CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
A GOOD FARE--EAT YOUR PUDDING AND HOLD YOUR TONGUE--THE DOMINIE CROSSEDIN LOVE--THE CROSSER ALSO CROSSED--I FIND THAT "ALL THE WORLD'S ASTAGE," NOT EXCEPTING THE STERN SHEETS OF MY WHERRY--CLEOPATRA'S BARGEAPOSTROPHISED ON THE RIVER THAMES.
I consider that the present was the period from which I might date myfirst launching into human life. I was now nearly eighteen years old,strong, active, and well-made, full of spirits, and overjoyed at theindependence which I had so much sighed for. Since the period of mydismissal from Mr Drummond's my character had much altered. I hadbecome grave and silent, brooding over my wrongs, harbouring feelings ofresentment against the parties, and viewing the world in general througha medium by no means favourable. I had become in some degree restoredfrom this unwholesome state of mind from having rendered an importantservice to Captain Turnbull, for we love the world better as we feelthat we are more useful in it; but the independence now given to me wasthe acme of my hopes and wishes. I felt so happy, so buoyant in mind,that I could even think of the two clerks in Mr Drummond's employwithout feelings of revenge. Let it, however, be remembered that theworld was all before me in anticipation only.
"Boat, sir?"
"No, thanky, my lad. I want old Stapleton--is he here?"
"No, sir, but this is his boat."
"Humph, can't he take me down?"
"No, sir; but I can, if you please."
"Well, then, be quick."
A sedate-looking gentleman, about forty-five years of age, stepped intothe boat, and in a few seconds I was in the stream, shooting the bridgewith the ebbing tide.
"What's the matter with deaf Stapleton?"
"Nothing, sir; but he's getting old, and has made the boat over to me."
"Are you his son?"
"No, sir, his 'prentice."
"Humph! sorry deaf Stapleton's gone."
"I can be as deaf as he, sir, if you wish it."
"Humph!"
The gentleman said no more at the time, and I pulled down the river insilence; but in a few minutes he began to move his hands up and down,and his lips, as if he was in conversation. Gradually his actionincreased, and words were uttered. At last he broke out:--"It is withthis conviction, I may say important conviction, Mr Speaker, that I nowdeliver my sentiments to the Commons' house of Parliament, trusting thatno honourable member will decide until he has fully weighed theimportance of the arguments which I have submitted to his judgment." Hethen stopped, as if aware that I was present, and looked at me; but,prepared as I was, there was nothing in my countenance which exhibitedthe least sign of merriment; or, indeed, of having paid any attention towhat he had been saying, for I looked carelessly to the right and leftat the banks of the river. He again entered into conversation.
"Have you been long on the river?"
"Born on it, sir."
"How do you like the profession of a waterman?"
"Very well, sir; the great point is to have regular customers."
"And how do you gain them?"
"By holding my tongue; keeping their counsel and my own."
"Very good answer, my boy. People who have much to do cannot afford toloose even their time on the water. Just now I was preparing andthinking over my speech in the House of Commons."
"So I supposed, sir, and I think the river is a very good place for it,as no one can overhear you except the person whose services you havehired--and you need not mind him."
"Very true, my lad; but that's why I liked deaf Stapleton: he could nothear a word."
"But sir, if you've no objection, I like to hear it very much; and youmay be sure that I should never say anything about it, if you will trustme."
"Do you my lad? well, then I'll just try it over again. You shall bethe speaker--mind you hold your tongue, and don't interrupt me."
The gentleman then began: "Mr Speaker, I should not have ventured toaddress the House at this late hour, did I not consider that theimportance of the question now before it is--so important--no, thatwon't do--did I not consider that the question now before it is of that,I may say, paramount importance as to call forth the best energies ofevery man who is a well-wisher to his country. With this conviction,Mr Speaker, humble individual as I am, I feel it my duty, I may say, mybounden duty, to deliver my sentiments upon the subject. The paperswhich I now hold in my hand, Mr Speaker, and to which I shall soon haveto call the attention of the House, will, I trust, fully establish--"
"I say, waterman, be you taking that chap to Bedlam?" cried a shrillfemale voice close to us. The speech was stopped; we looked up, andperceived a wherry with two females passing close to us. A shout oflaughter followed the observation, and my fare looked very muchconfused.
