurred to me,’ said Wisbottle, who Wisbottle hummed, ‘Flow on, thou shining river.’thought this answer was a poser; ‘it has occurred to me, ‘We have some splendid steam-vessels in Ireland,’ saidand I am willing to pay for them.’O’Bleary.‘Well, and it has occurred to me too,’ replied John Evenson, ‘Certainly,’ said Mrs. Bloss, delighted to find a subject‘and I ain’t willing to pay for ‘em. Then why should I?—I broached in which she could take part.say, why should I?’ continued the politician, laying down ‘The accommodations are extraordinary,’ said O’Bleary.the paper, and knocking his knuckles on the table. ‘There ‘Extraordinary indeed,’ returned Mrs. Bloss. ‘When Mr.are two great principles—demand—’Bloss was alive, he was promiscuously obligated to go‘A cup of tea if you please, dear,’ interrupted Tibbs. to Ireland on business. I went with him, and raly the‘And supply—’manner in which the ladies and gentlemen were accommodatedwith berths, is not creditable.’‘May I trouble you to hand this tea to Mr. Tibbs?’ saidMrs. Tibbs, interrupting the argument, and unconsciously Tibbs, who had been listening to the dialogue, lookedillustrating it.aghast, and evinced a strong inclination to ask a question,but was checked by a look from his wife. Mr.The thread of the orator’s discourse was broken. Hedrank his tea and resumed the paper.Wisbottle laughed, and said Tomkins had made a pun;‘If it’s very fine,’ said Mr. Alfred Tomkins, addressing and Tomkins laughed too, and said he had not.302

Charles DickensThe remainder of the meal passed off as breakfasts ‘I never felt such an interest in any one in my life,’usually do. Conversation flagged, and people played with ejaculated Mrs. Bloss. A little double-knock interruptedtheir teaspoons. The gentlemen looked out at the window;walked about the room; and, when they got near shown in. He was a little man with a red face—dressedthe conversation; Dr. Wosky was announced, and dulythe door, dropped off one by one. Tibbs retired to the of course in black, with a stiff white neckerchief. Heback parlour by his wife’s orders, to check the greengrocer’sweekly account; and ultimately Mrs. Tibbs and he had amassed by invariably humouring the worst fan-had a very good practice, and plenty of money, whichMrs. Bloss were left alone together.cies of all the females of all the families he had ever‘Oh dear!’ said the latter, ‘I feel alarmingly faint; it’s been introduced into. Mrs. Tibbs offered to retire, butvery singular.’ (It certainly was, for she had eaten four was entreated to stay.pounds of solids that morning.) ‘By-the-bye,’ said Mrs. ‘Well, my dear ma’am, and how are we?’ inquired Wosky,Bloss, ‘I have not seen Mr. What’s-his-name yet.’ in a soothing tone.‘Mr. Gobler?’ suggested Mrs. Tibbs.‘Very ill, doctor—very ill,’ said Mrs. Bloss, in a whisper.‘Yes.’‘Ah! we must take care of ourselves;—we must, indeed,’said the obsequious Wosky, as he felt the pulse of‘Oh!’ said Mrs. Tibbs, ‘he is a most mysterious person.He has his meals regularly sent up-stairs, and sometimesdon’t leave his room for weeks together.’‘How is our appetite?’his interesting patient.‘I haven’t seen or heard nothing of him,’ repeated Mrs. Mrs. Bloss shook her head.Bloss.‘Our friend requires great care,’ said Wosky, appealing‘I dare say you’ll hear him to-night,’ replied Mrs. Tibbs; to Mrs. Tibbs, who of course assented. ‘I hope, however,‘he generally groans a good deal on Sunday evenings.’ with the blessing of Providence, that we shall be en-303

Sketches by Bozabled to make her quite stout again.’ Mrs. Tibbs wonderedin her own mind what the patient would be when and never ill. As his character in many respects closelywas a lazy, selfish hypochondriac; always complainingshe was made quite stout.assimilated to that of Mrs. Bloss, a very warm friendshipsoon sprung up between them. He was tall, thin,‘We must take stimulants,’ said the cunning Wosky—’plenty of nourishment, and, above all, we must keep and pale; he always fancied he had a severe pain somewhereor other, and his face invariably wore a pinched,our nerves quiet; we positively must not give way toour sensibilities. We must take all we can get,’ concluded screwed-up expression; he looked, indeed, like a manthe doctor, as he pocketed his fee, ‘and we must keep who had got his feet in a tub of exceedingly hot water,quiet.’against his will.‘Dear man!’ exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, as the doctor stepped For two or three months after Mrs. Bloss’s first appearancein Coram-street, John Evenson was observedinto the carriage.‘Charming creature indeed—quite a lady’s man!’ said to become, every day, more sarcastic and more ill-natured;and there was a degree of additional importanceMrs. Tibbs, and Dr. Wosky rattled away to make freshgulls of delicate females, and pocket fresh fees. in his manner, which clearly showed that he fancied heAs we had occasion, in a former paper, to describe a had discovered something, which he only wanted adinner at Mrs. Tibbs’s; and as one meal went off very proper opportunity of divulging. He found it at last.like another on all ordinary occasions; we will not fatigueour readers by entering into any other detailed assembled in the drawing-room engaged in their ordi-One evening, the different inmates of the house wereaccount of the domestic economy of the establishment. nary occupations. Mr. Gobler and Mrs. Bloss were sittingWe will therefore proceed to events, merelypremising at a small card-table near the centre window, playingthat the mysterious tenant of the back drawing-room cribbage; Mr. Wisbottle was describing semicircles on the304

Charles Dickensmusic-stool, turning over the leaves of a book on the manner; ‘it’s only the heat of the room.’piano, and humming most melodiously; Alfred Tomkins ‘A flush!’ ejaculated Mrs. Bloss from the card-table;was sitting at the round table, with his elbows duly ‘that’s good for four.’squared, making a pencil sketch of a head considerably ‘If I thought it was Mr. Wisbottle,’ said Mrs. Tibbs,larger than his own; O’Bleary was reading Horace, and after a pause, ‘he should leave this house instantly.’trying to look as if he understood it; and John Evenson ‘Go!’ said Mrs. Bloss again.had drawn his chair close to Mrs. Tibbs’s work-table, and ‘And if I thought,’ continued the hostess with a mostwas talking to her very earnestly in a low tone.threatening air, ‘if I thought he was assisted by Mr.‘I can assure you, Mrs. Tibbs,’ said the radical, laying Tibbs—’his forefinger on the muslin she was at work on; ‘I can ‘One for his nob!’ said Gobler.assure you, Mrs. Tibbs, that nothing but the interest I ‘Oh,’ said Evenson, in a most soothing tone—he likedtake in your welfare would induce me to make this communication.I repeat, I fear Wisbottle is endeavouring to any way implicated. He always appeared to me veryto make mischief—’I should hope Mr. Tibbs was not ingain the affections of that young woman, Agnes, and harmless.’that he is in the habit of meeting her in the store-room ‘I have generally found him so,’ sobbed poor little Mrs.on the first floor, over the leads. From my bedroom I Tibbs; crying like a watering-pot.distinctly heard voices there, last night. I opened my ‘Hush! hush! pray—Mrs. Tibbs—consider—we shalldoor immediately, and crept very softly on to the landing;there I saw Mr. Tibbs, who, it seems, had been dis-his whole plan would be interrupted. ‘We will set thebe observed—pray, don’t!’ said John Evenson, fearingturbed also.—Bless me, Mrs. Tibbs, you change colour!’ matter at rest with the utmost care, and I shall be most‘No, no—it’s nothing,’ returned Mrs. T. in a hurried happy to assist you in doing so.’ Mrs. Tibbs murmured305

Sketches by Bozher thanks.‘I saw the Count de Canky and Captain Fitzthompson‘When you think every one has retired to rest to-night,’ in the Gardens,’ said Wisbottle; ‘they appeared muchsaid Evenson very pompously, ‘if you’ll meet me withouta light, just outside my bedroom door, by the stair-‘Then it must be beautiful,’ snarled Evenson.delighted.’case window, I think we can ascertain who the parties ‘I think the white bears is partickerlerly well done,’really are, and you will afterwards be enabled to proceedas you think proper.’look just like Polar bears—don’t you think they do, Mr.suggested Mrs. Bloss. ‘In their shaggy white coats, theyMrs. Tibbs was easily persuaded; her curiosity was excited,her jealousy was roused, and the arrangement ‘I think they look a great deal more like omnibus cadsEvenson?’was forthwith made. She resumed her work, and John on all fours,’ replied the discontented one.Evenson walked up and down the room with his hands ‘Upon the whole, I should have liked our evening veryin his pockets, looking as if nothing had happened. The well,’ gasped Gobler; ‘only I caught a desperate cold whichgame of cribbage was over, and conversation began again. increased my pain dreadfully! I was obliged to have severalshower-baths, before I could leave my room.’‘Well, Mr. O’Bleary,’ said the humming-top, turninground on his pivot, and facing the company, ‘what did ‘Capital things those shower-baths!’ ejaculatedyou think of Vauxhall the other night?’Wisbottle.‘Oh, it’s very fair,’ replied Orson, who had been enthusiasticallydelighted with the whole exhibition.‘Delightful!’ chimed in O’Bleary. (He had once seen‘Excellent!’ said Tomkins.‘Never saw anything like that Captain Ross’s set-out—eh?’ one, outside a tinman’s.)‘No,’ returned the patriot, with his usual reservation— ‘Disgusting machines!’ rejoined Evenson, who extended’except in Dublin.’his dislike to almost every created object, masculine,306

Charles Dickensfeminine, or neuter.candlesticks under the card-table; and the servants retiredfor the night.‘Disgusting, Mr. Evenson!’ said Gobler, in a tone ofstrong indignation.—’Disgusting! Look at their utility— Chairs were drawn round the table, and the conversationproceeded in the customary manner. John Evenson,consider how many lives they have saved by promotingperspiration.’who never ate supper, lolled on the sofa, and amused‘Promoting perspiration, indeed,’ growled John himself by contradicting everybody. O’Bleary ate as muchEvenson, stopping short in his walk across the large as he could conveniently carry, and Mrs. Tibbs felt asquares in the pattern of the carpet—’I was ass enough due degree of indignation thereat; Mr. Gobler and Mrs.to be persuaded some time ago to have one in my bedroom.‘Gad, I was in it once, and it effectually cured me, pill-taking, and other innocent amusements; andBloss conversed most affectionately on the subject offor the mere sight of it threw me into a profuse perspirationfor six months afterwards.’to say, they both talked very loudly and vehemently,Tomkins and Wisbottle ‘got into an argument;’ that isA titter followed this announcement, and before it each flattering himself that he had got some advantagehad subsided James brought up ‘the tray,’ containing about something, and neither of them having more thanthe remains of a leg of lamb which had made its debut a very indistinct idea of what they were talking about.at dinner; bread; cheese; an atom of butter in a forest An hour or two passed away; and the boarders and theof parsley; one pickled walnut and the third of another; plated candlesticks retired in pairs to their respectiveand so forth. The boy disappeared, and returned again bedrooms. John Evenson pulled off his boots, lockedwith another tray, containing glasses and jugs of hot his door, and determined to sit up until Mr. Gobler hadand cold water. The gentlemen brought in their spiritbottles;the housemaid placed divers plated bedroom ter everybody else had left it, taking medicine,retired. He always sat in the drawing-room an hour af-and307

Sketches by Bozgroaning.‘Is that you, Mrs. Tibbs?’Great Coram-street was hushed into a state of profoundrepose: it was nearly two o’clock. A hackney-coach ‘Where?’‘Yes, sir.’now and then rumbled slowly by; and occasionally some ‘Here;’ and the misty outline of Mrs. Tibbs appearedstray lawyer’s clerk, on his way home to Somers-town, at the staircase window, like the ghost of Queen Annestruck his iron heel on the top of the coal-cellar with a in the tent scene in Richard.noise resembling the click of a smoke-Jack. A low, ‘This way, Mrs. Tibbs,’ whispered the delighted busybody:‘give me your hand—there! Whoever these peoplemonotonous, gushing sound was heard, which addedconsiderably to the romantic dreariness of the scene. It are, they are in the store-room now, for I have beenwas the water ‘coming in’ at number eleven.looking down from my window, and I could see that‘He must be asleep by this time,’ said John Evenson to they accidentally upset their candlestick, and are nowhimself, after waiting with exemplary patience for nearly in darkness. You have no shoes on, have you?’an hour after Mr. Gobler had left the drawing-room. He ‘No,’ said little Mrs. Tibbs, who could hardly speak forlistened for a few moments; the house was perfectly trembling.quiet; he extinguished his rushlight, and opened his ‘Well; I have taken my boots off, so we can go down,bedroom door. The staircase was so dark that it was close to the store-room door, and listen over the banisters;’and down-stairs they both crept accordingly, ev-impossible to see anything.‘S-s-s!’ whispered the mischief-maker, making a noise ery board creaking like a patent mangle on a Saturdaylike the first indication a catherine-wheel gives of the afternoon.probability of its going off.‘It’s Wisbottle and somebody, I’ll swear,’ exclaimed the‘Hush!’ whispered somebody else.radical in an energetic whisper, when they had listened308

Charles Dickensfor a few moments.‘Bless my soul, it’s Mr. O’Bleary!’ exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs,‘Hush—pray let’s hear what they say!’ exclaimed Mrs. in a parenthesis.Tibbs, the gratification of whose curiosity was now paramountto every other consideration.‘The first thing to be done,’ continued the Hibernian,‘The villain!’ said the indignant Mr. Evenson.‘Ah! if I could but believe you,’ said a female voice ‘is to poison Mr. Gobler’s mind.’coquettishly, ‘I’d be bound to settle my missis for life.’ ‘Oh, certainly,’ returned Agnes.‘What does she say?’ inquired Mr. Evenson, who was ‘What’s that?’ inquired Evenson again, in an agony ofnot quite so well situated as his companion.curiosity and a whisper.‘She says she’ll settle her missis’s life,’ replied Mrs. ‘He says she’s to mind and poison Mr. Gobler,’ repliedTibbs. ‘The wretch! they’re plotting murder.’Mrs. Tibbs, aghast at this sacrifice of human life.‘I know you want money,’ continued the voice, which ‘And in regard of Mrs. Tibbs,’ continued O’Bleary.—belonged to Agnes; ‘and if you’d secure me the five hundredpound, I warrant she should take fire soon enough.’ ‘Hush!’ exclaimed Agnes, in a tone of the greatestMrs. Tibbs shuddered.‘What’s that?’ inquired Evenson again. He could just alarm, just as Mrs. Tibbs was on the extreme verge of ahear enough to want to hear more.fainting fit. ‘Hush!’‘I think she says she’ll set the house on fire,’ replied ‘Hush!’ exclaimed Evenson, at the same moment tothe affrighted Mrs. Tibbs. ‘But thank God I’m insured in Mrs. Tibbs.the Phoenix!’‘There’s somebody coming up-stairs,’ said Agnes to‘The moment I have secured your mistress, my dear,’ O’Bleary.said a man’s voice in a strong Irish brogue, ‘you may ‘There’s somebody coming down-stairs,’ whispereddepend on having the money.’Evenson to Mrs. Tibbs.309

Sketches by Boz‘Go into the parlour, sir,’ said Agnes to her companion.‘You will get there, before whoever it is, gets to the Tomkins.‘Well, do you know I didn’t notice it?’ interruptedtop of the kitchen stairs.’‘Not notice it!’ continued Wisbottle. ‘Bless you; I saw‘The drawing-room, Mrs. Tibbs!’ whispered the astonishedEvenson to his equally astonished companion; and swear I heard him say something about to-night whenhim whispering to her, and she crying; and then I’llfor the drawing-room they both made, plainly hearing we were all in bed.’the rustling of two persons, one coming down-stairs, ‘They’re talking of us!’ exclaimed the agonised Mrs.and one coming up.Tibbs, as the painful suspicion, and a sense of their‘What can it be?’ exclaimed Mrs. Tibbs. ‘It’s like a dream. situation, flashed upon her mind.I wouldn’t be found in this situation for the world!’ ‘I know it—I know it,’ replied Evenson, with a melancholyconsciousness that there was no mode of escape.‘Nor I,’ returned Evenson, who could never bear a jokeat his own expense. ‘Hush! here they are at the door.’ ‘What’s to be done? we cannot both stop here!’ ejaculatedMrs. Tibbs, in a state of partial derangement.‘What fun!’ whispered one of the new-comers.—It wasWisbottle.‘I’ll get up the chimney,’ replied Evenson, who really‘Glorious!’ replied his companion, in an equally low meant what he said.tone.—This was Alfred Tomkins. ‘Who would have ‘You can’t,’ said Mrs. Tibbs, in despair. ‘You can’t— it’sthought it?’a register stove.’‘I told you so,’ said Wisbottle, in a most knowing whisper.‘Lord bless you, he has paid her most extraordinary ‘Hush—hush!’ cried somebody down-stairs.‘Hush!’ repeated John Evenson.attention for the last two months. I saw ‘em when I was ‘What a d-d hushing!’ said Alfred Tomkins, who beganto get rather bewildered.sitting at the piano to-night.’310

Charles Dickens‘There they are!’ exclaimed the sapient Wisbottle, as a ‘Why that!’rustling noise was heard in the store-room.‘Ah! you have done it nicely now, sir,’ sobbed the frightenedAgnes, as a tapping was heard at Mrs. Tibbs’s bed-‘Hark!’ whispered both the young men.‘Hark!’ repeated Mrs. Tibbs and Evenson.room door, which would have beaten any dozen woodpeckershollow.‘Let me alone, sir,’ said a female voice in the storeroom.‘Mrs. Tibbs! Mrs. Tibbs!’ called out Mrs. Bloss. ‘Mrs.‘Oh, Hagnes!’ cried another voice, which clearly belongedto Tibbs, for nobody else ever owned one like it, was resumed with tenfold violence.)Tibbs, pray get up.’ (Here the imitation of a woodpecker‘Oh, Hagnes—lovely creature!’‘Oh, dear—dear!’ exclaimed the wretched partner of‘Be quiet, sir!’ (A bounce.)the depraved Tibbs. ‘She’s knocking at my door. We must‘Hag—’be discovered! What will they think?’‘Be quiet, sir—I am ashamed of you. Think of your ‘Mrs. Tibbs! Mrs. Tibbs!’ screamed the woodpeckerwife, Mr. Tibbs. Be quiet, sir!’again.‘My wife!’ exclaimed the valorous Tibbs, who was clearly ‘What’s the matter!’ shouted Gobler, bursting out ofunder the influence of gin-and-water, and a misplaced the back drawing-room, like the dragon at Astley’s.attachment; ‘I ate her! Oh, Hagnes! when I was in the ‘Oh, Mr. Gobler!’ cried Mrs. Bloss, with a proper approximationto hysterics; ‘I think the house is on fire,volunteer corps, in eighteen hundred and—’‘I declare I’ll scream. Be quiet, sir, will you?’ (Another or else there’s thieves in it. I have heard the most dreadfulnoises!’bounce and a scuffle.)‘What’s that?’ exclaimed Tibbs, with a start.‘The devil you have!’ shouted Gobler again, bouncing‘What’s what?’ said Agnes, stopping short.back into his den, in happy imitation of the aforesaid311

Sketches by Bozdragon, and returning immediately with a lighted candle. counterpane on the hopes of Mr. O’Bleary by avowing‘Why, what’s this? Wisbottle! Tomkins! O’Bleary! Agnes! that he (Gobler) had already proposed to, and been acceptedby, Mrs. Bloss; how Agnes was discharged fromWhat the deuce! all up and dressed?’‘Astonishing!’ said Mrs. Bloss, who had run down-stairs, that lady’s service; how Mr. O’Bleary discharged himselfand taken Mr. Gobler’s arm.from Mrs. Tibbs’s house, without going through the form‘Call Mrs. Tibbs directly, somebody,’ said Gobler, turninginto the front drawing-room.—’What! Mrs. Tibbs and pointed young gentleman rails against England and theof previously discharging his bill; and how that disap-Mr. Evenson!!’English, and vows there is no virtue or fine feeling extant,‘except in Ireland.’ We repeat that we could tell all‘Mrs. Tibbs and Mr. Evenson!’ repeated everybody, asthat unhappy pair were discovered: Mrs. Tibbs seated in this, but we love to exercise our self-denial, and we thereforeprefer leaving it to be imagined.an arm-chair by the fireplace, and Mr. Evenson standingby her side,The lady whom we have hitherto described as Mrs.We must leave the scene that ensued to the reader’s Bloss, is no more. Mrs. Gobler exists: Mrs. Bloss has leftimagination. We could tell, how Mrs. Tibbs forthwith us for ever. In a secluded retreat in Newington Butts,fainted away, and how it required the united strength of far, far removed from the noisy strife of that great boarding-house,the world, the enviable Gobler and his pleas-Mr. Wisbottle and Mr. Alfred Tomkins to hold her in herchair; how Mr. Evenson explained, and how his explanationwas evidently disbelieved; how Agnes repelled the their table, and their medicine, wafted through life bying wife revel in retirement: happy in their complaints,accusations of Mrs. Tibbs by proving that she was negotiatingwith Mr. O’Bleary to influence her mistress’s affec-within three miles round.the grateful prayers of all the purveyors of animal foodtions in his behalf; and how Mr. Gobler threw a damp We would willingly stop here, but we have a painful312

Charles Dickensduty imposed upon us, which we must discharge. Mr.and Mrs. Tibbs have separated by mutual consent, Mrs.Tibbs receiving one moiety of 43£. 15S. 10D., which webefore stated to be the amount of her husband’s annualincome, and Mr. Tibbs the other. He is spending theevening of his days in retirement; and he is spendingalso, annually, that small but honourable independence.He resides among the original settlers at Walworth; andit has been stated, on unquestionable authority, thatthe conclusion of the volunteer story has been heard ina small tavern in that respectable neighbourhood.The unfortunate Mrs. Tibbs has determined to disposeof the whole of her furniture by public auction,and to retire from a residence in which she has sufferedso much. Mr. Robins has been applied to, to conductthe sale, and the transcendent abilities of the literarygentlemen connected with his establishment are nowdevoted to the task of drawing up the preliminary advertisement.It is to contain, among a variety of brilliantmatter, seventy-eight words in large capitals, andsix original quotations in inverted commas.CHAPTER IIMR. MINNS AND HIS COUSINMR. AUGUSTUS MINNS was a bachelor, of about forty ashe said—of about eight-and-forty as his friends said.He was always exceedingly clean, precise, and tidy; perhapssomewhat priggish, and the most retiring man inthe world. He usually wore a brown frock-coat withouta wrinkle, light inexplicables without a spot, a neatneckerchief with a remarkably neat tie, and boots withouta fault; moreover, he always carried a brown silkumbrella with an ivory handle. He was a clerk inSomerset-house, or, as he said himself, he held ‘a responsiblesituation under Government.’ He had a goodand increasing salary, in addition to some 10,000£. ofhis own (invested in the funds), and he occupied a firstfloor in Tavistock-street, Covent-garden, where he hadresided for twenty years, having been in the habit ofquarrelling with his landlord the whole time: regularlygiving notice of his intention to quit on the first day ofevery quarter, and as regularly countermanding it on313

Sketches by Bozthe second. There were two classes of created objects strongly upon her husband the propriety of cultivatingwhich he held in the deepest and most unmingled horror;these were dogs, and children. He was not unamiable, Mr. Budden at last made up his mind, that it should notthe friendship of Mr. Minns in behalf of their son, thatbut he could, at any time, have viewed the execution of be his fault if he and his cousin were not in future morea dog, or the assassination of an infant, with the liveliestsatisfaction. Their habits were at variance with his ‘I’ll break the ice, my love,’ said Mr. Budden, stirringintimate.love of order; and his love of order was as powerful as up the sugar at the bottom of his glass of brandy-andwater,and casting a sidelong look at his spouse to seehis love of life. Mr. Augustus Minns had no relations, inor near London, with the exception of his cousin, Mr. the effect of the announcement of his determination,Octavius Budden, to whose son, whom he had never ‘by asking Minns down to dine with us, on Sunday.’seen (for he disliked the father), he had consented to ‘Then pray, Budden, write to your cousin at once,’ repliedMrs. Budden. ‘Who knows, if we could only getbecome godfather by proxy. Mr. Budden having realiseda moderate fortune by exercising the trade or calling of him down here, but he might take a fancy to oura corn-chandler, and having a great predilection for the Alexander, and leave him his property?—Alick, my dear,country, had purchased a cottage in the vicinity of Stamford-hill,whither he retired with the wife of his bosom, ‘Very true,’ said Mr. Budden, musing, ‘very true in-take your legs off the rail of the chair!’and his only son, Master Alexander Augustus Budden. deed, my love!’ On the following morning, as Mr. MinnsOne evening, as Mr. and Mrs. B. were admiring their was sitting at his breakfast-table, alternately biting hisson, discussing his various merits, talking over his education,and disputing whether the classics should be morning paper, which he always read from the title todry toast and casting a look upon the columns of hismade an essential part thereof, the lady pressed so the printer’s name, he heard a loud knock at the street-314

Charles Dickensdoor; which was shortly afterwards followed by the entranceof his servant, who put into his hands a particutered.‘My dear fellow, how are you?’ said Budden, as he enlarlysmall card, on which was engraven in immense He always spoke at the top of his voice, and alwaysletters, ‘Mr. Octavius Budden, Amelia Cottage (Mrs. B.’s said the same thing half-a-dozen times.name was Amelia), Poplar-walk, Stamford-hill.’‘How are you, my hearty?’‘Budden!’ ejaculated Minns, ‘what can bring that ‘How do you do, Mr. Budden?—pray take a chair!’vulgar man here!—say I’m asleep—say I’m out, and politely stammered the discomfited Minns.shall never be home again—anything to keep him ‘Thank you—thank you—well—how are you, eh?’down-stairs.’‘Uncommonly well, thank you,’ said Minns, casting a‘But please, sir, the gentleman’s coming up,’ replied diabolical look at the dog, who, with his hind legs onthe servant, and the fact was made evident, by an appallingcreaking of boots on the staircase accompanied dragging a bit of bread and butter out of a plate, prepa-the floor, and his fore paws resting on the table, wasby a pattering noise; the cause of which, Minns could ratory to devouring it, with the buttered side next thenot, for the life of him, divine.carpet. ‘Ah, you rogue!’ said Budden to his dog; ‘you‘Hem—show the gentleman in,’ said the unfortunate see, Minns, he’s like me, always at home, eh, my boy!—bachelor. Exit servant, and enter Octavius preceded by a Egad, I’m precious hot and hungry! I’ve walked all thelarge white dog, dressed in a suit of fleecy hosiery, with way from Stamford-hill this morning.’pink eyes, large ears, and no perceptible tail.‘Have you breakfasted?’ inquired Minns.The cause of the pattering on the stairs was but too ‘Oh, no!—came to breakfast with you; so ring the bell,plain. Mr. Augustus Minns staggered beneath the shock my dear fellow, will you? and let’s have another cup andof the dog’s appearance.saucer, and the cold ham.—Make myself at home, you315

Sketches by Bozsee!’ continued Budden, dusting his boots with a tablenapkin.‘Ha!—ha!—ha!—’pon my life, I’m hungry.’ barous indifference to crime, ‘I prefer it this way, it eats‘No, thank ye,’ returned Budden, with the most bar-Minns rang the bell, and tried to smile.short. But I say, Minns, when will you come down and‘I decidedly never was so hot in my life,’ continued see us? You will be delighted with the place; I know youOctavius,will. Amelia and I were talking about you the otherwiping his forehead; ‘well, but how are you, Minns? ‘Pon night, and Amelia said—another lump of sugar, please;my soul, you wear capitally!’thank ye—she said, don’t you think you could contrive,my dear, to say to Mr. Minns, in a friendly way—‘D’ye think so?’ said Minns; and he tried another smile.‘’Pon my life, I do!’come down, sir—damn the dog! he’s spoiling your curtains,Minns—ha!—ha!—ha!’ Minns leaped from his seat‘Mrs. B. and—what’s his name—quite well?’‘Alick—my son, you mean; never better—never better.But at such a place as we’ve got at Poplar-walk, you vanic battery.as though he had received the discharge from a gal-know, he couldn’t be ill if he tried. When I first saw it, ‘Come out, sir!—go out, hoo!’ cried poor Augustus,by Jove! it looked so knowing, with the front garden, keeping, nevertheless, at a very respectful distance fromand the green railings and the brass knocker, and all the dog; having read of a case of hydrophobia in thethat—I really thought it was a cut above me.’paper of that morning. By dint of great exertion, much‘Don’t you think you’d like the ham better,’ interrupted shouting, and a marvellous deal of poking under theMinns, ‘if you cut it the other way?’ He saw, with feelingswhich it is impossible to describe, that his visitor dislodged, and placed on the landing outside the door,tables with a stick and umbrella, the dog was at lastwas cutting or rather maiming the ham, in utter violationof all established rules.howling; at the same time vehemently scratching thewhere he immediately commenced a most appalling316

Charles Dickenspaint off the two nicely-varnished bottom panels, until the side of the white house till you can’t go anotherthey resembled the interior of a backgammon-board. step further—mind that!—and then you turn to your‘A good dog for the country that!’ coolly observed right, by some stables—well; close to you, you’ll see aBudden to the distracted Minns, ‘but he’s not much used wall with “Beware of the Dog” written on it in largeto confinement. But now, Minns, when will you come letters—(Minns shuddered)—go along by the side ofdown? I’ll take no denial, positively. Let’s see, to-day’s that wall for about a quarter of a mile—and anybodyThursday.—Will you come on Sunday? We dine at five, will show you which is my place.’don’t say no—do.’‘Very well—thank ye—good-bye.’After a great deal of pressing, Mr. Augustus Minns, ‘Be punctual.’driven to despair, accepted the invitation, and promisedto be at Poplar-walk on the ensuing Sunday, at a ‘I say, Minns, you’ve got a card.’‘Certainly: good morning.’quarter before five to the minute.‘Yes, I have; thank ye.’ And Mr. Octavius Budden departed,leaving his cousin looking forward to his visit‘Now mind the direction,’ said Budden: ‘the coach goesfrom the Flower-pot, in Bishopsgate-street, every half on the following Sunday, with the feelings of a pennilesspoet to the weekly visit of his Scotch landlady.hour. When the coach stops at the Swan, you’ll see,immediately opposite you, a white house.’Sunday arrived; the sky was bright and clear; crowds‘Which is your house—I understand,’ said Minns, wishingto cut short the visit, and the story, at the same their different schemes of pleasure for the day; every-of people were hurrying along the streets, intent ontime.thing and everybody looked cheerful and happy except‘No, no, that’s not mine; that’s Grogus’s, the great Mr. Augustus Minns.ironmonger’s. I was going to say—you turn down by The day was fine, but the heat was considerable; when317

Sketches by BozMr. Minns had fagged up the shady side of Fleet-street, ‘Coachman! if you don’t go this moment, I shall getCheapside, and Threadneedle-street, he had become out,’ said Mr. Minns, rendered desperate by the latenesspretty warm, tolerably dusty, and it was getting late of the hour, and the impossibility of being in Poplarwalkat the appointed time.into the bargain. By the most extraordinary good fortune,however, a coach was waiting at the Flower-pot, ‘Going this minute, sir,’ was the reply;—and, accordingly,the machine trundled on for a couple of hundredinto which Mr. Augustus Minns got, on the solemn assuranceof the cad that the vehicle would start in three yards, and then stopped again. Minns doubled himselfminutes—that being the very utmost extremity of time up in a corner of the coach, and abandoned himself toit was allowed to wait by Act of Parliament. A quarter of his fate, as a child, a mother, a bandbox and a parasol,an hour elapsed, and there were no signs of moving. became his fellow-passengers.Minns looked at his watch for the sixth time.The child was an affectionate and an amiable infant;‘Coachman, are you going or not?’ bawled Mr. Minns, the little dear mistook Minns for his other parent, andwith his head and half his body out of the coach window. screamed to embrace him.‘Di-rectly, sir,’ said the coachman, with his hands in ‘Be quiet, dear,’ said the mamma, restraining the impetuosityof the darling, whose little fat legs were kick-his pockets, looking as much unlike a man in a hurry aspossible.ing, and stamping, and twining themselves into the most‘Bill, take them cloths off.’ Five minutes more elapsed: complicated forms, in an ecstasy of impatience. ‘Be quiet,at the end of which time the coachman mounted the dear, that’s not your papa.’box, from whence he looked down the street, and up ‘Thank Heaven I am not!’ thought Minns, as the firstthe street, and hailed all the pedestrians for another gleam of pleasure he had experienced that morning shonefive minutes.like a meteor through his wretchedness.318

Charles DickensPlayfulness was agreeably mingled with affection in displayed by the appearance of a Cupid on each side ofthe disposition of the boy. When satisfied that Mr. Minns the door, perched upon a heap of large chalk flints,was not his parent, he endeavoured to attract his noticeby scraping his drab trousers with his dirty shoes, was answered by a stumpy boy, in drab livery, cottonvariegated with pink conch-shells. His knock at the doorpoking his chest with his mamma’s parasol, and other stockings and high-lows, who, after hanging his hat onnameless endearments peculiar to infancy, with which one of the dozen brass pegs which ornamented the passage,denominated by courtesy ‘The Hall,’ ushered himhe beguiled the tediousness of the ride, apparently verymuch to his own satisfaction.into a front drawing-room commanding a very extensiveview of the backs of the neighbouring houses. TheWhen the unfortunate gentleman arrived at the Swan,he found to his great dismay, that it was a quarter past usual ceremony of introduction, and so forth, over, Mr.five. The white house, the stables, the ‘Beware of the Minns took his seat: not a little agitated at finding thatDog,’—every landmark was passed, with a rapidity not he was the last comer, and, somehow or other, the Lionunusual to a gentleman of a certain age when too late of about a dozen people, sitting together in a smallfor dinner. After the lapse of a few minutes, Mr. Minns drawing-room, getting rid of that most tedious of allfound himself opposite a yellow brick house with a green time, the time preceding dinner.door, brass knocker, and door-plate, green window-frames ‘Well, Brogson,’ said Budden, addressing an elderlyand ditto railings, with ‘a garden’ in front, that is to gentleman in a black coat, drab knee-breeches, and longsay, a small loose bit of gravelled ground, with one round gaiters, who, under pretence of inspecting the prints inand two scalene triangular beds, containing a fir-tree, an Annual, had been engaged in satisfying himself ontwenty or thirty bulbs, and an unlimited number of the subject of Mr. Minns’s general appearance, by lookingat him over the tops of the leaves—’Well, marigolds. The taste of Mr. and Mrs. Budden was furtherBrogson,319

Sketches by Bozwhat do ministers mean to do? Will they go out, or be heard, asking a friend to take wine, and assuringwhat?’him he was glad to see him; and a great deal of by-play‘Oh—why—really, you know, I’m the last person in took place between Mrs. B. and the servants,the world to ask for news. Your cousin, from his situation,is the most likely person to answer the question.’ countenance assumed all the variations of a weather-respecting the removal of the dishes, during which herMr. Minns assured the last speaker, that although he glass, from ‘stormy’ to ‘set fair.’was in Somerset-house, he possessed no official communicationrelative to the projects of his Majesty’s Minis-servant, in compliance with a significant look from Mrs. B.,Upon the dessert and wine being placed on the table, theters. But his remark was evidently received incredulously; brought down ‘Master Alexander,’ habited in a sky-blue suitand no further conjectures being hazarded on the subject,a long pause ensued, during which the company colour as the metal. After sundry praises from his mother,with silver buttons; and possessing hair of nearly the sameoccupied themselves in coughing and blowing their noses, and various admonitions as to his behaviour from his father,until the entrance of Mrs. Budden caused a general rise. he was introduced to his godfather.The ceremony of introduction being over, dinner was ‘Well, my little fellow—you are a fine boy, ain’t you?’announced, and down-stairs the party proceeded accordingly—Mr.Minns escorting Mrs. Budden as far as ‘Yes.’said Mr. Minns, as happy as a tomtit on birdlime.the drawing-room door, but being prevented, by the ‘How old are you?’narrowness of the staircase, from extending his gallantry ‘Eight, next We’nsday. How old are you?’any farther. The dinner passed off as such dinners usuallydo. Ever and anon, amidst the clatter of knives and Mr. Minns how old he is!’‘Alexander,’ interrupted his mother, ‘how dare you askforks, and the hum of conversation, Mr. B.’s voice might ‘He asked me how old I was,’ said the precocious child,320

Charles Dickensto whom Minns had from that moment internally resolvedthat he never would bequeath one shilling. As substantive.’‘No, dear,’ frowned Mrs. Budden; ‘B double E is thesoon as the titter occasioned by the observation had ‘I don’t think he knows much yet about common substantives,’said the smirking gentleman, who thoughtsubsided, a little smirking man with red whiskers, sittingat the bottom of the table, who during the whole this an admirable opportunity for letting off a joke. ‘It’sof dinner had been endeavouring to obtain a listener to clear he’s not very well acquainted with proper names.some stories about Sheridan, called, out, with a very He! he! he!’patronising air, ‘Alick, what part of speech is be.’ ‘Gentlemen,’ called out Mr. Budden, from the end of‘A verb.’the table, in a stentorian voice, and with a very importantair, ‘will you have the goodness to charge your‘That’s a good boy,’ said Mrs. Budden, with all a mother’spride.glasses? I have a toast to propose.’‘Now, you know what a verb is?’‘Hear! hear!’ cried the gentlemen, passing the decanters.After they had made the round of the table, Mr.‘A verb is a word which signifies to be, to do, or to suffer;as, I am—I rule—I am ruled. Give me an apple, Ma.’ Budden proceeded—‘Gentlemen; there is an individual‘I’ll give you an apple,’ replied the man with the red present—’whiskers, who was an established friend of the family, ‘Hear! hear!’ said the little man with red whiskers.or in other words was always invited by Mrs. Budden, ‘Pray be quiet, Jones,’ remonstrated Budden.whether Mr. Budden liked it or not, ‘if you’ll tell me ‘I say, gentlemen, there is an individual present,’ resumedthe host, ‘in whose society, I am sure we mustwhat is the meaning of be.’‘Be?’ said the prodigy, after a little hesitation—’an take great delight—and—and—the conversation of thatinsect that gathers honey.’individual must have afforded to every one present, the321

Sketches by Bozutmost pleasure.’ [‘Thank Heaven, he does not mean me!’ feeling—of—with every sentiment of—of—’thought Minns, conscious that his diffidence and exclusivenesshad prevented his saying above a dozen words ‘—Of gratification, I beg to propose the health of Mr.‘Gratification’—suggested the friend of the family.since he entered the house.] ‘Gentlemen, I am but a Minns.’humble individual myself, and I perhaps ought to ‘Standing, gentlemen!’ shouted the indefatigable littleapologise for allowing any individual feeling of friendshipand affection for the person I allude to, to induce your time from me, if you please. Hip! hip! hip!—Za!—man with the whiskers—’and with the honours. Takeme to venture to rise, to propose the health of that Hip! hip! hip!—Za!—Hip hip!—Za-a-a!’person—a person that, I am sure—that is to say, a personwhose virtues must endear him to those who know who by gulping down port wine at the imminent hazardAll eyes were now fixed on the subject of the toast,him—and those who have not the pleasure of knowing of suffocation, endeavoured to conceal his confusion.him, cannot dislike him.’After as long a pause as decency would admit, he rose,‘Hear! hear!’ said the company, in a tone of encouragementand approval.‘we regret that we are quite unable to give even thebut, as the newspapers sometimes say in their reports,‘Gentlemen,’ continued Budden, ‘my cousin is a man substance of the honourable gentleman’s observations.’who—who is a relation of my own.’ (Hear! hear!) Minns The words ‘present company—honour—present occasion,’and ‘great happiness’—heard occasionally, andgroaned audibly. ‘Who I am most happy to see here, andwho, if he were not here, would certainly have deprived repeated at intervals, with a countenance expressive ofus of the great pleasure we all feel in seeing him. (Loud the utmost confusion and misery, convinced the companythat he was making an excellent speech; and, ac-cries of hear!) Gentlemen, I feel that I have already trespassedon your attention for too long a time. With every cordingly, on his resuming his seat, they cried ‘Bravo!’322

Charles Dickensand manifested tumultuous applause. Jones, who had circumstance which happens, oddly enough, to occurbeen long watching his opportunity, then darted up. to my mind at the moment. On one occasion, when that‘Budden,’ said he, ‘will you allow me to propose a toast?’ truly great and illustrious man, Sheridan, was—’‘Certainly,’ replied Budden, adding in an under-tone Now, there is no knowing what new villainy in theto Minns right across the table, ‘Devilish sharp fellow form of a joke would have been heaped on the grave ofthat: you’ll be very much pleased with his speech. He that very ill-used man, Mr. Sheridan, if the boy in drabtalks equally well on any subject.’ Minns bowed, and Mr. had not at that moment entered the room in a breathlessstate, to report that, as it was a very wet night, theJones proceeded:‘It has on several occasions, in various instances, undermany circumstances, and in different companies, there was anybody going to town, as, in that case, henine o’clock stage had come round, to know whetherfallen to my lot to propose a toast to those by whom, at (the nine o’clock) had room for one inside.the time, I have had the honour to be surrounded, I Mr. Minns started up; and, despite countless exclamationsof surprise, and entreaties to stay, persisted in hishave sometimes, I will cheerfully own—for why shouldI deny it?—felt the overwhelming nature of the task I determination to accept the vacant place. But, the brownhave undertaken, and my own utter incapability to do silk umbrella was nowhere to be found; and as the coachmancouldn’t wait, he drove back to the Swan, leavingjustice to the subject. If such have been my feelings,however, on former occasions, what must they be now— word for Mr. Minns to ‘run round’ and catch him. However,as it did not occur to Mr. Minns for some ten min-now—under the extraordinary circumstances in whichI am placed. (Hear! hear!) To describe my feelings accurately,would be impossible; but I cannot give you a the ivory handle in the other coach, coming down; and,utes or so, that he had left the brown silk umbrella withbetter idea of them, gentlemen, than by referring to a moreover, as he was by no means remarkable for speed, it323

Sketches by Bozis no matter of surprise that when he accomplished the Crumpton admitted she was forty; an admission whichfeat of ‘running round’ to the Swan, the coach—the last was rendered perfectly unnecessary by the self-evidentcoach—had gone without him.fact of her being at least fifty. They dressed in the mostIt was somewhere about three o’clock in the morning, interesting manner—like twins! and looked as happywhen Mr. Augustus Minns knocked feebly at the streetdoorof his lodgings in Tavistock-street, cold, wet, cross, They were very precise, had the strictest possible ideasand comfortable as a couple of marigolds run to seed.and miserable. He made his will next morning, and his of propriety, wore false hair, and always smelt veryprofessional man informs us, in that strict confidence in strongly of lavender.which we inform the public, that neither the name of Mr. Minerva House, conducted under the auspices of theOctavius Budden, nor of Mrs. Amelia Budden, nor of MasterAlexander Augustus Budden, appears therein. ladies,’ where some twenty girls of the ages of from thir-two sisters, was a ‘finishing establishment for youngteen to nineteen inclusive, acquired a smattering ofCHAPTER IIIeverything, and a knowledge of nothing; instruction inSENTIMENTFrench and Italian, dancing lessons twice a-week; andother necessaries of life. The house was a white one, aTHE MISS CRUMPTONS, or to quote the authority of the little removed from the roadside, with close palings ininscription on the garden-gate of Minerva House, front. The bedroom windows were always left partly open,Hammersmith, ‘The Misses Crumpton,’ were two unusuallytall, particularly thin, and exceedingly skinny per-with very white dimity furniture, and thereby impressto afford a bird’s-eye view of numerous little bedsteadssonages: very upright, and very yellow. Miss Amelia the passer-by with a due sense of the luxuries of theCrumpton owned to thirty-eight, and Miss Maria establishment; and there was a front parlour hung round324

Charles Dickenswith highly varnished maps which nobody ever looked ‘A Member of Parliament’s daughter!’ ejaculated Amelia,at, and filled with books which no one ever read, appropriatedexclusively to the reception of parents, who, ‘A Member of Parliament’s daughter!’ repeated Missin an ecstatic tone.whenever they called, could not fail to be struck with Maria, with a smile of delight, which, of course, elicitedthe very deep appearance of the place.a concurrent titter of pleasure from all the young ladies.‘Amelia, my dear,’ said Miss Maria Crumpton, entering ‘It’s exceedingly delightful!’ said Miss Amelia; whereuponall the young ladies murmured their admirationthe school-room one morning, with her false hair inpapers: as she occasionally did, in order to impress the again. Courtiers are but school-boys, and court-ladiesyoung ladies with a conviction of its reality. ‘Amelia, school-girl’s.my dear, here is a most gratifying note I have just received.You needn’t mind reading it aloud.’business of the day. A holiday was declared, in commemo-So important an announcement at once superseded theMiss Amelia, thus advised, proceeded to read the followingnote with an air of great triumph:their private apartment to talk it over; the smaller girlsration of the great event; the Miss Crumptons retired todiscussed the probable manners and customs of the daughterof a Member of Parliament; and the young ladies verg-‘Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq., M.P., presents his complimentsto Miss Crumpton, and will feel much obligeding on eighteen wondered whether she was engaged,by Miss Crumpton’s calling on him, if she convenientlycan, to-morrow morning at one o’clock, as Cornelius whether she was pretty, whether she wore much bustle,Brook Dingwall, Esq., M.P., is anxious to see Miss and many other whethers of equal importance.Crumpton on the subject of placing Miss Brook DingwallThe two Miss Crumptons proceeded to the Adelphi atunder her charge.the appointed time next day, dressed, of course, in their‘Adelphi.best style, and looking as amiable as they possibly‘Monday morning.’325

Sketches by Bozcould—which, by-the-bye, is not saying much for them. On the present occasion, this talented individual wasHaving sent in their cards, through the medium of a seated in a small library at a table covered with papers,red-hot looking footman in bright livery, they were usheredinto the august presence of the profound Dingwall. Acts of Parliament, and letters directed to ‘Corneliusdoing nothing, but trying to look busy, playing at shop.Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq., M.P., was very haughty, Brook Dingwall, Esq., M.P.,’ were ostentatiously scatteredover the table; at a little distance from which,solemn, and portentous. He had, naturally, a somewhatspasmodic expression of countenance, which was not renderedthe less remarkable by his wearing an extremely public nuisances, a spoiled child, was playing about theMrs. Brook Dingwall was seated at work. One of thosestiff cravat. He was wonderfully proud of the M.P. attachedto his name, and never lost an opportunity of blue tunic with a black belt—a quarter of a yard wide,room, dressed after the most approved fashion—in areminding people of his dignity. He had a great idea of fastened with an immense buckle—looking like a robberin a melodrama, seen through a diminishing glass.his own abilities, which must have been a great comfortto him, as no one else had; and in diplomacy, on a small After a little pleasantry from the sweet child, whoscale, in his own family arrangements, he considered himselfunrivalled. He was a county magistrate, and discharged Crumpton’s chair as fast as it was placed for her, theamused himself by running away with Miss Mariathe duties of his station with all due justice and impartiality;frequently committing poachers, and occasion-opened the conversation.visitors were seated, and Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq.,ally committing himself. Miss Brook Dingwall was one of He had sent for Miss Crumpton, he said, in consequenceof the high character he had received of herthat numerous class of young ladies, who, like adverbs,may be known by their answering to a commonplace question,and doing nothing else.Miss Crumpton murmured her acknowledgments to himestablishment from his friend, Sir Alfred Muggs.326

Charles Dickens(Muggs), and Cornelius proceeded.girls of her own age; and, as I know that in your establishmentshe will meet such as are not likely to contami-‘One of my principal reasons, Miss Crumpton, for partingwith my daughter, is, that she has lately acquired nate her young mind, I propose to send her to you.’some sentimental ideas, which it is most desirable to The youngest Miss Crumpton expressed the acknowledgmentsof the establishment generally. Maria was ren-eradicate from her young mind.’ (Here the little innocentbefore noticed, fell out of an arm-chair with an dered speechless by bodily pain. The dear little fellow,awful crash.)having recovered his animal spirits, was standing upon‘Naughty boy!’ said his mamma, who appeared more surprisedat his taking the liberty of falling down, than at looked like a capital O in a red-lettered play-bill) on aher most tender foot, by way of getting his face (whichanything else; ‘I’ll ring the bell for James to take him away.’ level with the writing-table.‘Pray don’t check him, my love,’ said the diplomatist, ‘Of course, Lavinia will be a parlour boarder,’ continuedthe enviable father; ‘and on one point I wish myas soon as he could make himself heard amidst the unearthlyhowling consequent upon the threat and the directions to be strictly observed. The fact is, that sometumble. ‘It all arises from his great flow of spirits.’ This ridiculous love affair, with a person much her inferiorlast explanation was addressed to Miss Crumpton. in life, has been the cause of her present state of mind.‘Certainly, sir,’ replied the antique Maria: not exactly Knowing that of course, under your care, she can haveseeing, however, the connexion between a flow of animalspirits, and a fall from an arm-chair.to—indeed, I should rather prefer—her mixing with suchno opportunity of meeting this person, I do not objectSilence was restored, and the M.P. resumed: ‘Now, I society as you see yourself.’know nothing so likely to effect this object, Miss This important statement was again interrupted byCrumpton, as her mixing constantly in the society of the high-spirited little creature, in the excess of his327

Sketches by Bozjoyousness breaking a pane of glass, and nearly precipitatinghimself into an adjacent area. James was rung by the way, was another bit of diplomacy.to take place. It might divert the dear girl’s mind. This,for; considerable confusion and screaming succeeded; Miss Lavinia was introduced to her future governess,two little blue legs were seen to kick violently in the air and both the Miss Crumptons pronounced her ‘a mostas the man left the room, and the child was gone. charming girl;’ an opinion which, by a singular coincidence,they always entertained of any new pupil.‘Mr. Brook Dingwall would like Miss Brook Dingwall tolearn everything,’ said Mrs. Brook Dingwall, who hardly Courtesies were exchanged, acknowledgments expressed,condescension exhibited, and the interviewever said anything at all.‘Certainly,’ said both the Miss Crumptons together. terminated.‘And as I trust the plan I have devised will be effectualin weaning my daughter from this absurd idea, Miss ‘on a scale of magnitude never before attempted,’ werePreparations, to make use of theatrical phraseology,Crumpton,’ continued the legislator, ‘I hope you will have incessantly made at Minerva House to give every effectthe goodness to comply, in all respects, with any requestI may forward to you.’was pleasingly ornamented with blue calico roses, plaidto the forthcoming ball. The largest room in the houseThe promise was of course made; and after a lengtheneddiscussion, conducted on behalf of the Dingwalls ers, the work of the young ladies themselves. The car-tulips, and other equally natural-looking artificial flow-with the most becoming diplomatic gravity, and on that pet was taken up, the folding-doors were taken down,of the Crumptons with profound respect, it was finally the furniture was taken out, and rout-seats were takenarranged that Miss Lavinia should be forwarded to in. The linen-drapers of Hammersmith were astoundedHammersmith on the next day but one, on which occasionthe half-yearly ball given at the establishment was long white gloves. Dozens of geraniums were purchasedat the sudden demand for blue sarsenet ribbon, and328

