diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-0.txt | 8405 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-0.zip | bin | 171570 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-8.txt | 8404 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-8.zip | bin | 170688 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-h.zip | bin | 716057 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-h/51952-h.htm | 10490 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-h/images/0001.jpg | bin | 59941 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-h/images/0008.jpg | bin | 50431 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-h/images/0009.jpg | bin | 44874 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-h/images/0092.jpg | bin | 44900 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-h/images/0136.jpg | bin | 291346 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 62453 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51952-h/images/enlarge.jpg | bin | 789 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old/51952-h.htm.2021-01-24 | 10489 |
17 files changed, 17 insertions, 37788 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..948bcb9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51952 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51952) diff --git a/old/51952-0.txt b/old/51952-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a4267a4..0000000 --- a/old/51952-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8405 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg’s A Journalists Note-Book, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you’ll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: A Journalists Note-Book - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51952] -Last Updated: November 16, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -Author of “Forbid the Banns,” “Daireen,’” “A Gray Eye or So,” etc. - -London: Hutchins On And Co., Paternoster Row - -1894 - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0008] - -[Illustration: 0009] - - - - -CHAPTER I.--PAST AND PRESENT. - - -_Odd lots of journalism--Respectability and its relation to -journalism--The abuse of the journal--The laudation of the -journalist--Abuse the consequence of popularity--Popularity the -consequence of abuse--Drain-work and grey hairs--“Don’t neglect -your reading for the sake of reviewing”--Reading for pleasure or -to criticise--Literature--Deterioration--The Civil List Pension--In -exchange for a soul._ - - -SOME years ago there was an auction of wine at a country-house in -Scotland, the late owner of which had taken pains to gain a reputation -for judgment in the matter of wine-selecting. He had all his life been -nearly as intemperate as a temperance orator in his denunciation of -whisky as a drink, hoping to inculcate a taste for vintage clarets upon -the Scots; but he that tells the tale--it is not a new one--says that -the man died without seriously jeopardizing the popularity of the -native manufacture. The wines that he had laid down brought good prices, -however; but, at the close of the sale, several odd lots were “put -up,” and all were bought by a local publican. A gentleman who had been -present called upon the publican a few days afterwards, and found -him engaged in mixing into one huge cask all the “lots” that he had -bought--Larose, Johannisberg, Château Coutet. - -“Hallo,” said the visitor, “what’s this mixture going to be, Rabbie?” - -“Weel, sir,” said the publican, looking with one eye into the cask and -mechanically giving the contents a stir with a bottle of Sauterne which -he had just uncorked--“Weel, sir, I think it should be port, but I’m no -sure.” - -These odd lots of journalistic experiences and recollections may be -considered a book, “but I’m no sure.” - -***** - -After all, “a book’s a book although”--it’s written by a journalist. -Nearly every writer of books nowadays becomes a journalist when he has -written a sufficient number. He is usually encouraged in this direction -by his publishers. - -“You’re a literary man, are you not?” a stranger said to a friend of -mine. - -“On the contrary, I’m a journalist,” was the reply. - -“Oh, I beg your pardon, I’m sure,” said the inquirer, detecting a -certain indignant note in the disclaimer. “I beg your pardon. What a -fool I was to ask you such a question!” - -“I hope he wasn’t hurt,” he added in an anxious voice when we were -alone. “It was a foolish question; I might have known that he was a -journalist, _he looked so respectable_.” - -We are all respectable nowadays. We belong to a recognised profession. -We may pronounce our opinions on all questions of art, taste, religion, -morals, and even finance, with some degree of diffidence: we are at -present merely practising our scales, so to speak, upon our various -“organs,” but there is every reason to believe that confidence will come -in due time. Are not our ranks being recruited from Oxford? Some years -ago men drifted into journalism; now it is looked on as a vocation. -Journalism is taken seriously. In a word, we are respectable. Have -we not been entertained by the Lord Mayor of London? Have we not -entertained Monsieur Emile Zola? - -***** - -People have