I had often read the papers in the public-house, and remembering whatwas usual in the house in case of interruption, called out, "Order,order!" This made the gentleman laugh, and as the other wherry was nowfar off, he recommenced his oration, with which I shall not trouble myreaders. It was a very fair speech, I have no doubt, but I forget whatit was about.
I landed him at Westminster Bridge, and received treble my fare."Recollect," said he, on paying me, "that I shall look out for you whenI come again, which I do every Monday morning, and sometimes oftener.What's your name?"
"Jacob, sir."
"Very well; good morning, my lad."
This gentleman became a very regular and excellent customer, and we usedto have a great deal of conversation, independent of debating, in thewherry; and I must acknowledge that I received from him not only plentyof money, but a great deal of valuable information.
A few days after this I had an opportunity of ascertaining how far Marywould keep her promise. I was plying at the river side as usual, whenold Stapleton came up to me, with his pipe in his mouth, and said,"Jacob, there be that old gentleman up at our house with Mary. Now, Isees a great deal, but I says nothing. Mary will be her mother overagain, that's sartain. Suppose you go and see your old teacher, andleave me to look a'ter a customer. I begin to feel as if handling thesculls a little would be of sarvice to me. We all think idleness be avery pleasant thing when we're obliged to work but when we are idle,then we feel that a little work be just as agreeable--that's humannatur'."
I thought that Mary was very likely to forget all her good resolutions,from her ardent love of admiration, and I was determined to go and breakup the conference. I, therefore, left the boat to Stapleton, andhastened to the house. I did not like to play the part of aneavesdropper, and was quite undecided how I should act; whether to go inat once or not, when, as I passed under the window, which was open, Iheard very plainly the conversation that was going on. I stopped in thestreet, and listened to the Dominie in continuation--"But, fair maiden,_omnia vincit amor_--here am I, Dominie Dobbs, who have long passed thegrand climacteric, and can already muster three score years--who haveauthority over seventy boys, being Magister Princeps et Dux of BrentfordGrammar School--who have affectioned only the sciences, and communedonly with the classics--who have ever turned a deaf ear to theallurements of thy sex, and ever hardened my heart to thy fascination--here am I, even I, Dominie Dobbs, suing at the feet of a maiden who hadbarely ripened into womanhood, who knoweth not to read or write, andwhose father earns his bread by manual labour. I feel it all--I feelthat I am too old--that thou art too young--that I am departing from theways of wisdom, and am regardless of my worldly prospects. Still,_omnia vincit amor_, and I bow to the all-powerful god, doing him homagethrough thee, Mary. Vainly have I resisted--vainly have I, as I havelain in bed, tried to drive thee from my thoughts, and tear thine imagefrom my heart. Have I not felt thy presence everywhere? Do not Iastonish my worthy coadjutor, Mistress Bately, the matron, by callingher by the name of Mary, when I had always before addressed her by herbaptismal name of Deborah? Nay, have not the boys in the classesdiscovered my weakness, and do they not shout out Mary in the hours ofplay? _Mare periculosum et turbidum_ hast thou been to me. I sleepnot--I eat not--and eve
ry sign of love which hath been adduced byOvidius Naso, whom I have diligently collated, do I find in mine ownperson. Speak, then, maiden. I have given vent to my feelings, do thouthe same, that I may return, and leave not my flock without theirshepherd. Speak, maiden."
"I will, sir, if you will get up," replied Mary, who paused, and thencontinued. "I think, sir, that I am young and foolish, and you are oldand--and--"
"Foolish, thou wouldst say."