Charles Dickensfor bouquets, and a harp and two violins were bespoke ‘Oh! charming, dear. How do I?’from town, in addition to the grand piano already on ‘Delightful! you never looked so handsome,’ returnedthe premises. The young ladies who were selected to the belle, adjusting her own dress, and not bestowing ashow off on the occasion, and do credit to the establishment,practised incessantly, much to their own sat-‘I hope young Hilton will come early,’ said another youngglance on her poor companion.isfaction, and greatly to the annoyance of the lame old lady to Miss somebody else, in a fever of expectation.gentleman over the way; and a constant correspondence ‘I’m sure he’d be highly flattered if he knew it,’ returnedthe other, who was practising l’ete.was kept up, between the Misses Crumpton and theHammersmith pastrycook.‘Oh! he’s so handsome,’ said the first.The evening came; and then there was such a lacing ‘Such a charming person!’ added a second.of stays, and tying of sandals, and dressing of hair, as ‘Such a distingue air!’ said a third.never can take place with a proper degree of bustle out ‘Oh, what do you think?’ said another girl, runningof a boarding-school. The smaller girls managed to be in into the room; ‘Miss Crumpton says her cousin’s coming.’everybody’s way, and were pushed about accordingly; ‘What! Theodosius Butler?’ said everybody in raptures.and the elder ones dressed, and tied, and flattered, and ‘Is he handsome?’ inquired a novice.envied, one another, as earnestly and sincerely as if ‘No, not particularly handsome,’ was the general reply;‘but, oh, so clever!’they had actually come out.‘How do I look, dear?’ inquired Miss Emily Smithers, Mr. Theodosius Butler was one of those immortal geniuseswho are to be met with in almost every circle.the belle of the house, of Miss Caroline Wilson, who washer bosom friend, because she was the ugliest girl in They have, usually, very deep, monotonous voices. TheyHammersmith, or out of it.always persuade themselves that they are wonderful per-329

Sketches by Bozsons, and that they ought to be very miserable, though Crumptons conversed with the young ladies in the mostthey don’t precisely know why. They are very conceited, mellifluous tones, in order that Miss Brook Dingwall mightand usually possess half an idea; but, with enthusiastic be properly impressed with their amiable treatment.young ladies, and silly young gentlemen, they are very Another pull at the bell. Mr. Dadson the writing-master,and his wife. The wife in green silk, with shoes andwonderful persons. The individual in question, Mr.Theodosius, had written a pamphlet containing some very cap-trimmings to correspond: the writing-master in aweighty considerations on the expediency of doing somethingor other; and as every sentence contained a good ings, displaying a leg large enough for two writing-mas-white waistcoat, black knee-shorts, and ditto silk stock-many words of four syllables, his admirers took it for ters. The young ladies whispered one another, and thegranted that he meant a good deal.writing-master and his wife flattered the Miss Crumptons,‘Perhaps that’s he,’ exclaimed several young ladies, as who were dressed in amber, with long sashes, like dolls.the first pull of the evening threatened destruction to Repeated pulls at the bell, and arrivals too numerousthe bell of the gate.to particularise: papas and mammas, and aunts andAn awful pause ensued. Some boxes arrived and a young uncles, the owners and guardians of the different pupils;the singing-master, Signor Lobskini, in a black wig;lady—Miss Brook Dingwall, in full ball costume, with animmense gold chain round her neck, and her dress looped the piano-forte player and the violins; the harp, in aup with a single rose; an ivory fan in her hand, and a state of intoxication; and some twenty young men, whomost interesting expression of despair in her face. stood near the door, and talked to one another, occasionallybursting into a giggle. A general hum of con-The Miss Crumptons inquired after the family, with themost excruciating anxiety, and Miss Brook Dingwall was versation. Coffee handed round, and plentifully partakenformally introduced to her future companions. The Miss of by fat mammas, who looked like the stout people330

Charles Dickenswho come on in pantomimes for the sole purpose of unmoved by the splendid tenor of the inimitablebeing knocked down.Lobskini, and the brilliant execution of Miss LaetitiaThe popular Mr. Hilton was the next arrival; and he Parsons, whose performance of ‘The Recollections of Ireland’was universally declared to be almost equal to thathaving, at the request of the Miss Crumptons, undertakenthe office of Master of the Ceremonies, the quadrillescommenced with considerable spirit. The young the arrival of Mr. Theodosius Butler could induce her toof Moscheles himself. Not even the announcement ofmen by the door gradually advanced into the middle of leave the corner of the back drawing-room in which shethe room, and in time became sufficiently at ease to was seated.consent to be introduced to partners. The writing-masterdanced every set, springing about with the most enlightened pamphleteer had nearly run the gauntlet‘Now, Theodosius,’ said Miss Maria Crumpton, after thatfearful agility, and his wife played a rubber in the backparlour—alittle room with five book-shelves, dignified pupil.’of the whole company, ‘I must introduce you to our newby the name of the study. Setting her down to whist Theodosius looked as if he cared for nothing earthly.was a half-yearly piece of generalship on the part of the ‘She’s the daughter of a member of parliament,’ saidMiss Crumptons; it was necessary to hide her somewhere, Maria. —Theodosius started.on account of her being a fright.‘And her name is—?’ he inquired.The interesting Lavinia Brook Dingwall was the only ‘Miss Brook Dingwall.’girl present, who appeared to take no interest in the ‘Great Heaven!’ poetically exclaimed Theodosius, in aproceedings of the evening. In vain was she solicited to low tone.dance; in vain was the universal homage paid to her as Miss Crumpton commenced the introduction in duethe daughter of a member of parliament. She was equally form. Miss Brook Dingwall languidly raised her head.331

Sketches by Boz‘Edward!’ she exclaimed, with a half-shriek, on seeingthe well-known nankeen legs.deserve your notice—you may remember that I oncecupy a place in your recollection—if any being, so vile,Fortunately, as Miss Maria Crumpton possessed no remarkableshare of penetration, and as it was one of the titled “Considerations on the Policy of Removing thepublished a pamphlet (and paid for its publication) en-diplomatic arrangements that no attention was to be Duty on Bees’-wax.”’paid to Miss Lavinia’s incoherent exclamations, she was ‘I do—I do!’ sobbed Lavinia.perfectly unconscious of the mutual agitation of the ‘That,’ continued the lover, ‘was a subject to whichparties; and therefore, seeing that the offer of his hand your father was devoted heart and soul.’for the next quadrille was accepted, she left him by the ‘He was—he was!’ reiterated the sentimentalist.side of Miss Brook Dingwall.‘I knew it,’ continued Theodosius, tragically; ‘I knew‘Oh, Edward!’ exclaimed that most romantic of all romanticyoung ladies, as the light of science seated him-Could I disclose my real name? Never! No, I assumedit—I forwarded him a copy. He wished to know me.self beside her, ‘Oh, Edward, is it you?’that name which you have so often pronounced in tonesMr. Theodosius assured the dear creature, in the most of endearment. As M’Neville Walter, I devoted myself toimpassioned manner, that he was not conscious of beinganybody but himself.in the same character I was ejected from your house bythe stirring cause; as M’Neville Walter I gained your heart;‘Then why—why—this disguise? Oh! Edward M’Neville your father’s domestics; and in no character at all haveWalter, what have I not suffered on your account?’ I since been enabled to see you. We now meet again,‘Lavinia, hear me,’ replied the hero, in his most poetic and I proudly own that I am—Theodosius Butler.’strain. ‘Do not condemn me unheard. If anything that The young lady appeared perfectly satisfied with thisemanates from the soul of such a wretch as I, can oc-argumentative address, and bestowed a look of the most332

Charles Dickensardent affection on the immortal advocate of bees’-wax. ing-master continued to frisk about with one-horse‘May I hope,’ said he, ‘that the promise your father’s power, and how his wife, from some unaccountable freak,violent behaviour interrupted, may be renewed?’ left the whist-table in the little back-parlour, and persistedin displaying her green head-dress in the most‘Let us join this set,’ replied Lavinia, coquettishly—for girls of nineteen can coquette.conspicuous part of the drawing-room. How the supper‘No,’ ejaculated he of the nankeens. ‘I stir not from consisted of small triangular sandwiches in trays, and athis spot, writhing under this torture of suspense. May tart here and there by way of variety; and how the visitorsconsumed warm water disguised with lemon, andI—may I—hope?’‘You may.’dotted with nutmeg, under the denomination of negus.‘The promise is renewed?’These, and other matters of as much interest, however,‘It is.’we pass over, for the purpose of describing a scene of‘I have your permission?’even more importance.‘You have.’A fortnight after the date of the ball, Cornelius Brook‘To the fullest extent?’Dingwall, Esq., M.P., was seated at the same librarytable,and in the same room, as we have before described.‘You know it,’ returned the blushing Lavinia. The contortionsof the interesting Butler’s visage expressed his He was alone, and his face bore an expression of deepraptures.thought and solemn gravity—he was drawing up ‘A BillWe could dilate upon the occurrences that ensued. for the better observance of Easter Monday.’How Mr. Theodosius and Miss Lavinia danced, and talked, The footman tapped at the door—the legislator startedand sighed for the remainder of the evening—how the from his reverie, and ‘Miss Crumpton’ was announced.Miss Crumptons were delighted thereat. How the writ-Permission was given for Miss Crumpton to enter the sanc-333

Sketches by Boztum; Maria came sliding in, and having taken her seat body else had been a match for her. But the unfortunategoverness was unequal to the task.with a due portion of affectation, the footman retired,and the governess was left alone with the M.P. Oh! how ‘You have persevered strictly in the line of conduct Ishe longed for the presence of a third party! Even the prescribed, Miss Crumpton?’facetious young gentleman would have been a relief. ‘Strictly, sir.’Miss Crumpton began the duet. She hoped Mrs. Brook ‘You tell me in your note that her spirits graduallyDingwall and the handsome little boy were in good health. improved.’They were. Mrs. Brook Dingwall and little Frederick ‘Very much indeed, sir.’were at Brighton.‘To be sure. I was convinced they would.’‘Much obliged to you, Miss Crumpton,’ said Cornelius, ‘But I fear, sir,’ said Miss Crumpton, with visible emotion,‘I fear the plan has not succeeded, quite so well asin his most dignified manner, ‘for your attention in callingthis morning. I should have driven down to we could have wished.’Hammersmith, to see Lavinia, but your account was so No!’ exclaimed the prophet. ‘Bless me! Miss Crumpton,very satisfactory, and my duties in the House occupy you look alarmed. What has happened?’me so much, that I determined to postpone it for a ‘Miss Brook Dingwall, sir—’week. How has she gone on?’‘Yes, ma’am?’‘Very well indeed, sir,’ returned Maria, dreading to informthe father that she had gone off.nation to faint.‘Has gone, sir’—said Maria, exhibiting a strong incli-‘Ah, I thought the plan on which I proceeded would ‘Gone!’be a match for her.’‘Eloped, sir.’Here was a favourable opportunity to say that some-‘Eloped!—Who with—when—where—how?’ almost334

Charles Dickensshrieked the agitated diplomatist.tion. Mr. and Mrs. Butler are at present rusticating in aThe natural yellow of the unfortunate Maria’s face small cottage at Ball’s-pond, pleasantly situated in thechanged to all the hues of the rainbow, as she laid a immediate vicinity of a brick-field. They have no family.Mr. Theodosius looks very important, and writes in-small packet on the member’s table.He hurriedly opened it. A letter from his daughter, cessantly; but, in consequence of a gross combinationand another from Theodosius. He glanced over their contents—’Erethis reaches you, far distant—appeal to feelpearin print. His young wife begins to think that idealon the part of publishers, none of his productions apings—loveto distraction—bees’-wax—slavery,’ &c., &c. misery is preferable to real unhappiness; and that aHe dashed his hand to his forehead, and paced the room marriage, contracted in haste, and repented at leisure,with fearfully long strides, to the great alarm of the is the cause of more substantial wretchedness than sheprecise Maria.ever anticipated.‘Now mind; from this time forward,’ said Mr. Brook On cool reflection, Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq., M.P.,Dingwall, suddenly stopping at the table, and beating was reluctantly compelled to admit that the untowardtime upon it with his hand; ‘from this time forward, I result of his admirable arrangements was attributable,never will, under any circumstances whatever, permit a not to the Miss Crumptons, but his own diplomacy. He,man who writes pamphlets to enter any other room of however, consoles himself, like some other smallthis house but the kitchen.—I’ll allow my daughter and diplomatists, by satisfactorily proving that if his plansher husband one hundred and fifty pounds a-year, and did not succeed, they ought to have done so. Minervanever see their faces again: and, damme! ma’am, I’ll House is in status quo, and ‘The Misses Crumpton’ remainin the peaceable and undisturbed enjoyment of allbring in a bill for the abolition of finishing-schools.’Some time has elapsed since this passionate declara-the advantages resulting from their Finishing-School.335

Sketches by BozCHAPTER IVso forcibly of a great mind and romantic disposition.THE TUGGSES AT RAMSGATEThe slightest traits of character in such a being, possessno mean interest to speculative minds. He usually appearedin public, in capacious shoes with black cottonONCE UPON A TIME there dwelt, in a narrow street on theSurrey side of the water, within three minutes’ walk of stockings; and was observed to be particularly attachedold London Bridge, Mr. Joseph Tuggs—a little dark-faced to a black glazed stock, without tie or ornament of anyman, with shiny hair, twinkling eyes, short legs, and a description.body of very considerable thickness, measuring from There is perhaps no profession, however useful; nothe centre button of his waistcoat in front, to the ornamentalbuttons of his coat behind. The figure of the petty attacks of vulgar minds. Mr. Joseph Tuggs was apursuit, however meritorious; which can escape theamiable Mrs. Tuggs, if not perfectly symmetrical, was grocer. It might be supposed that a grocer was beyonddecidedly comfortable; and the form of her only daughter,the accomplished Miss Charlotte Tuggs, was fast rip-stigmatised him as a chandler; and the poisonous voicethe breath of calumny; but no—the neighboursening into that state of luxuriant plumpness which had of envy distinctly asserted that he dispensed tea andenchanted the eyes, and captivated the heart, of Mr. coffee by the quartern, retailed sugar by the ounce,Joseph Tuggs in his earlier days. Mr. Simon Tuggs, his cheese by the slice, tobacco by the screw, and butteronly son, and Miss Charlotte Tuggs’s only brother, was by the pat. These taunts, however, were lost upon theas differently formed in body, as he was differently constitutedin mind, from the remainder of his family. There Mrs. Tuggs to the cheesemongery; and Miss Tuggs toTuggses. Mr. Tuggs attended to the grocery department;was that elongation in his thoughtful face, and that her education. Mr. Simon Tuggs kept his father’s books,tendency to weakness in his interesting legs, which tell and his own counsel.336

Charles DickensOne fine spring afternoon, the latter gentleman was ‘From the Temple!’ said Miss Tuggs and Mr. Simon Tuggsseated on a tub of weekly Dorset, behind the little red at the same moment.desk with a wooden rail, which ornamented a corner of ‘From the Temple!’ said Mr. Joseph Tuggs, turning asthe counter; when a stranger dismounted from a cab, and pale as a Dutch cheese.hastily entered the shop. He was habited in black cloth, ‘From the Temple,’ repeated the man with the bag;and bore with him, a green umbrella, and a blue bag. ‘from Mr. Cower’s, the solicitor’s. Mr. Tuggs, I congratulateyou, sir. Ladies, I wish you joy of your prosperity!‘Mr. Tuggs?’ said the stranger, inquiringly.‘MY name is Tuggs,’ replied Mr. Simon.We have been successful.’ And the man with the bag‘It’s the other Mr. Tuggs,’ said the stranger, looking leisurely divested himself of his umbrella and glove, astowards the glass door which led into the parlour behindthe shop, and on the inside of which, the round Now the words ‘we have been successful,’ had no soonera preliminary to shaking hands with Mr. Joseph Tuggs.face of Mr. Tuggs, senior, was distinctly visible, peeping issued from the mouth of the man with the bag, thanover the curtain.Mr. Simon Tuggs rose from the tub of weekly Dorset,Mr. Simon gracefully waved his pen, as if in intimationof his wish that his father would advance. Mr. Jouresof eight in the air with his pen, and finally fellopened his eyes very wide, gasped for breath, made figsephTuggs, with considerable celerity, removed his face into the arms of his anxious mother, and fainted awayfrom the curtain and placed it before the stranger. without the slightest ostensible cause or pretence.‘I come from the Temple,’ said the man with the bag. ‘Water!’ screamed Mrs. Tuggs.‘From the Temple!’ said Mrs. Tuggs, flinging open the ‘Look up, my son,’ exclaimed Mr. Tuggs.door of the little parlour and disclosing Miss Tuggs in ‘Simon! dear Simon!’ shrieked Miss Tuggs.perspective.‘I’m better now,’ said Mr. Simon Tuggs. ‘What! success-337

Sketches by Bozful!’ And then, as corroborative evidence of his being alone altogether.better, he fainted away again, and was borne into the ‘We must certainly give up business,’ said Miss Tuggs.little parlour by the united efforts of the remainder of ‘Oh, decidedly,’ said Mrs. Tuggs.the family, and the man with the bag.‘Simon shall go to the bar,’ said Mr. Joseph Tuggs.To a casual spectator, or to any one unacquainted ‘And I shall always sign myself “Cymon” in future,’with the position of the family, this fainting would have said his son.been unaccountable. To those who understood the missionof the man with the bag, and were moreover ac-‘And you must always call me “Ma,” and father “Pa,”’‘And I shall call myself Charlotta,’ said Miss Tuggs.quainted with the excitability of the nerves of Mr. Simon said Mrs. Tuggs.Tuggs, it was quite comprehensible. A long-pending lawsuitrespecting the validity of a will, had been unexposedMiss Tuggs.‘Yes, and Pa must leave off all his vulgar habits,’ interpectedlydecided; and Mr. Joseph Tuggs was the possessorof twenty thousand pounds.complacently. He was, at that very moment, eating pick-‘I’ll take care of all that,’ responded Mr. Joseph Tuggs,A prolonged consultation took place, that night, in led salmon with a pocket-knife.the little parlour—a consultation that was to settle the ‘We must leave town immediately,’ said Mr. Cymonfuture destinies of the Tuggses. The shop was shut up, Tuggs.at an unusually early hour; and many were the unavailingkicks bestowed upon the closed door by applicants preliminary to being genteel. The question then arose,Everybody concurred that this was an indispensablefor quarterns of sugar, or half-quarterns of bread, or Where should they go?penn’orths of pepper, which were to have been ‘left till ‘Gravesend?’ mildly suggested Mr. Joseph Tuggs. TheSaturday,’ but which fortune had decreed were to be left idea was unanimously scouted. Gravesend was low.338

Charles Dickens‘Margate?’ insinuated Mrs. Tuggs. Worse and worse— tered at the bar. ‘Soul-inspiring!’nobody there, but tradespeople.‘Delightful morning, sir!’ said a stoutish, military-lookinggentleman in a blue surtout buttoned up to his chin,‘Brighton?’ Mr. Cymon Tuggs opposed an insurmountableobjection. All the coaches had been upset, in turn, and white trousers chained down to the soles of hiswithin the last three weeks; each coach had averaged boots.two passengers killed, and six wounded; and, in every Mr. Cymon Tuggs took upon himself the responsibilitycase, the newspapers had distinctly understood that ‘no of answering the observation. ‘Heavenly!’ he replied.blame whatever was attributable to the coachman.’ ‘You are an enthusiastic admirer of the beauties of‘Ramsgate?’ ejaculated Mr. Cymon, thoughtfully. To Nature, sir?’ said the military gentleman.be sure; how stupid they must have been, not to have ‘I am, sir,’ replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs.thought of that before! Ramsgate was just the place of ‘Travelled much, sir?’ inquired the military gentleman.all others.‘Not much,’ replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs.Two months after this conversation, the City of LondonRamsgate steamer was running gaily down the river. the military gentleman.‘You’ve been on the continent, of course?’ inquiredHer flag was flying, her band was playing, her passengerswere conversing; everything about her seemed gay tone, as if he wished it to be implied that he had gone‘Not exactly,’ replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs—in a qualifiedand lively.—No wonder—the Tuggses were on board. half-way and come back again.‘Charming, ain’t it?’ said Mr. Joseph Tuggs, in a bottlegreengreat-coat, with a velvet collar of the same, and a tour, sir?’ said the military gentleman, addressing Mr.‘You of course intend your son to make the grandblue travelling-cap with a gold band.Joseph Tuggs.‘Soul-inspiring,’ replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs—he was en-As Mr. Joseph Tuggs did not precisely understand what339

Sketches by Bozthe grand tour was, or how such an article was manufactured,he replied, ‘Of course.’ Just as he said the word, your notice.’‘Do, sir,’ interposed Mr. Cymon Tuggs. ‘They ain’t worththere came tripping up, from her seat at the stern of the ‘No—no—they are not, indeed,’ urged the young lady.vessel, a young lady in a puce-coloured silk cloak, and ‘I will be calm,’ said the military gentleman. ‘You speakboots of the same; with long black ringlets, large black truly, sir. I thank you for a timely remonstrance, whicheyes, brief petticoats, and unexceptionable ankles. may have spared me the guilt of manslaughter.’ Calming‘Walter, my dear,’ said the young lady to the military his wrath, the military gentleman wrung Mr. Cymongentleman.Tuggs by the hand.‘Yes, Belinda, my love,’ responded the military gentlemanto the black-eyed young lady.military gentleman was casting an admiring look to-‘My sister, sir!’ said Mr. Cymon Tuggs; seeing that the‘What have you left me alone so long for?’ said the wards Miss Charlotta.young lady. ‘I have been stared out of countenance by ‘My wife, ma’am—Mrs. Captain Waters,’ said the militarygentleman, presenting the black-eyed young lady.those rude young men.’‘What! stared at?’ exclaimed the military gentleman, ‘My mother, ma’am—Mrs. Tuggs,’ said Mr. Cymon. Thewith an emphasis which made Mr. Cymon Tuggs withdrawhis eyes from the young lady’s face with incon-courtesies; and the Tuggses looked as unembarrassed asmilitary gentleman and his wife murmured enchantingceivable rapidity. ‘Which young men—where?’ and the they could.military gentleman clenched his fist, and glared fearfullyon the cigar-smokers around.they had sat chatting with the Tuggses some half-hour.‘Walter, my dear,’ said the black-eyed young lady, after‘Be calm, Walter, I entreat,’ said the young lady. ‘Yes, my love,’ said the military gentleman.‘I won’t,’ said the military gentleman.‘Don’t you think this gentleman (with an inclination340

Charles Dickensof the head towards Mr. Cymon Tuggs) is very much like she withdrew it from his features in bashful confusion.the Marquis Carriwini?’All this was highly gratifying to the feelings of the‘Lord bless me, very!’ said the military gentleman. Tuggses; and when, in the course of farther conversation,it was discovered that Miss Charlotta Tuggs was the‘It struck me, the moment I saw him,’ said the younglady, gazing intently, and with a melancholy air, on the fac simile of a titled relative of Mrs. Belinda Waters, andscarlet countenance of Mr. Cymon Tuggs. Mr. Cymon that Mrs. Tuggs herself was the very picture of the DowagerDuchess of Dobbleton, their delight in the acquisi-Tuggs looked at everybody; and finding that everybodywas looking at him, appeared to feel some temporary tion of so genteel and friendly an acquaintance, knew nodifficulty in disposing of his eyesight.bounds. Even the dignity of Captain Walter Waters relaxed,to that degree, that he suffered himself to be pre-‘So exactly the air of the marquis,’ said the militarygentleman.vailed upon by Mr. Joseph Tuggs, to partake of cold pigeon-pieand sherry, on deck; and a most delightful con-‘Quite extraordinary!’ sighed the military gentleman’s lady.‘You don’t know the marquis, sir?’ inquired the militarygentleman.longed, until they ran alongside Ramsgate Pier.versation, aided by these agreeable stimulants, was pro-Mr. Cymon Tuggs stammered a negative.‘Good-bye, dear!’ said Mrs. Captain Waters to Miss‘If you did,’ continued Captain Walter Waters, ‘you Charlotta Tuggs, just before the bustle of landing commenced;‘we shall see you on the sands in the morning;would feel how much reason you have to be proud ofthe resemblance—a most elegant man, with a most prepossessingappearance.’I hope we shall be inseparables for many weeks to come.’and, as we are sure to have found lodgings before then,‘He is—he is indeed!’ exclaimed Belinda Waters energetically.As her eye caught that of Mr. Cymon Tuggs, ‘Tickets, ladies and gen’lm’n,’ said the man on‘Oh! I hope so,’ said Miss Charlotta Tuggs, emphatically.the341

Sketches by Bozpaddle-box.and fro, and in and out, under the feet, and between‘Want a porter, sir?’ inquired a dozen men in smockfrocksfuland exhilarating manner. There were old gentlemen,the legs, of the assembled concourse, in the most play-‘Now, my dear!’ said Captain Waters.trying to make out objects through long telescopes; and‘Good-bye!’ said Mrs. Captain Waters—’good-bye, Mr. young ones, making objects of themselves in open shirtcollars;ladies, carrying about portable chairs, and por-Cymon!’ and with a pressure of the hand which threwthe amiable young man’s nerves into a state of considerablederangement, Mrs. Captain Waters disappeared the pier for parties who had come by the steam-boat;table chairs carrying about invalids; parties, waiting onamong the crowd. A pair of puce-coloured boots were and nothing was to be heard but talking, laughing,seen ascending the steps, a white handkerchief fluttered,a black eye gleamed. The Waterses were gone, ‘Fly, sir?’ exclaimed a chorus of fourteen men and sixwelcoming, and merriment.and Mr. Cymon Tuggs was alone in a heartless world. boys, the moment Mr. Joseph Tuggs, at the head of hisSilently and abstractedly, did that too sensitive youth little party, set foot in the street.follow his revered parents, and a train of smock-frocks ‘Here’s the gen’lm’n at last!’ said one, touching hisand wheelbarrows, along the pier, until the bustle of hat with mock politeness. ‘Werry glad to see you, sir,—the scene around, recalled him to himself. The sun was been a-waitin’ for you these six weeks. Jump in, if youshining brightly; the sea, dancing to its own music, please, sir!’rolled merrily in; crowds of people promenaded to and ‘Nice light fly and a fast trotter, sir,’ said another:fro; young ladies tittered; old ladies talked; nursemaids ‘fourteen mile a hour, and surroundin’ objects rendereddisplayed their charms to the greatest possible advantage;and their little charges ran up and down, and to ‘Large fly for your luggage, sir,’ cried a third. ‘Werryinwisible by ex-treme welocity!’342

Charles Dickenslarge fly here, sir—reg’lar bluebottle!’‘Will you step in, ma’am?’ Down got Mrs. Tuggs. The‘Here’s your fly, sir!’ shouted another aspiring charioteer,mounting the box, and inducing an old grey horse the front windows—charming! A short pause. Back camefamily were delighted. Splendid view of the sea fromto indulge in some imperfect reminiscences of a canter. Mrs. Tuggs again.—One parlour and a mattress.‘Look at him, sir!—temper of a lamb and haction of a ‘Why the devil didn’t they say so at first?’ inquiredsteam-ingein!’Mr. Joseph Tuggs, rather pettishly.Resisting even the temptation of securing the servicesof so valuable a quadruped as the last named, Mr. ‘Wretches!’ exclaimed the nervous Cymon. Another‘Don’t know,’ said Mrs. Tuggs.Joseph Tuggs beckoned to the proprietor of a dingy bill—another stoppage. Same question—same answer—conveyance of a greenish hue, lined with faded striped similar result.calico; and, the luggage and the family having been ‘What do they mean by this?’ inquired Mr. Josephdeposited therein, the animal in the shafts, after describingcircles in the road for a quarter of an hour, at ‘Don’t know,’ said the placid Mrs. Tuggs.Tuggs, thoroughly out of temper.last consented to depart in quest of lodgings.‘Orvis the vay here, sir,’ said the driver, by way of‘How many beds have you got?’ screamed Mrs. Tuggs accounting for the circumstance in a satisfactory manner;and off they went again, to make fresh inquiries,out of the fly, to the woman who opened the door ofthe first house which displayed a bill intimating that and encounter fresh disappointments.apartments were to be let within.It had grown dusk when the ‘fly’—the rate of whose‘How many did you want, ma’am?’ was, of course, the progress greatly belied its name—after climbing up fourreply.or five perpendicular hills, stopped before the door of a‘Three.’dusty house, with a bay window, from which you could343

Sketches by Bozobtain a beautiful glimpse of the sea—if you thrust Such an authority was indisputable. Mrs. Tuggs paidhalf of your body out of it, at the imminent peril of a week’s rent in advance, and took the lodgings for afalling into the area. Mrs. Tuggs alighted. One groundfloorsitting-room, and three cells with beds in them in their new abode.month. In an hour’s time, the family were seated at teaup-stairs. A double-house. Family on the opposite side. ‘Capital srimps!’ said Mr. Joseph Tuggs.Five children milk-and-watering in the parlour, and one Mr. Cymon eyed his father with a rebellious scowl, aslittle boy, expelled for bad behaviour, screaming on his he emphatically said ‘Shrimps.’back in the passage.‘Well, then, shrimps,’ said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. ‘Srimps‘What’s the terms?’ said Mrs. Tuggs. The mistress of or shrimps, don’t much matter.’the house was considering the expediency of putting There was pity, blended with malignity, in Mr. Cymon’son an extra guinea; so, she coughed slightly, and affectednot to hear the question.Captain Waters say, if he heard such vulgarity?’eye, as he replied, ‘Don’t matter, father! What would‘What’s the terms?’ said Mrs. Tuggs, in a louder key. ‘Or what would dear Mrs. Captain Waters say,’ added‘Five guineas a week, ma’am, with attendance,’ replied Charlotta, ‘if she saw mother—ma, I mean—eating themthe lodging-house keeper. (Attendance means the privilegeof ringing the bell as often as you like, for your ‘It won’t bear thinking of!’ ejaculated Mr. Cymon, withwhole, heads and all!’own amusement.)a shudder. ‘How different,’ he thought, ‘from the DowagerDuchess of Dobbleton!’‘Rather dear,’ said Mrs. Tuggs. ‘Oh dear, no, ma’am!’replied the mistress of the house, with a benign smile ‘Very pretty woman, Mrs. Captain Waters, is she not,of pity at the ignorance of manners and customs, which Cymon?’ inquired Miss Charlotta.the observation betrayed. ‘Very cheap!’A glow of nervous excitement passed over the coun-344

Charles Dickenstenance of Mr. Cymon Tuggs, as he replied, ‘An angelof beauty!’morning after their arrival. It was a fine, bright, clearfar surpassed by the appearance of the sands on the‘Hallo!’ said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. ‘Hallo, Cymon, my boy, day, with a light breeze from the sea. There were thetake care. Married lady, you know;’ and he winked one same ladies and gentlemen, the same children, the sameof his twinkling eyes knowingly.nursemaids, the same telescopes, the same portable‘Why,’ exclaimed Cymon, starting up with an ebullition chairs. The ladies were employed in needlework, orof fury, as unexpected as alarming, ‘why am I to be remindedof that blight of my happiness, and ruin of my gentlemen were reading newspapers and magazines; thewatch-guard making, or knitting, or reading novels; thehopes? Why am I to be taunted with the miseries which children were digging holes in the sand with woodenare heaped upon my head? Is it not enough to—to— spades, and collecting water therein; the nursemaids,to—’ and the orator paused; but whether for want of with their youngest charges in their arms, were runningin after the waves, and then running back withwords, or lack of breath, was never distinctly ascertained.There was an impressive solemnity in the tone of this the waves after them; and, now and then, a little sailing-boateither departed with a gay and talkative cargoaddress, and in the air with which the romantic Cymon,at its conclusion, rang the bell, and demanded a flat of passengers, or returned with a very silent and particularlyuncomfortable-looking one.candlestick, which effectually forbade a reply. He stalkeddramatically to bed, and the Tuggses went to bed too, ‘Well, I never!’ exclaimed Mrs. Tuggs, as she and Mr.half an hour afterwards, in a state of considerable mystificationand perplexity.Tuggs, with their eight feet in a corresponding numberJoseph Tuggs, and Miss Charlotta Tuggs, and Mr. CymonIf the pier had presented a scene of life and bustle to of yellow shoes, seated themselves on four rush-bottomedchairs, which, being placed in a soft part of the Tuggses on their first landing at Ramsgate, it wasthe345

Sketches by Bozsand, forthwith sunk down some two feet and a half— Charlotta coughed this time, and another pause ensued.’Well, I never!’It was agreeably broken.Mr. Cymon, by an exertion of great personal strength, ‘How d’ye do, dear? We have been looking for you, alluprooted the chairs, and removed them further back. the morning,’ said a voice to Miss Charlotta Tuggs. Mrs.‘Why, I’m blessed if there ain’t some ladies a-going in!’ Captain Waters was the owner of it.exclaimed Mr. Joseph Tuggs, with intense astonishment. ‘How d’ye do?’ said Captain Walter Waters, all suavity;‘Lor, pa!’ exclaimed Miss Charlotta.and a most cordial interchange of greetings ensued.‘There is, my dear,’ said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. And, sure ‘Belinda, my love,’ said Captain Walter Waters, applyinghis glass to his eye, and looking in the direction ofenough, four young ladies, each furnished with a towel,tripped up the steps of a bathing-machine. In went the the sea.horse, floundering about in the water; round turned the ‘Yes, my dear,’ replied Mrs. Captain Waters.machine; down sat the driver; and presently out burst ‘There’s Harry Thompson!’the young ladies aforesaid, with four distinct splashes. ‘Where?’ said Belinda, applying her glass to her eye.‘Well, that’s sing’ler, too!’ ejaculated Mr. Joseph Tuggs, ‘Bathing.’after an awkward pause. Mr. Cymon coughed slightly. ‘Lor, so it is! He don’t see us, does he?’‘Why, here’s some gentlemen a-going in on this side!’ ‘No, I don’t think he does’ replied the captain. ‘Blessexclaimed Mrs. Tuggs, in a tone of horror.my soul, how very singular!’Three machines—three horses—three flounderings— ‘What?’ inquired Belinda.three turnings round—three splashes—three gentlemen, ‘There’s Mary Golding, too.’disporting themselves in the water like so many dolphins. ‘Lor!—where?’ (Up went the glass again.)‘Well, that’s sing’ler!’ said Mr. Joseph Tuggs again. Miss ‘There!’ said the captain, pointing to one of the young346

Charles Dickensladies before noticed, who, in her bathing costume, correction. ‘However, two shays if you like.’looked as if she was enveloped in a patent Mackintosh, ‘I should like a donkey so much,’ said Belinda.of scanty dimensions.‘Oh, so should I!’ echoed Charlotta Tuggs.‘So it is, I declare!’ exclaimed Mrs. Captain Waters. ‘Well, we can have a fly,’ suggested the captain, ‘and‘How very curious we should see them both!’you can have a couple of donkeys.’‘Very,’ said the captain, with perfect coolness.A fresh difficulty arose. Mrs. Captain Waters declared‘It’s the reg’lar thing here, you see,’ whispered Mr. it would be decidedly improper for two ladies to rideCymon Tuggs to his father.alone. The remedy was obvious. Perhaps young Mr. Tuggs‘I see it is,’ whispered Mr. Joseph Tuggs in reply. ‘Queer, would be gallant enough to accompany them.though—ain’t it?’ Mr. Cymon Tuggs nodded assent. Mr. Cymon Tuggs blushed, smiled, looked vacant, and‘What do you think of doing with yourself this morning?’inquired the captain. ‘Shall we lunch at Pegwell?’ tion was at once overruled. A fly was speedily found;faintly protested that he was no horseman. The objec-‘I should like that very much indeed,’ interposed Mrs. Tuggs. and three donkeys—which the proprietor declared onShe had never heard of Pegwell; but the word ‘lunch’ had his solemn asseveration to be ‘three parts blood, andreached her ears, and it sounded very agreeably.the other corn’—were engaged in the service.‘How shall we go?’ inquired the captain; ‘it’s too warm ‘Kim up!’ shouted one of the two boys who followedto walk.’behind, to propel the donkeys, when Belinda Waters‘A shay?’ suggested Mr. Joseph Tuggs.and Charlotta Tuggs had been hoisted, and pushed, and‘Chaise,’ whispered Mr. Cymon.pulled, into their respective saddles.‘I should think one would be enough,’ said Mr. Joseph ‘Hi—hi—hi!’ groaned the other boy behind Mr. CymonTuggs aloud, quite unconscious of the meaning of the Tuggs. Away went the donkey, with the stirrups jin-347

Sketches by Bozgling against the heels of Cymon’s boots, and Cymon’s humorous proceeding by firmly planting his fore-feetboots nearly scraping the ground.against the ground, and kicking up his hind-legs in a‘Way—way! Wo—o—o -!’ cried Mr. Cymon Tuggs as very agile, but somewhat alarming manner.well as he could, in the midst of the jolting.This abrupt termination to the rapidity of the ride,‘Don’t make it gallop!’ screamed Mrs. Captain Waters, naturally occasioned some confusion. Both the ladiesbehind.indulged in vehement screaming for several minutes;‘My donkey will go into the public-house!’ shrieked and Mr. Cymon Tuggs, besides sustaining intense bodilyMiss Tuggs in the rear.pain, had the additional mental anguish of witnessing‘Hi—hi—hi!’ groaned both the boys together; and on their distressing situation, without having the powerwent the donkeys as if nothing would ever stop them. to rescue them, by reason of his leg being firmly screwedEverything has an end, however; even the galloping in between the animal and the wall. The efforts of theof donkeys will cease in time. The animal which Mr. boys, however, assisted by the ingenious expedient ofCymon Tuggs bestrode, feeling sundry uncomfortable twisting the tail of the most rebellious donkey, restoredtugs at the bit, the intent of which he could by no order in a much shorter time than could have reasonablybeen expected, and the little party jogged slowlymeans divine, abruptly sidled against a brick wall, andexpressed his uneasiness by grinding Mr. Cymon Tuggs’s on together.leg on the rough surface. Mrs. Captain Waters’s donkey, ‘Now let ‘em walk,’ said Mr. Cymon Tuggs. ‘It’s cruel toapparently under the influence of some playfulness of overdrive ‘em.’spirit, rushed suddenly, head first, into a hedge, and ‘Werry well, sir,’ replied the boy, with a grin at his companion,as if he understood Mr. Cymon to mean that thedeclined to come out again: and the quadruped on whichMiss Tuggs was mounted, expressed his delight at this cruelty applied less to the animals than to their riders.348

Charles Dickens‘What a lovely day, dear!’ said Charlotta.congenial spirit—one capable of feeling and appreciatingthe sentiments which—’‘Charming; enchanting, dear!’ responded Mrs. CaptainWaters.‘Heavens! what do I hear?’ exclaimed Mr. Cymon Tuggs.‘What a beautiful prospect, Mr. Tuggs!’‘Is it possible! can I believe my—Come up!’ (This lastCymon looked full in Belinda’s face, as he responded— unsentimental parenthesis was addressed to the donkey,’Beautiful, indeed!’ The lady cast down her eyes, and who, with his head between his fore-legs, appeared to besuffered the animal she was riding to fall a little back. examining the state of his shoes with great anxiety.)Cymon Tuggs instinctively did the same.‘Hi—hi—hi,’ said the boys behind. ‘Come up,’ expostulatedCymon Tuggs again. ‘Hi—hi—hi,’ repeated theThere was a brief silence, broken only by a sigh fromMr. Cymon Tuggs.boys. And whether it was that the animal felt indignant‘Mr. Cymon,’ said the lady suddenly, in a low tone, ‘Mr. at the tone of Mr. Tuggs’s command, or felt alarmed byCymon—I am another’s.’the noise of the deputy proprietor’s boots running behindhim; or whether he burned with a noble emulationMr. Cymon expressed his perfect concurrence in a statementwhich it was impossible to controvert.to outstrip the other donkeys; certain it is that he no‘If I had not been—’ resumed Belinda; and there she sooner heard the second series of ‘hi—hi’s,’ than hestopped.started away, with a celerity of pace which jerked Mr.‘What—what?’ said Mr. Cymon earnestly. ‘Do not tortureme. What would you say?’the Pegwell Bay hotel in no time, where he depositedCymon’s hat off, instantaneously, and carried him to‘If I had not been’—continued Mrs. Captain Waters— his rider without giving him the trouble of dismounting,by sagaciously pitching him over his head, into the’if, in earlier life, it had been my fate to have known,and been beloved by, a noble youth—a kindred soul—a very doorway of the tavern.349

Sketches by BozGreat was the confusion of Mr. Cymon Tuggs, when he ing, too, quite boisterously. But as the captain said, itwas put right end uppermost, by two waiters; considerablewas the alarm of Mrs. Tuggs in behalf of her son; the people of the house knew, they might be commondidn’t matter; who knew what they were, there? For allagonizing were the apprehensions of Mrs. Captain Waterson his account. It was speedily discovered, how-sure.’ And then they went down the steep wooden stepspeople. To which Mr. Joseph Tuggs responded, ‘To beever, that he had not sustained much more injury than a little further on, which led to the bottom of the cliff;the donkey—he was grazed, and the animal was grazing—andthen it was a delightful party to be sure! Mr. till it was more than fully time to go back to Ramsgateand looked at the crabs, and the seaweed, and the eels,and Mrs. Tuggs, and the captain, had ordered lunch in again. Finally, Mr. Cymon Tuggs ascended the steps last,the little garden behind: —small saucers of large and Mrs. Captain Waters last but one; and Mr. Cymonshrimps, dabs of butter, crusty loaves, and bottled ale. Tuggs discovered that the foot and ankle of Mrs. CaptainWaters, were even more unexceptionable than heThe sky was without a cloud; there were flower-potsand turf before them; the sea, from the foot of the cliff, had at first supposed.stretching away as far as the eye could discern anythingat all; vessels in the distance with sails as white, dence, is a very different thing, and a feat much moreTaking a donkey towards his ordinary place of resi-and as small, as nicely-got-up cambric handkerchiefs. easily to be accomplished, than taking him from it. ItThe shrimps were delightful, the ale better, and the captaineven more pleasant than either. Mrs. Captain Wa-in the one case, to anticipate the numerous flights ofrequires a great deal of foresight and presence of mindters was in xuch spirits after lunch!—chasing, first the his discursive imagination; whereas, in the other, allcaptain across the turf, and among the flower-pots; and you have to do, is, to hold on, and place a blind confidencein the animal. Mr. Cymon Tuggs adopted the lat-then Mr. Cymon Tuggs; and then Miss Tuggs; and laugh-350

Charles Dickenster expedient on his return; and his nerves were so little ‘Numbers three, eight, and eleven!’ echoed anotherdiscomposed by the journey, that he distinctly understoodthey were all to meet again at the library in the ‘Number three’s gone,’ said the first young lady. ‘Num-young lady in the same uniform.evening.bers eight and eleven!’The library was crowded. There were the same ladies, ‘Numbers eight and eleven!’ echoed the second youngand the same gentlemen, who had been on the sands in lady.the morning, and on the pier the day before. There were ‘Number eight’s gone, Mary Ann,’ said the first youngyoung ladies, in maroon-coloured gowns and black velvetbracelets, dispensing fancy articles in the shop, and ‘Number eleven!’ screamed the second.lady.presiding over games of chance in the concert-room. There ‘The numbers are all taken now, ladies, if you please,’were marriageable daughters, and marriage-making mammas,gaming and promenading, and turning over music, eight, and eleven, and the rest of the numbers, crowdedsaid the first. The representatives of numbers three,and flirting. There were some male beaux doing the sentimentalin whispers, and others doing the ferocious in ‘Will you throw, ma’am?’ said the presiding goddess,round the table.moustache. There were Mrs. Tuggs in amber, Miss Tuggs handing the dice-box to the eldest daughter of a stoutin sky-blue, Mrs. Captain Waters in pink. There was CaptainWaters in a braided surtout; there was Mr. Cymon There was a profound silence among the lookers-on.lady, with four girls.Tuggs in pumps and a gilt waistcoat; there was Mr. JosephTuggs in a blue coat and a shirt-frill.esting display of bashfulness—a little blushing in a cam-‘Throw, Jane, my dear,’ said the stout lady. An inter-‘Numbers three, eight, and eleven!’ cried one of the bric handkerchief—a whispering to a younger sister.young ladies in the maroon-coloured gowns.‘Amelia, my dear, throw for your sister,’ said the stout351

Sketches by Bozlady; and then she turned to a walking advertisement feathers, was led into the orchestra, by a fat man inof Rowlands’ Macassar Oil, who stood next her, and said, black tights and cloudy Berlins.‘Jane is so very modest and retiring; but I can’t be angry ‘Mrs. Tippin, of the London theatres,’ replied Belinda,with her for it. An artless and unsophisticated girl is so referring to the programme of the concert.truly amiable, that I often wish Amelia was more like The talented Tippin having condescendingly acknowledgedthe clapping of hands, and shouts of ‘bravo!’ whichher sister!’The gentleman with the whiskers whispered his admiringapproval.cavatina of ‘Bid me discourse,’ accompanied on the pi-greeted her appearance, proceeded to sing the popular‘Now, my dear!’ said the stout lady. Miss Amelia ano by Mr. Tippin; after which, Mr. Tippin sang a comicthrew—eight for her sister, ten for herself.song, accompanied on the piano by Mrs. Tippin: the‘Nice figure, Amelia,’ whispered the stout lady to a applause consequent upon which, was only to be exceededby the enthusiastic approbation bestowed uponthin youth beside her.‘Beautiful!’an air with variations on the guitar, by Miss Tippin,‘And such a spirit! I am like you in that respect. I can not accompanied on the chin by Master Tippin.help admiring that life and vivacity. Ah! (a sigh) I wish I Thus passed the evening; thus passed the days andcould make poor Jane a little more like my dear Amelia!’ evenings of the Tuggses, and the Waterses, for six weeks.The young gentleman cordially acquiesced in the sentiment;both he, and the individual first addressed, were afternoon—library at night—and the same people ev-Sands in the morning—donkeys at noon—pier in theperfectly contented.erywhere.‘Who’s this?’ inquired Mr. Cymon Tuggs of Mrs. CaptainWaters, as a short female, in a blue velvet hat and brightly over the calm sea, which dashed against theOn that very night six weeks, the moon was shining352

Charles Dickensfeet of the tall gaunt cliffs, with just enough noise to Mr. Cymon Tuggs sighed like a gust of wind through alull the old fish to sleep, without disturbing the young forest of gooseberry bushes, as he replied, ‘Alas! he will.’ones, when two figures were discernible—or would have ‘Oh, Cymon!’ resumed Belinda, ‘the chaste delight,been, if anybody had looked for them—seated on one the calm happiness, of this one week of Platonic love, isof the wooden benches which are stationed near the too much for me!’ Cymon was about to suggest that itverge of the western cliff. The moon had climbed higher was too little for him, but he stopped himself, and murmuredunintelligibly.into the heavens, by two hours’ journeying, since thosefigures first sat down—and yet they had moved not. ‘And to think that even this gleam of happiness, innocentas it is,’ exclaimed Belinda, ‘is now to be lost for ever!’The crowd of loungers had thinned and dispersed; thenoise of itinerant musicians had died away; light after ‘Oh, do not say for ever, Belinda,’ exclaimed the excitableCymon, as two strongly-defined tears chased eachlight had appeared in the windows of the different housesin the distance; blockade-man after blockade-man had other down his pale face—it was so long that there waspassed the spot, wending his way towards his solitary plenty of room for a chase. ‘Do not say for ever!’post; and yet those figures had remained stationary. ‘I must,’ replied Belinda.Some portions of the two forms were in deep shadow, ‘Why?’ urged Cymon, ‘oh why? Such Platonic acquaintanceas ours is so harmless, that even your husbandbut the light of the moon fell strongly on a puce-colouredboot and a glazed stock. Mr. Cymon Tuggs and Mrs. CaptainWaters were seated on that bench. They spoke not, ‘My husband!’ exclaimed Belinda. ‘You little know him.can never object to it.’but were silently gazing on the sea.Jealous and revengeful; ferocious in his revenge—a‘Walter will return to-morrow,’ said Mrs. Captain Waters,mournfully breaking silence.fore my eyes?’ Mr. Cymon Tuggs, in a voice brokenmaniac in his jealousy! Would you be assassinated be-by353

Sketches by Bozemotion, expressed his disinclination to undergo the his relatives floated up the staircase.process of assassination before the eyes of anybody. ‘The curtain! The curtain!’ gasped Mrs. Captain Waters,pointing to the window, before which some chintz‘Then leave me,’ said Mrs. Captain Waters. ‘Leave me,this night, for ever. It is late: let us return.’hangings were closely drawn.Mr. Cymon Tuggs sadly offered the lady his arm, and ‘But I have done nothing wrong,’ said the hesitatingescorted her to her lodgings. He paused at the door— Cymon.he felt a Platonic pressure of his hand. ‘Good night,’ he ‘The curtain!’ reiterated the frantic lady: ‘you will besaid, hesitating.murdered.’ This last appeal to his feelings was irresistible.The dismayed Cymon concealed himself behind the‘Good night,’ sobbed the lady. Mr. Cymon Tuggs pausedagain.curtain with pantomimic suddenness.‘Won’t you walk in, sir?’ said the servant. Mr. Tuggs Enter the captain, Joseph Tuggs, Mrs. Tuggs, andhesitated. Oh, that hesitation! He did walk in. Charlotta.‘Good night!’ said Mr. Cymon Tuggs again, when he ‘My dear,’ said the captain, ‘Lieutenant, Slaughter.’ Tworeached the drawing-room.iron-shod boots and one gruff voice were heard by Mr.‘Good night!’ replied Belinda; ‘and, if at any period of Cymon to advance, and acknowledge the honour of themy life, I—Hush!’ The lady paused and stared with a steady introduction. The sabre of the lieutenant rattled heavilygaze of horror, on the ashy countenance of Mr. Cymon upon the floor, as he seated himself at the table. Mr.Tuggs. There was a double knock at the street-door. Cymon’s fears almost overcame his reason.‘It is my husband!’ said Belinda, as the captain’s voice ‘The brandy, my dear!’ said the captain. Here was awas heard below.situation! They were going to make a night of it! And‘And my family!’ added Cymon Tuggs, as the voices of Mr. Cymon Tuggs was pent up behind the curtain and354