ceased to abuse us as they once did with great freedom: they -merely abuse the journals which support us. This is a healthy sign; for -it may be taken for granted that people will invariably abuse the paper -for which they subscribe. They do not seem to feel that they get the -worth of their subscription unless they do so. It is the same principle -that causes people to sneer at a dinner at which they have been -entertained. If we are not permitted to abuse our host, whom may we -abuse? The one thing that a man abuses more than to-day’s paper is the -negligence of the boy who omits to deliver it some morning. Only in one -town where I lived did I find that a newspaper was popular. (It was -not the one for which I wrote.) The fathers and mothers taught their -children to pray, “God bless papa, mamma, and the editor of the -_Clackmannan Standard_.” - -I met that editor some years afterwards. He celebrated a sort of -impromptu Comminution Service against the people amongst whom he -had lived. They had never paid for their subscriptions or their -advertisements, and they had thus lowered the _Standard_ of Clackmannan -and of the editor’s confidence in his fellow-men. - -***** - -The only newspaper that is in a hopeless condition is the one which is -neither blessed at all nor cursed at all. Such a newspaper appeals to no -section of the public. It has always seemed to me a matter of question -whether a man is better satisfied with a paper that reflects (so far -as it is possible for a paper to do so) his own views, or with one that -reflects the views that he most abhors. I am inclined to believe that -a man is in a better humour with those of his fellow-men whom he has -thoroughly abused, than with the one whom he greets every morning on the -top of his omnibus. - -It is quite a simple matter to abuse a newspaper into popularity. One -of the Georges whose biographies have been so pleasantly and touchingly -written by Thackeray and Mr. Justin M’Carthy, conferred a lasting -popularity upon the man whom he told to get out of his way or he would -kick him out of it. - -The moral of this is, that to be insulted by a monarch confers a greater -distinction upon a man living in Clapham or even Brixton than to be -treated courteously by a greengrocer. - -***** - -But though people continue to abuse the paper for which they subscribe, -and for which they are usually some year or two in arrears in the matter -of payment, still it appears to me that the public are slowly beginning -to comprehend that newspapers are written (mostly) by journalists. -Until recently there was, I think, a notion that journalists sat round -a bar-parlour telling stories and drinking whisky and water while the -newspapers were being produced. The fact is, that most of the surviving -anecdotes of the journalists of a past generation smell of the -bar-parlour. The practical jesters of the fifties and the punsters -of the roaring forties were tap-room journalists. They died hard. -The journalists of to-day do not even smile at those brilliant -sallies--bequeathed by a past generation--about wearing frock-coats and -evening dress, about writing notices of plays without stirring from the -taproom, about the mixing up of criticisms of books with police-court -reports. Such were the humours of journalism thirty or forty years ago. -We have formed different ideas as to the elements of humour in these -days. Whatever we may leave undone it is not our legitimate work. - -***** - -It was when journalism was in a state of transition that a youth, -waiting on a railway platform, was addressed by a stranger (one of those -men who endeavour to make religious zeal a cloak for impertinence)--“My -dear young friend, are you a Christian?” - -“No,” said the youth, “I’m a reporter on the _Camberwell Chronicle_.” - -On the other hand, it was a very modern journalist whose room was -invaded by a number of pretty little girls one day, just to keep him -company and chat with him for an hour or so, as it was the day his -paper--a weekly one--went to press. In order to get rid of them, he -presented each of them with a copy of a little book which he had just -published, writing on the flyleaf, “With the author’s compliments.” Just -as the girls were going away, one of them spied a neatly bound Oxford -Bible that was lying on the desk for editorial notice. - -“I should so much like that,” she cried, pouncing upon it. - -“Then you shall have it, my dear, if you clear off immediately,” said -the editor; and, turning up the flyleaf, he wrote hastily on it, “_With -the author’s compliments_.” - -Yes, he was a modern journalist, and took a reasonable view of the -authoritative nature of his calling. - -***** - -Our position is, I affirm, becoming recognised by the world; but now and -again I am made to feel that such recognition does not invariably extend -to all the members of our profession. Some years ago I was getting my -hair cut in Regent Street, and, as usual, the practitioner remarked in a -friendly way that I was getting very grey. - -“Yes,” I said, “I’ve been getting a grey hair or so for some time. I -don’t know how it is. I’m not much over thirty.” (I repeat that the -incident occurred some years ago.) - -“No, sir, you’re not