"I had rather you said it, sir, than I; it is not for me to use such anexpression towards one so learned as you are. I think, sir, that I amtoo young to marry; and that perhaps you are--too old. I think, sir,that you are too clever--and that I am very ignorant; that it would notsuit you in your situation to marry; and that it would not suit me tomarry you--equally obliged to you all the same."
"Perhaps thou hast in thy reply proved the wiser of the two," answeredthe Dominie; "but why, maiden, didst thou raise those feelings, thosehopes in my breast, only to cause me pain, and make me drink deep of thecup of disappointment? didst thou appear to cling to me in fondness, ifthou felt not a yearning towards me?"
"But are there no other sorts of love besides the one you would require,sir? May I not love you because you are so clever, and so learned inLatin. May I not love you as I do my father?"
"True, true, child; it is all my own folly, and I must retrace my stepsin sorrow. I have been deceived--but I have been deceived only bymyself. My wishes have clouded my understanding, and have obscured myreason; have made me forgetful of my advanced years, and of the littlefavour I was likely to find in the eyes of a young maiden. I havefallen into a pit through blindness, and I must extricate myself, soreas will be the task. Bless thee, maiden, bless thee! May another behappy in thy love, and never feel the barb of disappointment. I willpray for thee, Mary--that Heaven may bless thee." And the Dominieturned away and wept.
Mary appeared to be moved by the good old man's affliction, and herheart probably smote her for her coquettish behaviour. She attempted toconsole the Dominie, and appeared to be more than half crying herself."No, sir, do not take on so, you make me feel very uncomfortable. Ihave been wrong--I feel I have--though you have not blamed me, I am avery foolish girl."
"Bless thee, child--bless thee!" replied the Dominie, in a subduedvoice.
"Indeed, sir, I don't deserve it--I feel I do not; but pray do notgrieve, sir; things will go cross in love. Now, sir, I'll tell you asecret, to prove it to you. I love Jacob--love him very much, and hedoes not care for me--I am sure he does not; so, you sir, you are notthe only one--who is--very unhappy;" and Mary commenced sobbing with theDominie.
"Poor thing!" said the Dominie; "and thou lovest Jacob? truly is heworthy of thy love. And, at thy early age, thou knowest what it is tohave thy love unrequited. Truly is this a vale of tears--yet let us bethankful. Guard well thy heart, child, for Jacob may not be for thee;nay I feel that he will not be."
"And why so, sir?" replied Mary, despondingly.
"Because, maiden--but nay, I must not tell thee; only take my warning,Mary--fare thee well? I come not here again."
"Good-bye, sir, and pray forgive me; this will be a warning to me."
"Verily, maiden, it will be a warning to us both. God bless thee!"
I discovered by the sound that Mary had vouchsafed to the Dominie akiss, and heard soon afterwards his steps as he descended the stairs.Not wishing to meet him I turned round the corner, and went down to theriver, thinking over what had passed. I felt pleased with Mary, but Iwas not in love with her.
The spring was now far advanced, and the weather was delightful. Theriver was beautiful, and parties of pleasure were constantly to be seenfloating up and down with the tide. The Westminster boys, the FunnyClub, and other amateurs in their fancy dresses, enlivened the scene;while the races for prize wherries, which occasionally took place,rendered the water one mass of life and motion. How I longed for myapprenticeship to be over, that I might try for a prize! One of my bestcustomers was a young man, who was an actor at one of the theatres, who,like the M.P., used to rehearse the whole time he was in the boat; buthe was a lively, noisy personage, full of humour, and perfectlyindifferent as to appearances. He had a quiz and a quirk for everybodythat passed in another boat, and would stand up and rant at them untilthey considered him insane. We were on very intimate terms, and I wasnever more pleased than when he made his appearance, as it wasinvariably the signal for mirth. The first time I certainly consideredhim to be a lunatic, for playhouse phraseology was quite new to me."Boat, sir," cried I to him as he came to the hard.