Charles Dickensafraid to breathe!denied it.‘Slaughter,’ said the captain, ‘a cigar?’‘Fancy,’ said the captain.Now, Mr. Cymon Tuggs never could smoke without feelingit indispensably necessary to retire, immediately, Cigars resumed—more smoke—another cough—‘Must be,’ echoed Slaughter.and never could smell smoke without a strong dispositionto cough. The cigars were introduced; the captain ‘Damned odd!’ said the captain, staring about him.smothered, but violent.was a professed smoker; so was the lieutenant; so was ‘Sing’ler!’ ejaculated the unconscious Mr. Joseph Tuggs.Joseph Tuggs. The apartment was small, the door was Lieutenant Slaughter looked first at one person mysteriously,then at another: then, laid down his cigar,closed, the smoke powerful: it hung in heavy wreathsover the room, and at length found its way behind the then approached the window on tiptoe, and pointedcurtain. Cymon Tuggs held his nose, his mouth, his with his right thumb over his shoulder, in the directionbreath. It was all of no use—out came the cough. of the curtain.‘Bless my soul!’ said the captain, ‘I beg your pardon, ‘Slaughter!’ ejaculated the captain, rising from table,Miss Tuggs. You dislike smoking?’‘what do you mean?’‘Oh, no; I don’t indeed,’ said Charlotta.The lieutenant, in reply, drew back the curtain and‘It makes you cough.’discovered Mr. Cymon Tuggs behind it: pallid with apprehension,and blue with wanting to cough.‘Oh dear no.’‘You coughed just now.’‘Aha!’ exclaimed the captain, furiously. ‘What do I see?‘Me, Captain Waters! Lor! how can you say so?’ Slaughter, your sabre!’‘Somebody coughed,’ said the captain.‘Cymon!’ screamed the Tuggses.‘I certainly thought so,’ said Slaughter. No; everybody ‘Mercy!’ said Belinda.355

Sketches by Boz‘Platonic!’ gasped Cymon.to hush the matter up, but it got abroad notwithstanding;and there are not wanting some who affirm that‘Your sabre!’ roared the captain: ‘Slaughter—unhandme—the villain’s life!’three designing impostors never found more easy dupes,‘Murder!’ screamed the Tuggses.than did Captain Waters, Mrs. Waters, and Lieutenant‘Hold him fast, sir!’ faintly articulated Cymon. Slaughter, in the Tuggses at Ramsgate.‘Water!’ exclaimed Joseph Tuggs—and Mr. CymonTuggs and all the ladies forthwith fainted away, andCHAPTER Vformed a tableau.HORATIO SPARKINSMost willingly would we conceal the disastrous terminationof the six weeks’ acquaintance. A troublesome ‘INDEED, MY LOVE, he paid Teresa very great attention onform, and an arbitrary custom, however, prescribe that the last assembly night,’ said Mrs. Malderton, addressingher spouse, who, after the fatigues of the day in thea story should have a conclusion, in addition to a commencement;we have therefore no alternative. LieutenantSlaughter brought a message—the captain brought and his feet on the fender, drinking his port;—’veryCity, was sitting with a silk handkerchief over his head,an action. Mr. Joseph Tuggs interposed—the lieutenantnegotiated. When Mr. Cymon Tuggs recovered from agement ought to be given him. He positively must begreat attention; and I say again, every possible encour-the nervous disorder into which misplaced affection, asked down here to dine.’and exciting circumstances, had plunged him, he found ‘Who must?’ inquired Mr. Malderton.that his family had lost their pleasant acquaintance; ‘Why, you know whom I mean, my dear—the youngthat his father was minus fifteen hundred pounds; and man with the black whiskers and the white cravat, whothe captain plus the precise sum. The money was paid has just come out at our assembly, and whom all the356

Charles Dickensgirls are talking about. Young—dear me! what’s his Malderton assiduously kept up an extensive acquaintancename?—Marianne, what is his name?’ continued Mrs. among the young eligible bachelors of Camberwell, andMalderton, addressing her youngest daughter, who was even of Wandsworth and Brixton; to say nothing of thoseengaged in netting a purse, and looking sentimental. who ‘dropped in’ from town. Miss Malderton was as well‘Mr. Horatio Sparkins, ma,’ replied Miss Marianne, with known as the lion on the top of Northumberland House,a sigh.and had an equal chance of ‘going off.’‘Oh! yes, to be sure—Horatio Sparkins,’ said Mrs. ‘I am quite sure you’d like him,’ continued Mrs.Malderton. ‘Decidedly the most gentleman-like young Malderton, ‘he is so gentlemanly!’man I ever saw. I am sure in the beautifully-made coat ‘So clever!’ said Miss Marianne.he wore the other night, he looked like—like—’‘And has such a flow of language!’ added Miss Teresa.‘Like Prince Leopold, ma—so noble, so full of sentiment!’suggested Marianne, in a tone of enthusiastic Malderton to her husband. Mr. Malderton coughed, and‘He has a great respect for you, my dear,’ said Mrs.admiration.looked at the fire.‘You should recollect, my dear,’ resumed Mrs. Malderton, ‘Yes I’m sure he’s very much attached to pa’s society,’‘that Teresa is now eight-and-twenty; and that it really said Miss Marianne.is very important that something should be done.’ ‘No doubt of it,’ echoed Miss Teresa.Miss Teresa Malderton was a very little girl, rather fat, ‘Indeed, he said as much to me in confidence,’ observedMrs. Malderton.with vermilion cheeks, but good-humoured, and stilldisengaged, although, to do her justice, the misfortune ‘Well, well,’ returned Mr. Malderton, somewhat flattered;‘if I see him at the assembly to-morrow, perhapsarose from no lack of perseverance on her part. In vainhad she flirted for ten years; in vain had Mr. and Mrs. I’ll ask him down. I hope he knows we live at Oak Lodge,357

Sketches by BozCamberwell, my dear?’but he never could endure what he called ‘sharp fellows.’Probably, he cherished this feeling out of compli-‘Of course—and that you keep a one-horse carriage.’‘I’ll see about it,’ said Mr. Malderton, composing himselffor a nap; ‘I’ll see about it.’no uneasiness in that particular. The family were ambimentto his two sons, who gave their respected parentMr. Malderton was a man whose whole scope of ideas tious of forming acquaintances and connexions in somewas limited to Lloyd’s, the Exchange, the India House, sphere of society superior to that in which they themselvesmoved; and one of the necessary consequencesand the Bank. A few successful speculations had raisedhim from a situation of obscurity and comparative poverty,to a state of affluence. As frequently happens in beyond their own small circle, was, that any one whoof this desire, added to their utter ignorance of the worldsuch cases, the ideas of himself and his family became could lay claim to an acquaintance with people of rankelevated to an extraordinary pitch as their means increased;they affected fashion, taste, and many other Camberwell.and title, had a sure passport to the table at Oak Lodge,fooleries, in imitation of their betters, and had a very The appearance of Mr. Horatio Sparkins at the assembly,had excited no small degree of surprise and curios-decided and becoming horror of anything which could,by possibility, be considered low. He was hospitable from ity among its regular frequenters. Who could he be? Heostentation, illiberal from ignorance, and prejudiced from was evidently reserved, and apparently melancholy. Wasconceit. Egotism and the love of display induced him to he a clergyman?—He danced too well. A barrister?—Hekeep an excellent table: convenience, and a love of good said he was not called. He used very fine words, andthings of this life, ensured him plenty of guests. He talked a great deal. Could he be a distinguished foreigner,come to England for the purpose of describingliked to have clever men, or what he considered such,at his table, because it was a great thing to talk about; the country, its manners and customs; and frequenting358

Charles Dickenspublic balls and public dinners, with the view of becomingacquainted with high life, polished etiquette, gentleman, George Barnwell. Every member of the partyresembled the portrait of that interesting, but rash youngand English refinement?—No, he had not a foreign accent.Was he a surgeon, a contributor to the magazines, tance of Mr. Horatio Sparkins. Miss Teresa, of course,had made up his or her mind to cultivate the acquain-a writer of fashionable novels, or an artist?—No; to each was to be as amiable and interesting as ladies of eightand-twentyon the look-out for a husband, usually are.and all of these surmises, there existed some valid objection.—’Then,’said everybody, ‘he must be somebody.’— Mrs. Malderton would be all smiles and graces. Miss’I should think he must be,’ reasoned Mr. Malderton, Marianne would request the favour of some verses forwithin himself, ‘because he perceives our superiority, her album. Mr. Malderton would patronise the great unknownby asking him to dinner. Tom intended to ascer-and pays us so much attention.’The night succeeding the conversation we have just tain the extent of his information on the interestingrecorded, was ‘assembly night.’ The double-fly was orderedto be at the door of Oak Lodge at nine o’clock himself, the family authority on all points of taste, dress,topics of snuff and cigars. Even Mr. Frederick Maldertonprecisely. The Miss Maldertons were dressed in sky-blue and fashionable arrangement; who had lodgings of hissatin trimmed with artificial flowers; and Mrs. M. (who own in town; who had a free admission to Covent-gardentheatre; who always dressed according to the fash-was a little fat woman), in ditto ditto, looked like hereldest daughter multiplied by two. Mr. Frederick ions of the months; who went up the water twice a-Malderton, the eldest son, in full-dress costume, was week in the season; and who actually had an intimatethe very Beau Ideal of a smart waiter; and Mr. Thomas friend who once knew a gentleman who formerly livedMalderton, the youngest, with his white dress-stock, in the Albany,—even he had determined that Mr. Horatioblue coat, bright buttons, and red watch-ribbon, strongly Sparkins must be a devilish good fellow, and that he359

Sketches by Bozwould do him the honour of challenging him to a game Malderton, with a degree of respect amounting almost toat billiards.veneration; and returned the greetings of the two youngThe first object that met the anxious eyes of the expectantfamily on their entrance into the ball-room, fully convinced them that he must be an important, and,men in a half-gratified, half-patronising manner, whichwas the interesting Horatio, with his hair brushed off at the same time, condescending personage.his forehead, and his eyes fixed on the ceiling, recliningin a contemplative attitude on one of the seats. tations, and bowing very low, ‘may I be permitted to‘Miss Malderton,’ said Horatio, after the ordinary salu-‘There he is, my dear,’ whispered Mrs. Malderton to Mr. presume to hope that you will allow me to have theMalderton.pleasure—’‘How like Lord Byron!’ murmured Miss Teresa.‘I don’t think I am engaged,’ said Miss Teresa, with a‘Or Montgomery!’ whispered Miss Marianne.dreadful affectation of indifference—’but, really—so‘Or the portraits of Captain Cook!’ suggested Tom. many—’‘Tom—don’t be an ass!’ said his father, who checked Horatio looked handsomely miserable.him on all occasions, probably with a view to prevent ‘I shall be most happy,’ simpered the interesting Teresa,his becoming ‘sharp’—which was very unnecessary. at last. Horatio’s countenance brightened up, like anThe elegant Sparkins attitudinised with admirable effect,until the family had crossed the room. He then ‘A very genteel young man, certainly!’ said the grati-old hat in a shower of rain.started up, with the most natural appearance of surprise fied Mr. Malderton, as the obsequious Sparkins and hisand delight; accosted Mrs. Malderton with the utmost partner joined the quadrille which was just forming.cordiality; saluted the young ladies in the most enchantingmanner; bowed to, and shook hands with Mr. ‘Yes, he is a prime fellow,’ interposed Tom, who always‘He has a remarkably good address,’ said Mr. Frederick.360

Charles Dickensmanaged to put his foot in it—’he talks just like an I—to do with sentiments like these! Miss Malderton’—auctioneer.’here he stopped short—‘may I hope to be permitted to‘Tom!’ said his father solemnly, ‘I think I desired you, offer the humble tribute of—’before, not to be a fool.’ Tom looked as happy as a cock ‘Really, Mr. Sparkins,’ returned the enraptured Teresa,on a drizzly morning.blushing in the sweetest confusion, ‘I must refer you to‘How delightful!’ said the interesting Horatio to his papa. I never can, without his consent, venture to—’partner, as they promenaded the room at the conclusion ‘Surely he cannot object—’of the set—’how delightful, how refreshing it is, to retire ‘Oh, yes. Indeed, indeed, you know him not!’ interruptedMiss Teresa, well knowing there was nothing tofrom the cloudy storms, the vicissitudes, and the troubles,of life, even if it be but for a few short fleeting moments: fear, but wishing to make the interview resemble a sceneand to spend those moments, fading and evanescent in some romantic novel.though they be, in the delightful, the blessed society of ‘He cannot object to my offering you a glass of negus,’one individual—whose frowns would be death, whose returned the adorable Sparkins, with some surprise.coldness would be madness, whose falsehood would be ‘Is that all?’ thought the disappointed Teresa. ‘What aruin, whose constancy would be bliss; the possession of fuss about nothing!’whose affection would be the brightest and best reward ‘It will give me the greatest pleasure, sir, to see youthat Heaven could bestow on man?’to dinner at Oak Lodge, Camberwell, on Sunday next‘What feeling! what sentiment!’ thought Miss Teresa, at five o’clock, if you have no better engagement,’ saidas she leaned more heavily on her companion’s arm. Mr. Malderton, at the conclusion of the evening, as he‘But enough—enough!’ resumed the elegant Sparkins, and his sons were standing in conversation with Mr.with a theatrical air. ‘What have I said? what have I— Horatio Sparkins.361

Sketches by BozHoratio bowed his acknowledgments, and accepted the his reputation, he caught his father’s angry eye, and slunkflattering invitation.off like a puppy convicted of petty larceny.‘I must confess,’ continued the father, offering his ‘Upon my word,’ said Mr. Malderton the elder, as theysnuff-box to his new acquaintance, ‘that I don’t enjoy were returning home in the fly, ‘that Mr. Sparkins is athese assemblies half so much as the comfort—I had wonderful young man. Such surprising knowledge! suchalmost said the luxury—of Oak Lodge. They have no extraordinary information! and such a splendid modegreat charms for an elderly man.’of expressing himself!’‘And after all, sir, what is man?’ said the metaphysical ‘I think he must be somebody in disguise,’ said MissSparkins. ‘I say, what is man?’Marianne. ‘How charmingly romantic!’‘Ah! very true,’ said Mr. Malderton; ‘very true.’‘He talks very loud and nicely,’ timidly observed Tom,‘We know that we live and breathe,’ continued Horatio; ‘but I don’t exactly understand what he means.’‘that we have wants and wishes, desires and appetites—’ ‘I almost begin to despair of your understanding anything,Tom,’ said his father, who, of course, had been much‘Certainly,’ said Mr. Frederick Malderton, looking profound.enlightened by Mr. Horatio Sparkins’s conversation.‘I say, we know that we exist,’ repeated Horatio, raising ‘It strikes me, Tom,’ said Miss Teresa, ‘that you havehis voice, ‘but there we stop; there, is an end to our made yourself very ridiculous this evening.’knowledge; there, is the summit of our attainments; there, ‘No doubt of it,’ cried everybody—and the unfortunateTom reduced himself into the least possible space.is the termination of our ends. What more do we know?’‘Nothing,’ replied Mr. Frederick—than whom no one was That night, Mr. and Mrs. Malderton had a long conversationrespecting their daughter’s prospects and futuremore capable of answering for himself in that particular.Tom was about to hazard something, but, fortunately for arrangements. Miss Teresa went to bed, considering362

Charles Dickenswhether, in the event of her marrying a title, she could sand pounds! I wouldn’t care if he had the good senseconscientiously encourage the visits of her present associates;and dreamed, all night, of disguised noble-fond of his horrible business, that he will let peopleto conceal the disgrace he is to the family; but he’s somen, large routs, ostrich plumes, bridal favours, and know what he is.’Horatio Sparkins.Mr. Jacob Barton, the individual alluded to, was aVarious surmises were hazarded on the Sunday morning,as to the mode of conveyance which the anxiouslying,that he actually never scrupled to avow that helarge grocer; so vulgar, and so lost to all sense of feelexpectedHoratio would adopt. Did he keep a gig?—was wasn’t above his business: ‘he’d made his money by it,it possible he could come on horseback?—or would he and he didn’t care who know’d it.’patronize the stage? These, and other various conjecturesof equal importance, engrossed the attention of Malderton, as a little spoffish man, with green spec-‘Ah! Flamwell, my dear fellow, how d’ye do?’ said Mr.Mrs. Malderton and her daughters during the whole tacles, entered the room. ‘You got my note?’morning after church.‘Yes, I did; and here I am in consequence.’‘Upon my word, my dear, it’s a most annoying thing ‘You don’t happen to know this Mr. Sparkins by name?that that vulgar brother of yours should have invited You know everybody?’himself to dine here to-day,’ said Mr. Malderton to his Mr. Flamwell was one of those gentlemen of remarkablyextensive information whom one occasionally meetswife. ‘On account of Mr. Sparkins’s coming down, I purposelyabstained from asking any one but Flamwell. in society, who pretend to know everybody, but in realityknow nobody. At Malderton’s, where any stories aboutAnd then to think of your brother—a tradesman—it’sinsufferable! I declare I wouldn’t have him mention great people were received with a greedy ear, he was anhis shop, before our new guest—no, not for a thou-especial favourite; and, knowing the kind of people he363

Sketches by Bozhad to deal with, he carried his passion of claiming triumphantly exclaimed Mr. Malderton. ‘Who d’ye thinkacquaintance with everybody, to the most immoderate he is?’length. He had rather a singular way of telling his greatestlies in a parenthesis, and with an air of self-denial, ing, and sinking his voice, almost to a whisper, ‘he bears‘Why, from your description,’ said Flamwell, ruminat-as if he feared being thought egotistical.a strong resemblance to the Honourable Augustus Fitz-‘Why, no, I don’t know him by that name,’ returned Edward Fitz-John Fitz-Osborne. He’s a very talentedFlamwell, in a low tone, and with an air of immense importance.‘I have no doubt I know him, though. Is he tall?’ able he may have changed his name for some temporaryyoung man, and rather eccentric. It’s extremely prob-‘Middle-sized,’ said Miss Teresa.purpose.’‘With black hair?’ inquired Flamwell, hazarding a bold Teresa’s heart beat high. Could he be the Honourableguess.Augustus Fitz-Edward Fitz-John Fitz-Osborne! What a‘Yes,’ returned Miss Teresa, eagerly.name to be elegantly engraved upon two glazed cards,‘Rather a snub nose?’tied together with a piece of white satin ribbon! ‘The‘No,’ said the disappointed Teresa, ‘he has a Roman nose.’ Honourable Mrs. Augustus Fitz-Edward Fitz-John Fitz-‘I said a Roman nose, didn’t I?’ inquired Flamwell. Osborne!’ The thought was transport.‘He’s an elegant young man?’‘It’s five minutes to five,’ said Mr. Malderton, looking‘Oh, certainly.’at his watch: ‘I hope he’s not going to disappoint us.’‘With remarkably prepossessing manners?’‘There he is!’ exclaimed Miss Teresa, as a loud doubleknockwas heard at the door. Everybody endeavoured to‘Oh, yes!’ said all the family together. ‘You mustknow him.’look—as people when they particularly expect a visitor‘Yes, I thought you knew him, if he was anybody,’ always do—as if they were perfectly unsuspicious of364

Charles Dickensthe approach of anybody.‘Is he the Honourable Mr. Augustus What’s-his-name?’The room-door opened—’Mr. Barton!’ said the servant. whispered Mrs. Malderton to Flamwell, as he was escortingher to the dining-room.‘Confound the man!’ murmured Malderton. ‘Ah! mydear sir, how d’ye do! Any news?’‘Why, no—at least not exactly,’ returned that great‘Why no,’ returned the grocer, in his usual bluff manner.‘No, none partickler. None that I am much aware of. ‘Who is he then?’authority—‘not exactly.’How d’ye do, gals and boys? Mr. Flamwell, sir—glad to ‘Hush!’ said Flamwell, nodding his head with a gravesee you.’air, importing that he knew very well; but was prevented,‘Here’s Mr. Sparkins!’ said Tom, who had been looking by some grave reasons of state, from disclosing the importantsecret. It might be one of the ministers makingout at the window, ‘on such a black horse!’ There wasHoratio, sure enough, on a large black horse, curvetting himself acquainted with the views of the people.and prancing along, like an Astley’s supernumerary. Aftera great deal of reining in, and pulling up, with the divide the ladies. John, put a chair for the gentleman‘Mr. Sparkins,’ said the delighted Mrs. Malderton, ‘prayaccompaniments of snorting, rearing, and kicking, the between Miss Teresa and Miss Marianne.’ This was addressedto a man who, on ordinary occasions, acted asanimal consented to stop at about a hundred yards fromthe gate, where Mr. Sparkins dismounted, and confided half-groom, half-gardener; but who, as it was importantto make an impression on Mr. Sparkins, had beenhim to the care of Mr. Malderton’s groom. The ceremonyof introduction was gone through, in all due form. Mr. forced into a white neckerchief and shoes, and touchedFlamwell looked from behind his green spectacles at up, and brushed, to look like a second footman.Horatio with an air of mysterious importance; and the The dinner was excellent; Horatio was most attentivegallant Horatio looked unutterable things at Teresa. to Miss Teresa, and every one felt in high spirits, except365

Sketches by BozMr. Malderton, who, knowing the propensity of his very rich man, and a member of Parliament, with whombrother-in-law, Mr. Barton, endured that sort of agony I am also rather, indeed I may say very, intimate.’which the newspapers inform us is experienced by the ‘I know whom you mean,’ returned the host, consequentially—inreality knowing as much about the mat-surrounding neighbourhood when a pot-boy hangs himselfin a hay-loft, and which is ‘much easier to be imaginedthan described.’This was touching on a dangerous topic.ter as Flamwell himself.—’He has a capital business.’‘Have you seen your friend, Sir Thomas Noland, lately, ‘Talking of business,’ interposed Mr. Barton, from theFlamwell?’ inquired Mr. Malderton, casting a sidelong centre of the table. ‘A gentleman whom you knew verylook at Horatio, to see what effect the mention of so well, Malderton, before you made that first lucky specgreat a man had upon him.of yours, called at our shop the other day, and—’‘Why, no—not very lately. I saw Lord Gubbleton the ‘Barton, may I trouble you for a potato?’ interruptedday before yesterday.’the wretched master of the house, hoping to nip the‘All! I hope his lordship is very well?’ said Malderton, story in the bud.in a tone of the greatest interest. It is scarcely necessaryto say that, until that moment, he had been quite brother-in-law’s object—’and he said in a very plain man-‘Certainly,’ returned the grocer, quite insensible of hisinnocent of the existence of such a person.ner—’‘Why, yes; he was very well—very well indeed. He’s a ‘Floury, if you please,’ interrupted Malderton again;devilish good fellow. I met him in the City, and had a dreading the termination of the anecdote, and fearing along chat with him. Indeed, I’m rather intimate with repetition of the word ‘shop.’him. I couldn’t stop to talk to him as long as I could ‘He said, says he,’ continued the culprit, after despatchingthe potato; ‘says he, how goes on your busi-wish, though, because I was on my way to a banker’s, a366

Charles Dickensness? So I said, jokingly—you know my way—says I, which we are compelled to accustom ourselves, in timesI’m never above my business, and I hope my business such as these; man, under any circumstances, or in anywill never be above me. Ha, ha!’place—whether he were bending beneath the witheringblasts of the frigid zone, or scorching under the‘Mr. Sparkins,’ said the host, vainly endeavouring toconceal his dismay, ‘a glass of wine?’rays of a vertical sun—man, without woman, would be—‘With the utmost pleasure, sir.’alone.’‘Happy to see you.’‘I am very happy to find you entertain such honourable‘Thank you.’opinions, Mr. Sparkins,’ said Mrs. Malderton.‘We were talking the other evening,’ resumed the host, ‘And I,’ added Miss Teresa. Horatio looked his delight,addressing Horatio, partly with the view of displaying and the young lady blushed.the conversational powers of his new acquaintance, and ‘Now, it’s my opinion—’ said Mr. Barton.partly in the hope of drowning the grocer’s stories—’we ‘I know what you’re going to say,’ interposed Malderton,were talking the other night about the nature of man. determined not to give his relation another opportunity,‘and I don’t agree with you.’Your argument struck me very forcibly.’‘And me,’ said Mr. Frederick. Horatio made a graceful ‘What!’ inquired the astonished grocer.inclination of the head.‘I am sorry to differ from you, Barton,’ said the host,‘Pray, what is your opinion of woman, Mr. Sparkins?’ in as positive a manner as if he really were contradictinga position which the other had laid down, ‘but Iinquired Mrs. Malderton. The young ladies simpered.‘Man,’ replied Horatio, ‘man, whether he ranged the cannot give my assent to what I consider a very monstrousproposition.’bright, gay, flowery plains of a second Eden, or the moresterile, barren, and I may say, commonplace regions, to ‘But I meant to say—’367

Sketches by Boz‘You never can convince me,’ said Malderton, with an ‘I don’t exactly see it now,’ thought the grocer; ‘but Iair of obstinate determination. ‘Never.’suppose it’s all right.’‘And I,’ said Mr. Frederick, following up his father’s attack,‘cannot entirely agree in Mr. Sparkins’s argument.’ Malderton to her daughters, as they retired to the draw-‘How wonderfully clever he is!’ whispered Mrs.‘What!’ said Horatio, who became more metaphysical, ing-room.and more argumentative, as he saw the female part of ‘Oh, he’s quite a love!’ said both the young ladiesthe family listening in wondering delight—’what! Is together; ‘he talks like an oracle. He must have seen aeffect the consequence of cause? Is cause the precursor great deal of life.’of effect?’The gentlemen being left to themselves, a pause ensued,during which everybody looked very grave, as if‘That’s the point,’ said Flamwell.‘To be sure,’ said Mr. Malderton.they were quite overcome by the profound nature of the‘Because, if effect is the consequence of cause, and if previous discussion. Flamwell, who had made up his mindcause does precede effect, I apprehend you are wrong,’ to find out who and what Mr. Horatio Sparkins reallyadded Horatio.was, first broke silence.‘Decidedly,’ said the toad-eating Flamwell.‘Excuse me, sir,’ said that distinguished personage, ‘I‘At least, I apprehend that to be the just and logical presume you have studied for the bar? I thought ofdeduction?’ said Sparkins, in a tone of interrogation. entering once, myself—indeed, I’m rather intimate with‘No doubt of it,’ chimed in Flamwell again. ‘It settles some of the highest ornaments of that distinguishedthe point.’profession.’‘Well, perhaps it does,’ said Mr. Frederick; ‘I didn’t see ‘N-no!’ said Horatio, with a little hesitation; ‘not exactly.’it before.’‘But you have been much among the silk gowns, or I368

Charles Dickensmistake?’ inquired Flamwell, deferentially.Mr. Malderton coughed violently. Mr. Barton resumed—‘Nearly all my life,’ returned Sparkins.’For if a man’s above his business—’The question was thus pretty well settled in the mind of The cough returned with tenfold violence, and didMr. Flamwell. He was a young gentleman ‘about to be called.’ not cease until the unfortunate cause of it, in his alarm,‘I shouldn’t like to be a barrister,’ said Tom, speaking had quite forgotten what he intended to say.for the first time, and looking round the table to find ‘Mr. Sparkins,’ said Flamwell, returning to the charge,somebody who would notice the remark.‘do you happen to know Mr. Delafontaine, of Bedfordsquare?’No one made any reply.‘I shouldn’t like to wear a wig,’ said Tom, hazarding ‘I have exchanged cards with him; since which, indeed,I have had an opportunity of serving him consid-another observation.‘Tom, I beg you will not make yourself ridiculous,’ said erably,’ replied Horatio, slightly colouring; no doubt, athis father. ‘Pray listen, and improve yourself by the conversationyou hear, and don’t be constantly making these ‘You are very lucky, if you have had an opportunity ofhaving been betrayed into making the acknowledgment.absurd remarks.’obliging that great man,’ observed Flamwell, with an air‘Very well, father,’ replied the unfortunate Tom, who of profound respect.had not spoken a word since he had asked for another ‘I don’t know who he is,’ he whispered to Mr. Malderton,slice of beef at a quarter-past five o’clock, P.M., and it confidentially, as they followed Horatio up to the drawing-room.‘It’s quite clear, however, that he belongs towas then eight.‘Well, Tom,’ observed his good-natured uncle, ‘never the law, and that he is somebody of great importance,mind! I think with you. I shouldn’t like to wear a wig. and very highly connected.’I’d rather wear an apron.’‘No doubt, no doubt,’ returned his companion.369

Sketches by BozThe remainder of the evening passed away most delightfully.Mr. Malderton, relieved from his apprehen-‘We will not tax you for the morning,’ said Miss Teresa,48, in the course of the evening.sions by the circumstance of Mr. Barton’s falling into a bewitchingly; ‘for ma is going to take us to all sorts ofprofound sleep, was as affable and gracious as possible. places, shopping. I know that gentlemen have a great horrorof that employment.’ Mr. Sparkins bowed again, andMiss Teresa played the ‘Fall of Paris,’ as Mr. Sparkins declared,in a most masterly manner, and both of them, declared that he should be delighted, but business of importanceoccupied him in the morning. Flamwell looked atassisted by Mr. Frederick, tried over glees and trios withoutnumber; they having made the pleasing discovery Malderton significantly.—’It’s term time!’ he whispered.that their voices harmonised beautifully. To be sure, At twelve o’clock on the following morning, the ‘fly’they all sang the first part; and Horatio, in addition to was at the door of Oak Lodge, to convey Mrs. Maldertonthe slight drawback of having no ear, was perfectly innocentof knowing a note of music; still, they passed were to dine and dress for the play at a friend’s house.and her daughters on their expedition for the day. Theythe time very agreeably, and it was past twelve o’clock First, driving thither with their band-boxes, they departedon their first errand to make some purchases atbefore Mr. Sparkins ordered the mourning-coach-lookingsteed to be brought out—an order which was only Messrs. Jones, Spruggins, and Smith’s, of Tottenhamcourt-road;after which, they were to go to Redmayne’scomplied with, on the distinct understanding that hewas to repeat his visit on the following Sunday. in Bond-street; thence, to innumerable places that no‘But, perhaps, Mr. Sparkins will form one of our party one ever heard of. The young ladies beguiled the tediousnessof the ride by eulogising Mr. Horatio Sparkins,to-morrow evening?’ suggested Mrs. M. ‘Mr. Maldertonintends taking the girls to see the pantomime.’ Mr. scolding their mamma for taking them so far to save aSparkins bowed, and promised to join the party in box shilling, and wondering whether they should ever reach370

Charles Dickenstheir destination. At length, the vehicle stopped before ‘I want to see some silks,’ answered Mrs. Malderton.a dirty-looking ticketed linen-draper’s shop, with goods ‘Directly, ma’am.—Mr. Smith! Where is Mr. Smith?’of all kinds, and labels of all sorts and sizes, in the ‘Here, sir,’ cried a voice at the back of the shop.window. There were dropsical figures of seven with a ‘Pray make haste, Mr. Smith,’ said the M.C. ‘You neverlittle three-farthings in the corner; ‘perfectly invisible are to be found when you’re wanted, sir.’to the naked eye;’ three hundred and fifty thousand Mr. Smith, thus enjoined to use all possible despatch,ladies’ boas, from one shilling and a penny halfpenny; leaped over the counter with great agility, and placedreal French kid shoes, at two and ninepence per pair; himself before the newly-arrived customers. Mrs.green parasols, at an equally cheap rate; and ‘every descriptionof goods,’ as the proprietors said—and they been stooping down to talk to her sister, raised her head,Malderton uttered a faint scream; Miss Teresa, who hadmust know best—’fifty per cent. under cost price.’ and beheld—Horatio Sparkins!‘Lor! ma, what a place you have brought us to!’ said ‘We will draw a veil,’ as novel-writers say, over theMiss Teresa; ‘what would Mr. Sparkins say if he could scene that ensued. The mysterious, philosophical, romantic,metaphysical Sparkins—he who, to the inter-see us!’‘Ah! what, indeed!’ said Miss Marianne, horrified at esting Teresa, seemed like the embodied idea of thethe idea.young dukes and poetical exquisites in blue silk dressing-gowns,and ditto ditto slippers, of whom she had‘Pray be seated, ladies. What is the first article?’ inquiredthe obsequious master of the ceremonies of the read and dreamed, but had never expected to behold,establishment, who, in his large white neckcloth and was suddenly converted into Mr. Samuel Smith, the assistantat a ‘cheap shop;’ the junior partner in a slip-formal tie, looked like a bad ‘portrait of a gentleman’ inthe Somerset-house exhibition.pery firm of some three weeks’ existence. The dignified371

Sketches by Bozevanishment of the hero of Oak Lodge, on this unexpectedrecognition, could only be equalled by that of aTHE BLACK VEILCHAPTER VIfurtive dog with a considerable kettle at his tail. All thehopes of the Maldertons were destined at once to melt ONE WINTER’S EVENING, towards the close of the year 1800,away, like the lemon ices at a Company’s dinner; Almack’s or within a year or two of that time, a young medicalwas still to them as distant as the North Pole; and Miss practitioner, recently established in business, was seatedTeresa had as much chance of a husband as Captain by a cheerful fire in his little parlour, listening to theRoss had of the north-west passage.wind which was beating the rain in pattering dropsYears have elapsed since the occurrence of this dreadful against the window, or rumbling dismally in the chimney.The night was wet and cold; he had been walkingmorning. The daisies have thrice bloomed on Camberwellgreen;the sparrows have thrice repeated their vernal through mud and water the whole day, and was nowchirps in Camberwell-grove; but the Miss Maldertons are comfortably reposing in his dressing-gown and slippers,still unmated. Miss Teresa’s case is more desperate than more than half asleep and less than half awake, revolvinga thousand matters in his wandering imagination.ever; but Flamwell is yet in the zenith of his reputation;and the family have the same predilection for aristocraticpersonages, with an increased aversion to any-how the cold, sharp rain would be at that moment beat-First, he thought how hard the wind was blowing, andthing low.ing in his face, if he were not comfortably housed athome. Then, his mind reverted to his annual Christmasvisit to his native place and dearest friends; he thoughthow glad they would all be to see him, and how happyit would make Rose if he could only tell her that he had372

Charles Dickensfound a patient at last, and hoped to have more, and to ‘What lady?’ cried our friend, starting up, not quitecome down again, in a few months’ time, and marry her, certain that his dream was an illusion, and half expectingthat it might be Rose herself.—’What lady? Where?’and take her home to gladden his lonely fireside, andstimulate him to fresh exertions. Then, he began to wonderwhen his first patient would appear, or whether he leading into the surgery, with an expression of alarm‘There, sir!’ replied the boy, pointing to the glass doorwas destined, by a special dispensation of Providence, which the very unusual apparition of a customer mightnever to have any patients at all; and then, he thought have tended to excite.about Rose again, and dropped to sleep and dreamed about The surgeon looked towards the door, and started himself,for an instant, on beholding the appearance of hisher, till the tones of her sweet merry voice sounded inhis ears, and her soft tiny hand rested on his shoulder. unlooked-for visitor.There was a hand upon his shoulder, but it was neither It was a singularly tall woman, dressed in deep mourning,and standing so close to the door that her facesoft nor tiny; its owner being a corpulent round-headedboy, who, in consideration of the sum of one shilling per almost touched the glass. The upper part of her figureweek and his food, was let out by the parish to carry was carefully muffled in a black shawl, as if for themedicine and messages. As there was no demand for the purpose of concealment; and her face was shrouded bymedicine, however, and no necessity for the messages, he a thick black veil. She stood perfectly erect, her figureusually occupied his unemployed hours—averaging fourteena day—in abstracting peppermint drops, taking geon felt that the eyes beneath the veil were fixed onwas drawn up to its full height, and though the sur-animal nourishment, and going to sleep.him, she stood perfectly motionless, and evinced, by no‘A lady, sir—a lady!’ whispered the boy, rousing his gesture whatever, the slightest consciousness of hismaster with a shake.having turned towards her.373

Sketches by Boz‘Do you wish to consult me?’ he inquired, with some with mud and rain.hesitation, holding open the door. It opened inwards, ‘You are very wet,’ be said.and therefore the action did not alter the position of the ‘I am,’ said the stranger, in a low deep voice.figure, which still remained motionless on the same spot. ‘And you are ill?’ added the surgeon, compassionately,She slightly inclined her head, in token of acquiescence. for the tone was that of a person in pain.‘Pray walk in,’ said the surgeon.‘I am,’ was the reply—’very ill; not bodily, but mentally.It is not for myself, or on my own behalf,’ contin-The figure moved a step forward; and then, turningits head in the direction of the boy—to his infinite ued the stranger, ‘that I come to you. If I laboured underbodily disease, I should not be out, alone, at suchhorror—appeared to hesitate.‘Leave the room, Tom,’ said the young man, addressingthe boy, whose large round eyes had been extended flicted with it, twenty-four hours hence, God knows howan hour, or on such a night as this; and if I were af-to their utmost width during this brief interview. ‘Draw gladly I would lie down and pray to die. It is for anotherthe curtain, and shut the door.’that I beseech your aid, sir. I may be mad to ask it forThe boy drew a green curtain across the glass part of him—I think I am; but, night after night, through thethe door, retired into the surgery, closed the door after long dreary hours of watching and weeping, the thoughthim, and immediately applied one of his large eyes to has been ever present to my mind; and though even Ithe keyhole on the other side.see the hopelessness of human assistance availing him,The surgeon drew a chair to the fire, and motioned the bare thought of laying him in his grave without itthe visitor to a seat. The mysterious figure slowly moved makes my blood run cold!’ And a shudder, such as thetowards it. As the blaze shone upon the black dress, the surgeon well knew art could not produce, trembledsurgeon observed that the bottom of it was saturated through the speaker’s frame.374

Charles DickensThere was a desperate earnestness in this woman’s self for a few moments, and then tell me, as calmly asmanner, that went to the young man’s heart. He was you can, what the disease of the patient is, and howyoung in his profession, and had not yet witnessed long he has been ill. When I know what it is necessaryenough of the miseries which are daily presented beforethe eyes of its members, to have grown compara-am ready to accompany you.’I should know, to render my visit serviceable to him, Itively callous to human suffering.The stranger lifted the glass of water to her mouth,‘If,’ he said, rising hastily, ‘the person of whom you without raising the veil; put it down again untasted;speak, be in so hopeless a condition as you describe, and burst into tears.not a moment is to be lost. I will go with you instantly. ‘I know,’ she said, sobbing aloud, ‘that what I say toWhy did you not obtain medical advice before?’ you now, seems like the ravings of fever. I have been‘Because it would have been useless before—because told so before, less kindly than by you. I am not a youngit is useless even now,’ replied the woman, clasping her woman; and they do say, that as life steals on towardshands passionately.its final close, the last short remnant, worthless as itThe surgeon gazed, for a moment, on the black veil, as if may seem to all beside, is dearer to its possessor thanto ascertain the expression of the features beneath it: its all the years that have gone before, connected thoughthickness, however, rendered such a result impossible. they be with the recollection of old friends long since‘You are ill,’ he said, gently, ‘although you do not know dead, and young ones—children perhaps—who haveit. The fever which has enabled you to bear, without fallen off from, and forgotten one as completely as iffeeling it, the fatigue you have evidently undergone, is they had died too. My natural term of life cannot beburning within you now. Put that to your lips,’ he continued,pouring out a glass of water—‘compose your-but I would lay it down without a sigh—withmany years longer, and should be dear on that account;cheerful-375

Sketches by Bozness—with joy—if what I tell you now, were only false, then, sir?’ she added, rising suddenly.or imaginary. To-morrow morning he of whom I speak ‘I did not say that I declined to see him,’ replied thewill be, I know, though I would fain think otherwise, surgeon; ‘but I warn you, that if you persist in thisbeyond the reach of human aid; and yet, to-night, extraordinary procrastination, and the individual dies,though he is in deadly peril, you must not see, and a fearful responsibility rests with you.’could not serve, him.’‘The responsibility will rest heavily somewhere,’ repliedthe stranger bitterly. ‘Whatever responsibility rests‘I am unwilling to increase your distress,’ said the surgeon,after a short pause, ‘by making any comment on with me, I am content to bear, and ready to answer.’what you have just said, or appearing desirous to investigatea subject you are so anxious to conceal; but there to your request, I will see him in the morning, if you‘As I incur none,’ continued the surgeon, ‘by accedingis an inconsistency in your statement which I cannot leave me the address. At what hour can he be seen?’reconcile with probability. This person is dying to-night, ‘Nine,’ replied the stranger.and I cannot see him when my assistance might possibly ‘You must excuse my pressing these inquiries,’ saidavail; you apprehend it will be useless to-morrow, and the surgeon. ‘But is he in your charge now?’yet you would have me see him then! If he be, indeed, as ‘He is not,’ was the rejoinder.dear to you, as your words and manner would imply, why ‘Then, if I gave you instructions for his treatmentnot try to save his life before delay and the progress of through the night, you could not assist him?’his disease render it impracticable?’The woman wept bitterly, as she replied, ‘I could not.’‘God help me!’ exclaimed the woman, weeping bitterly,‘how can I hope strangers will believe what apingmore information by prolonging the interview; andFinding that there was but little prospect of obtainpearsincredible, even to myself? You will not see him anxious to spare the woman’s feelings, which, subdued376

Charles Dickensat first by a violent effort, were now irrepressible and her to speak of his approaching dissolution with suchmost painful to witness; the surgeon repeated his promiseof calling in the morning at the appointed hour. His that the man was to be murdered in the morning, andterrible certainty as she had spoken. It could not bevisitor, after giving him a direction to an obscure part that the woman, originally a consenting party, andof Walworth, left the house in the same mysterious bound to secrecy by an oath, had relented, and, thoughmanner in which she had entered it.unable to prevent the commission of some outrage onIt will be readily believed that so extraordinary a visit the victim, had determined to prevent his death if possible,by the timely interposition of medical aid? Theproduced a considerable impression on the mind of theyoung surgeon; and that he speculated a great deal and idea of such things happening within two miles of theto very little purpose on the possible circumstances of metropolis appeared too wild and preposterous to bethe case. In common with the generality of people, he entertained beyond the instant. Then, his original impressionthat the woman’s intellects were disordered,had often heard and read of singular instances, in whicha presentiment of death, at a particular day, or even recurred; and, as it was the only mode of solving theminute, had been entertained and realised. At one momenthe was inclined to think that the present might made up his mind to believe that she was mad. Certaindifficulty with any degree of satisfaction, he obstinatelybe such a case; but, then, it occurred to him that all misgivings upon this point, however, stole upon histhe anecdotes of the kind he had ever heard, were of thoughts at the time, and presented themselves againpersons who had been troubled with a foreboding of and again through the long dull course of a sleeplesstheir own death. This woman, however, spoke of anotherperson—a man; and it was impossible to suppose contrary, he was unable to banish the black veil fromnight; during which, in spite of all his efforts to thethat a mere dream or delusion of fancy would induce his disturbed imagination.377

Sketches by BozThe back part of Walworth, at its greatest distance from roused into a sluggish action by the heavy rain of thetown, is a straggling miserable place enough, even in preceding night, skirted the path occasionally; and, nowthese days; but, five-and-thirty years ago, the greater and then, a miserable patch of garden-ground, with aportion of it was little better than a dreary waste, inhabitedby a few scattered people of questionable character, and old palings imperfectly mended with stakes pilferedfew old boards knocked together for a summer-house,whose poverty prevented their living in any better from the neighbouring hedges, bore testimony, at onceneighbourhood, or whose pursuits and mode of life renderedits solitude desirable. Very many of the houses which they entertained in appropriating the property of otherto the poverty of the inhabitants, and the little scruplehave since sprung up on all sides, were not built until people to their own use. Occasionally, a filthy-lookingsome years afterwards; and the great majority even of woman would make her appearance from the door of athose which were sprinkled about, at irregular intervals, dirty house, to empty the contents of some cooking utensilwere of the rudest and most miserable description. into the gutter in front, or to scream after a little slipshodgirl, who had contrived to stagger a few yards fromThe appearance of the place through which he walkedin the morning, was not calculated to raise the spirits the door under the weight of a sallow infant almost asof the young surgeon, or to dispel any feeling of anxietyor depression which the singular kind of visit he and so much of the prospect as could be faintly tracedbig as herself; but, scarcely anything was stirring around:was about to make, had awakened. Striking off from through the cold damp mist which hung heavily over it,the high road, his way lay across a marshy common, presented a lonely and dreary appearance perfectly inthrough irregular lanes, with here and there a ruinous keeping with the objects we have described.and dismantled cottage fast falling to pieces with decay After plodding wearily through the mud and mire;and neglect. A stunted tree, or pool of stagnant water, making many inquiries for the place to which he had378

Charles Dickensbeen directed; and receiving as many contradictory and praved characters. Even the streets in the gayest parts ofunsatisfactory replies in return; the young man at length London were imperfectly lighted, at that time; and sucharrived before the house which had been pointed out to places as these, were left entirely to the mercy of thehim as the object of his destination. It was a small low moon and stars. The chances of detecting desperate characters,or of tracing them to their haunts, were thus ren-building, one story above the ground, with even a moredesolate and unpromising exterior than any he had yet dered very few, and their offences naturally increased inpassed. An old yellow curtain was closely drawn across boldness, as the consciousness of comparative securitythe window up-stairs, and the parlour shutters were became the more impressed upon them by daily experience.Added to these considerations, it must be remem-closed, but not fastened. The house was detached fromany other, and, as it stood at an angle of a narrow lane, bered that the young man had spent some time in thethere was no other habitation in sight.public hospitals of the metropolis; and, although neitherWhen we say that the surgeon hesitated, and walked Burke nor Bishop had then gained a horrible notoriety,a few paces beyond the house, before he could prevail his own observation might have suggested to him howupon himself to lift the knocker, we say nothing that easily the atrocities to which the former has since givenneed raise a smile upon the face of the boldest reader. his name, might be committed. Be this as it may, whateverreflection made him hesitate, he did hesitate: but,The police of London were a very different body in thatday; the isolated position of the suburbs, when the rage being a young man of strong mind and great personalfor building and the progress of improvement had not courage, it was only for an instant;—he stepped brisklyyet begun to connect them with the main body of the back and knocked gently at the door.city and its environs, rendered many of them (and this in A low whispering was audible, immediately afterwards,particular) a place of resort for the worst and most de-as if some person at the end of the passage were con-379

Sketches by Bozversing stealthily with another on the landing above. It two deal chairs, and a table of the same material. Awas succeeded by the noise of a pair of heavy boots handful of fire, unguarded by any fender, was burningupon the bare floor. The door-chain was softly unfastened;the door opened; and a tall, ill-favoured man, no more comfortable purpose, for the unwholesomein the grate, which brought out the damp if it servedwith black hair, and a face, as the surgeon often declaredafterwards, as pale and haggard, as the counte-tracks. The window, which was broken and patched inmoisture was stealing down the walls, in long slug-likenance of any dead man he ever saw, presented himself. many places, looked into a small enclosed piece of‘Walk in, sir,’ he said in a low tone.ground, almost covered with water. Not a sound was toThe surgeon did so, and the man having secured the be heard, either within the house, or without. The youngdoor again, by the chain, led the way to a small back surgeon sat down by the fireplace, to await the result ofparlour at the extremity of the passage.his first professional visit.‘Am I in time?’He had not remained in this position many minutes,‘Too soon!’ replied the man. The surgeon turned hastilyround, with a gesture of astonishment not unmixed ear. It stopped; the street-door was opened; a low talk-when the noise of some approaching vehicle struck hiswith alarm, which he found it impossible to repress. ing succeeded, accompanied with a shuffling noise of‘If you’ll step in here, sir,’ said the man, who had evidentlynoticed the action—’if you’ll step in here, sir, or three men were engaged in carrying some heavy bodyfootsteps, along the passage and on the stairs, as if twoyou won’t be detained five minutes, I assure you.’ to the room above. The creaking of the stairs, a fewThe surgeon at once walked into the room. The man seconds afterwards, announced that the new-comersclosed the door, and left him alone.having completed their task, whatever it was, were leavingthe house. The door was again closed, and the formerIt was a little cold room, with no other furniture than380

Charles Dickenssilence was restored.room so indistinct, and communicated to all of them soAnother five minutes had elapsed, and the surgeon uniform a hue, that he did not, at first, perceive thehad resolved to explore the house, in search of some object on which his eye at once rested when the womanone to whom he might make his errand known, when rushed frantically past him, and flung herself on herthe room-door opened, and his last night’s visitor, knees by the bedside.dressed in exactly the same manner, with the veil loweredas before, motioned him to advance. The singular wrapper, and covered with blankets, lay a human form,Stretched upon the bed, closely enveloped in a linenheight of her form, coupled with the circumstance of stiff and motionless. The head and face, which wereher not speaking, caused the idea to pass across his those of a man, were uncovered, save by a bandage whichbrain for an instant, that it might be a man disguised passed over the head and under the chin. The eyes werein woman’s attire. The hysteric sobs which issued from closed. The left arm lay heavily across the bed, and thebeneath the veil, and the convulsive attitude of grief of woman held the passive hand.the whole figure, however, at once exposed the absurdityof the suspicion; and he hastily followed.the hand in his.The surgeon gently pushed the woman aside, and tookThe woman led the way up-stairs to the front room, ‘My God!’ he exclaimed, letting it fall involuntarily—and paused at the door, to let him enter first. It was ’the man is dead!’scantily furnished with an old deal box, a few chairs, The woman started to her feet and beat her handsand a tent bedstead, without hangings or cross-rails, together.which was covered with a patchwork counterpane. The ‘Oh! don’t say so, sir,’ she exclaimed, with a burst ofdim light admitted through the curtain which he had passion, amounting almost to frenzy. ‘Oh! don’t say so,noticed from the outside, rendered the objects in the sir! I can’t bear it! Men have been brought to life, be-381