what might be called old,” said he indulgently. -“Maybe you’re doing some brain-work?” he suggested, after a pause. - -“Brain-work?” said I. “Oh no! I work for a daily paper, and usually -write a column of leading articles every night. I produce a book a year, -and a play every now and again. But brain-work--oh no!” - -“Oh, in that case, sir, it must be due to something else. Maybe you -drink a bit, sir.” - -I did not buy the bottle which he offered me at four-and-nine. I left -the shop dissatisfied. - -This is why I hesitate to affirm that modern journalism is wholly -understanded of the people. - -But for that matter it is not wholly understanded of the people who -might be expected to know something about it. The proprietor of a -newspaper on which I worked some years ago made use of me one day to -translate a few lines of Greek which appeared on the back of an old -print in his possession. My powers amazed him. The lines were from an -obscure and little-known poem called the “Odyssey.” - -“You must read a great deal, my boy,” said he. - -I shook my head. - -“The fact is,” said I, “I’ve lately had so much reviewing to do that I -haven’t been able to read a single book.” - -“That’s too hard on you,” said he gravely. “Get some of the others of -the staff to help you. You mustn’t neglect your reading for the sake of -reviewing.” - -I didn’t. - -Upon another occasion the son of this gentleman left a message for -me that he had taken a three-volume novel, the name of which he had -forgotten, from a parcel of books that had arrived the previous day, -but that he would like a review of it to appear the next morning, as his -wife said it was a capital story. - -He was quite annoyed when the review did not appear. - -***** - -But there are, I have reason to know, many people who have got no more -modern ideas respecting that branch of journalism known as reviewing. - -“Are you reading that book for pleasure or to criticise it?” I was asked -not so long ago by a young woman who ought to have known better. “Oh, I -forgot,” she added, before I could think of anything sharp to say by way -of reply--“I forgot: if you meant to review it you wouldn’t read it.” - -I thought of the sharp reply two days later. - -So it is, I say, that some of the people who read what we write from -day to day, have still got only the vaguest notions of how our work is -turned out. - -Long ago I used to wish that the reviewers would only read the books I -wrote before criticising them; but now my dearest wish is that they will -review them (favourably) without reading them. - -***** - -I heard some time ago of a Scot who, full of that brave sturdy spirit -of self-reliance which is the precious endowment of the race of North -Britons, came up to London to fight his way in the ranks of literature. -The grand inflexible independence of the man asserted itself with such -obstinacy that he was granted a Civil List Pension; and while in receipt -of this form of out-door relief for poets who cannot sell their poetry, -he began a series of attacks upon literature as a trade, and gave to the -world an autobiography in a sentence, by declaring that literature and -deterioration go hand in hand. - -This was surely a very nasty thing for the sturdy Scotchman, who had -attained to the honourable independence of the national almshouse, -to say, just as people were beginning to look on literature as a -profession. - -But then he sat down and forthwith reeled off a string of doggerel -verses, headed “The Dismal Throng.” In this fourth-form satirical -jingle he abused some of the ablest of modern literary men for taking a -pessimistic view of life. Now, who on earth can blame literary men for -feeling a trifle dismal if what the independent pensioner says is true, -and success in literature can only be obtained in exchange for a -soul? The man who takes the most pessimistic view of the profession of -literature should be the last to sneer at a literary man looking sadly -on life. - - - - -CHAPTER II.--THE OLD SCHOOL. - - -_The frock-coat and muffler journalist--A doomed race--One of the -specimens--A masterpiece---“Stilt your friend”--A jaunty emigrant--A -thirsty knave--His one rival--Three crops--His destination--“The -New Grub Street”--A courteous friend--Free lodgings--The foreign -guest--Outside the hall door--The youth who found things--His ring--His -watch--The fruits of modesty--Not to be imitated--A question for -Sherlock Holmes--The liberty of the press--Deadheads._ - - -I HAVE come in contact with many journalists of the old school--the -frock-coat and muffler type. The first of the class whom I met was for -a few months a reporter on a newspaper in Ireland with which I was -connected. He had at one time been a soldier, and had deserted. I tried, -though I was only a boy, to get some information from him that I might -use afterwards, for I recognised his value as the representative of a -race that was, I felt, certain to become extinct. I talked to him as -I talked--with the aid of an interpreter--to a Botjesman in the South -African veldt: I wanted to learn something about the habits of a doomed -type. I succeeded in some measure. - -The result of my researches into the nature of both savages was to -convince