"My affairs do even drag me homeward. Go on; I'll follow thee," repliedhe, leaping into the boat. "Our fortune lies in this jump."
I shoved off the wherry: "Down, sir?"
"Down," replied he; pointing downwards with his finger, as if pushing atsomething.
"Down, down to hell, and say I sent you there."
"Thanky, sir, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."
"Our tongue is rough, coz--and my condition is not smooth." We shot thebridge, and went rapidly down with the tide, when he again commenced:--
"Thus with imagin'd wing our soft scene flies, In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought."
Then his attention was drawn by a collier's boat, pulled by two men asblack as chimney-sweeps, with three women in the stern-sheets. Theymade for the centre of the river, to get into the strength of the tide,and were soon abreast and close to the wherry, pulling with us down thestream.
"There's a dandy young man," said one of the women, with an old strawbonnet and very dirty ribbons, laughing, and pointing to my man.
"Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not; At Ephesus I am but two hours old, As strange unto your town as to your talk."
"Well, he be a reg'lar rum cove, I've a notion," said another of thewomen, when she witnessed the theatrical airs of the speaker, whoimmediately recommenced--
"The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water--the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tunes of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar'd all description."
"Come, I'll be blowed but we've had enough of that, so just shut yourpan," said one of the women, angrily.
"Her gentlewomen, like the Naiades, So many mermaids tend her."
"Mind what you're arter, or your mouth will tend to your mischief, youngfellow."
"From the barge A strange, invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs."
"Jem, just run him alongside, and break his head with your oar."
"I thinks as how I will, if he don't mend his manners."
"I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public streets."
"You lie, you liver-faced rascal. I never walked the streets in mylife. I'm a lawful married woman. Jem, do you call yourself a man, andstand this here?"
"Well, now, Sal, but he's a nice young man. Now an't he?" observed oneof the other women.
"Away, Away, you trifler. Love! I know thee not, I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips; We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns."
"I've a notion you will, too, my hearty," interrupted one of thecolliers. "That 'ere long tongue of yours will bring you into disgrace.Bill, give her a jerk towards the wherry, and we'll duck him."
"My friend," said the actor, addressing me:--
"Let not his unwholesome corpse come between the wind And my nobility.
"Let us exeunt, OP."
Although I could not understand his phrases, I knew very well what hemeant, and pulling smartly, I shoved towards the shore, and ahead.Perceiving this, the men in the boat, at the intimation of the women,who stood up waving their bonnets, gave chase to us, and my companionappeared not a little alarmed. However,
by great exertion on my part,we gained considerably, and they abandoned the pursuit.
"Now, by two-headed Janus," said my companion, as he looked back uponthe colliers--
"Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time, Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper, And others of such a vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth by way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
"And now," continued he, addressing me, "what's your name, sir? Of whatcondition are you--and of what place, I pray?"
Amused with what had passed, I replied, "That my name was Jacob--that Iwas a waterman, and born on the river."
"I find thee apt; but tell me, art thou perfect that our ship hathtouched upon the deserts of Bohemia?"
"Do you land at Westminster, sir?"
"No: at Blackfriars--there attend my coming.
"Base is the slave who pays; nevertheless, what is your fare, my lad?
"What money's in my purse? Seven groats and twopence.
"By Jove, I am not covetous of gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost.
"But--
"I can get no remedy for this consumption of the purse.
"Here my lad--is that enough?"
"Yes, sir, I thank you."
"Remember poor Jack, sir," said the usual attendant at the landingplace, catching his arm as he careened the wherry on getting out.
"If he fall in, good-night--or sink or swim.
"Jack, there is a penny for you. Jacob, farewell--we meet again;" andaway he went, taking three of the stone steps at each spring. Thisgentleman's name was, as I afterwards found out, Tinfoil, an actor ofsecond-rate merit on the London boards. The Haymarket Theatre was wherehe principally performed, and, as we became better acquainted, heoffered to procure me orders to see the play when I should wish to gothere.