Sketches by Bozfore, when unskilful people have given them up for lost; ‘This man died no natural or easy death,’ said theand men have died, who might have been restored, if surgeon. ‘I must see the body!’ With a motion so sudden,that the woman hardly knew that he had slippedproper means had been resorted to. Don’t let him liehere, sir, without one effort to save him! This very momentlife may be passing away. Do try, sir,—do, for full light of day, and returned to the bedside.from beside her, he tore open the curtain, admitted theHeaven’s sake!’—And while speaking, she hurriedly ‘There has been violence here,’ he said, pointing towardsthe body, and gazing intently on the face, fromchafed, first the forehead, and then the breast, of thesenseless form before her; and then, wildly beat the which the black veil was now, for the first time, removed.In the excitement of a minute before, the fe-cold hands, which, when she ceased to hold them, felllistlessly and heavily back on the coverlet.male had thrown off the bonnet and veil, and now‘It is of no use, my good woman,’ said the surgeon, stood with her eyes fixed upon him. Her features weresoothingly, as he withdrew his hand from the man’s those of a woman about fifty, who had once been handsome.Sorrow and weeping had left traces upon thembreast. ‘Stay—undraw that curtain!’‘Why?’ said the woman, starting up.which not time itself would ever have produced withouttheir aid; her face was deadly pale; and there was‘Undraw that curtain!’ repeated the surgeon in an agitatedtone.a nervous contortion of the lip, and an unnatural fire‘I darkened the room on purpose,’ said the woman, in her eye, which showed too plainly that her bodilythrowing herself before him as he rose to undraw it.— and mental powers had nearly sunk, beneath an accumulationof misery.’Oh! sir, have pity on me! If it can be of no use, and heis really dead, do not expose that form to other eyes ‘There has been violence here,’ said the surgeon, preservinghis searching glance.than mine!’382

Charles Dickens‘There has!’ replied the woman.the circumstances of the case, at this distant period,‘This man has been murdered.’must be unnecessary, and might give pain to some personsstill alive. The history was an every-day one. The‘That I call God to witness he has,’ said the woman,passionately; ‘pitilessly, inhumanly murdered!’ mother was a widow without friends or money, and had‘By whom?’ said the surgeon, seizing the woman by denied herself necessaries to bestow them on her orphanboy. That boy, unmindful of her prayers, and for-the arm.‘Look at the butchers’ marks, and then ask me!’ she getful of the sufferings she had endured for him—incessantanxiety of mind, and voluntary starvation ofreplied.The surgeon turned his face towards the bed, and bent body—had plunged into a career of dissipation andover the body which now lay full in the light of the crime. And this was the result; his own death by thewindow. The throat was swollen, and a livid mark encircledit. The truth flashed suddenly upon him. able insanity.hangman’s hands, and his mother’s shame, and incur-‘This is one of the men who were hanged this morning!’he exclaimed, turning away with a shudder. able and arduous avocations would have led many menFor many years after this occurrence, and when profit-‘It is,’ replied the woman, with a cold, unmeaning stare. to forget that such a miserable being existed, the young‘Who was he?’ inquired the surgeon.surgeon was a daily visitor at the side of the harmless‘My son,’ rejoined the woman; and fell senseless at his mad woman; not only soothing her by his presence andfeet.kindness, but alleviating the rigour of her condition byIt was true. A companion, equally guilty with himself,had been acquitted for want of evidence; and this stowed with no sparing hand. In the transient gleam ofpecuniary donations for her comfort and support, be-man had been left for death, and executed. To recount recollection and consciousness which preceded her death,383

Sketches by Boza prayer for his welfare and protection, as fervent as mortalever breathed, rose from the lips of this poor friendlesscreature. That prayer flew to Heaven, and was heard. Theblessings he was instrumental in conferring, have beenrepaid to him a thousand-fold; but, amid all the honoursof rank and station which have since been heaped uponhim, and which he has so well earned, he can have noreminiscence more gratifying to his heart than that connectedwith The Black Veil.CHAPTER VIITHE STEAM EXCURSIONMR. PERCY NOAKES was a law student, inhabiting a set ofchambers on the fourth floor, in one of those houses inGray’s-inn-square which command an extensive view ofthe gardens, and their usual adjuncts—flaunting nursery-maids,and town-made children, with parentheticallegs. Mr. Percy Noakes was what is generally termed—‘adevilish good fellow.’ He had a large circle of acquaintance,and seldom dined at his own expense. He used totalk politics to papas, flatter the vanity of mammas,do the amiable to their daughters, make pleasure engagementswith their sons, and romp with the youngerbranches. Like those paragons of perfection, advertisingfootmen out of place, he was always ‘willing tomake himself generally useful.’ If any old lady, whoseson was in India, gave a ball, Mr. Percy Noakes wasmaster of the ceremonies; if any young lady made astolen match, Mr. Percy Noakes gave her away; if ajuvenile wife presented her husband with a bloomingcherub, Mr. Percy Noakes was either godfather, ordeputy-godfather; and if any member of a friend’s familydied, Mr. Percy Noakes was invariably to be seen inthe second mourning coach, with a white handkerchiefto his eyes, sobbing—to use his own appropriateand expressive description—’like winkin’!’It may readily be imagined that these numerous avocationswere rather calculated to interfere with Mr. PercyNoakes’s professional studies. Mr. Percy Noakes was perfectlyaware of the fact, and had, therefore, after maturereflection, made up his mind not to study at all—384

Charles Dickensa laudable determination, to which he adhered in the town, and shan’t be back for a fortnight; and if thatmost praiseworthy manner. His sitting-room presented bootmaker should come, tell him I’ve lost his address, ora strange chaos of dress-gloves, boxing-gloves, caricatures,albums, invitation-cards, foils, cricket-bats, card-down; and if Mr. Hardy should call—you know Mr. Hardy?’I’d have sent him that little amount. Mind he writes itboard drawings, paste, gum, and fifty other miscellaneousarticles, heaped together in the strangest confu-‘Ah! the funny gentleman. If Mr. Hardy should call,‘The funny gentleman, sir?’sion. He was always making something for somebody, say I’ve gone to Mrs. Taunton’s about that water-party.’or planning some party of pleasure, which was his great ‘Yes, sir.’forte. He invariably spoke with astonishing rapidity; was ‘And if any fellow calls, and says he’s come about asmart, spoffish, and eight-and-twenty.steamer, tell him to be here at five o’clock this afternoon,Mrs. Stubbs.’‘Splendid idea, ‘pon my life!’ soliloquised Mr. PercyNoakes, over his morning coffee, as his mind reverted ‘Very well, sir.’to a suggestion which had been thrown out on the previousnight, by a lady at whose house he had spent the off his inexpressibles with a silk handkerchief, gave theMr. Percy Noakes brushed his hat, whisked the crumbsevening. ‘Glorious idea!—Mrs. Stubbs.’ends of his hair a persuasive roll round his forefinger,‘Yes, sir,’ replied a dirty old woman with an inflamed and sallied forth for Mrs. Taunton’s domicile in Greatcountenance, emerging from the bedroom, with a barrelof dirt and cinders.—This was the laundress. ‘Did pied the upper part of a house. She was a good-lookingMarlborough-street, where she and her daughters occu-you call, sir?’widow of fifty, with the form of a giantess and the mind‘Oh! Mrs. Stubbs, I’m going out. If that tailor should of a child. The pursuit of pleasure, and some means ofcall again, you’d better say—you’d better say I’m out of killing time, were the sole end of her existence. She doted385

Sketches by Bozon her daughters, who were as frivolous as herself. make all the arrangements, and manage the whole setout.Then, I propose that the expenses shall be paid byA general exclamation of satisfaction hailed the arrivalof Mr. Percy Noakes, who went through the ordinary salutations,and threw himself into an easy chair near the ‘Excellent, indeed!’ said Mrs. Taunton, who highly ap-these ten fellows jointly.’ladies’ work-table, with the ease of a regularly establishedfriend of the family. Mrs. Taunton was busily en-‘Then, my plan is, that each of these ten fellows shallproved of this part of the arrangements.gaged in planting immense bright bows on every part of have the power of asking five people. There must be aa smart cap on which it was possible to stick one; Miss meeting of the committee, at my chambers, to make allEmily Taunton was making a watch-guard; Miss Sophia the arrangements, and these people shall be then named;was at the piano, practising a new song—poetry by the every member of the committee shall have the power ofyoung officer, or the police-officer, or the custom-house black-balling any one who is proposed; and one blackofficer, or some other interesting amateur.ball shall exclude that person. This will ensure our havinga pleasant party, you know.’‘You good creature!’ said Mrs. Taunton, addressing thegallant Percy. ‘You really are a good soul! You’ve come ‘What a manager you are!’ interrupted Mrs. Tauntonabout the water-party, I know.’again.‘I should rather suspect I had,’ replied Mr. Noakes, triumphantly.‘Now, come here, girls, and I’ll tell you all ‘I never did!’ ejaculated Sophia.‘Charming!’ said the lovely Emily.about it.’ Miss Emily and Miss Sophia advanced to the ‘Yes, I think it’ll do,’ replied Mr. Percy Noakes, who wastable.now quite in his element. ‘I think it’ll do. Then you know‘Now,’ continued Mr. Percy Noakes, ‘it seems to me that we shall go down to the Nore, and back, and have a regularcapital cold dinner laid out in the cabin before wethe best way will be, to have a committee of ten, to386

Charles Dickensstart, so that everything may be ready without any confusion;and we shall have the lunch laid out, on deck, in ‘How are you?’ said a stout gentleman of about forty,short a notice.those little tea-garden-looking concerns by the paddleboxes—Idon’t know what you call ‘em. Then, we shall lequin. This was Mr. Hardy, whom we have before de-pausing at the door in the attitude of an awkward har-hire a steamer expressly for our party, and a band, and scribed, on the authority of Mrs. Stubbs, as ‘the funnyhave the deck chalked, and we shall be able to dance gentleman.’ He was an Astley-Cooperish Joe Miller—aquadrilles all day; and then, whoever we know that’s practical joker, immensely popular with married ladies,musical, you know, why they’ll make themselves useful and a general favourite with young men. He was alwaysand agreeable; and—and—upon the whole, I really hope engaged in some pleasure excursion or other, and delightedin getting somebody into a scrape on such occa-we shall have a glorious day, you know!’The announcement of these arrangements was received sions. He could sing comic songs, imitate hackney-coachmenand fowls, play airs on his chin, and execute con-with the utmost enthusiasm. Mrs. Taunton, Emily, andSophia, were loud in their praises.certos on the Jews’-harp. He always eat and drank most‘Well, but tell me, Percy,’ said Mrs. Taunton, ‘who are immoderately, and was the bosom friend of Mr. Percythe ten gentlemen to be?’Noakes. He had a red face, a somewhat husky voice, and‘Oh! I know plenty of fellows who’ll be delighted with a tremendous laugh.the scheme,’ replied Mr. Percy Noakes; ‘of course we shall ‘How are you?’ said this worthy, laughing, as if it werehave—’the finest joke in the world to make a morning call, and‘Mr. Hardy!’ interrupted the servant, announcing a shaking hands with the ladies with as much vehemencevisitor. Miss Sophia and Miss Emily hastily assumed the as if their arms had been so many pump-handles.most interesting attitudes that could be adopted on so ‘You’re just the very man I wanted,’ said Mr. Percy387

Sketches by BozNoakes, who proceeded to explain the cause of his beingin requisition.brother’s) satisfaction, and greatly to the discomfitureFurnival’s Inn, sent his brother: much to his (the‘Ha! ha! ha!’ shouted Hardy, after hearing the statement,and receiving a detailed account of the proposed Tauntons there existed a degree of implacable hatred,of Mr. Percy Noakes. Between the Briggses and theexcursion. ‘Oh, capital! glorious! What a day it will be! quite unprecedented. The animosity between thewhat fun!—But, I say, when are you going to begin Montagues and Capulets, was nothing to that whichmaking the arrangements?’prevailed between these two illustrious houses. Mrs.‘No time like the present—at once, if you please.’ Briggs was a widow, with three daughters and two sons;‘Oh, charming!’ cried the ladies. ‘Pray, do!’Mr. Samuel, the eldest, was an attorney, and Mr.Writing materials were laid before Mr. Percy Noakes, Alexander, the youngest, was under articles to hisand the names of the different members of the committeewere agreed on, after as much discussion between and moved in the same orbit as the Tauntons—hencebrother. They resided in Portland-street, Oxford-street,him and Mr. Hardy as if the fate of nations had dependedon their appointment. It was then agreed that a smart bonnets, the Miss Tauntons eclipsed them withtheir mutual dislike. If the Miss Briggses appeared inmeeting should take place at Mr. Percy Noakes’s chamberson the ensuing Wednesday evening at eight o’clock, hues of the rainbow, Mrs. Briggs forthwith mounted asmarter. If Mrs. Taunton appeared in a cap of all theand the visitors departed.toque, with all the patterns of the kaleidoscope. If MissWednesday evening arrived; eight o’clock came, and Sophia Taunton learnt a new song, two of the Misseight members of the committee were punctual in their Briggses came out with a new duet. The Tauntons hadattendance. Mr. Loggins, the solicitor, of Boswell-court, once gained a temporary triumph with the assistancesent an excuse, and Mr. Samuel Briggs, the ditto of of a harp, but the Briggses brought three guitars into388

Charles Dickensthe field, and effectually routed the enemy. There was whom the personal direction of the whole of the arrangements(subject to the approval of the committee)no end to the rivalry between them.Now, as Mr. Samuel Briggs was a mere machine, a sort should be confided. A pale young gentleman, in a greenof self-acting legal walking-stick; and as the party was stock and spectacles of the same, a member of theknown to have originated, however remotely, with Mrs. honourable society of the Inner Temple, immediatelyTaunton, the female branches of the Briggs family had rose for the purpose of proposing Mr. Percy Noakes. Hearranged that Mr. Alexander should attend, instead of had known him long, and this he would say, that ahis brother; and as the said Mr. Alexander was deservedlycelebrated for possessing all the pertinacity of a fellow, never existed.—(Hear, hear!) The young gentle-more honourable, a more excellent, or a better-heartedbankruptcy-court attorney, combined with the obstinacyof that useful animal which browses on the thistle, opportunity of entering into an examination of the stateman, who was a member of a debating society, took thishe required but little tuition. He was especially enjoined of the English law, from the days of William the Conquerordown to the present period; he briefly advertedto make himself as disagreeable as possible; and, aboveall, to black-ball the Tauntons at every hazard. to the code established by the ancient Druids; slightlyThe proceedings of the evening were opened by Mr. glanced at the principles laid down by the AthenianPercy Noakes. After successfully urging on the gentlemenpresent the propriety of their mixing some brandy-on pic-nics and constitutional rights.law-givers; and concluded with a most glowing eulogiumand-water, he briefly stated the object of the meeting, Mr. Alexander Briggs opposed the motion. He had theand concluded by observing that the first step must be highest esteem for Mr. Percy Noakes as an individual, butthe selection of a chairman, necessarily possessing some he did consider that he ought not to be intrusted witharbitrary—he trusted not unconstitutional—powers, to these immense powers—(oh, oh!)—He believed that in389

Sketches by Bozthe proposed capacity Mr. Percy Noakes would not act The chairman with great solemnity then read the followinglist of the guests whom he proposed to introduce:-fairly, impartially, or honourably; but he begged it to bedistinctly understood, that he said this, without the Mrs. Taunton and two daughters, Mr. Wizzle, Mr. Simson.slightest personal disrespect. Mr. Hardy defended his The names were respectively balloted for, and Mrs. Tauntonhonourable friend, in a voice rendered partially unintelligibleby emotion and brandy-and-water. The proposi-Percy Noakes and Mr. Hardy exchanged glances.and her daughters were declared to be black-balled. Mr.tion was put to the vote, and there appearing to be only ‘Is your list prepared, Mr. Briggs?’ inquired the chairman.one dissentient voice, Mr. Percy Noakes was declared duly ‘It is,’ replied Alexander, delivering in the following:-elected, and took the chair accordingly.‘Mrs. Briggs and three daughters, Mr. Samuel Briggs.’The business of the meeting now proceeded with rapidity.The chairman delivered in his estimate of the and three daughters were declared to be black-balled.The previous ceremony was repeated, and Mrs. Briggsprobable expense of the excursion, and every one present Mr. Alexander Briggs looked rather foolish, and the remainderof the company appeared somewhat overawedsubscribed his portion thereof. The question was putthat ‘The Endeavour’ be hired for the occasion; Mr. by the mysterious nature of the proceedings.Alexander Briggs moved as an amendment, that the word The balloting proceeded; but, one little circumstance‘Fly’ be substituted for the word ‘Endeavour’; but after which Mr. Percy Noakes had not originally foreseen, preventedthe system from working quite as well as he hadsome debate consented to withdraw his opposition. Theimportant ceremony of balloting then commenced. A anticipated. Everybody was black-balled. Mr. Alexandertea-caddy was placed on a table in a dark corner of the Briggs, by way of retaliation, exercised his power ofapartment, and every one was provided with two backgammonmen, one black and one white.after three hours had been consumed in hard balloting,exclusion in every instance, and the result was, that390

Charles Dickensthe names of only three gentlemen were found to have tee, together with the company generally, should bebeen agreed to. In this dilemma what was to be done? expected to join her by nine o’clock. More brandy-andwaterwas despatched; several speeches were made byeither the whole plan must fall to the ground, or a compromisemust be effected. The latter alternative was the different law students present; thanks were votedpreferable; and Mr. Percy Noakes therefore proposed that to the chairman; and the meeting separated.the form of balloting should be dispensed with, and The weather had been beautiful up to this period,that every gentleman should merely be required to state and beautiful it continued to be. Sunday passed over,whom he intended to bring. The proposal was acceded and Mr. Percy Noakes became unusually fidgety—rushing,constantly, to and from the Steam Packet Wharf, toto; the Tauntons and the Briggses were reinstated; andthe party was formed.the astonishment of the clerks, and the great emolumentof the Holborn cabmen. Tuesday arrived, and theThe next Wednesday was fixed for the eventful day,and it was unanimously resolved that every member of anxiety of Mr. Percy Noakes knew no bounds. He wasthe committee should wear a piece of blue sarsenet ribbonround his left arm. It appeared from the statement clouds; and Mr. Hardy astonished the whole square byevery instant running to the window, to look out forof Mr. Percy Noakes, that the boat belonged to the GeneralSteam Navigation Company, and was then lying off chairman’s chambers.practising a new comic song for the occasion, in thethe Custom-house; and, as he proposed that the dinner Uneasy were the slumbers of Mr. Percy Noakes thatand wines should be provided by an eminent city purveyor,it was arranged that Mr. Percy Noakes should be dreams of steamers starting off, and gigantic clocks withnight; he tossed and tumbled about, and had confusedon board by seven o’clock to superintend the arrangements,and that the remaining members of the commit-face of Mr. Alexander Briggs looking over the boat’sthe hands pointing to a quarter-past nine, and the uglyside,391

Sketches by Bozand grinning, as if in derision of his fruitless attempts stationed a ‘street-breakfast.’ The coffee was boiling overto move. He made a violent effort to get on board, and a charcoal fire, and large slices of bread and butter wereawoke. The bright sun was shining cheerfully into the piled one upon the other, like deals in a timber-yard. Thebedroom, and Mr. Percy Noakes started up for his watch, company were seated on a form, which, with a view bothin the dreadful expectation of finding his worst dreams to security and comfort, was placed against a neighbouringrealised.wall. Two young men, whose uproarious mirth and disordereddress bespoke the conviviality of the precedingIt was just five o’clock. He calculated the time—heshould be a good half-hour dressing himself; and as it evening, were treating three ‘ladies’ and an Irish labourer.was a lovely morning, and the tide would be then runningdown, he would walk leisurely to Strand-lane, and longing eye at the tempting delicacies; and a policemanA little sweep was standing at a short distance, casting ahave a boat to the Custom-house.was watching the group from the opposite side of theHe dressed himself, took a hasty apology for a breakfast,and sallied forth. The streets looked as lonely and women contrasted as strangely with the gay sunlight, asstreet. The wan looks and gaudy finery of the thinly-claddeserted as if they had been crowded, overnight, for did their forced merriment with the boisterous hilarity ofthe last time. Here and there, an early apprentice, with the two young men, who, now and then, varied theirquenched-looking sleepy eyes, was taking down the shuttersof a shop; and a policeman or milkwoman might ant coffee-house.amusements by ‘bonneting’ the proprietor of this itiner-occasionally be seen pacing slowly along; but the servantshad not yet begun to clean the doors, or light the turned down Strand-lane, and caught a glimpse of theMr. Percy Noakes walked briskly by, and when hekitchen fires, and London looked the picture of desolation.At the corner of a by-street, near Temple-bar, was portant or so happy in his life.glistening water, he thought he had never felt so im-392

Charles Dickens‘Boat, sir?’ cried one of the three watermen who were tations, and stepped into the boat, which the old man,mopping out their boats, and all whistling. ‘Boat, sir?’ by dint of scrambling, and shoving, and grating, had‘No,’ replied Mr. Percy Noakes, rather sharply; for the brought up to the causeway. ‘Shove her off!’ cried Mr.inquiry was not made in a manner at all suitable to his Percy Noakes, and away the boat glided down the river;dignity.Mr. Percy Noakes seated on the recently mopped seat,‘Would you prefer a wessel, sir?’ inquired another, to and the watermen at the stairs offering to bet him anythe infinite delight of the ‘Jack-in-the-water.’reasonable sum that he’d never reach the ‘Custum-us.’Mr. Percy Noakes replied with a look of supreme ‘Here she is, by Jove!’ said the delighted Percy, ascontempt.they ran alongside the Endeavour.‘Did you want to be put on board a steamer, sir?’ inquiredan old fireman-waterman, very confidentially. Percy Noakes jumped on board.‘Hold hard!’ cried the steward over the side, and Mr.He was dressed in a faded red suit, just the colour of ‘Hope you will find everything as you wished, sir. Shethe cover of a very old Court-guide.looks uncommon well this morning.’‘Yes, make haste—the Endeavour—off the Custom-house.’ ‘She does, indeed,’ replied the manager, in a state of‘Endeavour!’ cried the man who had convulsed the ecstasy which it is impossible to describe. The deck was‘Jack’ before. ‘Vy, I see the Endeavour go up half an scrubbed, and the seats were scrubbed, and there was ahour ago.’bench for the band, and a place for dancing, and a pile‘So did I,’ said another; ‘and I should think she’d gone of camp-stools, and an awning; and then Mr. Percydown by this time, for she’s a precious sight too full of Noakes bustled down below, and there were theladies and gen’lemen.’pastrycook’s men, and the steward’s wife, laying outMr. Percy Noakes affected to disregard these represen-the dinner on two tables the whole length of the cabin;393

Sketches by Bozand then Mr. Percy Noakes took off his coat and rushed to the eyes of the astonished company. The band camebackwards and forwards, doing nothing, but quite convincedhe was assisting everybody; and the steward’s Ten minutes to nine, and the committee embarked inon board, and so did the wine.wife laughed till she cried, and Mr. Percy Noakes panted a body. There was Mr. Hardy, in a blue jacket and waistcoat,white trousers, silk stockings, and pumps—in fullwith the violence of his exertions. And then the bell atLondon-bridge wharf rang; and a Margate boat was just aquatic costume, with a straw hat on his head, and anstarting; and a Gravesend boat was just starting, and immense telescope under his arm; and there was thepeople shouted, and porters ran down the steps with young gentleman with the green spectacles, in nankeeninexplicables, with a ditto waistcoat and brightluggage that would crush any men but porters; and slopingboards, with bits of wood nailed on them, were placed buttons, like the pictures of Paul—not the saint, butbetween the outside boat and the inside boat; and the he of Virginia notoriety. The remainder of the committee,dressed in white hats, light jackets, waistcoats, andpassengers ran along them, and looked like so manyfowls coming out of an area; and then, the bell ceased, trousers, looked something between waiters and Westand the boards were taken away, and the boats started, India planters.and the whole scene was one of the most delightful Nine o’clock struck, and the company arrived in shoals.bustle and confusion.Mr. Samuel Briggs, Mrs. Briggs, and the Misses Briggs,The time wore on; half-past eight o’clock arrived; the made their appearance in a smart private wherry. Thepastry-cook’s men went ashore; the dinner was completelylaid out; and Mr. Percy Noakes locked the princi-carefully stowed away in the bottom of the boat, ac-three guitars, in their respective dark green cases, werepal cabin, and put the key in his pocket, in order that companied by two immense portfolios of music, whichit might be suddenly disclosed, in all its magnificence, it would take at least a week’s incessant playing to get394

Charles Dickensthrough. The Tauntons arrived at the same moment with party, with a careless air.—’Captain Helves—Mr. Percymore music, and a lion—a gentleman with a bass voice Noakes—Mrs. Briggs—Captain Helves.’and an incipient red moustache. The colours of the Mr. Percy Noakes bowed very low; the gallant captainTaunton party were pink; those of the Briggses a light did the same with all due ferocity, and the Briggsesblue. The Tauntons had artificial flowers in their bonnets;here the Briggses gained a decided advantage— ‘Our friend, Mr. Wizzle, being unfortunately preventedwere clearly overcome.they wore feathers.from coming,’ resumed Mrs. Taunton, ‘I did myself the‘How d’ye do, dear?’ said the Misses Briggs to the Misses pleasure of bringing the captain, whose musical talentsTaunton. (The word ‘dear’ among girls is frequently synonymouswith ‘wretch.’)‘In the name of the committee I have to thank youI knew would be a great acquisition.’‘Quite well, thank you, dear,’ replied the Misses Taunton for doing so, and to offer you welcome, sir,’ replied Percy.to the Misses Briggs; and then, there was such a kissing,and congratulating, and shaking of hands, as might won’t you walk aft? Captain, will you conduct Miss(Here the scraping was renewed.) ‘But pray be seated—have induced one to suppose that the two families were Taunton?—Miss Briggs, will you allow me?’the best friends in the world, instead of each wishing ‘Where could they have picked up that military man?’the other overboard, as they most sincerely did. inquired Mrs. Briggs of Miss Kate Briggs, as they followedthe little party.Mr. Percy Noakes received the visitors, and bowed tothe strange gentleman, as if he should like to know ‘I can’t imagine,’ replied Miss Kate, bursting with vexation;for the very fierce air with which the gallant cap-who he was. This was just what Mrs. Taunton wanted.Here was an opportunity to astonish the Briggses. tain regarded the company, had impressed her with a‘Oh! I beg your pardon,’ said the general of the Taunton high sense of his importance.395

Sketches by BozBoat after boat came alongside, and guest after guest ‘Noakes,’ exclaimed Hardy, who had been looking atarrived. The invites had been excellently arranged: Mr. every object far and near, through the large telescope,Percy Noakes having considered it as important that ‘it’s the Fleetwoods and the Wakefields—and two childrenwith them, by Jove!’the number of young men should exactly tally with thatof the young ladies, as that the quantity of knives on ‘What a shame to bring children!’ said everybody; ‘howboard should be in precise proportion to the forks. very inconsiderate!’‘Now, is every one on board?’ inquired Mr. Percy Noakes. ‘I say, it would be a good joke to pretend not to see ‘em,The committee (who, with their bits of blue ribbon, looked wouldn’t it?’ suggested Hardy, to the immense delight ofas if they were all going to be bled) bustled about to ascertainthe fact, and reported that they might safely start. and it was resolved that the newcomers should be takenthe company generally. A council of war was hastily held,‘Go on!’ cried the master of the boat from the top of on board, on Mr. Hardy solemnly pledging himself to teaseone of the paddle-boxes.the children during the whole of the day.‘Go on!’ echoed the boy, who was stationed over the ‘Stop her!’ cried the captain.hatchway to pass the directions down to the engineer; ‘Stop her!’ repeated the boy; whizz went the steam,and away went the vessel with that agreeable noise which and all the young ladies, as in duty bound, screamed inis peculiar to steamers, and which is composed of a mixtureof creaking, gushing, clanging, and snorting. the martial Helves, that the escape of steam consequentconcert. They were only appeased by the assurance of‘Hoi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oi-o-i-i-i!’ shouted half-a-dozen voices on stopping a vessel was seldom attended with any greatfrom a boat, a quarter of a mile astern.loss of human life.‘Ease her!’ cried the captain: ‘do these people belong Two men ran to the side; and after some shouting,to us, sir?’and swearing, and angling for the wherry with a boat-396

Charles Dickenshook, Mr. Fleetwood, and Mrs. Fleetwood, and Master and other elegant public edifices; and the young ladiesFleetwood, and Mr. Wakefield, and Mrs. Wakefield, and exhibited a proper display of horror at the appearanceMiss Wakefield, were safely deposited on the deck. The of the coal-whippers and ballast-heavers. Mr. Hardy toldgirl was about six years old, the boy about four; the stories to the married ladies, at which they laughedformer was dressed in a white frock with a pink sash very much in their pocket-handkerchiefs, and hit himand dog’s-eared-looking little spencer: a straw bonnet on the knuckles with their fans, declaring him to be ‘aand green veil, six inches by three and a half; the latter,was attired for the occasion in a nankeen frock, Captain Helves gave slight descriptions of battles andnaughty man—a shocking creature’—and so forth; andbetween the bottom of which, and the top of his plaid duels, with a most bloodthirsty air, which made himsocks, a considerable portion of two small mottled legs the admiration of the women, and the envy of the men.was discernible. He had a light blue cap with a gold Quadrilling commenced; Captain Helves danced one setband and tassel on his head, and a damp piece of gingerbreadin his hand, with which he had slightly em-Sophia Taunton. Mrs. Taunton was in ecstasies. The vic-with Miss Emily Taunton, and another set with Missbossed his countenance.tory appeared to be complete; but alas! the inconstancyThe boat once more started off; the band played ‘Off of man! Having performed this necessary duty, he attachedhimself solely to Miss Julia Briggs, with whomshe goes:’ the major part of the company conversedcheerfully in groups; and the old gentlemen walked up he danced no less than three sets consecutively, andand down the deck in pairs, as perseveringly and gravely from whose side he evinced no intention of stirring foras if they were doing a match against time for an immensestake. They ran briskly down the Pool; the gentle-Mr. Hardy, having played one or two very brilliantthe remainder of the day.men pointed out the Docks, the Thames Police-office, fantasias on the Jews’-harp, and having frequently re-397

Sketches by Bozpeated the exquisitely amusing joke of slily chalking a ‘my daughters always sing without accompaniments.’large cross on the back of some member of the committee,Mr. Percy Noakes expressed his hope that some of ‘Perhaps,’ said Mrs. Taunton, reddening, for she guessed‘And without voices,’ tittered Mrs. Briggs, in a low tone.their musical friends would oblige the company by a the tenor of the observation, though she had not hearddisplay of their abilities.it clearly—’Perhaps it would be as well for some people,‘Perhaps,’ he said in a very insinuating manner, ‘CaptainHelves will oblige us?’ Mrs. Taunton’s countenance other people.’if their voices were not quite so audible as they are tolighted up, for the captain only sang duets, and couldn’t ‘And, perhaps, if gentlemen who are kidnapped to paysing them with anybody but one of her daughters. attention to some persons’ daughters, had not sufficientdiscernment to pay attention to other persons’‘Really,’ said that warlike individual, ‘I should be veryhappy, ‘but—’daughters,’ returned Mrs. Briggs, ‘some persons would‘Oh! pray do,’ cried all the young ladies.not be so ready to display that ill-temper which, thank‘Miss Emily, have you any objection to join in a duet?’ God, distinguishes them from other persons.’‘Oh! not the slightest,’ returned the young lady, in a ‘Persons!’ ejaculated Mrs. Taunton.tone which clearly showed she had the greatest possibleobjection.‘Insolence!’‘Persons,’ replied Mrs. Briggs.‘Shall I accompany you, dear?’ inquired one of the ‘Creature!’Miss Briggses, with the bland intention of spoiling the ‘Hush! hush!’ interrupted Mr. Percy Noakes, who waseffect.one of the very few by whom this dialogue had been‘Very much obliged to you, Miss Briggs,’ sharply retortedMrs. Taunton, who saw through the manoeuvre; After a great deal of preparatory crowing and hum-overheard. ‘Hush!—pray, silence for the duet.’398

Charles Dickensming, the captain began the following duet from the ‘What is the matter?’ shouted the agonised father, asopera of ‘Paul and Virginia,’ in that grunting tone in he returned with the child in his arms.which a man gets down, Heaven knows where, without ‘Oh! oh! oh!’ screamed the small sufferer again.the remotest chance of ever getting up again. This, in ‘What is the matter, dear?’ inquired the father onceprivate circles, is frequently designated ‘a bass voice.’ more—hastily stripping off the nankeen frock, for thepurpose of ascertaining whether the child had one bone‘See (sung the captain) from o-ce-an ri-sing which was not smashed to pieces.Bright flames the or-b of d-ay.‘Oh! oh!—I’m so frightened!’From yon gro-ove, the varied so-ongs—’‘What at, dear?—what at?’ said the mother, soothingthe sweet infant.Here, the singer was interrupted by varied cries of the ‘Oh! he’s been making such dreadful faces at me,’ cried themost dreadful description, proceeding from some grove boy, relapsing into convulsions at the bare recollection.in the immediate vicinity of the starboard paddle-box. ‘He!—who?’ cried everybody, crowding round him.‘My child!’ screamed Mrs. Fleetwood. ‘My child! it is ‘Oh!—him!’ replied the child, pointing at Hardy, whohis voice—I know it.’affected to be the most concerned of the whole group.Mr. Fleetwood, accompanied by several gentlemen, here The real state of the case at once flashed upon therushed to the quarter from whence the noise proceeded, minds of all present, with the exception of theand an exclamation of horror burst from the company; Fleetwoods and the Wakefields. The facetious Hardy, inthe general impression being, that the little innocent fulfilment of his promise, had watched the child to ahad either got his head in the water, or his legs in the remote part of the vessel, and, suddenly appearing beforehim with the most awful contortions of visage, machinery.had399

Sketches by Bozproduced his paroxysm of terror. Of course, he now observedthat it was hardly necessary for him to deny the very much delighted.’us with something before dinner, I am sure we shall beaccusation; and the unfortunate little victim was accordinglyled below, after receiving sundry thumps on gestion, which one frequently hears in society, whenOne of those hums of admiration followed the sug-the head from both his parents, for having the wickednessto tell a story.ing his approval of. The three Misses Briggs looked mod-nobody has the most distant notion what he is express-This little interruption having been adjusted, the captainresumed, and Miss Emily chimed in, in due course. ingly at her daughters, and Mrs. Taunton looked scornestlyat their mamma, and the mamma looked approv-The duet was loudly applauded, and, certainly, the perfectindependence of the parties deserved great commen-guitars, and several gentlemen seriously damaged thefully at all of them. The Misses Briggs asked for theirdation. Miss Emily sung her part, without the slightest cases in their anxiety to present them. Then, there wasreference to the captain; and the captain sang so loud, a very interesting production of three little keys for thethat he had not the slightest idea what was being done aforesaid cases, and a melodramatic expression of horrorat finding a string broken; and a vast deal of screw-by his partner. After having gone through the last feweighteen or nineteen bars by himself, therefore, he acknowledgedthe plaudits of the circle with that air of which Mrs. Briggs expatiated to those near her on theing and tightening, and winding, and tuning, duringself-denial which men usually assume when they think immense difficulty of playing a guitar, and hinted atthey have done something to astonish the company. the wondrous proficiency of her daughters in that mysticart. Mrs. Taunton whispered to a neighbour that it‘Now,’ said Mr. Percy Noakes, who had just ascendedfrom the fore-cabin, where he had been busily engaged was ‘quite sickening!’ and the Misses Taunton looked asin decanting the wine, ‘if the Misses Briggs will oblige if they knew how to play, but disdained to do it.400

Charles DickensAt length, the Misses Briggs began in real earnest. It that jocular individual.was a new Spanish composition, for three voices and ‘Did you ever hear a tom-tom, sir?’ sternly inquiredthree guitars. The effect was electrical. All eyes were the captain, who lost no opportunity of showing off histurned upon the captain, who was reported to have once travels, real or pretended.passed through Spain with his regiment, and who must ‘A what?’ asked Hardy, rather taken aback.be well acquainted with the national music. He was in ‘A tom-tom.’raptures. This was sufficient; the trio was encored; the ‘Never!’applause was universal; and never had the Tauntons ‘Nor a gum-gum?’suffered such a complete defeat.‘Never!’‘Bravo! bravo!’ ejaculated the captain;—’bravo!’ ‘What is a gum-gum?’ eagerly inquired several young‘Pretty! isn’t it, sir?’ inquired Mr. Samuel Briggs, with ladies.the air of a self-satisfied showman. By-the-bye, these ‘When I was in the East Indies,’ replied the captain—were the first words he had been heard to utter since he (here was a discovery—he had been in the Eastleft Boswell-court the evening before.Indies!)—’when I was in the East Indies, I was once‘De-lightful!’ returned the captain, with a flourish, stopping a few thousand miles up the country, on aand a military cough;—’de-lightful!’visit at the house of a very particular friend of mine,‘Sweet instrument!’ said an old gentleman with a bald Ram Chowdar Doss Azuph Al Bowlar—a devilish pleasantfellow. As we were enjoying our hookahs, onehead, who had been trying all the morning to lookthrough a telescope, inside the glass of which Mr. Hardy evening, in the cool verandah in front of his villa, wehad fixed a large black wafer.were rather surprised by the sudden appearance of thirtyfourof his Kit-ma-gars (for he had rather a large ‘Did you ever hear a Portuguese tambourine?’ inquiredestab-401

Sketches by Bozlishment there), accompanied by an equal number of ‘Dinner’s on the table, ladies,’ interrupted theCon-su-mars, approaching the house with a threateningaspect, and beating a tom-tom. The Ram started ‘Will you allow me?’ said the captain, immediatelysteward’s wife.up—’suiting the action to the word, and escorting Miss Julia‘Who?’ inquired the bald gentleman, intensely interested.finished the story.Briggs to the cabin, with as much ease as if he had‘The Ram—Ram Chowdar—’‘What an extraordinary circumstance!’ ejaculated the‘Oh!’ said the old gentleman, ‘beg your pardon; pray same old gentleman, preserving his listening attitude.go on.’‘What a traveller!’ said the young ladies.‘—Started up and drew a pistol. “Helves,” said he, ‘What a singular name!’ exclaimed the gentlemen,“my boy,”—he always called me, my boy—”Helves,” said rather confused by the coolness of the whole affair.he, “do you hear that tom-tom?” “I do,” said I. His ‘I wish he had finished the story,’ said an old lady. ‘Icountenance, which before was pale, assumed a most wonder what a gum-gum really is?’frightful appearance; his whole visage was distorted, ‘By Jove!’ exclaimed Hardy, who until now had beenand his frame shaken by violent emotions. “Do you see lost in utter amazement, ‘I don’t know what it may bethat gum-gum?” said he. “No,” said I, staring about me. in India, but in England I think a gum-gum has very“You don’t?” said he. “No, I’ll be damned if I do,” said I; much the same meaning as a hum-bug.’“and what’s more, I don’t know what a gum-gum is,” ‘How illiberal! how envious!’ cried everybody, as theysaid I. I really thought the Ram would have dropped. made for the cabin, fully impressed with a belief in theHe drew me aside, and with an expression of agony I captain’s amazing adventures. Helves was the sole lionshall never forget, said in a low whisper—’for the remainder of the day—impudence and the mar-402

Charles Dickensvellous are pretty sure passports to any society. the company, therefore, endeavoured to look peculiarlyThe party had by this time reached their destination, happy, feeling all the while especially miserable.and put about on their return home. The wind, which ‘Don’t it rain?’ inquired the old gentleman before noticed,when, by dint of squeezing and jamming, theyhad been with them the whole day, was now directly intheir teeth; the weather had become gradually more were all seated at table.and more overcast; and the sky, water, and shore, were ‘I think it does—a little,’ replied Mr. Percy Noakes,all of that dull, heavy, uniform lead-colour, which housepaintersdaub in the first instance over a street-door of the pattering on the deck.who could hardly hear himself speak, in consequencewhich is gradually approaching a state of convalescence. ‘Don’t it blow?’ inquired some one else.It had been ‘spitting’ with rain for the last half-hour, ‘No, I don’t think it does,’ responded Hardy, sincerelyand now began to pour in good earnest. The wind was wishing that he could persuade himself that it did not; forfreshening very fast, and the waterman at the wheel he sat near the door, and was almost blown off his seat.had unequivocally expressed his opinion that there ‘It’ll soon clear up,’ said Mr. Percy Noakes, in a cheerfultone.would shortly be a squall. A slight emotion on the partof the vessel, now and then, seemed to suggest the ‘Oh, certainly!’ ejaculated the committee generally.possibility of its pitching to a very uncomfortable extentin the event of its blowing harder; and every tim-whose attention was now pretty well engrossed by the‘No doubt of it!’ said the remainder of the company,ber began to creak, as if the boat were an overladen serious business of eating, carving, taking wine, and soclothes-basket. Sea-sickness, however, is like a belief in forth.ghosts—every one entertains some misgivings on the The throbbing motion of the engine was but too perceptible.There was a large, substantial, cold boiled subject, but few will acknowledge any. The majority ofleg403

Sketches by Bozof mutton, at the bottom of the table, shaking like were made for small glasses of brandy; the countenancesblancmange; a previously hearty sirloin of beef looked of the company gradually underwent most extraordinarychanges; one gentleman was observed suddenly toas if it had been suddenly seized with the palsy; andsome tongues, which were placed on dishes rather too rush from table without the slightest ostensible reason,large for them, went through the most surprising evolutions;darting from side to side, and from end to end, greatly damaging both himself and the steward, whoand dart up the steps with incredible swiftness: therebylike a fly in an inverted wine-glass. Then, the sweets happened to be coming down at the same moment.shook and trembled, till it was quite impossible to help The cloth was removed; the dessert was laid on thethem, and people gave up the attempt in despair; and table; and the glasses were filled. The motion of the boatthe pigeon-pies looked as if the birds, whose legs were increased; several members of the party began to feelstuck outside, were trying to get them in. The table rather vague and misty, and looked as if they had onlyvibrated and started like a feverish pulse, and the very just got up. The young gentleman with the spectacles,legs were convulsed—everything was shaking and jarring.The beams in the roof of the cabin seemed as if one moment bright, and at another dismal, like a revolv-who had been in a fluctuating state for some time—atthey were put there for the sole purpose of giving people ing light on the sea-coast—rashly announced his wishhead-aches, and several elderly gentlemen became illtemperedin consequence. As fast as the steward put preserve his perpendicular, the young gentleman, hav-to propose a toast. After several ineffectual attempts tothe fire-irons up, they would fall down again; and the ing managed to hook himself to the centre leg of themore the ladies and gentlemen tried to sit comfortably table with his left hand, proceeded as follows:on their seats, the more the seats seemed to slide away ‘Ladies and gentlemen. A gentleman is among us—I mayfrom the ladies and gentlemen. Several ominous demands say a stranger—(here some painful thought seemed to strike404

Charles Dickensthe orator; he paused, and looked extremely odd)—whose to Mr. Percy Noakes, ‘I beg your pardon, sir, but thetalents, whose travels, whose cheerfulness—’gentleman as just went on deck—him with the green‘I beg your pardon, Edkins,’ hastily interrupted Mr. spectacles—is uncommon bad, to be sure; and the youngPercy Noakes,—‘Hardy, what’s the matter?’man as played the wiolin says, that unless he has some‘Nothing,’ replied the ‘funny gentleman,’ who had just brandy he can’t answer for the consequences. He sayslife enough left to utter two consecutive syllables. he has a wife and two children, whose werry subsistencedepends on his breaking a wessel, and he expects‘Will you have some brandy?’‘No!’ replied Hardy in a tone of great indignation, and to do so every moment. The flageolet’s been werry ill,looking as comfortable as Temple-bar in a Scotch mist; but he’s better, only he’s in a dreadful prusperation.’‘what should I want brandy for?’All disguise was now useless; the company staggered‘Will you go on deck?’on deck; the gentlemen tried to see nothing but the‘No, I will not.’ This was said with a most determined clouds; and the ladies, muffled up in such shawls andair, and in a voice which might have been taken for an cloaks as they had brought with them, lay about on theimitation of anything; it was quite as much like a guineapigas a bassoon.tion. Never was such a blowing, and raining, and pitch-seats, and under the seats, in the most wretched condi-‘I beg your pardon, Edkins,’ said the courteous Percy; ing, and tossing, endured by any pleasure party before.‘I thought our friend was ill. Pray go on.’Several remonstrances were sent down below, on theA pause.subject of Master Fleetwood, but they were totally unheededin consequence of the indisposition of his natu-‘Pray go on.’‘Mr. Edkins is gone,’ cried somebody.ral protectors. That interesting child screamed at the‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ said the steward, running up top of his voice, until he had no voice left to scream405

Sketches by Bozwith; and then, Miss Wakefield began, and screamed for Mr. Edkins—the young gentleman in the green spectacles—makesa speech on every occasion on which athe remainder of the passage.Mr. Hardy was observed, some hours afterwards, in an speech can possibly be made: the eloquence of whichattitude which induced his friends to suppose that he can only be equalled by its length. In the event of hiswas busily engaged in contemplating the beauties of the not being previously appointed to a judgeship, it is probablethat he will practise as a barrister in the New Cen-deep; they only regretted that his taste for the picturesqueshould lead him to remain so long in a position, tral Criminal Court.very injurious at all times, but especially so, to an individuallabouring under a tendency of blood to the head. Briggs, whom he might possibly have espoused, if itCaptain Helves continued his attention to Miss JuliaThe party arrived off the Custom-house at about two had not unfortunately happened that Mr. Samuel arrestedhim, in the way of business, pursuant to instruc-o’clock on the Thursday morning dispirited and wornout. The Tauntons were too ill to quarrel with the tions received from Messrs. Scroggins and Payne, whoseBriggses, and the Briggses were too wretched to annoy town-debts the gallant captain had condescended tothe Tauntons. One of the guitar-cases was lost on its collect, but whose accounts, with the indiscretion sometimespeculiar to military minds, he had omitted to keeppassage to a hackney-coach, and Mrs. Briggs has notscrupled to state that the Tauntons bribed a porter to with that dull accuracy which custom has rendered necessary.Mrs. Taunton complains that she has been muchthrow it down an area. Mr. Alexander Briggs opposesvote by ballot—he says from personal experience of its deceived in him. He introduced himself to the familyinefficacy; and Mr. Samuel Briggs, whenever he is asked on board a Gravesend steam-packet, and certainly, therefore,ought to have proved respectable.to express his sentiments on the point, says he has noopinion on that or any other subject.Mr. Percy Noakes is as light-hearted and careless as ever.406

Charles DickensCHAPTER VIIIlane about a couple of miles long, colonised by one wheelwright,four paupers, and a beer-shop; but, even thisTHE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUELauthority, slight as it is, must be regarded with extremeTHE LITTLE TOWN of Great Winglebury is exactly forty-two suspicion, inasmuch as the inhabitants of the hole aforesaid,concur in opining that it never had any name at all,miles and three-quarters from Hyde Park corner. It hasa long, straggling, quiet High-street, with a great black from the earliest ages down to the present day.and white clock at a small red Town-hall, half-way up— The Winglebury Arms, in the centre of the High-street,a market-place—a cage—an assembly-room—a church— opposite the small building with the big clock, is thea bridge—a chapel—a theatre—a library—an inn—a principal inn of Great Winglebury—the commercial-inn,pump—and a Post-office. Tradition tells of a ‘Little posting-house, and excise-office; the ‘Blue’ house at everyelection, and the judges’ house at every assizes. It isWinglebury,’ down some cross-road about two miles off;and, as a square mass of dirty paper, supposed to have the head-quarters of the Gentlemen’s Whist Club ofbeen originally intended for a letter, with certain tremulouscharacters inscribed thereon, in which a lively imagi-Gentlemen’s Whist Club of Winglebury Buffs, held at theWinglebury Blues (so called in opposition to thenation might trace a remote resemblance to the word other house, a little further down): and whenever a juggler,or wax-work man, or concert-giver, takes Great‘Little,’ was once stuck up to be owned in the sunnywindow of the Great Winglebury Post-office, from which Winglebury in his circuit, it is immediately placarded allit only disappeared when it fell to pieces with dust and over the town that Mr. So-and-so, ‘trusting to that liberalextreme old age, there would appear to be some foundationfor the legend. Common belief is inclined to be-long been so liberal in bestowing, has at a great expensesupport which the inhabitants of Great Winglebury havestow the name upon a little hole at the end of a muddy engaged the elegant and commodious assembly-rooms,407

Sketches by Bozattached to the Winglebury Arms.’ The house is a large London stage. Four horses with cloths on—change for aone, with a red brick and stone front; a pretty spacious coach—were standing quietly at the corner of the yardhall, ornamented with evergreen plants, terminates in a surrounded by a listless group of post-boys in shinyperspective view of the bar, and a glass case, in which are hats and smock-frocks, engaged in discussing the meritsof the cattle; half a dozen ragged boys were standingdisplayed a choice variety of delicacies ready for dressing,to catch the eye of a new-comer the moment he a little apart, listening with evident interest to the conversationof these worthies; and a few loungers wereenters, and excite his appetite to the highest possiblepitch. Opposite doors lead to the ‘coffee’ and ‘commercial’rooms; and a great wide, rambling staircase,—three of the coach.collected round the horse-trough, awaiting the arrivalstairs and a landing—four stairs and another landing— The day was hot and sunny, the town in the zenith ofone step and another landing—half-a-dozen stairs and its dulness, and with the exception of these few idlers,another landing—and so on—conducts to galleries of not a living creature was to be seen. Suddenly, the loudbedrooms, and labyrinths of sitting-rooms, denominated notes of a key-bugle broke the monotonous stillness of‘private,’ where you may enjoy yourself, as privately as the street; in came the coach, rattling over the unevenyou can in any place where some bewildered being walks paving with a noise startling enough to stop even theinto your room every five minutes, by mistake, and then large-faced clock itself. Down got the outsides, up wentwalks out again, to open all the doors along the gallery the windows in all directions, out came the waiters, upuntil he finds his own.started the ostlers, and the loungers, and the post-boys,Such is the Winglebury Arms, at this day, and such and the ragged boys, as if they were electrified—unstrapping,and unchaining, and unbuckling, and drag-was the Winglebury Arms some time since—no matterwhen—two or three minutes before the arrival of the ging willing horses out, and forcing reluctant horses in,408