me that they were born liars. The reporter carried a pair -of stage whiskers and a beard with him when sent to do any work in a -country district; the fact being that the members of the Royal Irish -Constabulary in the country barracks are the most earnest students -of the paper known as _Hue and Cry_, and the man said that, as his -description appeared in every number of that organ, he should most -certainly be identified by a smart country policeman if he did not wear -a disguise. Years afterwards I got a letter from him from one of her -Majesty’s gaols. He wanted the loan of some money and the gift of a hat. - -This man wrote shorthand admirably, and an excellent newspaper English. - -***** - -Another specimen of the race had actually attained to the dizzy eminence -of editor of a fourth-class newspaper in a town of one hundred thousand -inhabitants. In those days Mr. Craven Robertson was the provincial -representative of Captain Hawtree in _Caste_, and upon the Captain -Hawtree of Craven Robertson this “journalist” founded his style. He -wore an eyeglass, a moustache with waxed ends, and a frock coat very -carefully brushed. His hair was thin on the top--but he made the most of -it. He was the sort of man whom one occasionally meets on the Promenade -at Nice, wearing a number of orders on the breast of his coat--the order -of Il Bacio di St. Judæus, the scarlet riband of Ste. Rahab di Jericho, -the Brazen Lyre of SS. Ananias and Sapphira. He was the sort of man whom -one styles “Chevalier” by instinct. He was the most plausible knave in -the world, though how people allowed him to cheat them was a mystery to -me. His masterpiece of impudence I have always considered to be a letter -which he wrote to a brother-editor, from whom he had borrowed a sum of -money, to be repaid on the first of the next month. When the appointed -day came he chanced to meet this editor-creditor in the street, and -asking him, with a smile as if he had been on the lookout for him, to -step into the nearest shop, he called for a sheet of paper and a pen, -and immediately wrote an order to the cashier of his paper to pay Mr. G. -the sum of five pounds. - -“There you are, my dear sir,” said he. “Just send a clerk round to our -office and hand that to the cashier. Meantime accept my hearty thanks -for the accommodation.” - -Mr. G. lost no time in presenting the order; but, as might have been -expected, it was dishonoured by the cashier, who declared that the -editor was already eight months in advance in drawing his salary. Mr. G. -hastened back to his own office and forthwith wrote a letter of furious -upbraidings, in which I have good reason to suspect he expressed -his views of the conduct of his debtor, and threatened to “take -proceedings,” as the grammar of the law has it, for the recovery of his -money. - -The next day Mr. G. received back his own letter unopened, but inside -the cover that enclosed it to him was the following:-- - -“My dear Mr. G.,-- - -“You may perhaps be surprised to receive your letter with the seal -unbroken, but when you come to reflect calmly over the unfortunate -incident of your sending it to me, I am sure that you will no longer be -surprised. I am persuaded that you wrote it to me on the impulse of -the moment, otherwise it would not contain the strong language which, -I think I may assume, constitutes the major portion of its contents. -Knowing your natural kindness of disposition, and feeling assured that -in after years the consciousness of having written such a letter to me -would cause you many a pang in your secret moments, I am anxious that -you should be spared much self-reproach, and consequently return your -letter unopened. You will, I am certain, perceive that in adopting this -course I am acting for the best. Do not follow the next impulse of your -heart and ask my forgiveness. I have really nothing to forgive, not -having read your letter. - -“With kindest regards, I remain - -“Still your friend - -“A. Swinne Dell.” - -If this transaction does not represent the high-water mark of -knavery--if it does not show something akin to genius in an art that has -many exponents, I scarcely know where one should look for evidence in -this direction. - -Five years after the disappearance of Mr. A. Swinne Dell from the scene -of this _coup_ of his, I caught a glimpse of him among the steerage -passengers aboard a steamer that called at Madeira when I was spending -a holiday at that lovely island. His frock-coat was giving signs (about -the collar) of wear, and also (under the arms) of tear. I could not see -his boots, but I felt sure that they were down at the heel. Still, -he held his head jauntily as he pointed out to a fellow-passenger the -natural charms of the landscape above Funchal. - -Another of the old school who pursued a career of knavery by the light -of the sacred lamp of journalism was, I regret to say, an Irishman. His -powers of absorbing drink were practically unlimited. I never knew but -one rival to him in this way, and that was when I was in South Africa. -We had left our waggon, and were crouching in most uncomfortable -postures behind a mighty cactus on the bank of a river, waiting for the -chance of potting a gemsbok that might come to