Charles Dickensand making a most exhilarating bustle. ‘Lady inside, just described.here!’ said the guard. ‘Please to alight, ma’am,’ said the ‘Yes, sir,’—(waiters always speak in hints, and neverwaiter. ‘Private sitting-room?’ interrogated the lady. ‘Certainly,ma’am,’ responded the chamber-maid. ‘Nothing sir,—Bar, sir,—Missis said number nineteen, sir—utter complete sentences,)—’yes, sir,—Boots at the Lion,but these ‘ere trunks, ma’am?’ inquired the guard. ‘Nothingmore,’ replied the lady. Up got the outsides again, think, sir?’Alexander Trott, Esq., sir?—Your card at the bar, sir, Iand the guard, and the coachman; off came the cloths, ‘My name is Trott,’ replied number nineteen, breakingwith a jerk; ‘All right,’ was the cry; and away they went. the seal. ‘You may go, waiter.’ The waiter pulled down theThe loungers lingered a minute or two in the road, watchingthe coach until it turned the corner, and then loi-waiter must do something before he leaves the room—window-blind, and then pulled it up again—for a regulartered away one by one. The street was clear again, and adjusted the glasses on the side-board, brushed a placethe town, by contrast, quieter than ever.that was not dusty, rubbed his hands very hard, walked‘Lady in number twenty-five,’ screamed the landlady.— stealthily to the door, and evaporated.’Thomas!’There was, evidently, something in the contents of‘Yes, ma’am.’the letter, of a nature, if not wholly unexpected, certainlyextremely disagreeable. Mr. Alexander Trott laid‘Letter just been left for the gentleman in numbernineteen. Boots at the Lion left it. No answer.’it down, and took it up again, and walked about the‘Letter for you, sir,’ said Thomas, depositing the letter room on particular squares of the carpet, and even attempted,though unsuccessfully, to whistle an air. Iton number nineteen’s table.‘For me?’ said number nineteen, turning from the wouldn’t do. He threw himself into a chair, and read thewindow, out of which he had been surveying the scene following epistle aloud:—409

Sketches by Boz‘Blue Lion and Stomach-warmer,‘PS. There is a gunsmiths in the High-street; and they‘Great Winglebury.won’t sell gunpowder after dark—you understand me.‘Wednesday Morning.‘PPS. You had better not order your breakfast in themorning until you have met me. It may be an unnecessaryexpense.’‘Sir. Immediately on discovering your intentions, I leftour counting-house, and followed you. I know the purportof your journey;—that journey shall never be completed. ‘Desperate-minded villain! I knew how it would be!’ ejaculatedthe terrified Trott. ‘I always told father, that once‘I have no friend here, just now, on whose secrecy Ican rely. This shall be no obstacle to my revenge. Neithershall Emily Brown be exposed to the mercenary like the Wandering Jew. It’s bad enough as it is, to marrystart me on this expedition, and Hunter would pursue mesolicitations of a scoundrel, odious in her eyes, and contemptiblein everybody else’s: nor will I tamely submit consent; but what will Emily think of me, if I go downwith the old people’s commands, and without the girl’sto the clandestine attacks of a base umbrella-maker. there breathless with running away from this infernal salamander?What shall I do? What can I do? If I go back to the‘Sir. From Great Winglebury church, a footpath leadsthrough four meadows to a retired spot known to the city, I’m disgraced for ever—lose the girl—and, what’s more,townspeople as Stiffun’s Acre.’ [Mr. Trott shuddered.] ‘I lose the money too. Even if I did go on to the Browns’ byshall be waiting there alone, at twenty minutes before the coach, Hunter would be after me in a post-chaise; andsix o’clock to-morrow morning. Should I be disappointed if I go to this place, this Stiffun’s Acre (another shudder),in seeing you there, I will do myself the pleasure of I’m as good as dead. I’ve seen him hit the man at the Pallmallshooting-gallery, in the second button-hole of thecalling with a horsewhip.‘Horace Hunter.waistcoat, five times out of every six, and when he didn’t410

Charles Dickenshit him there, he hit him in the head.’ With this consolatoryreminiscence Mr. Alexander Trott again ejaculated, at the room door was heard. ‘Come in,’ said Mr. Trott. Athe other boots—for they kept a pair. A modest knock‘What shall I do?’man thrust in a red head with one eye in it, and beingLong and weary were his reflections, as, burying his again desired to ‘come in,’ brought in the body and theface in his hand, he sat, ruminating on the best course legs to which the head belonged, and a fur cap whichto be pursued. His mental direction-post pointed to belonged to the head.London. He thought of the ‘governor’s’ anger, and the ‘You are the upper-boots, I think?’ inquired Mr. Trott.loss of the fortune which the paternal Brown had promisedthe paternal Trott his daughter should contribute a velveteen case, with mother-of-pearl buttons—’that‘Yes, I am the upper-boots,’ replied a voice from insideto the coffers of his son. Then the words ‘To Brown’s’ is, I’m the boots as b’longs to the house; the other man’swere legibly inscribed on the said direction-post, but my man, as goes errands and does odd jobs. Top-bootsHorace Hunter’s denunciation rung in his ears;—last of and half-boots, I calls us.’all it bore, in red letters, the words, ‘To Stiffun’s Acre;’ ‘You’re from London?’ inquired Mr. Trott.and then Mr. Alexander Trott decided on adopting a ‘Driv a cab once,’ was the laconic reply.plan which he presently matured.‘Why don’t you drive it now?’ asked Mr. Trott.First and foremost, he despatched the under-boots to ‘Over-driv the cab, and driv over a ‘ooman,’ repliedthe Blue Lion and Stomach-warmer, with a gentlemanly the top-boots, with brevity.note to Mr. Horace Hunter, intimating that he thirsted ‘Do you know the mayor’s house?’ inquired Mr. Trott.for his destruction and would do himself the pleasure ‘Rather,’ replied the boots, significantly, as if he hadof slaughtering him next morning, without fail. He then some good reason to remember it.wrote another letter, and requested the attendance of ‘Do you think you could manage to leave a letter there?’411

Sketches by Bozinterrogated Trott.bell, and desire the landlord to take his boots off. He‘Shouldn’t wonder,’ responded boots.contented himself, however, with doubling the fee and‘But this letter,’ said Trott, holding a deformed note explaining that the letter merely related to a breach ofwith a paralytic direction in one hand, and five shillingsin the other—‘this letter is anonymous.’secrecy; and Mr. Alexander Trott sat down to a friedthe peace. The top-boots retired, solemnly pledged to‘A—what?’ interrupted the boots.sole, maintenon cutlet, Madeira, and sundries, with‘Anonymous—he’s not to know who it comes from.’ greater composure than he had experienced since the‘Oh! I see,’ responded the reg’lar, with a knowing wink, receipt of Horace Hunter’s letter of defiance.but without evincing the slightest disinclination to undertakethe charge—’I see—bit o’ Sving, eh?’ and his sooner been installed in number twenty-five, and madeThe lady who alighted from the London coach had noone eye wandered round the room, as if in quest of a some alteration in her travelling-dress, than she inditeddark lantern and phosphorus-box. ‘But, I say!’ he continued,recalling the eye from its search, and bringing Great Winglebury, requesting his immediate attendancea note to Joseph Overton, esquire, solicitor, and mayor ofit to bear on Mr. Trott. ‘I say, he’s a lawyer, our mayor, on private business of paramount importance—a summonswhich that worthy functionary lost no time in obey-and insured in the County. If you’ve a spite agen him,you’d better not burn his house down—blessed if I don’t ing; for after sundry openings of his eyes, divers ejaculationsof ‘Bless me!’ and other manifestations of surprise,think it would be the greatest favour you could do him.’And he chuckled inwardly.he took his broad-brimmed hat from its accustomed pegIf Mr. Alexander Trott had been in any other situation,his first act would have been to kick the man High-street to the Winglebury Arms; through the hallin his little front office, and walked briskly down thedown-stairs by deputy; or, in other words, to ring the and up the staircase of which establishment he was ush-412

Charles Dickensered by the landlady, and a crowd of officious waiters, to one, I presume?’ was the cool rejoinder.the door of number twenty-five.‘And then to ask me—me—of all people in the world—‘Show the gentleman in,’ said the stranger lady, in a man of my age and appearance—mayor of the town—reply to the foremost waiter’s announcement. The gentlemanwas shown in accordingly.Overton; throwing himself into an arm-chair, and pro-to promote such a scheme!’ pettishly ejaculated JosephThe lady rose from the sofa; the mayor advanced a ducing Miss Julia’s letter from his pocket, as if to corroboratethe assertion that he had been asked.step from the door; and there they both paused, for aminute or two, looking at one another as if by mutual ‘Now, Overton,’ replied the lady, ‘I want your assistancein this matter, and I must have it. In the lifetimeconsent. The mayor saw before him a buxom, richlydressedfemale of about forty; the lady looked upon a of that poor old dear, Mr. Cornberry, who—who—’sleek man, about ten years older, in drab shorts and ‘Who was to have married you, and didn’t, because hecontinuations, black coat, neckcloth, and gloves. died first; and who left you his property unencumbered‘Miss Julia Manners!’ exclaimed the mayor at length, with the addition of himself,’ suggested the mayor.‘you astonish me.’‘Well,’ replied Miss Julia, reddening slightly, ‘in the lifetimeof the poor old dear, the property had the incum-‘That’s very unfair of you, Overton,’ replied Miss Julia,‘for I have known you, long enough, not to be surprised brance of your management; and all I will say of that, is,at anything you do, and you might extend equal courtesyto me.’of its master. You helped yourself then:- help me now.’that I only wonder it didn’t die of consumption instead‘But to run away—actually run away—with a young Mr. Joseph Overton was a man of the world, and anman!’ remonstrated the mayor.attorney; and as certain indistinct recollections of an‘You wouldn’t have me actually run away with an old odd thousand pounds or two, appropriated by mistake,413

Sketches by Bozpassed across his mind he hemmed deprecatingly, smiled of a third party, can’t you?’blandly, remained silent for a few seconds; and finally ‘No,’ replied Miss Julia. ‘We have every reason to believe—dearLord Peter not being considered very pru-inquired, ‘What do you wish me to do?’‘I’ll tell you,’ replied Miss Julia—’I’ll tell you in three dent or sagacious by his friends, and they having discoveredhis attachment to me—that, immediately onwords. Dear Lord Peter—’‘That’s the young man, I suppose—’ interrupted the his absence being observed, pursuit will be made in thismayor.direction:- to elude which, and to prevent our being‘That’s the young Nobleman,’ replied the lady, with a traced, I wish it to be understood in this house, thatgreat stress on the last word. ‘Dear Lord Peter is considerablyafraid of the resentment of his family; and we harmless; and that I am, unknown to him, awaiting hisdear Lord Peter is slightly deranged, though perfectlyhave therefore thought it better to make the match a arrival to convey him in a post-chaise to a private asylum—atBerwick, say. If I don’t show myself much, Istolen one. He left town, to avoid suspicion, on a visit tohis friend, the Honourable Augustus Flair, whose seat, as dare say I can manage to pass for his mother.’you know, is about thirty miles from this, accompanied The thought occurred to the mayor’s mind that theonly by his favourite tiger. We arranged that I should lady might show herself a good deal without fear ofcome here alone in the London coach; and that he, leavinghis tiger and cab behind him, should come on, and her intended husband. He said nothing, however, anddetection; seeing that she was about double the age ofarrive here as soon as possible this afternoon.’the lady proceeded.‘Very well,’ observed Joseph Overton, ‘and then he can ‘With the whole of this arrangement dear Lord Peterorder the chaise, and you can go on to Gretna Green is acquainted; and all I want you to do, is, to make thetogether, without requiring the presence or interference delusion more complete by giving it the sanction of414

Charles Dickensyour influence in this place, and assigning this as a seph Overton pulled out of an inner coat-pocket thereason to the people of the house for my taking the identical letter penned by Alexander Trott. ‘Is this hisyoung gentleman away. As it would not be consistent lordship’s hand?’with the story that I should see him until after he has ‘Oh yes,’ replied Julia; ‘good, punctual creature! I haveentered the chaise, I also wish you to communicate with not seen it more than once or twice, but I know hehim, and inform him that it is all going on well.’ writes very badly and very large. These dear, wild young‘Has he arrived?’ inquired Overton.noblemen, you know, Overton—’‘I don’t know,’ replied the lady.‘Ay, ay, I see,’ replied the mayor.—’Horses and dogs,‘Then how am I to know!’ inquired the mayor. ‘Of course play and wine—grooms, actresses, and cigars—thehe will not give his own name at the bar.’stable, the green-room, the saloon, and the tavern; and‘I begged him, immediately on his arrival, to write you the legislative assembly at last.’a note,’ replied Miss Manners; ‘and to prevent the possibilityof our project being discovered through its means, young gentleman in number nineteen at the Winglebury‘Here’s what he says,’ pursued the mayor; ‘“Sir,—AI desired him to write anonymously, and in mysterious Arms, is bent on committing a rash act to-morrow morningat an early hour.” (That’s good—he means marry-terms, to acquaint you with the number of his room.’‘Bless me!’ exclaimed the mayor, rising from his seat, ing.) “If you have any regard for the peace of this town,and searching his pockets—’most extraordinary circumstance—hehas arrived—mysterious note left at my lives”—What the deuce does he mean by that?’or the preservation of one—it may be two—humanhouse in a most mysterious manner, just before yours— ‘That he’s so anxious for the ceremony, he will expiredidn’t know what to make of it before, and certainly if it’s put off, and that I may possibly do the same,’shouldn’t have attended to it.—Oh! here it is.’ And Jo-replied the lady with great complacency.415

Sketches by Boz‘Oh! I see—not much fear of that;—well—”two humanlives, you will cause him to be removed to-night.” port, the contents of which he was in the act of imbib-sir,’ induced Mr. Trott to pause half-way in the glass of(He wants to start at once.) “Fear not to do this on your ing at the moment; to rise from his chair; and retreat aresponsibility: for to-morrow the absolute necessity of few paces towards the window, as if to secure a retreat,the proceeding will be but too apparent. Remember: in the event of the visitor assuming the form and appearanceof Horace Hunter. One glance at Joseph Overton,number nineteen. The name is Trott. No delay; for lifeand death depend upon your promptitude.” Passionate however, quieted his apprehensions. He courteously motionedthe stranger to a seat. The waiter, after a littlelanguage, certainly. Shall I see him?’‘Do,’ replied Miss Julia; ‘and entreat him to act his part jingling with the decanter and glasses, consented towell. I am half afraid of him. Tell him to be cautious.’ leave the room; and Joseph Overton, placing the broadbrimmedhat on the chair next him, and bending his‘I will,’ said the mayor.‘Settle all the arrangements.’body gently forward, opened the business by saying in‘I will,’ said the mayor again.a very low and cautious tone,‘And say I think the chaise had better be ordered for ‘My lord—’one o’clock.’‘Eh?’ said Mr. Alexander Trott, in a loud key, with the‘Very well,’ said the mayor once more; and, ruminatingon the absurdity of the situation in which fate and ‘Hush—hush!’ said the cautious attorney: ‘to be sure—vacant and mystified stare of a chilly somnambulist.old acquaintance had placed him, he desired a waiter to quite right—no titles here—my name is Overton, sir.’herald his approach to the temporary representative of ‘Overton?’number nineteen.‘Yes: the mayor of this place—you sent me a letterThe announcement, ‘Gentleman to speak with you, with anonymous information, this afternoon.’416

Charles Dickens‘I, sir?’ exclaimed Trott with ill-dissembled surprise; ‘It certainly is a very hard case,’ replied the mayor withfor, coward as he was, he would willingly have repudiatedthe authorship of the letter in question. ‘I, sir?’ they like, without being hunted down as if they werea smile, ‘that, in a free country, people can’t marry whom‘Yes, you, sir; did you not?’ responded Overton, annoyedwith what he supposed to be an extreme degree of willing, you know, and that’s the main point, after all.’criminals. However, in the present instance the lady isunnecessary suspicion. ‘Either this letter is yours, or it is ‘Lady willing,’ repeated Trott, mechanically. ‘How donot. If it be, we can converse securely upon the subject at you know the lady’s willing?’once. If it be not, of course I have no more to say.’‘Come, that’s a good one,’ said the mayor, benevolently‘Stay, stay,’ said Trott, ‘it is mine; I did write it. What tapping Mr. Trott on the arm with his broad-brimmedcould I do, sir? I had no friend here.’hat; ‘I have known her, well, for a long time; and if anybodycould entertain the remotest doubt on the subject,‘To be sure, to be sure,’ said the mayor, encouragingly,‘you could not have managed it better. Well, sir; it will I assure you I have none, nor need you have.’be necessary for you to leave here to-night in a postchaiseand four. And the harder the boys drive, the bettraordinary!’‘Dear me!’ said Mr. Trott, ruminating. ‘This is very exter.You are not safe from pursuit.’‘Well, Lord Peter,’ said the mayor, rising.‘Bless me!’ exclaimed Trott, in an agony of apprehension,‘can such things happen in a country like ‘Oh—ah, I forgot. Mr. Trott, then—Trott—very good,‘Lord Peter?’ repeated Mr. Trott.this? Such unrelenting and cold-blooded hostility!’ He ha! ha!—Well, sir, the chaise shall be ready at halfpasttwelve.’wiped off the concentrated essence of cowardice thatwas oozing fast down his forehead, and looked aghast ‘And what is to become of me until then?’ inquiredat Joseph Overton.Mr. Trott, anxiously. ‘Wouldn’t it save appearances, if I417

Sketches by Bozwere placed under some restraint?’to complete his arrangements. This was soon done. Everyword of the story was implicitly believed, and the‘Ah!’ replied Overton, ‘very good thought—capital ideaindeed. I’ll send somebody up directly. And if you make one-eyed boots was immediately instructed to repair toa little resistance when we put you in the chaise it number nineteen, to act as custodian of the person ofwouldn’t be amiss—look as if you didn’t want to be the supposed lunatic until half-past twelve o’clock. Intaken away, you know.’pursuance of this direction, that somewhat eccentric‘To be sure,’ said Trott—’to be sure.’gentleman armed himself with a walking-stick of giganticdimensions, and repaired, with his usual equa-‘Well, my lord,’ said Overton, in a low tone, ‘until then,I wish your lordship a good evening.’nimity of manner, to Mr. Trott’s apartment, which he‘Lord—lordship?’ ejaculated Trott again, falling back entered without any ceremony, and mounted guard in,a step or two, and gazing, in unutterable wonder, on by quietly depositing himself on a chair near the door,the countenance of the mayor.where he proceeded to beguile the time by whistling a‘Ha-ha! I see, my lord—practising the madman?—very popular air with great apparent satisfaction.good indeed—very vacant look—capital, my lord, capital—goodevening, Mr.—Trott—ha! ha! ha!’Mr. Alexander Trott, with a proper appearance of indig-‘What do you want here, you scoundrel?’ exclaimed‘That mayor’s decidedly drunk,’ soliloquised Mr. Trott, nation at his detention.throwing himself back in his chair, in an attitude of The boots beat time with his head, as he looked gentlyround at Mr. Trott with a smile of pity, and whistledreflection.‘He is a much cleverer fellow than I thought him, that an adagio movement.young nobleman—he carries it off uncommonly well,’ ‘Do you attend in this room by Mr. Overton’s desire?’thought Overton, as he went his way to the bar, there inquired Trott, rather astonished at the man’s demeanour.418

Charles Dickens‘Keep yourself to yourself, young feller,’ calmly respondedthe boots, ‘and don’t say nothing to nobody.’ ‘Or mad!’ said Mr. Trott, rather alarmed. ‘Leave thewith the stick.And he whistled again.room, sir, and tell them to send somebody else.’‘Now mind!’ ejaculated Mr. Trott, anxious to keep up ‘Won’t do!’ replied the boots.the farce of wishing with great earnestness to fight a ‘Leave the room!’ shouted Trott, ringing the bell violently:for he began to be alarmed on a new score.duel if they’d let him. ‘I protest against being kept here.I deny that I have any intention of fighting with anybody.But as it’s useless contending with superior num-said the boots, suddenly forcing the unfortunate Trott‘Leave that ‘ere bell alone, you wretched loo-nattic!’bers, I shall sit quietly down.’back into his chair, and brandishing the stick aloft. ‘Be‘You’d better,’ observed the placid boots, shaking the quiet, you miserable object, and don’t let everybodylarge stick expressively.know there’s a madman in the house.’‘Under protest, however,’ added Alexander Trott, seatinghimself with indignation in his face, but great con-terrified Mr. Trott, gazing on the one eye of the red-‘He is a madman! He is a madman!’ exclaimed thetent in his heart. ‘Under protest.’headed boots with a look of abject horror.‘Oh, certainly!’ responded the boots; ‘anything you ‘Madman!’ replied the boots, ‘dam’me, I think he IS aplease. If you’re happy, I’m transported; only don’t talk madman with a vengeance! Listen to me, you unfortunate.Ah! would you?’ [a slight tap on the head withtoo much—it’ll make you worse.’‘Make me worse?’ exclaimed Trott, in unfeigned astonishment:‘the man’s drunk!’the bell-handle] ‘I caught you there! did I?’the large stick, as Mr. Trott made another move towards‘You’d better be quiet, young feller,’ remarked the ‘Spare my life!’ exclaimed Trott, raising his handsboots, going through a threatening piece of pantomime imploringly.419

Sketches by Boz‘I don’t want your life,’ replied the boots, disdainfully, For half an hour, the noise occasioned by shutting up‘though I think it ‘ud be a charity if somebody took it.’ the shops in the street beneath, betokened something‘No, no, it wouldn’t,’ interrupted poor Mr. Trott, hurriedly,‘no, no, it wouldn’t! I—I-’d rather keep it!’ a little less insupportable; but, when even these ceased,like life in the town, and rendered Mr. Trott’s situation‘O werry well,’ said the boots: ‘that’s a mere matter of and nothing was heard beyond the occasional rattlingtaste—ev’ry one to his liking. Hows’ever, all I’ve got to of a post-chaise as it drove up the yard to change horses,say is this here: You sit quietly down in that chair, and and then drove away again, or the clattering of horses’I’ll sit hoppersite you here, and if you keep quiet and hoofs in the stables behind, it became almost unbearable.The boots occasionally moved an inch or two, todon’t stir, I won’t damage you; but, if you move hand orfoot till half-past twelve o’clock, I shall alter the expressionof your countenance so completely, that the were burning low, but instantaneously resumed hisknock superfluous bits of wax off the candles, whichnext time you look in the glass you’ll ask vether you’re former position; and as he remembered to have heard,gone out of town, and ven you’re likely to come back somewhere or other, that the human eye had an unfailingeffect in controlling mad people, he kept his soli-again. So sit down.”‘I will—I will,’ responded the victim of mistakes; and tary organ of vision constantly fixed on Mr. Alexanderdown sat Mr. Trott and down sat the boots too, exactly Trott. That unfortunate individual stared at his companionin his turn, until his features grew more andopposite him, with the stick ready for immediate actionin case of emergency.more indistinct—his hair gradually less red—and theLong and dreary were the hours that followed. The bell of room more misty and obscure. Mr. Alexander Trott fellGreat Winglebury church had just struck ten, and two hours into a sound sleep, from which he was awakened by aand a half would probably elapse before succour arrived. rumbling in the street, and a cry of ‘Chaise-and-four for420

Charles Dickensnumber twenty-five!’ A bustle on the stairs succeeded; have a madman, ma’am—how dare you have a madman,the room door was hastily thrown open; and Mr. Joseph to assault and terrify the visitors to your house?’Overton entered, followed by four stout waiters, and Mrs. ‘I’ll never have another,’ said Mrs. Williamson, castingWilliamson, the stout landlady of the Winglebury Arms. a look of reproach at the mayor.‘Mr. Overton!’ exclaimed Mr. Alexander Trott, jumping ‘Capital, capital,’ whispered Overton again, as he envelopedMr. Alexander Trott in a thick travelling-cloak.up in a frenzy. ‘Look at this man, sir; consider the situationin which I have been placed for three hours past— ‘Capital, sir!’ exclaimed Trott, aloud; ‘it’s horrible. Thethe person you sent to guard me, sir, was a madman—a very recollection makes me shudder. I’d rather fight fourmadman—a raging, ravaging, furious madman.’ duels in three hours, if I survived the first three, than‘Bravo!’ whispered Mr. Overton.I’d sit for that time face to face with a madman.’‘Poor dear!’ said the compassionate Mrs. Williamson, ‘Keep it up, my lord, as you go down-stairs,’ whisperedOverton, ‘your bill is paid, and your portmanteau‘mad people always thinks other people’s mad.’‘Poor dear!’ ejaculated Mr. Alexander Trott. ‘What the in the chaise.’ And then he added aloud, ‘Now, waiters,devil do you mean by poor dear! Are you the landlady the gentleman’s ready.’of this house?’At this signal, the waiters crowded round Mr.‘Yes, yes,’ replied the stout old lady, ‘don’t exert yourself,there’s a dear! Consider your health, now; do.’ a third, walked before with a candle; the fourth, be-Alexander Trott. One took one arm; another, the other;‘Exert myself!’ shouted Mr. Alexander Trott; ‘it’s a mercy, hind with another candle; the boots and Mrs.ma’am, that I have any breath to exert myself with! I Williamson brought up the rear; and down-stairs theymight have been assassinated three hours ago by that went: Mr. Alexander Trott expressing alternately at theone-eyed monster with the oakum head. How dare you very top of his voice either his feigned reluctance to421

Sketches by Bozgo, or his unfeigned indignation at being shut up with ‘But I won’t go,’ exclaimed Mr. Trott. ‘Help here, help!a madman.They’re carrying me away against my will. This is a plotMr. Overton was waiting at the chaise-door, the boys to murder me.’were ready mounted, and a few ostlers and stable nondescriptswere standing round to witness the departure ‘Now, boys, put ‘em along,’ cried the mayor, pushing‘Poor dear!’ said Mrs. Williamson again.of ‘the mad gentleman.’ Mr. Alexander Trott’s foot was Trott in and slamming the door. ‘Off with you, as quickon the step, when he observed (which the dim light as you can, and stop for nothing till you come to thehad prevented his doing before) a figure seated in the next stage—all right!’chaise, closely muffled up in a cloak like his own. ‘Horses are paid, Tom,’ screamed Mrs. Williamson; and‘Who’s that?’ he inquired of Overton, in a whisper. away went the chaise, at the rate of fourteen miles an‘Hush, hush,’ replied the mayor: ‘the other party of hour, with Mr. Alexander Trott and Miss Julia Mannerscourse.’carefully shut up in the inside.‘The other party!’ exclaimed Trott, with an effort to Mr. Alexander Trott remained coiled up in one cornerretreat.of the chaise, and his mysterious companion in the other,‘Yes, yes; you’ll soon find that out, before you go far, for the first two or three miles; Mr. Trott edging moreI should think—but make a noise, you’ll excite suspicionif you whisper to me so much.’ally edging more and more from hers; and vainly en-and more into his corner, as he felt his companion gradu-‘I won’t go in this chaise!’ shouted Mr. Alexander Trott, deavouring in the darkness to catch a glimpse of theall his original fears recurring with tenfold violence. ‘I furious face of the supposed Horace Hunter.shall be assassinated—I shall be—’‘We may speak now,’ said his fellow-traveller, at length;‘Bravo, bravo,’ whispered Overton. ‘I’ll push you in.’ ‘the post-boys can neither see nor hear us.’422

Charles Dickens‘That’s not Hunter’s voice!’—thought Alexander, astonishedgularcoolness; for the events of the evening had com-‘How should I know, ma’am?’ replied Trott with sin-‘Dear Lord Peter!’ said Miss Julia, most winningly: puttingher arm on Mr. Trott’s shoulder. ‘Dear Lord Peter. ‘Stop stop!’ cried the lady, letting down the frontpletely hardened him.Not a word?’glasses of the chaise.‘Why, it’s a woman!’ exclaimed Mr. Trott, in a low tone ‘Stay, my dear ma’am!’ said Mr. Trott, pulling theof excessive wonder.glasses up again with one hand, and gently squeezing‘Ah! Whose voice is that?’ said Julia; ‘’tis not Lord Miss Julia’s waist with the other. ‘There is some mistakePeter’s.’here; give me till the end of this stage to explain my‘No,—it’s mine,’ replied Mr. Trott.share of it. We must go so far; you cannot be set down‘Yours!’ ejaculated Miss Julia Manners; ‘a strange man! here alone, at this hour of the night.’Gracious heaven! How came you here!’The lady consented; the mistake was mutually explained.Mr. Trott was a young man, had highly promis-‘Whoever you are, you might have known that I cameagainst my will, ma’am,’ replied Alexander, ‘for I made ing whiskers, an undeniable tailor, and an insinuatingnoise enough when I got in.’address—he wanted nothing but valour, and who wants‘Do you come from Lord Peter?’ inquired Miss Manners. that with three thousand a-year? The lady had this,‘Confound Lord Peter,’ replied Trott pettishly. ‘I don’t and more; she wanted a young husband, and the onlyknow any Lord Peter. I never heard of him before tonight,when I’ve been Lord Peter’d by one and Lord Peter’d rich wife. So, they came to the conclusion that it wouldcourse open to Mr. Trott to retrieve his disgrace was aby another, till I verily believe I’m mad, or dreaming—’ be a pity to have all this trouble and expense for nothing;and that as they were so far on the road ‘Whither are we going?’ inquired the lady tragically.already,423

Sketches by Bozthey had better go to Gretna Green, and marry eachCHAPTER IXother; and they did so. And the very next precedingMRS. JOSEPH PORTERentry in the Blacksmith’s book, was an entry of themarriage of Emily Brown with Horace Hunter. Mr. Hunter MOST EXTENSIVE WERE the preparations at Rose Villa,took his wife home, and begged pardon, and was pardoned;and Mr. Trott took his wife home, begged pardon broker in especially comfortable circumstances), andClapham Rise, in the occupation of Mr. Gattleton (a stock-too, and was pardoned also. And Lord Peter, who had great was the anxiety of Mr. Gattleton’s interesting family,as the day fixed for the representation of the Pri-been detained beyond his time by drinking champagneand riding a steeple-chase, went back to the Honourable vate Play which had been ‘many months in preparation,’Augustus Flair’s, and drank more champagne, and rode approached. The whole family was infected with theanother steeple-chase, and was thrown and killed. And mania for Private Theatricals; the house, usually so cleanHorace Hunter took great credit to himself for practisingon the cowardice of Alexander Trott; and all these tion, ‘regularly turned out o’ windows;’ the large din-and tidy, was, to use Mr. Gattleton’s expressive descrip-circumstances were discovered in time, and carefully ing-room, dismantled of its furniture, and ornaments,noted down; and if you ever stop a week at the presented a strange jumble of flats, flies, wings, lamps,Winglebury Arms, they will give you just this account bridges, clouds, thunder and lightning, festoons andof The Great Winglebury Duel.flowers, daggers and foil, and various other messes intheatrical slang included under the comprehensive nameof ‘properties.’ The bedrooms were crowded with scenery,the kitchen was occupied by carpenters. Rehearsalstook place every other night in the drawing-room, and424

Charles Dickensevery sofa in the house was more or less damaged by ‘But I think,’ added the manager, ‘you are hardly perfectin the—fall—in the fencing-scene, where you are—the perseverance and spirit with which Mr. SemproniusGattleton, and Miss Lucina, rehearsed the smothering you understand?’scene in ‘Othello’—it having been determined that that ‘It’s very difficult,’ said Mr. Evans, thoughtfully; ‘I’vetragedy should form the first portion of the evening’s fallen about, a good deal, in our counting-house lately,entertainments.for practice, only I find it hurts one so. Being obliged to‘When we’re a leetle more perfect, I think it will go fall backward you see, it bruises one’s head a good deal.’admirably,’ said Mr. Sempronius, addressing his corps ‘But you must take care you don’t knock a wing down,’dramatique, at the conclusion of the hundred and fiftiethrehearsal. In consideration of his sustaining the tri-prompter, and who took as much interest in the play assaid Mr. Gattleton, the elder, who had been appointedfling inconvenience of bearing all the expenses of the the youngest of the company. ‘The stage is very narrow,play, Mr. Sempronius had been, in the most handsome you know.’manner, unanimously elected stage-manager. ‘Evans,’ ‘Oh! don’t be afraid,’ said Mr. Evans, with a very selfsatisfiedair; ‘I shall fall with my head “off,” and then Icontinued Mr. Gattleton, the younger, addressing a tall,thin, pale young gentleman, with extensive whiskers— can’t do any harm.’’Evans, you play Roderigo beautifully.’‘But, egad,’ said the manager, rubbing his hands, ‘we‘Beautifully,’ echoed the three Miss Gattletons; for Mr. shall make a decided hit in “Masaniello.” Harleigh singsEvans was pronounced by all his lady friends to be ‘quite a that music admirably.’dear.’ He looked so interesting, and had such lovely whiskers:to say nothing of his talent for writing verses in and looked foolish—not an unusual thing with him—Everybody echoed the sentiment. Mr. Harleigh smiled,albums and playing the flute!Roderigo simpered and bowed. hummed’ Behold how brightly breaks the morning,’ and425

Sketches by Bozblushed as red as the fisherman’s nightcap he was tryingon.soul, exceedingly fond of her husband and children,Mrs. Gattleton was a kind, good-tempered, vulgar‘Let’s see,’ resumed the manager, telling the number and entertaining only three dislikes. In the first place,on his fingers, ‘we shall have three dancing female peasants,besides Fenella, and four fishermen. Then, there’s ried daughters; in the second, she was in bodily fearshe had a natural antipathy to anybody else’s unmar-our man Tom; he can have a pair of ducks of mine, and of anything in the shape of ridicule; lastly—almost aa check shirt of Bob’s, and a red nightcap, and he’ll do necessary consequence of this feeling—she regarded,for another—that’s five. In the choruses, of course, we with feelings of the utmost horror, one Mrs. Josephcan sing at the sides; and in the market-scene we can Porter over the way. However, the good folks of Claphamwalk about in cloaks and things. When the revolt takes and its vicinity stood very much in awe of scandal andplace, Tom must keep rushing in on one side and out on sarcasm; and thus Mrs. Joseph Porter was courted, andthe other, with a pickaxe, as fast as he can. The effect flattered, and caressed, and invited, for much the samewill be electrical; it will look exactly as if there were an reason that induces a poor author, without a farthingimmense number of ‘em. And in the eruption-scene we in his pocket, to behave with extraordinary civility tomust burn the red fire, and upset the tea-trays, and a twopenny postman.make all sorts of noises—and it’s sure to do.’‘Never mind, ma,’ said Miss Emma Porter, in colloquy‘Sure! sure!’ cried all the performers una voce—and with her respected relative, and trying to look unconcerned;‘if they had invited me, you know that neitheraway hurried Mr. Sempronius Gattleton to wash the burntcork off his face, and superintend the ‘setting up’ of you nor pa would have allowed me to take part in suchsome of the amateur-painted, but never-sufficientlyto-be-admired,scenery.‘Just what I should have thought from your high sensean exhibition.’426

Charles Dickensof propriety,’ returned the mother. ‘I am glad to see, extract all the news about the play, ‘well, my dear, peopleEmma, you know how to designate the proceeding.’ Miss may say what they please; indeed we know they will, forP., by-the-bye, had only the week before made ‘an exhibition’of herself for four days, behind a counter at a how d’ye do? I was just telling your mamma that I havesome folks are so ill-natured. Ah, my dear Miss Lucina,fancy fair, to all and every of her Majesty’s liege subjectswho were disposed to pay a shilling each for the ‘Mrs. Porter is alluding to the play, my dear,’ said Mrs.heard it said, that—’ ‘What?’privilege of seeing some four dozen girls flirting with Gattleton; ‘she was, I am sorry to say, just informing mestrangers, and playing at shop.that—’‘There!’ said Mrs. Porter, looking out of window; ‘there ‘Oh, now pray don’t mention it,’ interrupted Mrs. Porter;are two rounds of beef and a ham going in—clearly for ‘it’s most absurd—quite as absurd as young What’s-his-namesandwiches; and Thomas, the pastry-cook, says, there saying he wondered how Miss Caroline, with such a foot andhave been twelve dozen tarts ordered, besides ankle, could have the vanity to play Fenella.’blancmange and jellies. Upon my word! think of the ‘Highly impertinent, whoever said it,’ said Mrs.Miss Gattletons in fancy dresses, too!’Gattleton, bridling up.‘Oh, it’s too ridiculous!’ said Miss Porter, hysterically. ‘Certainly, my dear,’ chimed in the delighted Mrs. Porter;‘most undoubtedly! Because, as I said, if Miss Caroline‘I’ll manage to put them a little out of conceit withthe business, however,’ said Mrs. Porter; and out she does play Fenella, it doesn’t follow, as a matter of course,went on her charitable errand.that she should think she has a pretty foot;—and then—‘Well, my dear Mrs. Gattleton,’ said Mrs. Joseph Porter, such puppies as these young men are—he had the impudenceto say, that—’after they had been closeted for some time, and when,by dint of indefatigable pumping, she had managed to How far the amiable Mrs. Porter might have succeeded427

Sketches by Bozin her pleasant purpose, it is impossible to say, had not laughed until he cried at anything that appeared to himthe entrance of Mr. Thomas Balderstone, Mrs. Gattleton’s mirth-moving or ridiculous.brother, familiarly called in the family ‘Uncle Tom,’ ‘Well, girls!’ said Uncle Tom, after the preparatorychanged the course of conversation, and suggested to ceremony of kissing and how-d’ye-do-ing had been goneher mind an excellent plan of operation on the evening through—’how d’ye get on? Know your parts, eh?—of the play.Lucina, my dear, act II., scene I—place, left-cue—”Unknownfate,”—What’s next, eh?—Go on—”The Heav-Uncle Tom was very rich, and exceedingly fond of hisnephews and nieces: as a matter of course, therefore, he ens—”’was an object of great importance in his own family. He ‘Oh, yes,’ said Miss Lucina, ‘I recollect—was one of the best-hearted men in existence: always ina good temper, and always talking. It was his boast that “The heavens forbidhe wore top-boots on all occasions, and had never worn a But that our loves and comforts should increaseblack silk neckerchief; and it was his pride that he rememberedall the principal plays of Shakspeare from be-Even as our days do grow!”’ginning to end—and so he did. The result of this parrotlikeaccomplishment was, that he was not only perpetu-who was a great critic. ‘“But that our loves and com-‘Make a pause here and there,’ said the old gentleman,ally quoting himself, but that he could never sit by, and forts should increase”—emphasis on the last syllable,hear a misquotation from the ‘Swan of Avon’ without “crease,”—loud “even,” —one, two, three, four; thensetting the unfortunate delinquent right. He was also loud again, “as our days do grow;” emphasis on days.something of a wag; never missed an opportunity of sayingwhat he considered a good thing, and invariably sis. Ah! Sem, my boy, how are you?’That’s the way, my dear; trust to your uncle for empha-428

Charles Dickens‘Very well, thankee, uncle,’ returned Mr. Sempronius, wish Mrs. Joseph Porter wasn’t coming on Thursday. Iwho had just appeared, looking something like a ringdove,with a small circle round each eye: the result of his ‘She can’t make us ridiculous, however,’ observed Mr.am sure she’s scheming something.’constant corking. ‘Of course we see you on Thursday.’ Sempronius Gattleton, haughtily.‘Of course, of course, my dear boy.’The long-looked-for Thursday arrived in due course,‘What a pity it is your nephew didn’t think of making and brought with it, as Mr. Gattleton, senior, philosophicallyobserved, ‘no disappointments, to speak of.’ True,you prompter, Mr. Balderstone!’ whispered Mrs. JosephPorter; ‘you would have been invaluable.’it was yet a matter of doubt whether Cassio would be‘Well, I flatter myself, I should have been tolerably up enabled to get into the dress which had been sent forto the thing,’ responded Uncle Tom.him from the masquerade warehouse. It was equally‘I must bespeak sitting next you on the night,’ resumedMrs. Porter; ‘and then, if our dear young friends sufficiently recovered from the influenza to make heruncertain whether the principal female singer would behere, should be at all wrong, you will be able to enlightenme. I shall be so interested.’was hoarse, and rather unwell, in consequence of theappearance; Mr. Harleigh, the Ma Saniello of the night,‘I am sure I shall be most happy to give you any assistancein my power’to improve his voice; and two flutes and a violoncellogreat quantity of lemon and sugar-candy he had eaten‘Mind, it’s a bargain.’had pleaded severe colds. What of that? the audience‘Certainly.’were all coming. Everybody knew his part: the dresses‘I don’t know how it is,’ said Mrs. Gattleton to her were covered with tinsel and spangles; the white plumesdaughters, as they were sitting round the fire in the looked beautiful; Mr. Evans had practised falling untilevening, looking over their parts, ‘but I really very much he was bruised from head to foot and quite perfect;429

Sketches by BozIAGO was sure that, in the stabbing-scene, he should Ting, ting, ting! went the prompter’s bell at eightmake ‘a decided hit.’ A self-taught deaf gentleman, who o’clock precisely, and dash went the orchestra into thehad kindly offered to bring his flute, would be a most overture to ‘The Men of Prometheus.’ The pianofortevaluable addition to the orchestra; Miss Jenkins’s talent player hammered away with laudable perseverance; andfor the piano was too well known to be doubted for an the violoncello, which struck in at intervals, ‘soundedinstant; Mr. Cape had practised the violin accompanimentwith her frequently; and Mr. Brown, who had kindly ever, who had undertaken to play the flute accompani-very well, considering.’ The unfortunate individual, how-undertaken, at a few hours’ notice, to bring his violoncello,would, no doubt, manage extremely well. fect truth of the old adage, ‘ought of sight, out of mind;’ment ‘at sight,’ found, from fatal experience, the per-Seven o’clock came, and so did the audience; all the for being very near-sighted, and being placed at a considerabledistance from his music-book, all he had anrank and fashion of Clapham and its vicinity was fastfilling the theatre. There were the Smiths, the Gubbinses, opportunity of doing was to play a bar now and then inthe Nixons, the Dixons, the Hicksons, people with all the wrong place, and put the other performers out. Itsorts of names, two aldermen, a sheriff in perspective, is, however, but justice to Mr. Brown to say that he didSir Thomas Glumper (who had been knighted in the last this to admiration. The overture, in fact, was not unlikereign for carrying up an address on somebody’s escapingfrom nothing); and last, not least, there were Mrs. in first by several bars, and the violoncello next, quitea race between the different instruments; the piano cameJoseph Porter and Uncle Tom, seated in the centre of distancing the poor flute; for the deaf gentleman tootoo’daway, quite unconscious that he was at all wrong,the third row from the stage; Mrs. P. amusing Uncle Tomwith all sorts of stories, and Uncle Tom amusing every until apprised, by the applause of the audience, thatone else by laughing most immoderately.the overture was concluded. A considerable bustle and430

Charles Dickensshuffling of feet was then heard upon the stage, accompaniedby whispers of ‘Here’s a pretty go!—what’s to be approved manner, the manager advanced and said:right hand to his left breast, and bowed in the mostdone?’ &c. The audience applauded again, by way of ‘Ladies and Gentlemen—I assure you it is with sincereregret, that I regret to be compelled to inform you,raising the spirits of the performers; and then Mr.Sempronius desired the prompter, in a very audible voice, that Iago who was to have played Mr. Wilson—I begto ‘clear the stage, and ring up.’your pardon, Ladies and Gentlemen, but I am naturallyTing, ting, ting! went the bell again. Everybody sat somewhat agitated (applause)—I mean, Mr. Wilson, whodown; the curtain shook; rose sufficiently high to displayseveral pair of yellow boots paddling about; and other words, Ladies and Gentlemen, the fact is, that Iwas to have played Iago, is—that is, has been—or, inthere remained.have just received a note, in which I am informed thatTing, ting, ting! went the bell again. The curtain was Iago is unavoidably detained at the Post-office thisviolently convulsed, but rose no higher; the audience evening. Under these circumstances, I trust—a—a—tittered; Mrs. Porter looked at Uncle Tom; Uncle Tom amateur performance—a—another gentleman undertakento read the part—request indulgence for a shortlooked at everybody, rubbing his hands, and laughingwith perfect rapture. After as much ringing with the time—courtesy and kindness of a British audience.’ Overwhelmingapplause. Exit Mr. Sempronius Gattleton, andlittle bell as a muffin-boy would make in going down atolerably long street, and a vast deal of whispering, curtain falls.hammering, and calling for nails and cord, the curtain The audience were, of course, exceedingly goodhumoured;the whole business was a joke; and accord-at length rose, and discovered Mr. Sempronius Gattletonsolus, and decked for Othhelo. After three distinct rounds ingly they waited for an hour with the utmost patience,of applause, during which Mr. Sempronius applied his being enlivened by an interlude of rout-cakes and lem-431

Sketches by Bozonade. It appeared by Mr. Sempronius’s subsequent explanation,that the delay would not have been so great, Mr. Sempronius proceeded:anxiously sought.had it not so happened that when the substitute Iagohad finished dressing, and just as the play was on the ‘“Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,point of commencing, the original Iago unexpectedly My very noble and approv’d good masters,arrived. The former was therefore compelled to undress, That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter,and the latter to dress for his part; which, as he found It is most true;—rude am I in my speech—”’some difficulty in getting into his clothes, occupied noinconsiderable time. At last, the tragedy began in real ‘Is that right?’ whispered Mrs. Porter to Uncle Tom.earnest. It went off well enough, until the third scene ‘No.’of the first act, in which Othello addresses the Senate: ‘Tell him so, then.’the only remarkable circumstance being, that as Iago ‘I will. Sem!’ called out Uncle Tom, ‘that’s wrong, mycould not get on any of the stage boots, in consequence boy.’of his feet being violently swelled with the heat and ‘What’s wrong, uncle?’ demanded Othello, quite forgettingthe dignity of his situation.excitement, he was under the necessity of playing thepart in a pair of Wellingtons, which contrasted rather ‘You’ve left out something. “True I have married—”’oddly with his richly embroidered pantaloons. When ‘Oh, ah!’ said Mr. Sempronius, endeavouring to hideOthello started with his address to the Senate (whose his confusion as much and as ineffectually as the audienceattempted to conceal their half-suppressed titter-dignity was represented by, the Duke, A carpenter, twomen engaged on the recommendation of the gardener, ing, by coughing with extraordinary violence—and a boy), Mrs. Porter found the opportunity she so432

Charles Dickens—‘“true I have married her;—life; and Uncle Tom’s nephews and nieces had never,The very head and front of my offending although the declared heirs to his large property, soHath this extent; no more.”heartily wished him gathered to his fathers as on thatmemorable occasion.(Aside) Why don’t you prompt, father?’Several other minor causes, too, united to damp the‘Because I’ve mislaid my spectacles,’ said poor Mr. ardour of the dramatis personae. None of the performersGattleton, almost dead with the heat and bustle. could walk in their tights, or move their arms in their‘There, now it’s “rude am I,”’ said Uncle Tom. jackets; the pantaloons were too small, the boots too‘Yes, I know it is,’ returned the unfortunate manager, large, and the swords of all shapes and sizes. Mr. Evans,proceeding with his part.naturally too tall for the scenery, wore a black velvetIt would be useless and tiresome to quote the number hat with immense white plumes, the glory of which wasof instances in which Uncle Tom, now completely in his lost in ‘the flies;’ and the only other inconvenience ofelement, and instigated by the mischievous Mrs. Porter, which was, that when it was off his head he could notcorrected the mistakes of the performers; suffice it to put it on, and when it was on he could not take it off.say, that having mounted his hobby, nothing could inducehim to dismount; so, during the whole remainder head and shoulders as neatly through one of the sideNotwithstanding all his practice, too, he fell with hisof the play, he performed a kind of running accompaniment,by muttering everybody’s part as it was being Christmas pantomime. The pianoforte player, overpow-scenes, as a harlequin would jump through a panel in adelivered, in an under-tone. The audience were highly ered by the extreme heat of the room, fainted away atamused, Mrs. Porter delighted, the performers embarrassed;Uncle Tom never was better pleased in all his music of ‘Masaniello’ to the flute and violoncello.the commencement of the entertainments, leaving theThe433

Sketches by Bozorchestra complained that Mr. Harleigh put them out, tables are as nicely polished as formerly; the horsehairand Mr. Harleigh declared that the orchestra prevented chairs are ranged against the wall, as regularly as ever;his singing a note. The fishermen, who were hired for the Venetian blinds have been fitted to every window inoccasion, revolted to the very life, positively refusing to the house to intercept the prying gaze of Mrs. Josephplay without an increased allowance of spirits; and, their Porter. The subject of theatricals is never mentioned indemand being complied with, getting drunk in the eruption-sceneas naturally as possible. The red fire, which cannot refrain from sometimes expressing his surprisethe Gattleton family, unless, indeed, by Uncle Tom, whowas burnt at the conclusion of the second act, not only and regret at finding that his nephews and nieces appearto have lost the relish they once possessed for thenearly suffocated the audience, but nearly set the houseon fire into the bargain; and, as it was, the remainder of beauties of Shakspeare, and quotations from the worksthe piece was acted in a thick fog.of that immortal bard.In short, the whole affair was, as Mrs. Joseph Portertriumphantly told everybody, ‘a complete failure.’ TheCHAPTER Xaudience went home at four o’clock in the morning, A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. WATKINS TOTTLEexhausted with laughter, suffering from severe headaches,and smelling terribly of brimstone and gunpowder.The Messrs. Gattleton, senior and junior, retired toCHAPTER THE FIRSTrest, with the vague idea of emigrating to Swan River MATRIMONY IS PROVERBIALLY a serious undertaking. Likeearly in the ensuing week.an over-weening predilection for brandy-and-water, itRose Villa has once again resumed its wonted appearance;the dining-room furniture has been replaced; the which he finds it remarkably difficult to extricate him-is a misfortune into which a man easily falls, and from434

Charles Dickensself. It is of no use telling a man who is timorous on up, and he went on with a regular tick.these points, that it is but one plunge, and all is over. Mr. Watkins Tottle had long lived in a state of singleThey say the same thing at the Old Bailey, and the unfortunatevictims derive as much comfort from the as-spinsters think; but the idea of matrimony had neverblessedness, as bachelors say, or single cursedness, assurance in the one case as in the other.ceased to haunt him. Wrapt in profound reveries on thisMr. Watkins Tottle was a rather uncommon compound never-failing theme, fancy transformed his small parlourof strong uxorious inclinations, and an unparalleled in Cecil-street, Strand, into a neat house in the suburbs;the half-hundredweight of coals under the kitchen-degree of anti-connubial timidity. He was about fiftyyears of age; stood four feet six inches and three-quartersin his socks—for he never stood in stockings at Walls-end; his small French bedstead was converted intostairs suddenly sprang up into three tons of the bestall—plump, clean, and rosy. He looked something like a regular matrimonial four-poster; and in the emptya vignette to one of Richardson’s novels, and had a cleancravatishformality of manner, and kitchen-pokerness seated a beautiful young lady, with a very little inde-chair on the opposite side of the fireplace, imaginationof carriage, which Sir Charles Grandison himself might pendence or will of her own, and a very large independenceunder a will of her father’s.have envied. He lived on an annuity, which was welladapted to the individual who received it, in one respect—itwas rather small. He received it in periodical tap at his room-door disturbed these meditations one‘Who’s there?’ inquired Mr. Watkins Tottle, as a gentlepayments on every alternate Monday; but he ran himselfout, about a day after the expiration of the first ‘Tottle, my dear fellow, how do you do?’ said a shortevening.week, as regularly as an eight-day clock; and then, to elderly gentleman with a gruffish voice, bursting into themake the comparison complete, his landlady wound him room, and replying to the question by asking another.435

Sketches by Boz‘Told you I should drop in some evening,’ said the taking anything else.short gentleman, as he delivered his hat into Tottle’s ‘Oh, I don’t know—have you any whiskey?’hand, after a little struggling and dodging.‘Why,’ replied Tottle, very slowly, for all this was‘Delighted to see you, I’m sure,’ said Mr. Watkins Tottle, gaining time, ‘I had some capital, and remarkablywishing internally that his visitor had ‘dropped in’ to strong whiskey last week; but it’s all gone—and thereforeits strength—’the Thames at the bottom of the street, instead of droppinginto his parlour. The fortnight was nearly up, and ‘Is much beyond proof; or, in other words, impossibleWatkins was hard up.to be proved,’ said the short gentleman; and he laughed‘How is Mrs. Gabriel Parsons?’ inquired Tottle. very heartily, and seemed quite glad the whiskey had‘Quite well, thank you,’ replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons, been drunk. Mr. Tottle smiled—but it was the smile offor that was the name the short gentleman revelled in. despair. When Mr. Gabriel Parsons had done laughing,Here there was a pause; the short gentleman looked at he delicately insinuated that, in the absence of whiskey,he would not be averse to brandy. And Mr. Watkinsthe left hob of the fireplace; Mr. Watkins Tottle staredvacancy out of countenance.Tottle, lighting a flat candle very ostentatiously; and‘Quite well,’ repeated the short gentleman, when five displaying an immense key, which belonged to the streetdoor,but which, for the sake of appearances, occasion-minutes had expired. ‘I may say remarkably well.’ Andhe rubbed the palms of his hands as hard as if he were ally did duty in an imaginary wine-cellar; left the roomgoing to strike a light by friction.to entreat his landlady to charge their glasses, and charge‘What will you take?’ inquired Tottle, with the desperatesuddenness of a man who knew that unless the spirits were speedily called—not from the vasty deep,them in the bill. The application was successful; thevisitor took his leave, he stood very little chance of but the adjacent wine-vaults. The two short gentlemen436

Charles Dickensmixed their grog; and then sat cosily down before the or there’s an end of the matter. Do you want money?’fire—a pair of shorts, airing themselves.‘You know I do.’‘Tottle,’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, ‘you know my way— ‘You admire the sex?’off-hand, open, say what I mean, mean what I say, hate ‘I do.’reserve, and can’t bear affectation. One, is a bad domino ‘And you’d like to be married?’which only hides what good people have about ‘em, ‘Certainly.’without making the bad look better; and the other is ‘Then you shall be. There’s an end of that.’ Thus saying,Mr. Gabriel Parsons took a pinch of snuff, and mixedmuch about the same thing as pinking a white cottonstocking to make it look like a silk one. Now listen to another glass.what I’m going to say.’‘Let me entreat you to be more explanatory,’ said Tottle.Here, the little gentleman paused, and took a long ‘Really, as the party principally interested, I cannot consentto be disposed of, in this way.’pull at his brandy-and-water. Mr. Watkins Tottle took asip of his, stirred the fire, and assumed an air of profoundattention.the subject, and the brandy-and-water—’I know a lady—‘I’ll tell you,’ replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons, warming with‘It’s of no use humming and ha’ing about the matter,’ resumedthe short gentleman.—’You want to get married.’ for you. Well educated; talks French; plays the piano;she’s stopping with my wife now—who is just the thing‘Why,’ replied Mr. Watkins Tottle evasively; for he knows a good deal about flowers, and shells, and alltrembled violently, and felt a sudden tingling throughouthis whole frame; ‘why—I should certainly—at least, uncontrolled power of disposing of it, by her last willthat sort of thing; and has five hundred a year, with anI think I should like—’and testament.’‘Won’t do,’ said the short gentleman.—’Plain and free— ‘I’ll pay my addresses to her,’ said Mr. Watkins Tottle.437

Sketches by Boz‘She isn’t very young—is she?’to the chin, and exhibited a most extensive combinationof colours as he confessed the soft impeachment.‘Not very; just the thing for you. I’ve said that already.’‘What coloured hair has the lady?’ inquired Mr. ‘I suppose you popped the question, more than once,Watkins Tottle.when you were a young—I beg your pardon—a‘Egad, I hardly recollect,’ replied Gabriel, with coolness.‘Perhaps I ought to have observed, at first, she ‘Never in my life!’ replied his friend, apparently indig-younger—man,’ said Parsons.wears a front.’nant at being suspected of such an act. ‘Never! The fact‘A what?’ ejaculated Tottle.is, that I entertain, as you know, peculiar opinions on‘One of those things with curls, along here,’ said Parsons,drawing a straight line across his forehead, just far from it; but, I think, that in compliance with thethese subjects. I am not afraid of ladies, young or old—over his eyes, in illustration of his meaning. ‘I know the custom of the present day, they allow too much freedomfront’s black; I can’t speak quite positively about her of speech and manner to marriageable men. Now, the factown hair; because, unless one walks behind her, and is, that anything like this easy freedom I never couldcatches a glimpse of it under her bonnet, one seldom acquire; and as I am always afraid of going too far, I amsees it; but I should say that it was rather lighter than generally, I dare say, considered formal and cold.’the front—a shade of a greyish tinge, perhaps.’‘I shouldn’t wonder if you were,’ replied Parsons,Mr. Watkins Tottle looked as if he had certain misgivings gravely; ‘I shouldn’t wonder. However, you’ll be all rightof mind. Mr. Gabriel Parsons perceived it, and thought it in this case; for the strictness and delicacy of this lady’swould be safe to begin the next attack without delay. ideas greatly exceed your own. Lord bless you, why,‘Now, were you ever in love, Tottle?’ he inquired. when she came to our house, there was an old portraitMr. Watkins Tottle blushed up to the eyes, and down of some man or other, with two large, black, staring438

Charles Dickenseyes, hanging up in her bedroom; she positively refused being a married man.’to go to bed there, till it was taken down, considering it ‘And what did the lady say to that?’ inquired Tottle,decidedly wrong.’deeply interested.‘I think so, too,’ said Mr. Watkins Tottle; ‘certainly.’ ‘Changed her ground, and said that Frank being a‘And then, the other night—I never laughed so much single man, its impropriety was obvious.’in my life’—resumed Mr. Gabriel Parsons; ‘I had driven ‘Noble-minded creature!’ exclaimed the enraptured Tottle.home in an easterly wind, and caught a devil of a faceache.Well; as Fanny—that’s Mrs. Parsons, you know— regularly cut out for you.’‘Oh! both Fanny and I said, at once, that she wasand this friend of hers, and I, and Frank Ross, were A gleam of placid satisfaction shone on the circularplaying a rubber, I said, jokingly, that when I went to face of Mr. Watkins Tottle, as he heard the prophecy.bed I should wrap my head in Fanny’s flannel petticoat. ‘There’s one thing I can’t understand,’ said Mr. GabrielShe instantly threw up her cards, and left the room.’ Parsons, as he rose to depart; ‘I cannot, for the life and‘Quite right!’ said Mr. Watkins Tottle; ‘she could not soul of me, imagine how the deuce you’ll ever contrivepossibly have behaved in a more dignified manner. What to come together. The lady would certainly go into convulsionsif the subject were mentioned.’ Mr. Gabriel Par-did you do?’‘Do?—Frank took dummy; and I won sixpence.’ sons sat down again, and laughed until he was weak.‘But, didn’t you apologise for hurting her feelings?’ Tottle owed him money, so he had a perfect right to‘Devil a bit. Next morning at breakfast, we talked it laugh at Tottle’s expense.over. She contended that any reference to a flannel petticoatwas improper;—men ought not to be supposed was another characteristic which he had in common withMr. Watkins Tottle feared, in his own mind, that thisto know that such things were. I pleaded my coverture; this modern Lucretia. He, however, accepted the invita-439

Sketches by Boztion to dine with the Parsonses on the next day but one, speak, for the bell had not yet done tolling.with great firmness: and looked forward to the introduction,when again left alone, with tolerable composure. was Mr. Gabriel Parsons in a flannel jacket, running back-‘Here I am,’ shouted a voice on the lawn,—and thereThe sun that rose on the next day but one, had never wards and forwards, from a wicket to two hats piled onbeheld a sprucer personage on the outside of the Norwood each other, and from the two hats to the wicket, in thestage, than Mr. Watkins Tottle; and when the coach drew most violent manner, while another gentleman with hisup before a cardboard-looking house with disguised chimneys,and a lawn like a large sheet of green letter-paper, ball. When the gentleman without the coat had foundcoat off was getting down the area of the house, after ahe certainly had never lighted to his place of destination it—which he did in less than ten minutes—he ran backa gentleman who felt more uncomfortable.to the hats, and Gabriel Parsons pulled up. Then, theThe coach stopped, and Mr. Watkins Tottle jumped— gentleman without the coat called out ‘play,’ very loudly,we beg his pardon—alighted, with great dignity. ‘All and bowled. Then Mr. Gabriel Parsons knocked the ballright!’ said he, and away went the coach up the hill several yards, and took another run. Then, the otherwith that beautiful equanimity of pace for which ‘short’ gentleman aimed at the wicket, and didn’t hit it; andstages are generally remarkable.Mr. Gabriel Parsons, having finished running on his ownMr. Watkins Tottle gave a faltering jerk to the handle account, laid down the bat and ran after the ball, whichof the garden-gate bell. He essayed a more energetic went into a neighbouring field. They called this cricket.tug, and his previous nervousness was not at all diminishedby hearing the bell ringing like a fire alarum. he approached him, wiping the perspiration off his face.‘Tottle, will you “go in?”’ inquired Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as‘Is Mr. Parsons at home?’ inquired Tottle of the man Mr. Watkins Tottle declined the offer, the bare idea ofwho opened the gate. He could hardly hear himself accepting which made him even warmer than his friend.440

Charles Dickens‘Then we’ll go into the house, as it’s past four, and I face as expressive. She was handsomely dressed, andshall have to wash my hands before dinner,’ said Mr. was winding up a gold watch.Gabriel Parsons. ‘Here, I hate ceremony, you know! ‘Miss Lillerton, my dear, this is our friend Mr. WatkinsTimson, that’s Tottle—Tottle, that’s Timson; bred for Tottle; a very old acquaintance I assure you,’ said Mrs.the church, which I fear will never be bread for him;’ Parsons, presenting the Strephon of Cecil-street, Strand.and he chuckled at the old joke. Mr. Timson bowed carelessly.Mr. Watkins Tottle bowed stiffly. Mr. Gabriel Par-Tottle made a bow.The lady rose, and made a deep courtesy; Mr. Watkinssons led the way to the house. He was a rich sugarbaker,who mistook rudeness for honesty, and abrupt Mr. Timson advanced, and Mr. Watkins Tottle began to‘Splendid, majestic creature!’ thought Tottle.bluntness for an open and candid manner; many besidesGabriel mistake bluntness for sincerity.and Mr. Watkins Tottle felt that his hate was deserved.hate him. Men generally discover a rival, instinctively,Mrs. Gabriel Parsons received the visitors most graciouslyon the steps, and preceded them to the draw-to call upon you, Miss Lillerton, for some trifling dona-‘May I beg,’ said the reverend gentleman,—’May I beging-room. On the sofa, was seated a lady of very prim tion to my soup, coals, and blanket distribution society?’appearance, and remarkably inanimate. She was one of ‘Put my name down, for two sovereigns, if you please,’those persons at whose age it is impossible to make any responded Miss Lillerton.reasonable guess; her features might have been remarkablypretty when she was younger, and they might al-Mr. Timson, ‘and we know that charity will cover a mul-‘You are truly charitable, madam,’ said the Reverendways have presented the same appearance. Her complexion—witha slight trace of powder here and there— not say this from the supposition that you have manytitude of sins. Let me beg you to understand that I dowas as clear as that of a well-made wax doll, and her sins which require palliation; believe me when I say441

Sketches by Bozthat I never yet met any one who had fewer to atone bed, or giving him soup when he requires substantialfor, than Miss Lillerton.’food?—”like sending them ruffles when wanting a shirt.”Something like a bad imitation of animation lighted Why not give ‘em a trifle of money, as I do, when Iup the lady’s face, as she acknowledged the compliment. think they deserve it, and let them purchase what theyWatkins Tottle incurred the sin of wishing that the ashes think best? Why?—because your subscribers wouldn’tof the Reverend Charles Timson were quietly deposited in see their names flourishing in print on the church-door—the churchyard of his curacy, wherever it might be. that’s the reason.’‘I’ll tell you what,’ interrupted Parsons, who had just ‘Really, Mr. Parsons, I hope you don’t mean to insinuatethat I wish to see MY name in print, on the church-appeared with clean hands, and a black coat, ‘it’s myprivate opinion, Timson, that your “distribution society”is rather a humbug.’‘I hope not,’ said Mr. Watkins Tottle, putting in andoor,’interrupted Miss Lillerton.‘You are so severe,’ replied Timson, with a Christian other word, and getting another glance.smile: he disliked Parsons, but liked his dinners. ‘Certainly not,’ replied Parsons. ‘I dare say you wouldn’t‘So positively unjust!’ said Miss Lillerton.mind seeing it in writing, though, in the church register—eh?’‘Certainly,’ observed Tottle. The lady looked up; hereyes met those of Mr. Watkins Tottle. She withdrew them ‘Register! What register?’ inquired the lady gravely.in a sweet confusion, and Watkins Tottle did the same— ‘Why, the register of marriages, to be sure,’ repliedthe confusion was mutual.Parsons, chuckling at the sally, and glancing at Tottle.‘Why,’ urged Mr. Parsons, pursuing his objections, ‘what Mr. Watkins Tottle thought he should have fainted foron earth is the use of giving a man coals who has nothingto cook, or giving him blankets when he hasn’t a the joke would have had upon the lady, if dinner hadshame, and it is quite impossible to imagine what effect442

Charles Dickensnot been, at that moment, announced. Mr. Watkins ‘What do you think of her?’ inquired Mr. Gabriel Parsonsof Mr. Watkins Tottle, in an under-tone.Tottle, with an unprecedented effort of gallantry, offeredthe tip of his little finger; Miss Lillerton accepted ‘I dote on her with enthusiasm already!’ replied Mr.it gracefully, with maiden modesty; and they proceeded Watkins Tottle.in due state to the dinner-table, where they were soon ‘Gentlemen, pray let us drink “the ladies,”’ said thedeposited side by side. The room was very snug, the Reverend Mr. Timson.dinner very good, and the little party in spirits. The ‘The ladies!’ said Mr. Watkins Tottle, emptying his glass.conversation became pretty general, and when Mr. In the fulness of his confidence, he felt as if he couldWatkins Tottle had extracted one or two cold observationsfrom his neighbour, and had taken wine with her, ‘Ah!’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, ‘I remember when I wasmake love to a dozen ladies, off-hand.he began to acquire confidence rapidly. The cloth was a young man—fill your glass, Timson.’removed; Mrs. Gabriel Parsons drank four glasses of port ‘I have this moment emptied it.’on the plea of being a nurse just then; and Miss Lillerton ‘Then fill again.’took about the same number of sips, on the plea of not ‘I will,’ said Timson, suiting the action to the word.wanting any at all. At length, the ladies retired, to the ‘I remember,’ resumed Mr. Gabriel Parsons, ‘when I wasgreat gratification of Mr. Gabriel Parsons, who had been a younger man, with what a strange compound of feelingsI used to drink that toast, and how I used to thinkcoughing and frowning at his wife, for half-an-hourpreviously—signals which Mrs. Parsons never happened every woman was an angel.’to observe, until she had been pressed to take her ordinaryquantum, which, to avoid giving trouble, she gen-Mr. Watkins Tottle.‘Was that before you were married?’ mildly inquirederally did at once.‘Oh! certainly,’ replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons. ‘I have never443

Sketches by Bozthought so since; and a precious milksop I must have first we danced together, and talked, and flirted, andbeen, ever to have thought so at all. But, you know, I all that sort of thing; then, I used to like nothing somarried Fanny under the oddest, and most ridiculous well as sitting by her side—we didn’t talk so much then,circumstances possible.’but I remember I used to have a great notion of looking‘What were they, if one may inquire?’ asked Timson, at her out of the extreme corner of my left eye—andwho had heard the story, on an average, twice a week then I got very miserable and sentimental, and beganfor the last six months. Mr. Watkins Tottle listened attentively,in the hope of picking up some suggestion bear it any longer, and after I had walked up and downto write verses, and use Macassar oil. At last I couldn’tthat might be useful to him in his new undertaking. the sunny side of Oxford-street in tight boots for a‘I spent my wedding-night in a back-kitchen chimney,’said Parsons, by way of a beginning.hope of meeting her, I sat down and wrote a letter, andweek—and a devilish hot summer it was too—in the‘In a back-kitchen chimney!’ ejaculated Watkins Tottle. begged her to manage to see me clandestinely, for I‘How dreadful!’wanted to hear her decision from her own mouth. I said‘Yes, it wasn’t very pleasant,’ replied the small host. I had discovered, to my perfect satisfaction, that I‘The fact is, Fanny’s father and mother liked me well couldn’t live without her, and that if she didn’t haveenough as an individual, but had a decided objection to me, I had made up my mind to take prussic acid, or takemy becoming a husband. You see, I hadn’t any money in to drinking, or emigrate, so as to take myself off inthose days, and they had; and so they wanted Fanny to some way or other. Well, I borrowed a pound, and bribedpick up somebody else. However, we managed to discoverthe state of each other’s affections somehow. I ‘And what was the reply?’ inquired Timson, who hadthe housemaid to give her the note, which she did.’used to meet her, at some mutual friends’ parties; at found, before, that to encourage the repetition of old444

Charles Dickensstories is to get a general invitation.in this way for some time; and we got fonder of each‘Oh, the usual one! Fanny expressed herself very miserable;hinted at the possibility of an early grave; said a pitch, and as my salary had been raised too, shortlyother every day. At last, as our love was raised to suchthat nothing should induce her to swerve from the duty before, we determined on a secret marriage. Fanny arrangedto sleep at a friend’s, on the previous night; weshe owed her parents; implored me to forget her, andfind out somebody more deserving, and all that sort of were to be married early in the morning; and then wething. She said she could, on no account, think of meetingme unknown to her pa and ma; and entreated me, fall at the old gentleman’s feet, and bathe his bootswere to return to her home and be pathetic. She was toas she should be in a particular part of Kensington Gardensat eleven o’clock next morning, not to attempt to her “mother,” and use my pocket-handkerchief as muchwith her tears; and I was to hug the old lady and callmeet her there.’as possible. Married we were, the next morning; two‘You didn’t go, of course?’ said Watkins Tottle. girls-friends of Fanny’s—acting as bridesmaids; and a‘Didn’t I?—Of course I did. There she was, with the man, who was hired for five shillings and a pint of porter,officiating as father. Now, the old lady unfortunatelyidentical housemaid in perspective, in order that theremight be no interruption. We walked about, for a couple put off her return from Ramsgate, where she had beenof hours; made ourselves delightfully miserable; and were paying a visit, until the next morning; and as we placedregularly engaged. Then, we began to “correspond”— great reliance on her, we agreed to postpone our confessionfor four-and-twenty hours. My newly-made wifethat is to say, we used to exchange about four letters aday; what we used to say in ‘em I can’t imagine. And I returned home, and I spent my wedding-day in strollingabout Hampstead-heath, and execrating my father-used to have an interview, in the kitchen, or the cellar,or some such place, every evening. Well, things went on in-law. Of course, I went to comfort my dear little wife445

Sketches by Bozat night, as much as I could, with the assurance that stopped there, till about eleven o’clock, and, just as Iour troubles would soon be over. I opened the gardengate,of which I had a key, and was shown by the ser-came running down the stairs, without her shoes, in awas taking my leave for the fourteenth time, the girlvant to our old place of meeting—a back kitchen, with great fright, to tell us that the old villain—Heaven forgiveme for calling him so, for he is dead and gonea stone-floor and a dresser: upon which, in the absenceof chairs, we used to sit and make love.’now!—prompted I suppose by the prince of darkness,‘Make love upon a kitchen-dresser!’ interrupted Mr. Watkins was coming down, to draw his own beer for supper—aTottle, whose ideas of decorum were greatly outraged. thing he had not done before, for six months, to my‘Ah! On a kitchen-dresser!’ replied Parsons. ‘And let certain knowledge; for the cask stood in that very backme tell you, old fellow, that, if you were really over kitchen. If he discovered me there, explanation wouldhead-and-ears in love, and had no other place to make have been out of the question; for he was so outrageouslyviolent, when at all excited, that he never wouldlove in, you’d be devilish glad to avail yourself of suchan opportunity. However, let me see;—where was I?’ have listened to me. There was only one thing to be‘On the dresser,’ suggested Timson.done. The chimney was a very wide one; it had been‘Oh—ah! Well, here I found poor Fanny, quite disconsolateand uncomfortable. The old boy had been very for a few feet, and then shot backward and formed aoriginally built for an oven; went up perpendicularlycross all day, which made her feel still more lonely; and sort of small cavern. My hopes and fortune—the meansshe was quite out of spirits. So, I put a good face on the of our joint existence almost—were at stake. I scrambledmatter, and laughed it off, and said we should enjoy in like a squirrel; coiled myself up in this recess; and, asthe pleasures of a matrimonial life more by contrast; Fanny and the girl replaced the deal chimney-board, Iand, at length, poor Fanny brightened up a little. I could see the light of the candle which my unconscious446

Charles Dickensfather-in-law carried in his hand. I heard him draw the this very hour, I firmly believe that no one but a carpentercould ever have got me out.’beer; and I never heard beer run so slowly. He was justleaving the kitchen, and I was preparing to descend, ‘And what did Mrs. Parsons’s father say, when he foundwhen down came the infernal chimney-board with a you were married?’ inquired Watkins Tottle, who, althoughhe never saw a joke, was not satisfied until hetremendous crash. He stopped and put down the candleand the jug of beer on the dresser; he was a nervous old heard a story to the very end.fellow, and any unexpected noise annoyed him. He coolly ‘Why, the affair of the chimney so tickled his fancy,observed that the fire-place was never used, and sendingthe frightened servant into the next kitchen for a thing to live on till he went the way of all flesh. I spentthat he pardoned us off-hand, and allowed us some-hammer and nails, actually nailed up the board, and the next night in his second-floor front, much morelocked the door on the outside. So, there was I, on my comfortably than I had spent the preceding one; for, aswedding-night, in the light kerseymere trousers, fancy you will probably guess—’waistcoat, and blue coat, that I had been married in in ‘Please, sir, missis has made tea,’ said a middle-agedthe morning, in a back-kitchen chimney, the bottom of female servant, bobbing into the room.which was nailed up, and the top of which had been ‘That’s the very housemaid that figures in my story,’formerly raised some fifteen feet, to prevent the smoke said Mr. Gabriel Parsons. ‘She went into Fanny’s servicefrom annoying the neighbours. And there,’ added Mr. when we were first married, and has been with us everGabriel Parsons, as he passed the bottle, ‘there I remainedtill half-past seven the next morning, when the for me since the morning she saw me released, whensince; but I don’t think she has felt one atom of respecthousemaid’s sweetheart, who was a carpenter, unshelled she went into violent hysterics, to which she has beenme. The old dog had nailed me up so securely, that, to subject ever since. Now, shall we join the ladies?’447

Sketches by Boz‘If you please,’ said Mr. Watkins Tottle.But fortune had decreed that Mr. Watkins Tottle should‘By all means,’ added the obsequious Mr. Timson; and not be down by the first coach on Saturday. His adventureson that day, however, and the success of his woo-the trio made for the drawing-room accordingly.Tea being concluded, and the toast and cups having ing, are subjects for another chapter.been duly handed, and occasionally upset, by Mr.Watkins Tottle, a rubber was proposed. They cut for partners—Mr.and Mrs. Parsons; and Mr. Watkins Tottle andCHAPTER THE SECONDMiss Lillerton. Mr. Timson having conscientious scruples ‘THE FIRST COACH has not come in yet, has it, Tom?’ inquiredMr. Gabriel Parsons, as he very complacently pacedon the subject of card-playing, drank brandy-and-water,and kept up a running spar with Mr. Watkins Tottle. up and down the fourteen feet of gravel which borderedThe evening went off well; Mr. Watkins Tottle was in the ‘lawn,’ on the Saturday morning which had beenhigh spirits, having some reason to be gratified with fixed upon for the Beulah Spa jaunt.his reception by Miss Lillerton; and before he left, a ‘No, sir; I haven’t seen it,’ replied a gardener in a bluesmall party was made up to visit the Beulah Spa on the apron, who let himself out to do the ornamental forfollowing Saturday.half-a-crown a day and his ‘keep.’‘It’s all right, I think,’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons to Mr. ‘Time Tottle was down,’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, ruminating—’Oh,here he is, no doubt,’ added Gabriel, as aWatkins Tottle as he opened the garden gate for him.‘I hope so,’ he replied, squeezing his friend’s hand. cab drove rapidly up the hill; and he buttoned his dressing-gown,and opened the gate to receive the expected‘You’ll be down by the first coach on Saturday,’ saidMr. Gabriel Parsons.visitor. The cab stopped, and out jumped a man in a‘Certainly,’ replied Mr. Watkins Tottle. ‘Undoubtedly.’ coarse Petersham great-coat, whity-brown neckerchief,448

Charles Dickensfaded black suit, gamboge-coloured top-boots, and one may—catch the idea, sir?’of those large-crowned hats, formerly seldom met with, Mr. Gabriel Parsons was not remarkable for catchingbut now very generally patronised by gentlemen and anything suddenly, but a cold. He therefore only bestoweda glance of profound astonishment on his mys-costermongers.‘Mr. Parsons?’ said the man, looking at the superscriptionof a note he held in his hand, and addressing Gabriel of which he had been the bearer. Once opened and theterious companion, and proceeded to unfold the notewith an inquiring air.idea was caught with very little difficulty. Mr. Watkins‘My name is Parsons,’ responded the sugar-baker. Tottle had been suddenly arrested for 33£. 10S. 4D.,‘I’ve brought this here note,’ replied the individual in and dated his communication from a lock-up house inthe painted tops, in a hoarse whisper: ‘I’ve brought this the vicinity of Chancery-lane.here note from a gen’lm’n as come to our house this ‘Unfortunate affair this!’ said Parsons, refolding the note.mornin’.’‘Oh! nothin’ ven you’re used to it,’ coolly observed the‘I expected the gentleman at my house,’ said Parsons, man in the Petersham.as he broke the seal, which bore the impression of her ‘Tom!’ exclaimed Parsons, after a few minutes’ consideration,‘just put the horse in, will you?—Tell the gentle-Majesty’s profile as it is seen on a sixpence.‘I’ve no doubt the gen’lm’n would ha’ been here, repliedthe stranger, ‘if he hadn’t happened to call at our continued, addressing the sheriff-officer’s Mercury.man that I shall be there almost as soon as you are,’ hehouse first; but we never trusts no gen’lm’n furder nor ‘Werry well,’ replied that important functionary; adding,in a confidential manner, ‘I’d adwise the gen’lm’n’swe can see him—no mistake about that there’—addedthe unknown, with a facetious grin; ‘beg your pardon, friends to settle. You see it’s a mere trifle; and, unlesssir, no offence meant, only—once in, and I wish you the gen’lm’n means to go up afore the court, it’s hardly449

Sketches by Bozworth while waiting for detainers, you know. Our specific object in view, the attainment of which dependsgovernor’s wide awake, he is. I’ll never say nothin’ agin on the completion of his journey, the difficulties whichhim, nor no man; but he knows what’s o’clock, he does, interpose themselves in his way appear not only to beuncommon.’ Having delivered this eloquent, and, to Parsons,particularly intelligible harangue, the meaning of pecially for the occasion. The remark is by no means ainnumerable, but to have been called into existence es-which was eked out by divers nods and winks, the gentlemanin the boots reseated himself in the cab, which ful experience of its justice in the course of his drive.new one, and Mr. Gabriel Parsons had practical and pain-went rapidly off, and was soon out of sight. Mr. Gabriel There are three classes of animated objects which preventyour driving with any degree of comfort or celerityParsons continued to pace up and down the pathwayfor some minutes, apparently absorbed in deep meditation.The result of his cogitations seemed to be per-are pigs, children, and old women. On the occasion wethrough streets which are but little frequented—theyfectly satisfactory to himself, for he ran briskly into the are describing, the pigs were luxuriating on cabbagestalks,and the shuttlecocks fluttered from the littlehouse; said that business had suddenly summoned himto town; that he had desired the messenger to inform deal battledores, and the children played in the road;Mr. Watkins Tottle of the fact; and that they would returntogether to dinner. He then hastily equipped himdoorkey in the other, would cross just before the horse’sand women, with a basket in one hand, and the streetselffor a drive, and mounting his gig, was soon on his head, until Mr. Gabriel Parsons was perfectly savage withway to the establishment of Mr. Solomon Jacobs, situate(as Mr. Watkins Tottle had informed him) in Cursitoring.Then, when he got into Fleet-street, there was ‘avexation, and quite hoarse with hoi-ing and imprecatstreet,Chancery-lane.stoppage,’ in which people in vehicles have the satisfactionof remaining stationary for half an hour, and envy-When a man is in a violent hurry to get on, and has a450

Charles Dickensing the slowest pedestrians; and where policemen rush pearance of being subject to warts.about, and seize hold of horses’ bridles, and back them ‘I want to see Mr. Watkins Tottle,’ said Parsons.into shop-windows, by way of clearing the road and preventingconfusion. At length Mr. Gabriel Parsons turned screamed a voice from the top of the kitchen-stairs,‘It’s the gentleman that come in this morning, Jem,’into Chancery-lane, and having inquired for, and been which belonged to a dirty woman who had just broughtdirected to Cursitor-street (for it was a locality of which her chin to a level with the passage-floor. ‘Thehe was quite ignorant), he soon found himself opposite gentleman’s in the coffee-room.’the house of Mr. Solomon Jacobs. Confiding his horse ‘Up-stairs, sir,’ said the boy, just opening the doorand gig to the care of one of the fourteen boys who had wide enough to let Parsons in without squeezing him,followed him from the other side of Blackfriars-bridge and double-locking it the moment he had made his wayon the chance of his requiring their services, Mr. Gabriel through the aperture—’First floor—door on the left.’Parsons crossed the road and knocked at an inner door, Mr. Gabriel Parsons thus instructed, ascended thethe upper part of which was of glass, grated like the uncarpeted and ill-lighted staircase, and after giving severalsubdued taps at the before-mentioned ‘door on thewindows of this inviting mansion with iron bars—paintedwhite to look comfortable.left,’ which were rendered inaudible by the hum of voicesThe knock was answered by a sallow-faced, red-haired, within the room, and the hissing noise attendant on somesulky boy, who, after surveying Mr. Gabriel Parsons frying operations which were carrying on below stairs,through the glass, applied a large key to an immense turned the handle, and entered the apartment. Beingwooden excrescence, which was in reality a lock, but informed that the unfortunate object of his visit had justwhich, taken in conjunction with the iron nails with gone up-stairs to write a letter, he had leisure to sit downwhich the panels were studded, gave the door the ap-and observe the scene before him.451

Sketches by BozThe room—which was a small, confined den—was partitionedoff into boxes, like the common-room of some a very dirty pack of cards, some with blue, some withone of the boxes two men were playing at cribbage withinferior eating-house. The dirty floor had evidently been green, and some with red backs—selections from decayedpacks. The cribbage board had been long agoas long a stranger to the scrubbing-brush as to carpet orfloor-cloth: and the ceiling was completely blackened by formed on the table by some ingenious visitor with thethe flare of the oil-lamp by which the room was lighted assistance of a pocket-knife and a two-pronged fork,at night. The gray ashes on the edges of the tables, and with which the necessary number of holes had beenthe cigar ends which were plentifully scattered about made in the table at proper distances for the receptionthe dusty grate, fully accounted for the intolerable smell of the wooden pegs. In another box a stout, heartylookingman, of about forty, was eating some dinnerof tobacco which pervaded the place; and the emptyglasses and half-saturated slices of lemon on the tables, which his wife—an equally comfortable-looking personage—hadbrought him in a basket: and in a third, atogether with the porter pots beneath them, bore testimonyto the frequent libations in which the individuals genteel-looking young man was talking earnestly, andwho honoured Mr. Solomon Jacobs by a temporary residencein his house indulged. Over the mantel-shelf was a cealed by a thick veil, but whom Mr. Gabriel Parsonsin a low tone, to a young female, whose face was con-paltry looking-glass, extending about half the width of immediately set down in his own mind as the debtor’sthe chimney-piece; but by way of counterpoise, the ashes wife. A young fellow of vulgar manners, dressed in thewere confined by a rusty fender about twice as long as very extreme of the prevailing fashion, was pacing upthe hearth.and down the room, with a lighted cigar in his mouthFrom this cheerful room itself, the attention of Mr. and his hands in his pockets, ever and anon puffingGabriel Parsons was naturally directed to its inmates. In forth volumes of smoke, and occasionally applying, with452

Charles Dickensmuch apparent relish, to a pint pot, the contents of Gentlemen all—yours, and better luck still. Well, Mr.which were ‘chilling’ on the hob.Willis,’ continued the facetious prisoner, addressing the‘Fourpence more, by gum!’ exclaimed one of the cribbage-players,lighting a pipe, and addressing his adverday—floored,as one may say. What’s the matter, sir?young man with the cigar, ‘you seem rather down tosaryat the close of the game; ‘one ‘ud think you’d got Never say die, you know.’luck in a pepper-cruet, and shook it out when you ‘Oh! I’m all right,’ replied the smoker. ‘I shall be bailedwanted it.’out to-morrow.’‘Well, that a’n’t a bad un,’ replied the other, who was ‘Shall you, though?’ inquired the other. ‘Damme, Ia horse-dealer from Islington.wish I could say the same. I am as regularly over head‘No; I’m blessed if it is,’ interposed the jolly-looking and ears as the Royal George, and stand about as muchfellow, who, having finished his dinner, was drinking chance of being bailed out. Ha! ha! ha!’out of the same glass as his wife, in truly conjugal harmony,some hot gin-and-water. The faithful partner of ing in a very loud key, ‘look at me. What d’ye think I’ve‘Why,’ said the young man, stopping short, and speak-his cares had brought a plentiful supply of the antitemperancefluid in a large flat stone bottle, which ‘’Cause you couldn’t get out, I suppose,’ interruptedstopped here two days for?’looked like a half-gallon jar that had been successfully Mr. Walker, winking to the company. ‘Not that you’retapped for the dropsy. ‘You’re a rum chap, you are, Mr. exactly obliged to stop here, only you can’t help it. NoWalker—will you dip your beak into this, sir?’compulsion, you know, only you must—eh?’‘Thank’ee, sir,’ replied Mr. Walker, leaving his box, and ‘A’n’t he a rum un?’ inquired the delighted individual,advancing to the other to accept the proffered glass. who had offered the gin-and-water, of his wife.‘Here’s your health, sir, and your good ‘ooman’s here. ‘Oh, he just is!’ replied the lady, who was quite over-453

Sketches by Bozcome by these flashes of imagination.inquired Walker, with a somewhat sceptical air.‘Why, my case,’ frowned the victim, throwing the end ‘Oh! bless you, he’d never do it,’ replied the other, in aof his cigar into the fire, and illustrating his argument tone of expostulation—’Never!’by knocking the bottom of the pot on the table, at ‘Well, it is very odd to—be—sure,’ interposed the ownerintervals,—’my case is a very singular one. My father’s a of the flat bottle, mixing another glass, ‘but I’ve beenman of large property, and I am his son.’in difficulties, as one may say, now for thirty year. I‘That’s a very strange circumstance!’ interrupted the went to pieces when I was in a milk-walk, thirty yearjocose Mr. Walker, en passant.ago; arterwards, when I was a fruiterer, and kept a spring‘—I am his son, and have received a liberal education.I don’t owe no man nothing—not the value of a but all that time I never see a youngish chap come intowan; and arter that again in the coal and ‘tatur line—farthing, but I was induced, you see, to put my name to a place of this kind, who wasn’t going out again directly,and who hadn’t been arrested on bills which he’dsome bills for a friend—bills to a large amount, I maysay a very large amount, for which I didn’t receive no given a friend and for which he’d received nothingconsideration. What’s the consequence?’whatsomever—not a fraction.’‘Why, I suppose the bills went out, and you came in. ‘Oh! it’s always the cry,’ said Walker. ‘I can’t see theThe acceptances weren’t taken up, and you were, eh?’ use on it; that’s what makes me so wild. Why, I shouldinquired Walker.have a much better opinion of an individual, if he’d say‘To be sure,’ replied the liberally educated young gentleman.‘To be sure; and so here I am, locked up for a he’d done everybody he possibly could.’at once in an honourable and gentlemanly manner asmatter of twelve hundred pound.’‘Ay, to be sure,’ interposed the horse-dealer, with whose‘Why don’t you ask your old governor to stump up?’ notions of bargain and sale the axiom perfectly coin-454

Charles Dickenscided, ‘so should I.’ The young gentleman, who had given of mustard upon it, on one of the tables, and whom Mr.rise to these observations, was on the point of offering a Gabriel Parsons had no difficulty in recognising as therather angry reply to these sneers, but the rising of the man who had called upon him in the morning.young man before noticed, and of the female who had ‘Vy,’ responded the factotum, ‘it’s one of the rummiestbeen sitting by him, to leave the room, interrupted the rigs you ever heard on. He come in here last Vensday,conversation. She had been weeping bitterly, and the which by-the-bye he’s a-going over the water to-night—noxious atmosphere of the room acting upon her excited hows’ever that’s neither here nor there. You see I’ve beenfeelings and delicate frame, rendered the support of her a going back’ards and for’ards about his business, andcompanion necessary as they quitted it together. ha’ managed to pick up some of his story from the servantsand them; and so far as I can make it out, itThere was an air of superiority about them both, andsomething in their appearance so unusual in such a seems to be summat to this here effect—’place, that a respectful silence was observed until the ‘Cut it short, old fellow,’ interrupted Walker, who knewwhirr—r—bang of the spring door announced that they from former experience that he of the top-boots waswere out of hearing. It was broken by the wife of the neither very concise nor intelligible in his narratives.ex-fruiterer.‘Let me alone,’ replied Ikey, ‘and I’ll ha’ wound up,‘Poor creetur!’ said she, quenching a sigh in a rivulet and made my lucky in five seconds. This here youngof gin-and-water. ‘She’s very young.’gen’lm’n’s father—so I’m told, mind ye—and the father‘She’s a nice-looking ‘ooman too,’ added the horsedealer.out-and-out, rig’lar knock-me-down sort o’ terms; buto’ the young voman, have always been on very bad,‘What’s he in for, Ikey?’ inquired Walker, of an individualwho was spreading a cloth with numerous blotches gentlefolk’s house, as he knowed at college, hesomehow or another, when he was a wisitin’ at somecame455

Sketches by Bozinto contract with the young lady. He seed her several had time to turn himself round, come fast upon him, andtimes, and then he up and said he’d keep company with he vos nabbed. He vos brought here, as I said afore, lasther, if so be as she vos agreeable. Vell, she vos as sweet Vensday, and I think there’s about—ah, half-a-dozenupon him as he vos upon her, and so I s’pose they made detainers agin him down-stairs now. I have been,’ addedit all right; for they got married ‘bout six months Ikey, ‘in the purfession these fifteen year, and I neverarterwards, unbeknown, mind ye, to the two fathers— met vith such windictiveness afore!’leastways so I’m told. When they heard on it—my eyes, ‘Poor creeturs!’ exclaimed the coal-dealer’s wife oncethere was such a combustion! Starvation vos the very more: again resorting to the same excellent prescriptionfor nipping a sigh in the bud. ‘Ah! when they’veleast that vos to be done to ‘em. The young gen’lm’n’sfather cut him off vith a bob, ‘cos he’d cut himself off seen as much trouble as I and my old man here have,vith a wife; and the young lady’s father he behaved even they’ll be as comfortable under it as we are.’worser and more unnat’ral, for he not only blow’d her up ‘The young lady’s a pretty creature,’ said Walker, ‘onlydreadful, and swore he’d never see her again, but he employeda chap as I knows—and as you knows, Mr. Valker, of her. As to the young cove, he may be very respectableshe’s a little too delicate for my taste—there ain’t enougha precious sight too well—to go about and buy up the and what not, but he’s too down in the mouth for me—bills and them things on which the young husband, thinkinghis governor ‘ud come round agin, had raised the ‘Game!’ exclaimed Ikey, who had been altering thehe ain’t game.’vind just to blow himself on vith for a time; besides vich, position of a green-handled knife and fork at least ahe made all the interest he could to set other people agin dozen times, in order that he might remain in the roomhim. Consequence vos, that he paid as long as he could; under the pretext of having something to do. ‘He’s gamebut things he never expected to have to meet till he’d enough ven there’s anything to be fierce about; but456

Charles Dickenswho could be game as you call it, Mr. Walker, with a by-and-by a hackney-coach comes up to the door, andpale young creetur like that, hanging about him?—It’s there, sure enough, was the young lady, wrapped up inenough to drive any man’s heart into his boots to see a hopera-cloak, as it might be, and all alone. I opened‘em together—and no mistake at all about it. I never the gate that night, so I went up when the coach come,shall forget her first comin’ here; he wrote to her on the and he vos a waitin’ at the parlour door—and wasn’t heThursday to come—I know he did, ‘cos I took the letter. a trembling, neither? The poor creetur see him, andUncommon fidgety he was all day to be sure, and in the could hardly walk to meet him. “Oh, Harry!” she says,evening he goes down into the office, and he says to “that it should have come to this; and all for my sake,”Jacobs, says he, “Sir, can I have the loan of a private says she, putting her hand upon his shoulder. So heroom for a few minutes this evening, without incurring puts his arm round her pretty little waist, and leadingany additional expense—just to see my wife in?” says her gently a little way into the room, so that he mighthe. Jacobs looked as much as to say—“Strike me bountifulif you ain’t one of the modest sort!” but as the like—”Why, Kate,” says he—’be able to shut the door, he says, so kind and soft-gen’lm’n who had been in the back parlour had just ‘Here’s the gentleman you want,’ said Ikey, abruptlygone out, and had paid for it for that day, he says— breaking off in his story, and introducing Mr. Gabrielwerry grave—”Sir,” says he, “it’s agin our rules to let Parsons to the crest-fallen Watkins Tottle, who at thatprivate rooms to our lodgers on gratis terms, but,” says moment entered the room. Watkins advanced with ahe, “for a gentleman, I don’t mind breaking through wooden expression of passive endurance, and acceptedthem for once.” So then he turns round to me, and says, the hand which Mr. Gabriel Parsons held out.“Ikey, put two mould candles in the back parlour, and ‘I want to speak to you,’ said Gabriel, with a lookcharge ‘em to this gen’lm’n’s account,” vich I did. Vell, strongly expressive of his dislike of the company.457

Sketches by Boz‘This way,’ replied the imprisoned one, leading the way to me.’to the front drawing-room, where rich debtors did the ‘I fear I am.’luxurious at the rate of a couple of guineas a day. ‘Though you have every disposition to pay me if you‘Well, here I am,’ said Mr. Watkins, as he sat down on could?’the sofa; and placing the palms of his hands on his ‘Certainly.’knees, anxiously glanced at his friend’s countenance. ‘Then,’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, ‘listen: here’s my proposition.You know my way of old. Accept it—yes or no—‘Yes; and here you’re likely to be,’ said Gabriel, coolly,as he rattled the money in his unmentionable pockets, I will or I won’t. I’ll pay the debt and costs, and I’ll lendand looked out of the window.you 10L. more (which, added to your annuity, will enableyou to carry on the war well) if you’ll give me your‘What’s the amount with the costs?’ inquired Parsons,after an awkward pause.note of hand to pay me one hundred and fifty pounds‘Have you any money?’within six months after you are married to Miss Lillerton.’‘Nine and sixpence halfpenny.’‘My dear—’Mr. Gabriel Parsons walked up and down the room for ‘Stop a minute—on one condition; and that is, thata few seconds, before he could make up his mind to you propose to Miss Lillerton at once.’disclose the plan he had formed; he was accustomed to ‘At once! My dear Parsons, consider.’drive hard bargains, but was always most anxious to ‘It’s for you to consider, not me. She knows you wellconceal his avarice. At length he stopped short, and from reputation, though she did not know you personallyuntil lately. Notwithstanding all her maiden mod-said, ‘Tottle, you owe me fifty pounds.’‘I do.’esty, I think she’d be devilish glad to get married out of‘And from all I see, I infer that you are likely to owe it hand with as little delay as possible. My wife has sounded458

Charles Dickensher on the subject, and she has confessed.’were very happy when they found themselves once‘What—what?’ eagerly interrupted the enamoured again—to wit, the outside.Watkins.‘Now,’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as they drove to Norwood‘Why,’ replied Parsons, ‘to say exactly what she has together—‘you shall have an opportunity to make theconfessed, would be rather difficult, because they only disclosure to-night, and mind you speak out, Tottle.’spoke in hints, and so forth; but my wife, who is no bad ‘I will—I will!’ replied Watkins, valorously.judge in these cases, declared to me that what she had ‘How I should like to see you together,’ ejaculated Mr.confessed was as good as to say that she was not insensibleof your merits—in fact, that no other man should and so loudly, that he disconcerted Mr. Watkins Tottle,Gabriel Parsons.—’What fun!’ and he laughed so longhave her.’and frightened the horse.Mr. Watkins Tottle rose hastily from his seat, and rang ‘There’s Fanny and your intended walking about onthe bell.the lawn,’ said Gabriel, as they approached the house.‘What’s that for?’ inquired Parsons.‘Mind your eye, Tottle.’‘I want to send the man for the bill stamp,’ replied Mr. ‘Never fear,’ replied Watkins, resolutely, as he madeWatkins Tottle.his way to the spot where the ladies were walking.‘Then you’ve made up your mind?’‘Here’s Mr. Tottle, my dear,’ said Mrs. Parsons, addressingMiss Lillerton. The lady turned quickly round, and‘I have,’—and they shook hands most cordially. Thenote of hand was given—the debt and costs were paid— acknowledged his courteous salute with the same sortIkey was satisfied for his trouble, and the two friends of confusion that Watkins had noticed on their firstsoon found themselves on that side of Mr. Solomon interview, but with something like a slight expressionJacobs’s establishment, on which most of his visitors of disappointment or carelessness.459

Sketches by Boz‘Did you see how glad she was to see you?’ whispered anxious to postpone the evil moment.Parsons to his friend.‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Mrs. Parsons, ‘you are really very‘Why, I really thought she looked as if she would rather polite; you stay away the whole morning, after promisingto take us out, and when you do come home, youhave seen somebody else,’ replied Tottle.‘Pooh, nonsense!’ whispered Parsons again—’it’s alwaysthe way with the women, young or old. They never ‘We were talking of the businees, my dear, which de-stand whispering together and take no notice of us.’show how delighted they are to see those whose presencemakes their hearts beat. It’s the way with the whole cantly at Tottle.tained us this morning,’ replied Parsons, looking signifi-sex, and no man should have lived to your time of life ‘Dear me! how very quickly the morning has gone,’without knowing it. Fanny confessed it to me, when we said Miss Lillerton, referring to the gold watch, whichwere first married, over and over again—see what it is was wound up on state occasions, whether it required itto have a wife.’or not.‘Certainly,’ whispered Tottle, whose courage was vanishingfast.Tottle.‘I think it has passed very slowly,’ mildly suggested‘Well, now, you’d better begin to pave the way,’ said (‘That’s right—bravo!’) whispered Parsons.Parsons, who, having invested some money in the speculation,assumed the office of director.surprise.‘Indeed!’ said Miss Lillerton, with an air of majestic‘Yes, yes, I will—presently,’ replied Tottle, greatly flurried. ‘I can only impute it to my unavoidable absence from‘Say something to her, man,’ urged Parsons again. ‘Confoundit! pay her a compliment, can’t you?’Parsons.’your society, madam,’ said Watkins, ‘and that of Mrs.‘No! not till after dinner,’ replied the bashful Tottle, During this short dialogue, the ladies had been lead-460