drink. Instead of the -graceful gemsbok there came down to the water a huge hippopotamus. He -had clearly been having a good time among the native mealies, and had -come for some liquid refreshment before returning to his feast. He did -not plunge into the water, but simply put his head down to it and began -to drink. After five minutes or so we noticed an appreciable fall in the -river. After a quarter of an hour great rocks in the river-bed began to -be disclosed. At the end of twenty minutes the broad stream had dwindled -away to a mere trickle of water among the stones. At the end of half an -hour we began to think that he had had as much as was good for him--we -wanted a kettleful of water for our tea--so I put an elephant cartridge -[‘577) into my rifle and aimed at the brute’s eye. He lifted up his head -out of pure curiosity, and perceiving that men with rifles were handy, -slouched off, grumbling like a professional agitator on being turned out -of a public house. - -That hippopotamus was the only rival I ever knew to the old-school -journalist whose ways I can recall--only he was never known to taste -water. Like the man in one of H. J. Byron’s plays, he could absorb any -“given”--I use the word advisedly--any given quantity of liquor. - -“Are you ever sober, my man?” I asked of him one day. - -“I’m sober three times a day,” he replied huskily. “I’m sober now. This -is one of the times,” he added mournfully. - -“You were blind drunk this morning--I can swear to that,” said I. - -“Oh, yes,” he replied promptly. “But what’se good of raking up the past, -sir? Let the dead past burits dead.” He took a step or two toward the -door, and then returned. He carefully brushed a speck of dust off the -rim of his hat. All such men wear the tallest of silk hats, and seem to -feel that they would be scandalised by the appearance of a speck of dust -on the nap. “D’ye know that I can take three crops out of myself in the -day?” he inquired blandly. - -“Three crops?” - -“Three crops--I said so, of drunk. I rise in morn’n,--drunk before -twelve; sleep it off by two, and drunk again by five; sleep it off by -eight--do my work and go to bed drunk at two a.m. You haven’t such a -thing as half-a-crown about you, sir? I left my purse on the grand piano -before I came out.” - -I was under the impression that this particular man was dead years ago; -and I was thus greatly surprised when, on jumping on a tramcar in a -manufacturing town in Yorkshire quite recently, I recognised my old -friend in a man who had just awakened in a corner, and was endeavouring -to attract the attention of the conductor. When, after much incipient -whistling and waving of his arms, he succeeded in drawing the conductor -to his side, he inquired if the car was anywhere near the Wilfrid Lawson -Temperance Hotel. - -“I’ll let you down when we come to it,” said the conductor. - -“Do,” said the other in his old husky tones. - -“Lemme down at the Wellfed Laws Tenpence Otell.” - -In another minute he was fast asleep as before. - -***** - -At present no penal consequences follow any one who calls himself a -literary man. It is taken for granted, I suppose, that the crime brings -its own punishment. - -One of the most depressing books that any one straying through the -King’s Highway of literature could read is Mr. George Gissing’s “The New -Grub Street.” What makes it all the more depressing is the fact of its -carrying conviction with it to all readers. Every one must feel that -the squalor described in this book has a real existence. The only -consolation that any one engaged in a branch of literature can have on -reading “The New Grub Street,” comes from the reflection that not one of -the poor wretches described in its pages had the least aptitude for the -business. - -In a town of moderate size in which I lived, there were forty men and -women who described themselves for directory purposes as “novelists.” - Not one of them had ever published a volume; but still they all -believed themselves to be novelists. There are thousands of men who -call themselves journalists even now, but who are utterly incapable of -writing a decent “par.” I have known many such men. The most incompetent -invariably become dissatisfied with life in the provinces, and hurry -off to London, having previously borrowed their train fare. I constantly -stumble upon provincial failures in London. Sometimes on the Embankment -I literally stumble upon them, for I have found them lying in shady -nooks there trying to forget the world’s neglect in sleep. - -Why on earth such men take to journalism has always been a mystery to -me. If they had the least aptitude for it they would be earning money by -journalism instead of trying to borrow half-crowns as journalists. - -***** - -I knew of one who, several years ago, migrated to London. For a long -time I heard nothing about him; but one night a friend of mine mentioned -his name, and asked me if I had ever known him. - -“The fact is,” said he, “I had rather a curious experience of him a few -months ago.” - -“You were by no means an exception to the general run of people who have -ever come in contact with him,” said I. “What was your experience?” - -“Well,” replied he, “I came across him casually