Charles Dickensing the way to the house.and et ceteras, were displayed at the top, and a fillet of‘What the deuce did you stick Fanny into that last veal at the bottom. On one side of the table two greencompliment for?’ inquired Parsons, as they followed together;‘it quite spoilt the effect.’each other in a green dish; and on the other was a cur-sauce-tureens, with ladles of the same, were setting to‘Oh! it really would have been too broad without,’ repliedWatkins Tottle, ‘much too broad!’‘Miss Lillerton, my dear,’ said Mrs. Parsons, ‘shall I asriedrabbit, in a brown suit, turned up with lemon.‘He’s mad!’ Parsons whispered his wife, as they enteredthe drawing-room, ‘mad from modesty.’‘Thank you, no; I think I’ll trouble Mr. Tottle.’sist you?’‘Dear me!’ ejaculated the lady, ‘I never heard of such a Watkins started—trembled—helped the rabbit—andthing.’broke a tumbler. The countenance of the lady of the‘You’ll find we have quite a family dinner, Mr. Tottle,’ house, which had been all smiles previously, underwentsaid Mrs. Parsons, when they sat down to table: ‘Miss an awful change.Lillerton is one of us, and, of course, we make no stranger ‘Extremely sorry,’ stammered Watkins, assisting himselfto currie and parsley and butter, in the extremity ofof you.’Mr. Watkins Tottle expressed a hope that the Parsons his confusion.family never would make a stranger of him; and wished ‘Not the least consequence,’ replied Mrs. Parsons, in ainternally that his bashfulness would allow him to feel tone which implied that it was of the greatest consequencepossible,—directing aside the researches of thea little less like a stranger himself.‘Take off the covers, Martha,’ said Mrs. Parsons, directingthe shifting of the scenery with great anxiety. The broken glass.boy, who was groping under the table for the bits oforder was obeyed, and a pair of boiled fowls, with tongue ‘I presume,’ said Miss Lillerton, ‘that Mr. Tottle is aware461

Sketches by Bozof the interest which bachelors usually pay in such cases; happened to me many years ago. Did you ever happena dozen glasses for one is the lowest penalty.’to hear me mention it?’Mr. Gabriel Parsons gave his friend an admonitory tread Mr. Watkins Tottle had happened to hear his friendon the toe. Here was a clear hint that the sooner he mention it some four hundred times. Of course he expressedgreat curiosity, and evinced the utmost impa-ceased to be a bachelor and emancipated himself fromsuch penalties, the better. Mr. Watkins Tottle viewed tience to hear the story again. Mr. Gabriel Parsons forthwithattempted to proceed, in spite of the interruptionsthe observation in the same light, and challenged Mrs.Parsons to take wine, with a degree of presence of mind, to which, as our readers must frequently have observed,which, under all the circumstances, was really extraordinary.We will attempt to give them an idea of our meaning.the master of the house is often exposed in such cases.‘Miss Lillerton,’ said Gabriel, ‘may I have the pleasure?’ ‘When I was in Suffolk—’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons.‘I shall be most happy.’‘Take off the fowls first, Martha,’ said Mrs. Parsons. ‘I‘Tottle, will you assist Miss Lillerton, and pass the beg your pardon, my dear.’decanter. Thank you.’ (The usual pantomimic ceremony ‘When I was in Suffolk,’ resumed Mr. Parsons, with anof nodding and sipping gone through)—impatient glance at his wife, who pretended not to observeit, ‘which is now years ago, business led me to the‘Tottle, were you ever in Suffolk?’ inquired the masterof the house, who was burning to tell one of his seven town of Bury St. Edmund’s. I had to stop at the principalplaces in my way, and therefore, for the sake ofstock stories.‘No,’ responded Watkins, adding, by way of a saving convenience, I travelled in a gig. I left Sudbury oneclause, ‘but I’ve been in Devonshire.’ ‘Ah!’ replied Gabriel, dark night—it was winter time—about nine o’clock;‘it was in Suffolk that a rather singular circumstance the rain poured in torrents, the wind howled among the462

Charles Dickenstrees that skirted the roadside, and I was obliged to and I assure you, Tottle (this was a device to arrest theproceed at a foot-pace, for I could hardly see my hand wandering attention of that individual, which was distractedby a confidential communication between Mrs.before me, it was so dark—’‘John,’ interrupted Mrs. Parsons, in a low, hollow voice, Parsons and Martha, accompanied by the delivery of a‘don’t spill that gravy.’large bunch of keys), I assure you, Tottle, I became‘Fanny,’ said Parsons impatiently, ‘I wish you’d defer somehow impressed with a sense of the loneliness ofthese domestic reproofs to some more suitable time. my situation—’Really, my dear, these constant interruptions are very ‘Pie to your master,’ interrupted Mrs. Parsons, againannoying.’directing the servant.‘My dear, I didn’t interrupt you,’ said Mrs. Parsons. ‘Now, pray, my dear,’ remonstrated Parsons once more,‘But, my dear, you did interrupt me,’ remonstrated Mr. very pettishly. Mrs. P. turned up her hands and eyebrows,and appealed in dumb show to Miss Lillerton.Parsons.‘How very absurd you are, my love! I must give directionsto the servants; I am quite sure that if I sat here horse stopped short, and reared tremendously. I pulled‘As I turned a corner of the road,’ resumed Gabriel, ‘theand allowed John to spill the gravy over the new carpet,you’d be the first to find fault when you saw the lying on his back in the middle of the road, with hisup, jumped out, ran to his head, and found a manstain to-morrow morning.’eyes fixed on the sky. I thought he was dead; but no,‘Well,’ continued Gabriel with a resigned air, as if he he was alive, and there appeared to be nothing theknew there was no getting over the point about the matter with him. He jumped up, and putting his handcarpet, ‘I was just saying, it was so dark that I could to his chest, and fixing upon me the most earnest gazehardly see my hand before me. The road was very lonely, you can imagine, exclaimed—’463

Sketches by Boz‘Pudding here,’ said Mrs. Parsons.sat chatting comfortably enough, until the conclusion‘Oh! it’s no use,’ exclaimed the host, now rendered of the second bottle, when the latter, in proposing andesperate. ‘Here, Tottle; a glass of wine. It’s useless to adjournment to the drawing-room, informed Watkinsattempt relating anything when Mrs. Parsons is present.’ that he had concerted a plan with his wife, for leavingThis attack was received in the usual way. Mrs. Parsonstalked to Miss Lillerton and at her better half; ex-‘I say,’ said Tottle, as they went up-stairs, ‘don’t you thinkhim and Miss Lillerton alone, soon after tea.patiated on the impatience of men generally; hinted it would be better if we put it off till-till-to-morrow?’that her husband was peculiarly vicious in this respect, ‘Don’t you think it would have been much better if Iand wound up by insinuating that she must be one of had left you in that wretched hole I found you in thisthe best tempers that ever existed, or she never could morning?’ retorted Parsons bluntly.put up with it. Really what she had to endure sometimes,was more than any one who saw her in every-day Watkins Tottle, with a deep sigh.‘Well—well—I only made a suggestion,’ said poorlife could by possibility suppose.—The story was now a Tea was soon concluded, and Miss Lillerton, drawingpainful subject, and therefore Mr. Parsons declined to a small work-table on one side of the fire, and placing aenter into any details, and contented himself by stating little wooden frame upon it, something like a miniaturethat the man was a maniac, who had escaped from a clay-mill without the horse, was soon busily engaged inneighbouring mad-house.making a watch-guard with brown silk.The cloth was removed; the ladies soon afterwards ‘God bless me!’ exclaimed Parsons, starting up withretired, and Miss Lillerton played the piano in the drawing-roomoverhead, very loudly, for the edification of letters. Tottle, I know you’ll excuse me.’well-feigned surprise, ‘I’ve forgotten those confoundedthe visitor. Mr. Watkins Tottle and Mr. Gabriel Parsons If Tottle had been a free agent, he would have al-464

Charles Dickenslowed no one to leave the room on any pretence, except lapse of another five minutes.himself. As it was, however, he was obliged to look cheerfulwhen Parsons quitted the apartment.a courage which was perfectly astonishing, even to himself,‘No, thank you,’ returned Watkins; and then he added, withHe had scarcely left, when Martha put her head into ‘Madam, that is Miss Lillerton, I wish to speak to you.’the room, with—‘Please, ma’am, you’re wanted.’‘To me!’ said Miss Lillerton, letting the silk drop fromMrs. Parsons left the room, shut the door carefully after her hands, and sliding her chair back a few paces.—her, and Mr. Watkins Tottle was left alone with Miss Lillerton. ’Speak—to me!’For the first five minutes there was a dead silence.— ‘To you, madam—and on the subject of the state ofMr. Watkins Tottle was thinking how he should begin, your affections.’ The lady hastily rose and would haveand Miss Lillerton appeared to be thinking of nothing. left the room; but Mr. Watkins Tottle gently detainedThe fire was burning low; Mr. Watkins Tottle stirred it, her by the hand, and holding it as far from him as theand put some coals on.joint length of their arms would permit, he thus proceeded:‘Pray do not misunderstand me, or suppose that‘Hem!’ coughed Miss Lillerton; Mr. Watkins Tottlethought the fair creature had spoken. ‘I beg your pardon,’said he.by any feeling of my own merits—for merits I have noneI am led to address you, after so short an acquaintance,‘Eh?’which could give me a claim to your hand. I hope you‘I thought you spoke.’will acquit me of any presumption when I explain that‘No.’I have been acquainted through Mrs. Parsons, with the‘Oh!’state—that is, that Mrs. Parsons has told me—at least,‘There are some books on the sofa, Mr. Tottle, if you not Mrs. Parsons, but—’ here Watkins began to wander,would like to look at them,’ said Miss Lillerton, after the but Miss Lillerton relieved him.465

Sketches by Boz‘Am I to understand, Mr. Tottle, that Mrs. Parsons has He raised the tip of her middle finger ceremoniously toacquainted you with my feeling—my affection—I mean his lips, and got off his knees, as gracefully as he could.my respect, for an individual of the opposite sex?’ ‘My information was correct?’ he tremulously inquired,‘She has.’when he was once more on his feet.‘Then, what?’ inquired Miss Lillerton, averting her face, ‘It was.’ Watkins elevated his hands, and looked up towith a girlish air, ‘what could induce YOU to seek such the ornament in the centre of the ceiling, which hadan interview as this? What can your object be? How can been made for a lamp, by way of expressing his rapture.I promote your happiness, Mr. Tottle?’‘Our situation, Mr. Tottle,’ resumed the lady, glancingHere was the time for a flourish—’By allowing me,’ at him through one of the eyelet-holes, ‘is a most peculiarand delicate one.’replied Watkins, falling bump on his knees, and breakingtwo brace-buttons and a waistcoat-string, in the ‘It is,’ said Mr. Tottle.act—’By allowing me to be your slave, your servant—in ‘Our acquaintance has been of so short duration,’ saidshort, by unreservedly making me the confidant of your Miss Lillerton.heart’s feelings—may I say for the promotion of your ‘Only a week,’ assented Watkins Tottle.own happiness—may I say, in order that you may becomethe wife of a kind and affectionate husband?’ surprise.‘Oh! more than that,’ exclaimed the lady, in a tone of‘Disinterested creature!’ exclaimed Miss Lillerton, hidingher face in a white pocket-handkerchief with an ‘More than a month—more than two months!’ said‘Indeed!’ said Tottle.eyelet-hole border.Miss Lillerton.Mr. Watkins Tottle thought that if the lady knew all, ‘Rather odd, this,’ thought Watkins.she might possibly alter her opinion on this last point. ‘Oh!’ he said, recollecting Parsons’s assurance that she466

Charles Dickenshad known him from report, ‘I understand. But, my dear to—to Mr. Timson?’madam, pray, consider. The longer this acquaintance has ‘Mr. Timson!’ said Watkins.existed, the less reason is there for delay now. Why not ‘After what has passed between us,’ responded Missat once fix a period for gratifying the hopes of your Lillerton, still averting her head, ‘you must understanddevoted admirer?’whom I mean; Mr. Timson, the—the—clergyman.’‘It has been represented to me again and again that ‘Mr. Timson, the clergyman!’ ejaculated Watkins Tottle,this is the course I ought to pursue,’ replied Miss Lillerton, in a state of inexpressible beatitude, and positive wonderat his own success. ‘Angel! Certainly—this moment!’‘but pardon my feelings of delicacy, Mr. Tottle—prayexcuse this embarrassment—I have peculiar ideas on ‘I’ll prepare it immediately,’ said Miss Lillerton, makingfor the door; ‘the events of this day have flurriedsuch subjects, and I am quite sure that I never couldsummon up fortitude enough to name the day to my me so much, Mr. Tottle, that I shall not leave my roomfuture husband.’again this evening; I will send you the note by the‘Then allow me to name it,’ said Tottle eagerly. servant.’‘I should like to fix it myself,’ replied Miss Lillerton, ‘Stay,—stay,’ cried Watkins Tottle, still keeping a mostbashfully, ‘but I cannot do so without at once resorting respectful distance from the lady; ‘when shall we meetto a third party.’again?’‘A third party!’ thought Watkins Tottle; ‘who the deuce ‘Oh! Mr. Tottle,’ replied Miss Lillerton, coquettishly,is that to be, I wonder!’‘when we are married, I can never see you too often, nor‘Mr. Tottle,’ continued Miss Lillerton, ‘you have made thank you too much;’ and she left the room.me a most disinterested and kind offer—that offer I Mr. Watkins Tottle flung himself into an arm-chair,accept. Will you at once be the bearer of a note from me and indulged in the most delicious reveries of future467

Sketches by Bozbliss, in which the idea of ‘Five hundred pounds per the Richardsonian principle was the best on which loveannum, with an uncontrolled power of disposing of it could possibly be made, when he was interrupted byby her last will and testament,’ was somehow or other the entrance of Martha, with a little pink note foldedthe foremost. He had gone through the interview so like a fancy cocked-hat.well, and it had terminated so admirably, that he almostbegan to wish he had expressly stipulated for the livered it into Tottle’s hands, and vanished.‘Miss Lillerton’s compliments,’ said Martha, as she de-settlement of the annual five hundred on himself. ‘Do you observe the delicacy?’ said Tottle, appealing‘May I come in?’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, peeping in to Mr. Gabriel Parsons. ‘Compliments, not love, by theat the door.servant, eh?’‘You may,’ replied Watkins.Mr. Gabriel Parsons didn’t exactly know what reply to‘Well, have you done it?’ anxiously inquired Gabriel. make, so he poked the forefinger of his right hand betweenthe third and fourth ribs of Mr. Watkins Tottle.‘Have I done it!’ said Watkins Tottle. ‘Hush—I’m goingto the clergyman.’‘Come,’ said Watkins, when the explosion of mirth,‘No!’ said Parsons. ‘How well you have managed it!’ consequent on this practical jest, had subsided, ‘we’ll‘Where does Timson live?’ inquired Watkins.be off at once—let’s lose no time.’‘At his uncle’s,’ replied Gabriel, ‘just round the lane. ‘Capital!’ echoed Gabriel Parsons; and in five minutesHe’s waiting for a living, and has been assisting his they were at the garden-gate of the villa tenanted byuncle here for the last two or three months. But how the uncle of Mr. Timson.well you have done it—I didn’t think you could have ‘Is Mr. Charles Timson at home?’ inquired Mr. Watkinscarried it off so!’Tottle of Mr. Charles Timson’s uncle’s man.Mr. Watkins Tottle was proceeding to demonstrate that ‘Mr. Charles is at home,’ replied the man, stammering;468

Charles Dickens‘but he desired me to say he couldn’t be interrupted, who could be game as you call it, Mr. Walker, with asir, by any of the parishioners.’pale young creetur like that, hanging about him?—It’s‘I am not a parishioner,’ replied Watkins.enough to drive any man’s heart into his boots to see‘Is Mr. Charles writing a sermon, Tom?’ inquired Parsons,thrusting himself forward.shall forget her first comin’ here; he wrote to her on the‘em together-and no mistake at all about it. I never‘No, Mr. Parsons, sir; he’s not exactly writing a sermon,but he is practising the violoncello in his own Uncommon fidgety he was all day to be sure, and in theThursday to come—I know he did, ‘cos I took the letter.bedroom, and gave strict orders not to be disturbed.’ evening he goes down into the office, and he says to‘Say I’m here,’ replied Gabriel, leading the way across Jacobs, says he, “Sir, can I have the loan of a privatethe garden; ‘Mr. Parsons and Mr. Tottle, on private and room for a few minutes this evening, without incurringparticular business.’any additional expense—just to see my wife in?” saysThey were shown into the parlour, and the servant he. Jacobs looked as much as to say—“Strike me bountifulif you ain’t one of the modest sort!” but as thedeparted to deliver his message. The distant groaningof the violoncello ceased; footsteps were heard on the gen’lm’n who had been in the back parlour had juststairs; and Mr. Timson presented himself, and shook gone out, and had paid for it for that day, he says—hands with Parsons with the utmost cordiality. werry grave—”Sir,” says he, “it’s agin our rules to let‘Game!’ exclaimed Ikey, who had been altering the private rooms to our lodgers on gratis terms, but,” saysposition of a green-handled knife and fork at least a he, “for a gentleman, I don’t mind breaking throughdozen times, in order that he might remain in the room them for once.” So then he turns found to me, and says,under the pretext of having something to do. ‘He’s game “Ikey, put two mould candles in the back parlour, andenough ven there’s anything to be fierce about; but charge ‘em to this gen’lm’n’s account,” vich I did. Vell,469

Sketches by Bozby-and-by a hackney-coach comes up to the door, and ‘This way,’ replied the imprisoned one, leading the waythere, sure enough, was the young lady, wrapped up in to the front drawing-room, where rich debtors did thea hopera-cloak, as it might be, and all alone. I opened luxurious at the rate of a couple of guineas a day.the gate that night, so I went up when the coach come, ‘Well, here I am,’ said Mr. Watkins, as he sat down onand he vos a waitin’ at the parlour door—and wasn’t he the sofa; and placing the palms of his hands on hisa trembling, neither? The poor creetur see him, and knees, anxiously glanced at his friend’s countenance.could hardly walk to meet him. “Oh, Harry!” she says, ‘Yes; and here you’re likely to be,’ said Gabriel, coolly,“that it should have come to this; and all for my sake,” as he rattled the money in his unmentionable pockets,says she, putting her hand upon his shoulder. So he and looked out of the window.puts his arm round her pretty little waist, and leading ‘What’s the amount with the costs?’ inquired Parsons,her gently a little way into the room, so that he might after an awkward pause.be able to shut the door, he says, so kind and softlike—”Why,Kate,” says he—‘‘Nine and sixpence halfpenny.’‘Have you any money?’‘Here’s the gentleman you want,’ said Ikey, abruptly Mr. Gabriel Parsons walked up and down the room forbreaking off in his story, and introducing Mr. Gabriel a few seconds, before he could make up his mind toParsons to the crest-fallen Watkins Tottle, who at that disclose the plan he had formed; he was accustomed tomoment entered the room. Watkins advanced with a drive hard bargains, but was always most anxious towooden expression of passive endurance, and accepted conceal his avarice. At length he stopped short, andthe hand which Mr. Gabriel Parsons held out.said, ‘Tottle, you owe me fifty pounds.’‘I want to speak to you,’ said Gabriel, with a look ‘I do.’strongly expressive of his dislike of the company. ‘And from all I see, I infer that you are likely to owe it to me.’470

Charles Dickens‘I fear I am.’‘What—what?’ eagerly interrupted the enamoured‘Though you have every disposition to pay me if you Watkins.could?’‘Why,’ replied Parsons, ‘to say exactly what she has‘Certainly.’confessed, would be rather difficult, because they only‘Then,’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, ‘listen: here’s my proposition.You know my way of old. Accept it—yes or no— judge in these cases, declared to me that what she hadspoke in hints, and so forth; but my wife, who is no badI will or I won’t. I’ll pay the debt and costs, and I’ll lend confessed was as good as to say that she was not insensibleof your merits—in fact, that no other man shouldyou 10L. more (which, added to your annuity, will enableyou to carry on the war well) if you’ll give me your have her.’note of hand to pay me one hundred and fifty pounds Mr. Watkins Tottle rose hastily from his seat, and rangwithin six months after you are married to Miss Lillerton.’ the bell.‘My dear—’‘What’s that for?’ inquired Parsons.‘Stop a minute—on one condition; and that is, that ‘I want to send the man for the bill stamp,’ replied Mr.you propose to Miss Lillerton at once.’Watkins Tottle.‘At once! My dear Parsons, consider.’‘Then you’ve made up your mind?’‘It’s for you to consider, not me. She knows you well ‘I have,’—and they shook hands most cordially. Thefrom reputation, though she did not know you personallyuntil lately. Notwithstanding all her maiden mod-Ikey was satisfied for his trouble, and the two friendsnote of hand was given—the debt and costs were paid—esty, I think she’d be devilish glad to get married out of soon found themselves on that side of Mr. Solomonhand with as little delay as possible. My wife has sounded Jacobs’s establishment, on which most of his visitorsher on the subject, and she has confessed.’were very happy when they found themselves once471

Sketches by Bozagain—to wit, the outside.Parsons to his friend.‘Now,’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as they drove to Norwood ‘Why, I really thought she looked as if she would rathertogether—‘you shall have an opportunity to make the have seen somebody else,’ replied Tottle.disclosure to-night, and mind you speak out, Tottle.’ ‘Pooh, nonsense!’ whispered Parsons again—’it’s alwaysthe way with the women, young or old. They never‘I will—I will!’ replied Watkins, valorously.‘How I should like to see you together,’ ejaculated Mr. show how delighted they are to see those whose presencemakes their hearts beat. It’s the way with the wholeGabriel Parsons.—’What fun!’ and he laughed so longand so loudly, that he disconcerted Mr. Watkins Tottle, sex, and no man should have lived to your time of lifeand frightened the horse.without knowing it. Fanny confessed it to me, when we‘There’s Fanny and your intended walking about on were first married, over and over again—see what it isthe lawn,’ said Gabriel, as they approached the house. to have a wife.’‘Mind your eye, Tottle.’‘Certainly,’ whispered Tottle, whose courage was vanishingfast.‘Never fear,’ replied Watkins, resolutely, as he madehis way to the spot where the ladies were walking. ‘Well, now, you’d better begin to pave the way,’ said‘Here’s Mr. Tottle, my dear,’ said Mrs. Parsons, addressingMiss Lillerton. The lady turned quickly round, and lation, assumed the office of director.Parsons, who, having invested some money in the specu-acknowledged his courteous salute with the same sort ‘Yes, yes, I will—presently,’ replied Tottle, greatly flurried.of confusion that Watkins had noticed on their first ‘Say something to her, man,’ urged Parsons again. ‘Confoundit! pay her a compliment, can’t you?’interview, but with something like a slight expressionof disappointment or carelessness.‘No! not till after dinner,’ replied the bashful Tottle,‘Did you see how glad she was to see you?’ whispered anxious to postpone the evil moment.472

Charles Dickens‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Mrs. Parsons, ‘you are really very compliment for?’ inquired Parsons, as they followed together;‘it quite spoilt the effect.’polite; you stay away the whole morning, after promisingto take us out, and when you do come home, you ‘Oh! it really would have been too broad without,’ repliedWatkins Tottle, ‘much too broad!’stand whispering together and take no notice of us.’‘We were talking of the business, my dear, which detainedus this morning,’ replied Parsons, looking signifiteredthe drawing-room, ‘mad from modesty.’‘He’s mad!’ Parsons whispered his wife, as they encantlyat Tottle.‘Dear me!’ ejaculated the lady, ‘I never heard of such a‘Dear me! how very quickly the morning has gone,’ thing.’said Miss Lillerton, referring to the gold watch, which ‘You’ll find we have quite a family dinner, Mr. Tottle,’was wound up on state occasions, whether it required it said Mrs. Parsons, when they sat down to table: ‘Missor not.Lillerton is one of us, and, of course, we make no stranger‘I think it has passed very slowly,’ mildly suggested Tottle. of you.’(‘That’s right—bravo!’) whispered Parsons.Mr. Watkins Tottle expressed a hope that the Parsons‘Indeed!’ said Miss Lillerton, with an air of majestic family never would make a stranger of him; and wishedsurprise.internally that his bashfulness would allow him to feel‘I can only impute it to my unavoidable absence from a little less like a stranger himself.your society, madam,’ said Watkins, ‘and that of Mrs. ‘Take off the covers, Martha,’ said Mrs. Parsons, directingthe shifting of the scenery with great anxiety. TheParsons.’During this short dialogue, the ladies had been leadingthe way to the house.and et ceteras, were displayed at the top, and a fillet oforder was obeyed, and a pair of boiled fowls, with tongue‘What the deuce did you stick Fanny into that last veal at the bottom. On one side of the table two green473

Sketches by Bozsauce-tureens, with ladles of the same, were setting to Mr. Gabriel Parsons gave his friend an admonitory treadeach other in a green dish; and on the other was a on the toe. Here was a clear hint that the sooner hecurried rabbit, in a brown suit, turned up with lemon. ceased to be a bachelor and-’emancipated himself from‘Miss Lillerton, my dear,’ said Mrs. Parsons, ‘shall I assistyou?’observation in the same light, and challenged Mrs. Parsonssuch penalties, the better. Mr. Watkins Tottle viewed the‘Thank you, no; I think I’ll trouble Mr. Tottle.’ to take wine, with a degree of presence of mind, which,Watkins started—trembled—helped the rabbit—and under all the circumstances, was really extraordinary.broke a tumbler. The countenance of the lady of the ‘Miss Lillerton,’ said Gabriel, ‘may I have the pleasure?’house, which had been all smiles previously, underwent ‘I shall be most happy.’an awful change.‘Tottle, will you assist Miss Lillerton, and pass the‘Extremely sorry,’ stammered Watkins, assisting himselfto currie and parsley and butter, in the extremity of of nodding and sipping gone through)—decanter. Thank you.’ (The usual pantomimic ceremonyhis confusion.‘Tottle, were you ever in Suffolk?’ inquired the master‘Not the least consequence,’ replied Mrs. Parsons, in a of the house, who was burning to tell one of his seventone which implied that it was of the greatest consequencepossible,—directing aside the researches of the ‘No,’ responded Watkins, adding, by way of a savingstock stories.boy, who was groping under the table for the bits of clause, ‘but I’ve been in Devonshire.’broken glass.‘Ah!’ replied Gabriel, ‘it was in Suffolk that a rather‘I presume,’ said Miss Lillerton, ‘that Mr. Tottle is aware singular circumstance happened to me many years ago.of the interest which bachelors usually pay in such cases; Did you ever happen to hear me mention it?’a dozen glasses for one is the lowest penalty.’Mr. Watkins Tottle had happened to hear his friend474

Charles Dickensmention it some four hundred times. Of course he expressedgreat curiosity, and evinced the utmost impa-‘don’t spill that gravy.’‘John,’ interrupted Mrs. Parsons, in a low, hollow voice,tience to hear the story again. Mr. Gabriel Parsons forthwithattempted to proceed, in spite of the interruptions these domestic reproofs to some more suitable time.‘Fanny,’ said Parsons impatiently, ‘I wish you’d deferto which, as our readers must frequently have observed, Really, my dear, these constant interruptions are verythe master of the house is often exposed in such cases. annoying.’We will attempt to give them an idea of our meaning. ‘My dear, I didn’t interrupt you,’ said Mrs. Parsons.‘When I was in Suffolk—’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons. ‘But, my dear, you did interrupt me,’ remonstrated Mr.‘Take off the fowls first, Martha,’ said Mrs. Parsons. ‘I Parsons.beg your pardon, my dear.’‘How very absurd you are, my love! I must give directionsto the servants; I am quite sure that if I sat here‘When I was in Suffolk,’ resumed Mr. Parsons, with animpatient glance at his wife, who pretended not to observeit, ‘which is now years ago, business led me to the pet, you’d be the first to find fault when you saw theand allowed John to spill the gravy over the new car-town of Bury St. Edmund’s. I had to stop at the principalplaces in my way, and therefore, for the sake of ‘Well,’ continued Gabriel with a resigned air, as if hestain to-morrow morning.’convenience, I travelled in a gig. I left Sudbury one knew there was no getting over the point about thedark night—it was winter time—about nine o’clock; carpet, ‘I was just saying, it was so dark that I couldthe rain poured in torrents, the wind howled among the hardly see my hand before me. The road was very lonely,trees that skirted the roadside, and I was obliged to and I assure you, Tottle (this was a device to arrest theproceed at a foot-pace, for I could hardly see my hand wandering attention of that individual, which was distractedby a confidential communication between before me, it was so dark—’Mrs.475

Sketches by BozParsons and Martha, accompanied by the delivery of a This attack was received in the usual way. Mrs. Parsonstalked to Miss Lillerton and at her better half; ex-large bunch of keys), I assure you, Tottle, I became somehowimpressed with a sense of the loneliness of my situation—’that her husband was peculiarly vicious in this respect,patiated on the impatience of men generally; hinted‘Pie to your master,’ interrupted Mrs. Parsons, again and wound up by insinuating that she must be one ofdirecting the servant.the best tempers that ever existed, or she never could‘Now, pray, my dear,’ remonstrated Parsons once more, put up with it. Really what she had to endure sometimes,was more than any one who saw her in every-dayvery pettishly. Mrs. P. turned up her hands and eyebrows,and appealed in dumb show to Miss Lillerton. ‘As I turned life could by possibility suppose.—The story was now aa corner of the road,’ resumed Gabriel, ‘the horse stopped painful subject, and therefore Mr. Parsons declined toshort, and reared tremendously. I pulled up, jumped out, enter into any details, and contented himself by statingran to his head, and found a man lying on his back in the that the man was a maniac, who had escaped from amiddle of the road, with his eyes fixed on the sky. I neighbouring mad-house.thought he was dead; but no, he was alive, and there The cloth was removed; the ladies soon afterwardsappeared to be nothing the matter with him. He jumped retired, and Miss Lillerton played the piano in the drawing-roomoverhead, very loudly, for the edification ofup, and potting his hand to his chest, and fixing uponme the most earnest gaze you can imagine, exclaimed— the visitor. Mr. Watkins Tottle and Mr. Gabriel Parsons’Pudding here,’ said Mrs. Parsons.sat chatting comfortably enough, until the conclusion‘Oh! it’s no use,’ exclaimed the host, now rendered of the second bottle, when the latter, in proposing andesperate. ‘Here, Tottle; a glass of wine. It’s useless to adjournment to the drawing-room, informed Watkinsattempt relating anything when Mrs. Parsons is present.’ that he had concerted a plan with his wife, for leaving476

Charles Dickenshim and Miss Lillerton alone, soon after tea.the room, with—‘Please, ma’am, you’re wanted.’‘I say,’ said Tottle, as they went up-stairs, ‘don’t you think Mrs. Parsons left the room, shut the door carefullyit would be better if we put it off till-till-to-morrow?’ after her, and Mr. Watkins Tottle was left alone with‘Don’t you think it would have been much better if I Miss Lillerton.had left you in that wretched hole I found you in this For the first five minutes there was a dead silence.—morning?’ retorted Parsons bluntly.Mr. Watkins Tottle was thinking how he should begin,‘Well—well—I only made a suggestion,’ said poor and Miss Lillerton appeared to be thinking of nothing.Watkins Tottle, with a deep sigh.The fire was burning low; Mr. Watkins Tottle stirred it,Tea was soon concluded, and Miss Lillerton, drawing and put some coals on.a small work-table on one side of the fire, and placing a ‘Hem!’ coughed Miss Lillerton; Mr. Watkins Tottlelittle wooden frame upon it, something like a miniature thought the fair creature had spoken. ‘I beg your pardon,’said he.clay-mill without the horse, was soon busily engaged inmaking a watch-guard with brown silk.‘Eh?’‘God bless me!’ exclaimed Parsons, starting up with ‘I thought you spoke.’well-feigned surprise, ‘I’ve forgotten those confounded ‘No.’letters. Tottle, I know you’ll excuse me.’‘Oh!’If Tottle had been a free agent, he would have allowedno one to leave the room on any pretence, except would like to look at them,’ said Miss Lillerton, after the‘There are some books on the sofa, Mr. Tottle, if youhimself. As it was, however, he was obliged to look cheerfulwhen Parsons quitted the apartment.‘No, thank you,’ returned Watkins; and then he added,lapse of another five minutes.He had scarcely left, when Martha put her head into with a courage which was perfectly astonishing, even477

Sketches by Bozto himself, ‘Madam, that is Miss Lillerton, I wish to speak my respect, for an individual of the opposite sex?’to you.’‘She has.’‘To me!’ said Miss Lillerton, letting the silk drop from ‘Then, what?’ inquired Miss Lillerton, averting her face,her hands, and sliding her chair back a few paces.— with a girlish air, ‘what could induce YOU to seek such’Speak—to me!’an interview as this? What can your object be? How can‘To you, madam—and on the subject of the state of I promote your happiness, Mr. Tottle?’your affections.’ The lady hastily rose and would have Here was the time for a flourish—’By allowing me,’left the room; but Mr. Watkins Tottle gently detained replied Watkins, falling bump on his knees, and breakingtwo brace-buttons and a waistcoat-string, in theher by the hand, and holding it as far from him as thejoint length of their arms would permit, he thus proceeded:‘Pray do not misunderstand me, or suppose that short, by unreservedly making me the confidant of youract—’By allowing me to be your slave, your servant—inI am led to address you, after so short an acquaintance, heart’s feelings—may I say for the promotion of yourby any feeling of my own merits—for merits I have none own happiness—may I say, in order that you may becomethe wife of a kind and affectionate husband?’which could give me a claim to your hand. I hope youwill acquit me of any presumption when I explain that ‘Disinterested creature!’ exclaimed Miss Lillerton, hidingher face in a white pocket-handkerchief with anI have been acquainted through Mrs. Parsons, with thestate—that is, that Mrs. Parsons has told me—at least, eyelet-hole border.not Mrs. Parsons, but—’ here Watkins began to wander, Mr. Watkins Tottle thought that if the lady knew all,but Miss Lillerton relieved him.she might possibly alter her opinion on this last point.‘Am I to understand, Mr. Tottle, that Mrs. Parsons has He raised the tip of her middle finger ceremoniously toacquainted you with my feeling—my affection—I mean his lips, and got off his knees, as gracefully as he could.478

Charles Dickens‘My information was correct?’ he tremulously inquired, existed, the less reason is I there for delay now. Whywhen he was once more on his feet.not at once fix a period for gratifying the hopes of your‘It was.’ Watkins elevated his hands, and looked up to devoted admirer?’the ornament in the centre of the ceiling, which had ‘It has been represented to me again and again thatbeen made for a lamp, by way of expressing his rapture. this is the course I ought to pursue,’ replied Miss Lillerton,‘Our situation, Mr. Tottle,’ resumed the lady, glancing ‘but pardon my feelings of delicacy, Mr. Tottle—prayat him through one of the eyelet-holes, ‘is a most peculiar.and delicate one.’such subjects, and I am quite sure that I never couldexcuse this embarrassment—I have peculiar ideas on‘It is,’ said Mr. Tottle.summon up fortitude enough to name the day to my‘Our acquaintance has been of so short duration,’ said future husband.’Miss Lillerton.‘Then allow me to name it,’ said Tottle eagerly.‘Only a week,’ assented Watkins Tottle.‘I should like to fix it myself,’ replied Miss Lillerton,‘Oh! more than that,’ exclaimed the lady, in a tone of bashfully, but I cannot do so without at once resortingsurprise.to a third party.’‘Indeed!’ said Tottle.‘A third party!’ thought Watkins Tottle; ‘who the deuce‘More than a month—more than two months!’ said is that to be, I wonder!’Miss Lillerton.‘Mr. Tottle,’ continued Miss Lillerton, ‘you have made‘Rather odd, this,’ thought Watkins.me a most disinterested and kind offer—that offer I‘Oh!’ he said, recollecting Parsons’s assurance that she accept. Will you at once be the bearer of a note from mehad known him from report, ‘I understand. But, my dear to—to Mr. Timson?’madam, pray, consider. The longer this acquaintance has ‘Mr. Timson!’ said Watkins.479

Sketches by Boz‘After what has passed between us,’ responded Miss by her last will and testament,’ was somehow or otherLillerton, still averting her head, ‘you must understand the foremost. He had gone through the interview sowhom I mean; Mr. Timson, the—the—clergyman.’ well, and it had terminated so admirably, that he almostbegan to wish he had expressly stipulated for the‘Mr. Timson, the clergyman!’ ejaculated Watkins Tottle,in a state of inexpressible beatitude, and positive wonderat his own success. ‘Angel! Certainly—this moment!’ ‘May I come in?’ said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, peeping insettlement of the annual five hundred on himself.‘I’ll prepare it immediately,’ said Miss Lillerton, makingfor the door; ‘the events of this day have flurried ‘You may,’ replied Watkins.at the door.me so much, Mr. Tottle, that I shall not leave my room ‘Well, have you done it?’ anxiously inquired Gabriel.again this evening; I will send you the note by the servant.ingto the clergyman.’‘Have I done it!’ said Watkins Tottle. ‘Hush—I’m go-‘Stay,—stay,’ cried Watkins Tottle, still keeping a most ‘No!’ said Parsons. ‘How well you have managed it!’respectful distance from the lady; ‘when shall we meet ‘Where does Timson live?’ inquired Watkins.again?’‘At his uncle’s,’ replied Gabriel, ‘just round the lane.‘Oh! Mr. Tottle,’ replied Miss Lillerton, coquettishly, He’s waiting for a living, and has been assisting his‘when we are married, I can never see you too often, uncle here for the last two or three months. But hownor thank you too much;’ and she left the room. well you have done it—I didn’t think you could haveMr. Watkins Tottle flung himself into an arm-chair, carried it off so!’and indulged in the most delicious reveries of future Mr. Watkins Tottle was proceeding to demonstrate thatbliss, in which the idea of ‘Five hundred pounds per the Richardsonian principle was the best on which loveannum, with an uncontrolled power of disposing of it could possibly be made, when he was interrupted by480

Charles Dickensthe entrance of Martha, with a little pink note folded ‘I am not a parishioner,’ replied Watkins.like a fancy cocked-hat.‘Is Mr. Charles writing a sermon, Tom?’ inquired Parsons,thrusting himself forward.‘Miss Lillerton’s compliments,’ said Martha, as she deliveredit into Tottle’s hands, and vanished.‘No, Mr. Parsons, sir; he’s not exactly writing a sermon,but he is practising the violoncello in his own‘Do you observe the delicacy?’ said Tottle, appealingto Mr. Gabriel Parsons. ‘Compliments, not love, by the bedroom, and gave strict orders not to be disturbed.’servant, eh?’‘Say I’m here,’ replied Gabriel, leading the way acrossMr. Gabriel Parsons didn’t exactly know what reply to the garden; ‘Mr. Parsons and Mr. Tottle, on private andmake, so he poked the forefinger of his right hand betweenthe third and fourth ribs of Mr. Watkins Tottle. They were shown into the parlour, and the servantparticular business.’‘Come,’ said Watkins, when the explosion of mirth, departed to deliver his message. The distant groaningconsequent on this practical jest, had subsided, ‘we’ll of the violoncello ceased; footsteps were heard on thebe off at once—let’s lose no time.’stairs; and Mr. Timson presented himself, and shook‘Capital!’ echoed Gabriel Parsons; and in five minutes hands with Parsons with the utmost cordiality.they were at the garden-gate of the villa tenanted by ‘How do you do, sir?’ said Watkins Tottle, with greatthe uncle of Mr. Timson.solemnity.‘Is Mr. Charles Timson at home?’ inquired Mr. Watkins ‘How do you do, sir?’ replied Timson, with as muchTottle of Mr. Charles Timson’s uncle’s man.coldness as if it were a matter of perfect indifference to‘Mr. Charles IS at home,’ replied the man, stammering; him how he did, as it very likely was.‘but he desired me to say he couldn’t be interrupted, ‘I beg to deliver this note to you,’ said Watkins Tottle,sir, by any of the parishioners.’producing the cocked-hat.481

Sketches by Boz‘From Miss Lillerton!’ said Timson, suddenly changing indeed! There are very few men who would have actedcolour. ‘Pray sit down.’as you have done.’Mr. Watkins Tottle sat down; and while Timson perusedthe note, fixed his eyes on an oyster-sauce-last remark was anything but complimentary. He there-Mr. Watkins Tottle could not help thinking that thiscoloured portrait of the Archbishop of Canterbury, which fore inquired, rather hastily, ‘When is it to be?’hung over the fireplace.‘On Thursday,’ replied Timson,—’on Thursday morningat half-past eight.’Mr. Timson rose from his seat when he had concludedthe note, and looked dubiously at Parsons. ‘May I ask,’ ‘Uncommonly early,’ observed Watkins Tottle, with anhe inquired, appealing to Watkins Tottle, ‘whether our air of triumphant self-denial. ‘I shall hardly be able tofriend here is acquainted with the object of your visit?’ get down here by that hour.’ (This was intended for a‘Our friend is in my confidence,’ replied Watkins, with joke.)considerable importance.‘Never mind, my dear fellow,’ replied Timson, all suavity,shaking hands with Tottle again most heartily, ‘so‘Then, sir,’ said Timson, seizing both Tottle’s hands,‘allow me in his presence to thank you most unfeignedly long as we see you to breakfast, you know—’and cordially, for the noble part you have acted in this ‘Eh!’ said Parsons, with one of the most extraordinaryaffair.’expressions of countenance that ever appeared in a‘He thinks I recommended him,’ thought Tottle. ‘Confoundthese fellows! they never think of anything but ‘What!’ ejaculated Watkins Tottle, at the same moment.human face.their fees.’‘I say that so long as we see you to breakfast,’ replied‘I deeply regret having misunderstood your intentions, Timson, ‘we will excuse your being absent from the ceremony,though of course your presence at it would givemy dear sir,’ continued Timson. ‘Disinterested and manly,482

Charles Dickensus the utmost pleasure.’man, Mr. Tottle, of the circumstance, and that he, inMr. Watkins Tottle staggered against the wall, and fixed the most kind and delicate terms, offered to assist us inhis eyes on Timson with appalling perseverance. any way, and even undertook to convey this note, which‘Timson,’ said Parsons, hurriedly brushing his hat with contains the promise I have long sought in vain—anhis left arm, ‘when you say “us,” whom do you mean?’ act of kindness for which I can never be sufficientlyMr. Timson looked foolish in his turn, when he replied,‘Why—Mrs. Timson that will be this day week: ‘Good night, Timson,’ said Parsons, hurrying off, andgrateful.’Miss Lillerton that is—’carrying the bewildered Tottle with him.‘Now don’t stare at that idiot in the corner,’ angrily ‘Won’t you stay—and have something?’ said Timson.exclaimed Parsons, as the extraordinary convulsions of ‘No, thank ye,’ replied Parsons; ‘I’ve had quite enough;’Watkins Tottle’s countenance excited the wondering gaze and away he went, followed by Watkins Tottle in a stateof Timson,—’but have the goodness to tell me in three of stupefaction.words the contents of that note?’Mr. Gabriel Parsons whistled until they had walked‘This note,’ replied Timson, ‘is from Miss Lillerton, to some quarter of a mile past his own gate, when he suddenlystopped, and said—whom I have been for the last five weeks regularly engaged.Her singular scruples and strange feeling on some ‘You are a clever fellow, Tottle, ain’t you?’points have hitherto prevented my bringing the engagementto that termination which I so anxiously desire. ‘I suppose you’ll say this is Fanny’s fault, won’t you?’‘I don’t know,’ said the unfortunate Watkins.She informs me here, that she sounded Mrs. Parsons inquired Gabriel.with the view of making her her confidante and gobetween,that Mrs. Parsons informed this elderly gentledered‘I don’t know anything about it,’ replied the bewil-Tottle.483

Sketches by Boz‘Well,’ said Parsons, turning on his heel to go home,‘the next time you make an offer, you had better speakplainly, and don’t throw a chance away. And the nexttime you’re locked up in a spunging-house, just wait theretill I come and take you out, there’s a good fellow.’How, or at what hour, Mr. Watkins Tottle returned toCecil-street is unknown. His boots were seen outsidehis bedroom-door next morning; but we have the authorityof his landlady for stating that he neitheremerged therefrom nor accepted sustenance for fourand-twentyhours. At the expiration of that period, andwhen a council of war was being held in the kitchen onthe propriety of summoning the parochial beadle to breakhis door open, he rang his bell, and demanded a cup ofmilk-and-water. The next morning he went through theformalities of eating and drinking as usual, but a weekafterwards he was seized with a relapse, while perusingthe list of marriages in a morning paper, from which henever perfectly recovered.A few weeks after the last-named occurrence, the bodyof a gentleman unknown, was found in the Regent’s canal.In the trousers-pockets were four shillings andthreepence halfpenny; a matrimonial advertisement froma lady, which appeared to have been cut out of a Sundaypaper: a tooth-pick, and a card-case, which it is confidentlybelieved would have led to the identification ofthe unfortunate gentleman, but for the circumstance ofthere being none but blank cards in it. Mr. Watkins Tottleabsented himself from his lodgings shortly before. A bill,which has not been taken up, was presented next morning;and a bill, which has not been taken down, was soonafterwards affixed in his parlour-window.CHAPTER XITHE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENINGMR. NICODEMUS DUMPS, or, as his acquaintance calledhim, ‘long Dumps,’ was a bachelor, six feet high, andfifty years old: cross, cadaverous, odd, and ill-natured.He was never happy but when he was miserable; andalways miserable when he had the best reason to behappy. The only real comfort of his existence was to484

Charles Dickensmake everybody about him wretched—then he might doors that would not shut, musical amateurs, and omnibuscads. He subscribed to the ‘Society for the Sup-be truly said to enjoy life. He was afflicted with a situationin the Bank worth five hundred a-year, and he pression of Vice’ for the pleasure of putting a stop torented a ‘first-floor furnished,’ at Pentonville, which he any harmless amusements; and he contributed largelyoriginally took because it commanded a dismal prospectof an adjacent churchyard. He was familiar with in the amiable hope that if circumstances rendered anytowards the support of two itinerant methodist parsons,the face of every tombstone, and the burial service people happy in this world, they might perchance beseemed to excite his strongest sympathy. His friends rendered miserable by fears for the next.said he was surly—he insisted he was nervous; they Mr. Dumps had a nephew who had been married aboutthought him a lucky dog, but he protested that he was a year, and who was somewhat of a favourite with his‘the most unfortunate man in the world.’ Cold as he uncle, because he was an admirable subject to exercisewas, and wretched as he declared himself to be, he was his misery-creating powers upon. Mr. Charles Kitterbellnot wholly unsusceptible of attachments. He revered was a small, sharp, spare man, with a very large head,the memory of Hoyle, as he was himself an admirable and a broad, good-humoured countenance. He lookedand imperturbable whist-player, and he chuckled with like a faded giant, with the head and face partially restored;and he had a cast in his eye which rendered itdelight at a fretful and impatient adversary. He adoredKing Herod for his massacre of the innocents; and if he quite impossible for any one with whom he conversedhated one thing more than another, it was a child. However,he could hardly be said to hate anything in par-on the wall, and he was staring you out of countenance;to know where he was looking. His eyes appeared fixedticular, because he disliked everything in general; but in short, there was no catching his eye, and perhaps itperhaps his greatest antipathies were cabs, old women, is a merciful dispensation of Providence that such eyes485

Sketches by Bozare not catching. In addition to these characteristics, it which he was seated, keeping the other three up in themay be added that Mr. Charles Kitterbell was one of the air, and holding fast on by the desk.most credulous and matter-of-fact little personages that ‘I beg your pardon, uncle,’ said Kitterbell, quiteever took TO himself a wife, and FOR himself a house in abashed, suddenly releasing his hold of the desk, andGreat Russell-street, Bedford-square. (Uncle Dumps alwaysdropped the ‘Bedford-square,’ and inserted in lieu a force sufficient to drive them through it.bringing the three wandering legs back to the floor, withthereof the dreadful words ‘Tottenham-court-road.’) ‘But come, don’t refuse. If it’s a boy, you know, we‘No, but, uncle, ‘pon my life you must—you must must have two godfathers.’promise to be godfather,’ said Mr. Kitterbell, as he sat in ‘If it’s a boy!’ said Dumps; ‘why can’t you say at onceconversation with his respected relative one morning. whether it is a boy or not?’‘I cannot, indeed I cannot,’ returned Dumps.‘I should be very happy to tell you, but it’s impossible‘Well, but why not? Jemima will think it very unkind. I can undertake to say whether it’s a girl or a boy, if theIt’s very little trouble.’child isn’t born yet.’‘As to the trouble,’ rejoined the most unhappy man in ‘Not born yet!’ echoed Dumps, with a gleam of hopeexistence, ‘I don’t mind that; but my nerves are in that lighting up his lugubrious visage. ‘Oh, well, it may be astate—I cannot go through the ceremony. You know I girl, and then you won’t want me; or if it is a boy, itdon’t like going out.—For God’s sake, Charles, don’t may die before it is christened.’fidget with that stool so; you’ll drive me mad.’ Mr. ‘I hope not,’ said the father that expected to be, lookingvery grave.Kitterbell, quite regardless of his uncle’s nerves, hadoccupied himself for some ten minutes in describing a ‘I hope not,’ acquiesced Dumps, evidently pleased withcircle on the floor with one leg of the office-stool on the subject. He was beginning to get happy. ‘I hope486

Charles Dickensnot, but distressing cases frequently occur during the his hand as warmly as if he had done him some essentialservice. ‘Perhaps I had better not tell Mrs. K. whatfirst two or three days of a child’s life; fits, I am told,are exceedingly common, and alarming convulsions are you have mentioned.’almost matters of course.’‘Why, if she’s low-spirited, perhaps you had better‘Lord, uncle!’ ejaculated little Kitterbell, gasping for not mention the melancholy case to her,’ returned Dumps,breath.who of course had invented the whole story; ‘though‘Yes; my landlady was confined—let me see—last Tuesday:an uncommonly fine boy. On the Thursday night to prepare her for the worst.’perhaps it would be but doing your duty as a husbandthe nurse was sitting with him upon her knee before A day or two afterwards, as Dumps was perusing athe fire, and he was as well as possible. Suddenly he morning paper at the chop-house which he regularlybecame black in the face, and alarmingly spasmodic. frequented, the following-paragraph met his eyes:—The medical man was instantly sent for, and every remedywas tried, but—’‘Births.—On Saturday, the 18th inst., in Great Russellstreet,the lady of Charles Kitterbell, Esq., of a son.’‘How frightful!’ interrupted the horror-strickenKitterbell.‘The child died, of course. However, your child may ‘It is a boy!’ he exclaimed, dashing down the paper, tonot die; and if it should be a boy, and should live to be the astonishment of the waiters. ‘It is a boy!’ But hechristened, why I suppose I must be one of the sponsors.’Dumps was evidently good-natured on the faith of paragraph quoting the number of infant deaths fromspeedily regained his composure as his eye rested on ahis anticipations.the bills of mortality.‘Thank you, uncle,’ said his agitated nephew, grasping Six weeks passed away, and as no communication had487

Sketches by Bozbeen received from the Kitterbells, Dumps was beginningto flatter himself that the child was dead, when tion being rather awkwardly performed, some small par-has been vaccinated, but in consequence of the opera-the following note painfully resolved his doubts:— ticles of glass were introduced into the arm with thematter. Perhaps this may in some degree account for‘Great Russell-Street,his being rather fractious; at least, so nurse says. WeMonday Morning.propose to have him christened at twelve o’clock onFriday, at Saint George’s church, in Hart-street, by theDear Uncle,—You will be delighted to hear that my dear name of Frederick Charles William. Pray don’t be laterJemima has left her room, and that your future godson than a quarter before twelve. We shall have a very fewis getting on capitally. He was very thin at first, but he friends in the evening, when of course we shall see you.is getting much larger, and nurse says he is filling out I am sorry to say that the dear boy appears rather restlessand uneasy to-day: the cause, I fear, is fever.every day. He cries a good deal, and is a very singularcolour, which made Jemima and me rather uncomfortable;but as nurse says it’s natural, and as of course we‘Believe me, dear Uncle,know nothing about these things yet, we are quite satisfiedwith what nurse says. We think he will be a sharp‘Charles Kitterbell.‘Yours affectionately,child; and nurse says she’s sure he will, because he nevergoes to sleep. You will readily believe that we are all ‘P.S.—I open this note to say that we have just discoveredthe cause of little Frederick’s restlessness. It is notvery happy, only we’re a little worn out for want of rest,as he keeps us awake all night; but this we must expect,nurse says, for the first six or eight months. He accidentally stuck in his leg yesterday evening. We havefever, as I apprehended, but a small pin, which nurse488

Charles Dickenstaken it out, and he appears more composed, though of the oldest inhabitant;’ and Islington clerks, with largehe still sobs a good deal.’families and small salaries, left off their black gaiters,disdained to carry their once green cotton umbrellas,It is almost unnecessary to say that the perusal of and walked to town in the conscious pride of whitethe above interesting statement was no great relief to stockings and cleanly brushed Bluchers. Dumps beheldthe mind of the hypochondriacal Dumps. It was impossibleto recede, however, and so he put the best face— was at hand. He knew that if it had been fine for fourall this with an eye of supreme contempt—his triumphthat is to say, an uncommonly miserable one—upon weeks instead of four days, it would rain when he wentthe matter; and purchased a handsome silver mug for out; he was lugubriously happy in the conviction thatthe infant Kitterbell, upon which he ordered the initials‘F. C. W. K.,’ with the customary untrained grape-how it would be,’ said Dumps, as he turned round oppo-Friday would be a wretched day—and so it was. ‘I knewvine-looking flourishes, and a large full stop, to be engravedforthwith.the Friday morning. ‘I knew how it would be. I am consitethe Mansion-house at half-past eleven o’clock onMonday was a fine day, Tuesday was delightful, cerned, and that’s enough;’—and certainly the appearanceof the day was sufficient to depress the spirits of aWednesday was equal to either, and Thursday was finerthan ever; four successive fine days in London! Hackney-coachmenbecame revolutionary, and crossing-had rained, without a moment’s cessation, since eightmuch more buoyant-hearted individual than himself. Itsweepers began to doubt the existence of a First Cause. o’clock; everybody that passed up Cheapside, and downThe Morning Herald informed its readers that an old Cheapside, looked wet, cold, and dirty. All sorts of forgottenand long-concealed umbrellas had been put intowoman in Camden Town had been heard to say that thefineness of the season was ‘unprecedented in the memory requisition. Cabs whisked about, with the ‘fare’ as care-489

Sketches by Bozfully boxed up behind two glazed calico curtains as any pulling up his vehicle immediately across the door ofmysterious picture in any one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s castles; the opposition—’This vay, sir—he’s full.’ Dumps hesitated,whereupon the ‘Lads of the Village’ commencedomnibus horses smoked like steam-engines; nobodythought of ‘standing up’ under doorways or arches; they pouring out a torrent of abuse against the ‘Hark-away;’were painfully convinced it was a hopeless case; and so but the conductor of the ‘Admiral Napier’ settled theeverybody went hastily along, jumbling and jostling, contest in a most satisfactory manner, for all parties, byand swearing and perspiring, and slipping about, like seizing Dumps round the waist, and thrusting him intoamateur skaters behind wooden chairs on the Serpentineon a frosty Sunday.only wanted the sixteenth inside.the middle of his vehicle which had just come up andDumps paused; he could not think of walking, being ‘All right,’ said the ‘Admiral,’ and off the thing thundered,like a fire-engine at full gallop, with the kid-rather smart for the christening. If he took a cab he wassure to be spilt, and a hackney-coach was too expensive napped customer inside, standing in the position of afor his economical ideas. An omnibus was waiting at half doubled-up bootjack, and falling about with everythe opposite corner—it was a desperate case—he had jerk of the machine, first on the one side, and then onnever heard of an omnibus upsetting or running away, the other, like a ‘Jack-in-the-green,’ on May-day, settingto the lady with a brass ladle.and if the cad did knock him down, he could ‘pull himup’ in return.‘For Heaven’s sake, where am I to sit?’ inquired the‘Now, sir!’ cried the young gentleman who officiated miserable man of an old gentleman, into whose stomachhe had just fallen for the fourth time.as ‘cad’ to the ‘Lads of the Village,’ which was the nameof the machine just noticed. Dumps crossed.‘Anywhere but on my chest, sir,’ replied the old gentlemanin a surly tone.‘This vay, sir!’ shouted the driver of the ‘Hark-away,’490

Charles Dickens‘Perhaps the box would suit the gentleman better,’ suggesteda very damp lawyer’s clerk, in a pink shirt, and a plied the conductor; and he opened the door very wide,here door, sir, that it von’t shut without banging,’ re-smirking countenance.and shut it again with a terrific bang, in proof of theAfter a great deal of struggling and falling about, assertion.Dumps at last managed to squeeze himself into a seat, ‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ said a little prim, wheezing oldwhich, in addition to the slight disadvantage of being gentleman, sitting opposite Dumps, ‘I beg your pardon;between a window that would not shut, and a door that but have you ever observed, when you have been in anmust be open, placed him in close contact with a passenger,who had been walking about all the morning come in with large cotton umbrellas, without a handle atomnibus on a wet day, that four people out of five alwayswithout an umbrella, and who looked as if he had spent the top, or the brass spike at the bottom?’the day in a full water-butt—only wetter.‘Why, sir,’ returned Dumps, as he heard the clock strike‘Don’t bang the door so,’ said Dumps to the conductor, twelve, ‘it never struck me before; but now you mentionas he shut it after letting out four of the passengers; I it, I—Hollo! hollo!’ shouted the persecuted individual,am very nervous—it destroys me.’as the omnibus dashed past Drury-lane, where he had‘Did any gen’lm’n say anythink?’ replied the cad, directed to be set down.—’Where is the cad?’thrusting in his head, and trying to look as if he didn’t ‘I think he’s on the box, sir,’ said the young gentlemanbefore noticed in the pink shirt, which looked likeunderstand the request.‘I told you not to bang the door so!’ repeated Dumps, a white one ruled with red ink.with an expression of countenance like the knave of ‘I want to be set down!’ said Dumps in a faint voice,clubs, in convulsions.overcome by his previous efforts.‘Oh! vy, it’s rather a sing’ler circumstance about this ‘I think these cads want to be set down,’ returned the491

Sketches by Bozattorney’s clerk, chuckling at his sally.‘Hollo!’ said that respectable person, standing up on‘Hollo!’ cried Dumps again.the box, and leaning with one hand on the roof of the‘Hollo!’ echoed the passengers. The omnibus passed omnibus. ‘Hollo, Tom! tell the gentleman if so be as heSt. Giles’s church.feels aggrieved, we will take him up to the Edge-er‘Hold hard!’ said the conductor; ‘I’m blowed if we ha’n’t (Edgeware) Road for nothing, and set him down at Doorylanewhen we comes back. He can’t reject that, anyhow.’forgot the gen’lm’n as vas to be set down at Doorylane.—Now,sir, make haste, if you please,’ he added, The argument was irresistible: Dumps paid the disputedsixpence, and in a quarter of an hour was on theopening the door, and assisting Dumps out with as muchcoolness as if it was ‘all right.’ Dumps’s indignation was staircase of No. 14, Great Russell-street.for once getting the better of his cynical equanimity. Everything indicated that preparations were making‘Drury-lane!’ he gasped, with the voice of a boy in a for the reception of ‘a few friends’ in the evening. Twocold bath for the first time.dozen extra tumblers, and four ditto wine-glasses—lookinganything but transparent, with little bits of straw‘Doory-lane, sir?—yes, sir,—third turning on the righthandside, sir.’in them on the slab in the passage, just arrived. ThereDumps’s passion was paramount: he clutched his umbrella,and was striding off with the firm determination on the staircase; the covers were taken off the stair-was a great smell of nutmeg, port wine, and almonds,of not paying the fare. The cad, by a remarkable coincidence,happened to entertain a directly contrary opin-as if she were ashamed of the composition-candle incarpet, and the figure of Venus on the first landing lookedion, and Heaven knows how far the altercation would her right hand, which contrasted beautifully with thehave proceeded, if it had not been most ably and satisfactorilybrought to a close by the driver.servant (who looked very warm and bustling) usheredlamp-blacked drapery of the goddess of love. The female492

Charles DickensDumps into a front drawing-room, very prettily furnished,with a plentiful sprinkling of little baskets, paticularlywhite face—one of those young women whotall, thin young lady, with very light hair, and a parpertable-mats, china watchmen, pink and gold albums, almost invariably, though one hardly knows why, recalland rainbow-bound little books on the different tables. to one’s mind the idea of a cold fillet of veal. Out went‘Ah, uncle!’ said Mr. Kitterbell, ‘how d’ye do? Allow the servant, and in came the nurse, with a remarkablyme—Jemima, my dear—my uncle. I think you’ve seen small parcel in her arms, packed up in a blue mantleJemima before, sir?’trimmed with white fur.—This was the baby.‘Have had the pleasure,’ returned big Dumps, his tone ‘Now, uncle,’ said Mr. Kitterbell, lifting up that part ofand look making it doubtful whether in his life he had the mantle which covered the infant’s face, with an airever experienced the sensation.of great triumph, ‘Who do you think he’s like?’‘I’m sure,’ said Mrs. Kitterbell, with a languid smile, ‘He! he! Yes, who?’ said Mrs. K., putting her armand a slight cough. ‘I’m sure—hem—any friend—of through her husband’s, and looking up into Dumps’sCharles’s—hem—much less a relation, is—’face with an expression of as much interest as she was‘I knew you’d say so, my love,’ said little Kitterbell, capable of displaying.who, while he appeared to be gazing on the opposite ‘Good God, how small he is!’ cried the amiable uncle,houses, was looking at his wife with a most affectionateair: ‘Bless you!’ The last two words were accompa-small indeed.’starting back with well-feigned surprise; ‘Remarkablynied with a simper, and a squeeze of the hand, which ‘Do you think so?’ inquired poor little Kitterbell, ratherstirred up all Uncle Dumps’s bile.alarmed. ‘He’s a monster to what he was—ain’t he, nurse?’‘Jane, tell nurse to bring down baby,’ said Mrs. ‘He’s a dear,’ said the nurse, squeezing the child, andKitterbell, addressing the servant. Mrs. Kitterbell was a evading the question—not because she scrupled to dis-493

Sketches by Bozguise the fact, but because she couldn’t afford to throw ‘Well!’ said the disappointed little father, ‘you’ll beaway the chance of Dumps’s half-crown.better able to tell what he’s like by-and-by. You shall‘Well, but who is he like?’ inquired little Kitterbell. see him this evening with his mantle off.’Dumps looked at the little pink heap before him, and ‘Thank you,’ said Dumps, feeling particularly grateful.only thought at the moment of the best mode of mortifyingthe youthful parents.were off. We’re to meet the other godfather and the‘Now, my love,’ said Kitterbell to his wife, ‘it’s time we‘I really don’t know who he’s like,’ he answered, very godmother at the church, uncle,—Mr. and Mrs. Wilsonwell knowing the reply expected of him.from over the way—uncommonly nice people. My love,‘Don’t you think he’s like me?’ inquired his nephew are you well wrapped up?’with a knowing air.‘Yes, dear.’‘Oh, decidedly not!’ returned Dumps, with an emphasisnot to be misunderstood. ‘Decidedly not like you.— the anxious husband.‘Are you sure you won’t have another shawl?’ inquiredOh, certainly not.’‘No, sweet,’ returned the charming mother, accepting‘Like Jemima?’ asked Kitterbell, faintly.Dumps’s proffered arm; and the little party entered the‘Oh, dear no; not in the least. I’m no judge, of course, hackney-coach that was to take them to the church;in such cases; but I really think he’s more like one of Dumps amusing Mrs. Kitterbell by expatiating largely onthose little carved representations that one sometimes the danger of measles, thrush, teeth-cutting, and othersees blowing a trumpet on a tombstone!’ The nurse interesting diseases to which children are subject.stooped down over the child, and with great difficulty The ceremony (which occupied about five minutes)prevented an explosion of mirth. Pa and ma looked almostas miserable as their amiable uncle.clergyman had to dine some distance from town, andpassed off without anything particular occurring. The494

Charles Dickenshad two churchings, three christenings, and a funeral to causes of misery at every step. As he was crossing theperform in something less than an hour. The godfathers corner of Hatton-garden, a man apparently intoxicated,and godmother, therefore, promised to renounce the devil rushed against him, and would have knocked himand all his works—’and all that sort of thing’—as little down,he not been providentially caught by a very genteelyoung man, who happened to be close to him atKitterbell said—’in less than no time;’ and with the exceptionof Dumps nearly letting the child fall into the the time. The shock so disarranged Dumps’s nerves, asfont when he handed it to the clergyman, the whole affairwent off in the usual business-like and matter-ofmantook his arm, and in the kindest manner walkedwell as his dress, that he could hardly stand. The gentlecoursemanner, and Dumps re-entered the Bank-gates at with him as far as Furnival’s Inn. Dumps, for about thetwo o’clock with a heavy heart, and the painful convictionthat he was regularly booked for an evening party. the gentlemanly-looking young man parted with mu-first time in his life, felt grateful and polite; and he andEvening came—and so did Dumps’s pumps, black silk tual expressions of good will.stockings, and white cravat which he had ordered to be ‘There are at least some well-disposed men in theforwarded, per boy, from Pentonville. The depressed godfatherdressed himself at a friend’s counting-house, from ceeded towards his destination.world,’ ruminated the misanthropical Dumps, as he pro-whence, with his spirits fifty degrees below proof, he Rat—tat—ta-ra-ra-ra-ra-rat—knocked a hackneycoachmanat Kitterbell’s door, in imitation of asallied forth—as the weather had cleared up, and theevening was tolerably fine—to walk to Great Russellstreet.Slowly he paced up Cheapside, Newgate-street, came an old lady in a large toque, and an old gentlemangentleman’s servant, just as Dumps reached it; and outdown Snow-hill, and up Holborn ditto, looking as grim in a blue coat, and three female copies of the old ladyas the figure-head of a man-of-war, and finding out fresh in pink dresses, and shoes to match.495

Sketches by Boz‘It’s a large party,’ sighed the unhappy godfather, wipingthe perspiration from his forehead, and leaning against up in the back drawing-room, and the piano and the‘Oh, not above thirty-five. We’ve had the carpet takenthe area-railings. It was some time before the miserable card-tables are in the front. Jemima thought we’d betterhave a regular sit-down supper in the front parlour,man could muster up courage to knock at the door, andwhen he did, the smart appearance of a neighbouring because of the speechifying, and all that. But, Lord!greengrocer (who had been hired to wait for seven and uncle, what’s the matter?’ continued the excited littlesixpence, and whose calves alone were worth double the man, as Dumps stood with one shoe on, rummaging hismoney), the lamp in the passage, and the Venus on the pockets with the most frightful distortion of visage.landing, added to the hum of many voices, and the sound ‘What have you lost? Your pocket-book?’of a harp and two violins, painfully convinced him that ‘No,’ returned Dumps, diving first into one pocket andhis surmises were but too well founded.then into the other, and speaking in a voice like‘How are you?’ said little Kitterbell, in a greater bustle Desdemona with the pillow over her mouth.than ever, bolting out of the little back parlour with a ‘Your card-case? snuff-box? the key of your lodgings?’cork-screw in his hand, and various particles of sawdust, continued Kitterbell, pouring question on question withlooking like so many inverted commas, on his the rapidity of lightning.inexpressibles.‘No! no!’ ejaculated Dumps, still diving eagerly into‘Good God!’ said Dumps, turning into the aforesaid his empty pockets.parlour to put his shoes on, which he had brought in ‘Not—not—the mug you spoke of this morning?’his coat-pocket, and still more appalled by the sight of ‘Yes, the mug!’ replied Dumps, sinking into a chair.seven fresh-drawn corks, and a corresponding number ‘How could you have done it?’ inquired Kitterbell. ‘Areof decanters. ‘How many people are there up-stairs?’ you sure you brought it out?’496

Charles Dickens‘Yes! yes! I see it all!’ said Dumps, starting up as the lead you to the other end of the room, to introduce youidea flashed across his mind; ‘miserable dog that I am— to my friend Danton. Such a splendid fellow!—I’m sureI was born to suffer. I see it all: it was the gentlemanlylookingyoung man!’bly as a tame bear.you’ll like him—this way,’—Dumps followed as tracta-‘Mr. Dumps!’ shouted the greengrocer in a stentorian Mr. Danton was a young man of about five-and-twenty,voice, as he ushered the somewhat recovered godfather with a considerable stock of impudence, and a very smallinto the drawing-room half an hour after the above declaration.‘Mr. Dumps!’—everybody looked at the door, young ladies of from sixteen to twenty-six years of age,share of ideas: he was a great favourite, especially withand in came Dumps, feeling about as much out of place both inclusive. He could imitate the French-horn to admiration,sang comic songs most inimitably, and had theas a salmon might be supposed to be on a gravel-walk.‘Happy to see you again,’ said Mrs. Kitterbell, quite most insinuating way of saying impertinent nothings tounconscious of the unfortunate man’s confusion and his doting female admirers. He had acquired, somehow ormisery; ‘you must allow me to introduce you to a few of other, the reputation of being a great wit, and, accordingly,whenever he opened his mouth, everybody whoour friends:- my mamma, Mr. Dumps—my papa and sisters.’Dumps seized the hand of the mother as warmly as knew him laughed very heartily.if she was his own parent, bowed to the young ladies, The introduction took place in due form. Mr. Dantonand against a gentleman behind him, and took no noticewhatever of the father, who had been bowing in-in his hand, in a most comic way. Everybody smiled.bowed, and twirled a lady’s handkerchief, which he heldcessantly for three minutes and a quarter.‘Very warm,’ said Dumps, feeling it necessary to say‘Uncle,’ said little Kitterbell, after Dumps had been something.introduced to a select dozen or two, ‘you must let me ‘Yes. It was warmer yesterday,’ returned the brilliant497

Sketches by BozMr. Danton. —A general laugh.‘Never, in my life,’ returned her admirer, pulling up‘I have great pleasure in congratulating you on your his collar.first appearance in the character of a father, sir,’ he continued,addressing Dumps—’godfather, I mean.’—The lady. ‘The love!’‘Oh! do let me take it, nurse,’ cried another youngyoung ladies were convulsed, and the gentlemen in ecstasiesfectingthe utmost innocence.—Suffice it to say, that‘Can it open its eyes, nurse?’ inquired another, af-A general hum of admiration interrupted the conversation,and announced the entrance of nurse with the that the married ones, Nem. Con., agreed that he wasthe single ladies unanimously voted him an angel, andbaby. An universal rush of the young ladies immediatelytook place. (Girls are always so fond of babies in cept their own.decidedly the finest baby they had ever beheld—ex-company.)The quadrilles were resumed with great spirit. Mr.‘Oh, you dear!’ said one.Danton was universally admitted to be beyond himself;‘How sweet!’ cried another, in a low tone of the most several young ladies enchanted the company and gainedenthusiastic admiration.admirers by singing ‘We met’—’I saw her at the Fancy‘Heavenly!’ added a third.Fair’—and other equally sentimental and interesting ballads.‘The young men,’ as Mrs. Kitterbell said, ‘made them-‘Oh! what dear little arms!’ said a fourth, holding upan arm and fist about the size and shape of the leg of a selves very agreeable;’ the girls did not lose their opportunity;and the evening promised to go off excellently.fowl cleanly picked.‘Did you ever!’—said a little coquette with a large Dumps didn’t mind it: he had devised a plan for himself—alittle bit of fun in his own way—and he was al-bustle, who looked like a French lithograph, appealingto a gentleman in three waistcoats—’Did you ever!’ most happy! He played a rubber and lost every point Mr.498

Charles DickensDanton said he could not have lost every point, because the clean plates did not come: and then the gentlemenhe made a point of losing: everybody laughed tremendously.Dumps retorted with a better joke, and nobody take a lady’s; and then Mrs. Kitterbell applauded theirwho wanted the plates said they didn’t mind, they’dsmiled, with the exception of the host, who seemed to gallantry, and the greengrocer ran about till he thoughtconsider it his duty to laugh till he was black in the face, his seven and sixpence was very hardly earned; and theat everything. There was only one drawback—the musiciansdid not play with quite as much spirit as could romantic, and the married ladies eat as much as pos-young ladies didn’t eat much for fear it shouldn’t lookhave been wished. The cause, however, was satisfactorily sible, for fear they shouldn’t have enough; and a greatexplained; for it appeared, on the testimony of a gentlemanwho had come up from Gravesend in the afternoon, laughed considerably.deal of wine was drunk, and everybody talked andthat they had been engaged on board a steamer all day, ‘Hush! hush!’ said Mr. Kitterbell, rising and lookingand had played almost without cessation all the way to very important. ‘My love (this was addressed to his wifeGravesend, and all the way back again.at the other end of the table), take care of Mrs. Maxwell,and your mamma, and the rest of the married la-The ‘sit-down supper’ was excellent; there were fourbarley-sugar temples on the table, which would have dies; the gentlemen will persuade the young ladies tolooked beautiful if they had not melted away when the fill their glasses, I am sure.’supper began; and a water-mill, whose only fault was ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said long Dumps, in a very sepulchralvoice and rueful accent, rising from his chair likethat instead of going round, it ran over the table-cloth.Then there were fowls, and tongue, and trifle, and sweets, the ghost in Don Juan, ‘will you have the kindness toand lobster salad, and potted beef—and everything. And charge your glasses? I am desirous of proposing a toast.’little Kitterbell kept calling out for clean plates, and A dead silence ensued, and the glasses were filled—499

Sketches by Bozeverybody looked serious.suppose that our friends here, whose sincere well-wisherswe all are, can pass through life without some trials,‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ slowly continued the ominousDumps, ‘I’—(here Mr. Danton imitated two notes from considerable suffering, severe affliction, and heavythe French-horn, in a very loud key, which electrified losses!’—Here the arch-traitor paused, and slowly drewthe nervous toast-proposer, and convulsed his audience). forth a long, white pocket-handkerchief—his example‘Order! order!’ said little Kitterbell, endeavouring to was followed by several ladies. ‘That these trials may besuppress his laughter.long spared them is my most earnest prayer, my most‘Order!’ said the gentlemen.fervent wish (a distinct sob from the grandmother). I‘Danton, be quiet,’ said a particular friend on the oppositeside of the table.whose christening we have this evening met to celebrate,hope and trust, ladies and gentlemen, that the infant‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ resumed Dumps, somewhat recovered,and not much disconcerted, for he was always premature decay (several cambrics were in requisition):may not be removed from the arms of his parents bya pretty good hand at a speech— ‘In accordance with that his young and now apparently healthy form, maywhat is, I believe, the established usage on these occasions,I, as one of the godfathers of Master Frederick sardonic glance around, for a great sensation was mani-not be wasted by lingering disease. (Here Dumps cast aCharles William Kitterbell—(here the speaker’s voice faltered,for he remembered the mug)—venture to rise to cur with me in wishing that he may live to be a comfortfest among the married ladies.) You, I am sure, will con-propose a toast. I need hardly say that it is the health and a blessing to his parents. (“Hear, hear!” and anand prosperity of that young gentleman, the particular audible sob from Mr. Kitterbell.) But should he not beevent of whose early life we are here met to celebrate— what we could wish—should he forget in after times(applause). Ladies and gentlemen, it is impossible to the duty which he owes to them—should they unhap-500

Charles Dickenspily experience that distracting truth, “how sharper than such strong evidence of untruth, that it has never obtainedcredence to this hour.a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child”’—HereMrs. Kitterbell, with her handkerchief to her eyes, and The family of Mr. Kitterbell has considerably increasedaccompanied by several ladies, rushed from the room, since the period to which we have referred; he has nowand went into violent hysterics in the passage, leaving two sons and a daughter; and as he expects, at no distantperiod, to have another addition to his bloomingher better half in almost as bad a condition, and a generalimpression in Dumps’s favour; for people like sentiment,after all.for the occasion. He is determined, however, to imposeprogeny, he is anxious to secure an eligible godfatherIt need hardly be added, that this occurrence quite upon him two conditions. He must bind himself, by aput a stop to the harmony of the evening. Vinegar, hartshorn,and cold water, were now as much in request as per; and it is indispensable that he should be in no waysolemn obligation, not to make any speech after sup-negus, rout-cakes, and bon-bons had been a short time connected with ‘the most miserable man in the world.’before. Mrs. Kitterbell was immediately conveyed to herapartment, the musicians were silenced, flirting ceased,CHAPTER XIIand the company slowly departed. Dumps left the houseTHE DRUNKARD’S DEATHat the commencement of the bustle, and walked homewith a light step, and (for him) a cheerful heart. His WE WILL BE BOLD to say, that there is scarcely a man inlandlady, who slept in the next room, has offered to the constant habit of walking, day after day, throughmake oath that she heard him laugh, in his peculiar any of the crowded thoroughfares of London, who cannotrecollect among the people whom he ‘knows by sight,’manner, after he had locked his door. The assertion,however, is so improbable, and bears on the face of it to use a familiar phrase, some being of abject and501

Sketches by Bozwretched appearance whom he remembers to have seen cause—drunkenness—that fierce rage for the slow, surein a very different condition, whom he has observed poison, that oversteps every other consideration; thatsinking lower and lower, by almost imperceptible degrees,and the shabbiness and utter destitution of whose tion; and hurries its victims madly on to degradationcasts aside wife, children, friends, happiness, and sta-appearance, at last, strike forcibly and painfully upon and death.him, as he passes by. Is there any man who has mixed Some of these men have been impelled, by misfortuneand misery, to the vice that has degraded them.much with society, or whose avocations have causedhim to mingle, at one time or other, with a great numberof people, who cannot call to mind the time when they loved, the sorrow that slowly consumes, but willThe ruin of worldly expectations, the death of thosesome shabby, miserable wretch, in rags and filth, who not break the heart, has driven them wild; and theyshuffles past him now in all the squalor of disease and present the hideous spectacle of madmen, slowly dyingpoverty, with a respectable tradesman, or clerk, or a by their own hands. But by far the greater part haveman following some thriving pursuit, with good prospects,and decent means?—or cannot any of our read-which the man who once enters it never rises more, butwilfully, and with open eyes, plunged into the gulf fromers call to mind from among the list of their quondam into which he sinks deeper and deeper down, until recoveryis hopeless.acquaintance, some fallen and degraded man, who lingersabout the pavement in hungry misery—from whom Such a man as this once stood by the bedside of hisevery one turns coldly away, and who preserves himself dying wife, while his children knelt around, and mingledfrom sheer starvation, nobody knows how? Alas! such loud bursts of grief with their innocent prayers. Thecases are of too frequent occurrence to be rare items in room was scantily and meanly furnished; and it neededany man’s experience; and but too often arise from one but a glance at the pale form from which the light of502

Charles Dickenslife was fast passing away, to know that grief, and want, would beat the knell of a departed spirit.and anxious care, had been busy at the heart for many It is a dreadful thing to wait and watch for the approachof death; to know that hope is gone, and recov-a weary year. An elderly woman, with her face bathedin tears, was supporting the head of the dying woman— ery impossible; and to sit and count the dreary hoursher daughter—on her arm. But it was not towards her through long, long nights—such nights as only watchersby the bed of sickness know. It chills the blood tothat the was face turned; it was not her hand that thecold and trembling fingers clasped; they pressed the hear the dearest secrets of the heart—the pent-up, hiddensecrets of many years—poured forth by the uncon-husband’s arm; the eyes so soon to be closed in deathrested on his face, and the man shook beneath their scious, helpless being before you; and to think how littlegaze. His dress was slovenly and disordered, his face the reserve and cunning of a whole life will avail, wheninflamed, his eyes bloodshot and heavy. He had been fever and delirium tear off the mask at last. Strangesummoned from some wild debauch to the bed of sorrowand death.tales so full of guilt and crime, that those who stood bytales have been told in the wanderings of dying men;A shaded lamp by the bed-side cast a dim light on the the sick person’s couch have fled in horror and affright,figures around, and left the remainder of the room in lest they should be scared to madness by what theythick, deep shadow. The silence of night prevailed withoutthe house, and the stillness of death was in the chamingof deeds the very name of which has driven theheard and saw; and many a wretch has died alone, ravber.A watch hung over the mantel-shelf; its low ticking boldest man away.was the only sound that broke the profound quiet, but it But no such ravings were to be heard at the bed-sidewas a solemn one, for well they knew, who heard it, that by which the children knelt. Their half-stifled sobs andbefore it had recorded the passing of another hour, it moaning alone broke the silence of the lonely chamber.503

Sketches by BozAnd when at last the mother’s grasp relaxed, and, turningone look from the children to the father, she vainly monest acquaintance even, had fallen off from and de-were they now? One by one, friends, relations, the com-strove to speak, and fell backward on the pillow, all was serted the drunkard. His wife alone had clung to him inso calm and tranquil that she seemed to sink to sleep. good and evil, in sickness and poverty, and how had heThey leant over her; they called upon her name, softly rewarded her? He had reeled from the tavern to her bedsidein time to see her die.at first, and then in the loud and piercing tones of desperation.But there was no reply. They listened for her He rushed from the house, and walked swiftly throughbreath, but no sound came. They felt for the palpitationof the heart, but no faint throb responded to the mind. Stupefied with drink, and bewildered with thethe streets. Remorse, fear, shame, all crowded on histouch. That heart was broken, and she was dead! scene he had just witnessed, he re-entered the tavernThe husband sunk into a chair by the bed-side, and he had quitted shortly before. Glass succeeded glass.clasped his hands upon his burning forehead. He gazed His blood mounted, and his brain whirled round. Death!from child to child, but when a weeping eye met his, he Every one must die, and why not she? She was too goodquailed beneath its look. No word of comfort was whisperedin his ear, no look of kindness lighted on his face. them! Had they not deserted her, and left her to whinefor him; her relations had often told him so. Curses onAll shrunk from and avoided him; and when at last he away the time at home? Well—she was dead, and happystaggered from the room, no one sought to follow or perhaps. It was better as it was. Another glass—oneconsole the widower.more! Hurrah! It was a merry life while it lasted; and heThe time had been when many a friend would have would make the most of it.crowded round him in his affliction, and many a heartfeltcondolence would have met him in his grief. Where him, grew up, and were children no longer. The fatherTime went on; the three children who were left to504

Charles Dickensremained the same—poorer, shabbier, and more dissolute-looking,but the same confirmed and irreclaimable which form a portion of Whitefriars: it was to one ofthe water-side, are several mean and narrow courts,drunkard. The boys had, long ago, run wild in the streets, these that he directed his steps.and left him; the girl alone remained, but she worked The alley into which he turned, might, for filth andhard, and words or blows could always procure him somethingfor the tavern. So he went on in the old course, ancient sanctuary in its dirtiest and most lawless time.misery, have competed with the darkest corner of thisand a merry life he led.The houses, varying from two stories in height to four,One night, as early as ten o’clock—for the girl had were stained with every indescribable hue that long exposureto the weather, damp, and rottenness can impartbeen sick for many days, and there was, consequently,little to spend at the public-house—he bent his steps to tenements composed originally of the roughest andhomeward, bethinking himself that if he would have coarsest materials. The windows were patched with paper,and stuffed with the foulest rags; the doors wereher able to earn money, it would be as well to apply tothe parish surgeon, or, at all events, to take the trouble falling from their hinges; poles with lines on which toof inquiring what ailed her, which he had not yet thought dry clothes, projected from every casement, and soundsit worth while to do. It was a wet December night; the of quarrelling or drunkenness issued from every room.wind blew piercing cold, and the rain poured heavily The solitary oil lamp in the centre of the court haddown. He begged a few halfpence from a passer-by, and been blown out, either by the violence of the wind orhaving bought a small loaf (for it was his interest to the act of some inhabitant who had excellent reasonskeep the girl alive, if he could), he shuffled onwards as for objecting to his residence being rendered too conspicuous;and the only light which fell upon the brokenfast as the wind and rain would let him.At the back of Fleet-street, and lying between it and and uneven pavement, was derived from the miserable505

Sketches by Bozcandles that here and there twinkled in the rooms of ‘Is that you, father?’ said the girl.such of the more fortunate residents as could afford to ‘Who else should it be?’ replied the man gruffly. ‘Whatindulge in so expensive a luxury. A gutter ran down the are you trembling at? It’s little enough that I’ve had tocentre of the alley—all the sluggish odours of which drink to-day, for there’s no drink without money, andhad been called forth by the rain; and as the wind no money without work. What the devil’s the matterwhistled through the old houses, the doors and shutterscreaked upon their hinges, and the windows shook ‘I am not well, father—not at all well,’ said the girl,with the girl?’in their frames, with a violence which every moment bursting into tears.seemed to threaten the destruction of the whole place. ‘Ah!’ replied the man, in the tone of a person who isThe man whom we have followed into this den, walked compelled to admit a very unpleasant fact, to which heon in the darkness, sometimes stumbling into the main would rather remain blind, if he could. ‘You must getgutter, and at others into some branch repositories of better somehow, for we must have money. You must gogarbage which had been formed by the rain, until he to the parish doctor, and make him give you some medicine.They’re paid for it, damn ‘em. What are you stand-reached the last house in the court. The door, or ratherwhat was left of it, stood ajar, for the convenience of ing before the door for? Let me come in, can’t you?’the numerous lodgers; and he proceeded to grope his ‘Father,’ whispered the girl, shutting the door behindway up the old and broken stair, to the attic story. her, and placing herself before it, ‘William has come back.’He was within a step or two of his room door, when it ‘Who!’ said the man with a start.opened, and a girl, whose miserable and emaciated appearancewas only to be equalled by that of the candle ‘And what does he want?’ said the man, with an effort‘Hush,’ replied the girl, ‘William; brother William.’which she shaded with her hand, peeped anxiously out. at composure— ‘money? meat? drink? He’s come to the506

Charles Dickenswrong shop for that, if he does. Give me the candle—give ‘Yes, I do,’ replied the son. ‘Does it surprise you, father?’He looked steadily in the man’s face, but he with-me the candle, fool—I ain’t going to hurt him.’ He snatchedthe candle from her hand, and walked into the room. drew his eyes, and bent them on the ground.Sitting on an old box, with his head resting on his hand, ‘Where’s your brothers?’ he said, after a long pause.and his eyes fixed on a wretched cinder fire that was smoulderingon the hearth, was a young man of about two-and-‘John’s gone to America, and Henry’s dead.’‘Where they’ll never trouble you,’ replied his son:twenty, miserably clad in an old coarse jacket and trousers. ‘Dead!’ said the father, with a shudder, which even heHe started up when his father entered.could not express.‘Fasten the door, Mary,’ said the young man hastily— ‘Dead,’ replied the young man. ‘He died in my arms—’Fasten the door. You look as if you didn’t know me, shot like a dog, by a gamekeeper. He staggered back, Ifather. It’s long enough, since you drove me from home; caught him, and his blood trickled down my hands. Ityou may well forget me.’poured out from his side like water. He was weak, and it‘And what do you want here, now?’ said the father, blinded him, but he threw himself down on his knees,seating himself on a stool, on the other side of the on the grass, and prayed to God, that if his mother wasfireplace. ‘What do you want here, now?’in heaven, He would hear her prayers for pardon for her‘Shelter,’ replied the son. ‘I’m in trouble: that’s enough. youngest son. “I was her favourite boy, Will,” he said,If I’m caught I shall swing; that’s certain. Caught I shall “and I am glad to think, now, that when she was dying,be, unless I stop here; that’s as certain. And there’s an though I was a very young child then, and my littleend of it.’heart was almost bursting, I knelt down at the foot of‘You mean to say, you’ve been robbing, or murdering, the bed, and thanked God for having made me so fondthen?’ said the father.of her as to have never once done anything to bring the507

Sketches by Boztears into her eyes. O Will, why was she taken away, and sixpence by holding a horse; and he turned homewardsfather left?” There’s his dying words, father,’ said the with enough money to supply their most pressing wantsyoung man; ‘make the best you can of ‘em. You struck for two or three days to come. He had to pass thehim across the face, in a drunken fit, the morning we public-house. He lingered for an instant, walked pastran away; and here’s the end of it.’it, turned back again, lingered once more, and finallyThe girl wept aloud; and the father, sinking his head slunk in. Two men whom he had not observed, wereupon his knees, rocked himself to and fro.on the watch. They were on the point of giving up‘If I am taken,’ said the young man, ‘I shall be carried their search in despair, when his loitering attractedback into the country, and hung for that man’s murder. their attention; and when he entered the public-house,They cannot trace me here, without your assistance, they followed him.father. For aught I know, you may give me up to justice; ‘You’ll drink with me, master,’ said one of them, profferinghim a glass of liquor.but unless you do, here I stop, until I can venture toescape abroad.’‘And me too,’ said the other, replenishing the glass asFor two whole days, all three remained in the wretched soon as it was drained of its contents.room, without stirring out. On the third evening, however, The man thought of his hungry children, and his son’sthe girl was worse than she had been yet, and the few danger. But they were nothing to the drunkard. He didscraps of food they had were gone. It was indispensably drink; and his reason left him.necessary that somebody should go out; and as the girl was ‘A wet night, Warden,’ whispered one of the men intoo weak and ill, the father went, just at nightfall. his ear, as he at length turned to go away, after spendingin liquor one-half of the money on which, perhaps,He got some medicine for the girl, and a trifle in theway of pecuniary assistance. On his way back, he earned his daughter’s life depended.508

Charles Dickens‘The right sort of night for our friends in hiding, MasterWarden,’ whispered the other.yielded up his own son into the hangman’s hands.in five minutes more, the father had unconsciously‘Sit down here,’ said the one who had spoken first, drawinghim into a corner. ‘We have been looking arter the brother and sister, in their miserable hiding-place, lis-Slowly and heavily the time dragged along, as theyoung un. We came to tell him, it’s all right now, but we tened in anxious suspense to the slightest sound. Atcouldn’t find him ‘cause we hadn’t got the precise direction.But that ain’t strange, for I don’t think he know’d it approached nearer; it reached the landing; and the fa-length, a heavy footstep was heard upon the stair; ithimself, when he come to London, did he?’ther staggered into the room.‘No, he didn’t,’ replied the father.The girl saw that he was intoxicated, and advancedThe two men exchanged glances.with the candle in her hand to meet him; she stopped‘There’s a vessel down at the docks, to sail at midnight,when it’s high water,’ resumed the first speaker, ground. She had caught sight of the shadow of a manshort, gave a loud scream, and fell senseless on the‘and we’ll put him on board. His passage is taken in reflected on the floor. They both rushed in, and in anotherinstant the young man was a prisoner, and hand-another name, and what’s better than that, it’s paid for.It’s lucky we met you.’cuffed.‘Very,’ said the second.‘Very quietly done,’ said one of the men to his companion,‘thanks to the old man. Lift up the girl, Tom—‘Capital luck,’ said the first, with a wink to his companion.come, come, it’s no use crying, young woman. It’s all‘Great,’ replied the second, with a slight nod of intelligence.The young man stooped for an instant over the girl,over now, and can’t be helped.’‘Another glass here; quick’—said the first speaker. And and then turned fiercely round upon his father, who509

Sketches by Bozhad reeled against the wall, and was gazing on the group signs of any one, save himself, having occupied the roomwith drunken stupidity.during the night. He inquired of the other lodgers, and‘Listen to me, father,’ he said, in a tone that made the of the neighbours; but his daughter had not been seendrunkard’s flesh creep. ‘My brother’s blood, and mine, is or heard of. He rambled through the streets, and scrutinisedeach wretched face among the crowds thaton your head: I never had kind look, or word, or care,from you, and alive or dead, I never will forgive you. thronged them, with anxious eyes. But his search wasDie when you will, or how, I will be with you. I speak as fruitless, and he returned to his garret when night camea dead man now, and I warn you, father, that as surely on, desolate and weary.as you must one day stand before your Maker, so surely For many days he occupied himself in the same manner,but no trace of his daughter did he meet with, andshall your children be there, hand in hand, to cry forjudgment against you.’ He raised his manacled hands in no word of her reached his ears. At length he gave up thea threatening attitude, fixed his eyes on his shrinking pursuit as hopeless. He had long thought of the probabilityof her leaving him, and endeavouring to gain herparent, and slowly left the room; and neither father norsister ever beheld him more, on this side of the grave. bread in quiet, elsewhere. She had left him at last toWhen the dim and misty light of a winter’s morning starve alone. He ground his teeth, and cursed her!penetrated into the narrow court, and struggled through He begged his bread from door to door. Every halfpennythe begrimed window of the wretched room, Warden he could wring from the pity or credulity of those toawoke from his heavy sleep, and found himself alone. whom he addressed himself, was spent in the old way. AHe rose, and looked round him; the old flock mattress year passed over his head; the roof of a jail was the onlyon the floor was undisturbed; everything was just as he one that had sheltered him for many months. He sleptremembered to have seen it last: and there were no under archways, and in brickfields—anywhere, where510

Charles Dickensthere was some warmth or shelter from the cold and He rose, and dragged his feeble limbs a few paces further.The street was silent and empty; the few passengersrain. But in the last stage of poverty, disease, andhouseless want, he was a drunkard still.who passed by, at that late hour, hurried quickly on, andAt last, one bitter night, he sunk down on a doorstepfaint and ill. The premature decay of vice and prof-Again that heavy chill struck through his frame, and hishis tremulous voice was lost in the violence of the storm.ligacy had worn him to the bone. His cheeks were hollowand livid; his eyes were sunken, and their sight was in a projecting doorway, and tried to sleep.blood seemed to stagnate beneath it. He coiled himself updim. His legs trembled beneath his weight, and a cold But sleep had fled from his dull and glazed eyes. Hisshiver ran through every limb.mind wandered strangely, but he was awake, and conscious.The well-known shout of drunken mirth soundedAnd now the long-forgotten scenes of a misspent lifecrowded thick and fast upon him. He thought of the in his ear, the glass was at his lips, the board was coveredwith choice rich food—they were before him: hetime when he had a home—a happy, cheerful home—and of those who peopled it, and flocked about him then, could see them all, he had but to reach out his hand,until the forms of his elder children seemed to rise from and take them—and, though the illusion was realitythe grave, and stand about him—so plain, so clear, and itself, he knew that he was sitting alone in the desertedso distinct they were that he could touch and feel them. street, watching the rain-drops as they pattered on theLooks that he had long forgotten were fixed upon him stones; that death was coming upon him by inches—once more; voices long since hushed in death sounded in and that there were none to care for or help him.his ears like the music of village bells. But it was only for Suddenly he started up, in the extremity of terror. Hean instant. The rain beat heavily upon him; and cold and had heard his own voice shouting in the night air, hehunger were gnawing at his heart again.knew not what, or why. Hark! A groan!—another! His511

Sketches by Bozsenses were leaving him: half-formed and incoherent eagerly as did that of the wretched man at the prospectwords burst from his lips; and his hands sought to tear of death. The watch passed close to him, but he remainedunobserved; and after waiting till the sound ofand lacerate his flesh. He was going mad, and he shriekedfor help till his voice failed him.footsteps had died away in the distance, he cautiouslyHe raised his head, and looked up the long dismal descended, and stood beneath the gloomy arch thatstreet. He recollected that outcasts like himself, condemnedto wander day and night in those dreadful The tide was in, and the water flowed at his feet. Theforms the landing-place from the river.streets, had sometimes gone distracted with their own rain had ceased, the wind was lulled, and all was, for theloneliness. He remembered to have heard many years moment, still and quiet—so quiet, that the slightestbefore that a homeless wretch had once been found in a sound on the opposite bank, even the rippling of thesolitary corner, sharpening a rusty knife to plunge into water against the barges that were moored there, washis own heart, preferring death to that endless, weary, distinctly audible to his ear. The stream stole languidlywandering to and fro. In an instant his resolve was taken, and sluggishly on. Strange and fantastic forms rose tohis limbs received new life; he ran quickly from the the surface, and beckoned him to approach; dark gleamingeyes peered from the water, and seemed to mock hisspot, and paused not for breath until he reached theriver-side.hesitation, while hollow murmurs from behind, urged himHe crept softly down the steep stone stairs that lead onwards. He retreated a few paces, took a short run, desperateleap, and plunged into the river.from the commencement of Waterloo Bridge, down tothe water’s level. He crouched into a corner, and held Not five seconds had passed when he rose to the water’shis breath, as the patrol passed. Never did prisoner’s surface—but what a change had taken place in thatheart throb with the hope of liberty and life half so short time, in all his thoughts and feelings! Life—life512

Charles Dickensin any form, poverty, misery, starvation—anything but FAMILIAR EPISTLE FROM A PARENT TO A CHILDdeath. He fought and struggled with the water that AGED TWO YEARS AND TWO MONTHSclosed over his head, and screamed in agonies of terror.The curse of his own son rang in his ears. The shore— My Child,but one foot of dry ground—he could almost touch thestep. One hand’s breadth nearer, and he was saved—but TO RECOUNT WITH WHAT TROUBLE I have brought you up—the tide bore him onward, under the dark arches of the with what an anxious eye I have regarded yourbridge, and he sank to the bottom.progress,—how late and how often I have sat up atAgain he rose, and struggled for life. For one instant— night working for you,—and how many thousand lettersI have received from, and written to your variousfor one brief instant—the buildings on the river’s banks,the lights on the bridge through which the current had relations and friends, many of whom have been of aborne him, the black water, and the fast-flying clouds, querulous and irritable turn,—to dwell on the anxietywere distinctly visible—once more he sunk, and once and tenderness with which I have (as far as I possessedagain he rose. Bright flames of fire shot up from earth to the power) inspected and chosen your food; rejectingheaven, and reeled before his eyes, while the water thunderedin his ears, and stunned him with its furious roar. cious but well-meaning old ladies would have had youthe indigestible and heavy matter which some injudi-A week afterwards the body was washed ashore, some swallow, and retaining only those light and pleasantmiles down the river, a swollen and disfigured mass. articles which I deemed calculated to keep you free fromUnrecognised and unpitied, it was borne to the grave; all gross humours, and to render you an agreeable child,and there it has long since mouldered away!and one who might be popular with society in general,—todilate on the steadiness with which I have513

Sketches by Bozprevented your annoying any company by talking politics—alwaysassuring you that you would thank me for (or railwayman) who shall attempt to stop the horses,derbuss beside him, ready to shoot the first highwaymanit yourself some day when you grew older,—to expatiate,in short, upon my own assiduity as a parent, is a portable stable invented for the purpose,—he dis-which now travel (when they travel at all) inside and inbeside my present purpose, though I cannot but contemplateyour fair appearance—your robust health, and ing mournfully about him as if in dismal recollection ofmounted, I say, slowly and sadly, from his post, and look-unimpeded circulation (which I take to be the great the old roadside public-house the blazing fire—the glasssecret of your good looks) without the liveliest satisfactionand delight.ers-on of tap-room and stable, all honoured by his no-of foaming ale—the buxom handmaid and admiring hang-It is a trite observation, and one which, young as you tice; and, retiring a little apart, stood leaning against aare, I have no doubt you have often heard repeated, that signal-post, surveying the engine with a look of combinedaffliction and disgust which no words can describe.we have fallen upon strange times, and live in days ofconstant shiftings and changes. I had a melancholy instanceof this only a week or two since. I was returning noble smoke; flakes of soot had fallen on his bright greenHis scarlet coat and golden lace were tarnished with ig-from Manchester to London by the Mail Train, when I shawl—his pride in days of yore—the steam condensedsuddenly fell into another train—a mixed train—of reflection,occasioned by the dejected and disconsolate upon his hat like rain. His eye betokened that he wasin the tunnel from which we had just emerged, shonedemeanour of the Post-Office Guard. We were stopping at thinking of the coachman; and as it wandered to his ownsome station where they take in water, when he dismountedslowly from the little box in which he sits in that he felt his office and himself had alike no businessseat and his own fast-fading garb, it was plain to seeghastly mockery of his old condition with pistol and blun-there, and were nothing but an elaborate practical joke.514

Charles DickensAs we whirled away, I was led insensibly into an anticipationof those days to come, when mail-coach guards brief instant, while, with hat in hand, I approach sideof the train on its new and auspicious course for oneshall no longer be judges of horse-flesh—when a mailcoachguard shall never even have seen a horse—when old road, and presume to solicit favour and kindness inby side with the friend who travelled with me on thestations shall have superseded stables, and corn shall behalf of him and his new charge, both for their sakeshave given place to coke. ‘In those dawning times,’ and that of the old coachman,thought I, ‘exhibition-rooms shall teem with portraitsof Her Majesty’s favourite engine, with boilers after Natureby future Landseers. Some Amburgh, yet unborn,Boz.shall break wild horses by his magic power; and in thedress of a mail-coach guard exhibit his trained animalsin a mock mail-coach. Then, shall wondering crowdsobserve how that, with the exception of his whip, it isall his eye; and crowned heads shall see them fed onoats, and stand alone unmoved and undismayed, whilecounters flee affrighted when the coursers neigh!’Such, my child, were the reflections from which I wasonly awakened then, as I am now, by the necessity ofattending to matters of present though minor importance.I offer no apology to you for the digression, whole,I would humbly crave leave to postpone the departure515