one night, and as he -seemed inclined to walk in my direction, I asked him if he would mind -coming on to my lodgings to have a bottle of beer. He found that his -engagements for the night permitted of his doing so, and we strolled -on together. I found that there was supper enough for two adults in -the locker, and our friend found that his engagements permitted of his -taking a share in the humble repast. He took fully his share of the -beer, and then I offered him a pipe, and stirred up the fire. - -“We talked until two o’clock in the morning, and, as he told me he -lived about five miles away--he didn’t seem quite sure whether it was -at Hornsey or Clapham--I said he could not do better than occupy a spare -truckle that was in my bedroom. He said he thought that I was right, and -we retired. We breakfasted together in the morning, and then we walked -into Fleet Street, where we parted. That night he overtook me on my way -to my lodgings, and in the friendliest manner possible accompanied me -thither. Here the programme of the night before was repeated. The third -night I quite expected to be overtaken by him; but I was mistaken. I was -not overtaken by him: he was sitting in my lodgings waiting for me. -He gave me a most cordial welcome--I will say that for him. The night -following I had a sort of instinct that I should find him waiting for me -again in my sitting-room. Once more I was mistaken. He was not waiting -for me; he had already eaten his supper--_my supper_, and had gone to -bed--_my bed_; but with his usual thoughtfulness, he had left a short -note for me upbraiding me, but in a genial and quite a gentlemanly way, -for staying out so late, and begging me not to awake him, as he was very -tired, and--also genially--inquiring if it was absolutely necessary -for me to make such a row in my bath in the mornings. He was a light -sleeper, he said, and a little noise disturbed him. I did not awake him; -but the next morning I was distinctly cool towards him. I remarked that -I thought it unlikely that I should be at home that night. He begged -of me not to allow him to interfere with my plans. When I returned that -night, I found him sitting at my table playing cards with a bleareyed -foreigner, whom he courteously introduced as his friend Herr Vanderbosch -or something. - -“‘Draw your chair to the table, old chap, and join in with us. I’ll see -that you get something to drink in a minute,’ said he. - -“I thanked him, but remarked that I had a conscientious objection to all -games of cards. - -“‘Soh?’ said the foreigner. ‘Das is yust var yo makes ze mistook. Ze -game of ze gards it is grand--soblime!’ - -“He added a few well-chosen sentences about sturm und drang or -something; and in about five minutes I found myself getting a complete -slanging for my narrow-minded prejudices, and for my attempt to curtail -the innocent recreation of others. I will say this for our friend, -however: he never for a moment allowed our little difference on what was -after all a purely academic question, to interfere with his display of -hospitality to myself and Herr Vanderbosch. He filled our tumblers, and -was lavish with the tobacco jar. When I rose to go to bed he called me -aside, and said he had made arrangements for me to sleep in the truckle -for the night, in order to admit of his occupying my bed with Herr -Vanderbosch--the poor devil, he explained to me with many deprecating -nods, had not, he feared, any place to sleep that night. But at this -point I turned. I assured him that I was constitutionally unfitted for -sleeping in a truckle, or, in fact, in any bed but my own. - -“‘All right,’ he cried in a huff, ‘I’ll sleep in the truckle, and I’ll -make up a good fire for him to sleep before on the sofa.’ - -“Well, we all breakfasted together, and the next night the two gentlemen -appeared once more at the door of the house. They were walking in as -usual, when the landlady asked them where they were going. - -“‘Why, upstairs, to be sure,’ said our friend. “‘Oh no!’ said the -landlady, ‘you’re not doing that. Mr. Plantagenet has left his rooms -and gone to the country for a month--maybe two--and the rooms is let -to another gent.’ “Well, our friend swore that he had been treated -infernally, and Herr Vanderbosch alluded to me as a schweinhund--I heard -him. I fancy the word must be a term of considerable opprobrium in the -German tongue. Anyhow, they didn’t get past the landlady,--she takes a -large size in doors,--and after a while our friend’s menaces dwindled -down to a request to be permitted to remove his luggage. - -“‘I’ll bring it down to you,’ said the landlady; and she shut the hall -door very gently, leaving them on the step outside. When she brought -down the luggage--it consisted of three paper collars and one cuff with -a fine carbuncle stud in it--they were gone. - -“Our friend told some one the other day of the disgraceful way I had -treated him and his foreign associate. But he says he would not have -minded so much if the landlady had not shut the door so gently.” - -***** - -Another remarkable pressman with whom I came in contact several years -ago was a member of the reporting staff of an Irish newspaper. One day I -noticed him wearing what appeared to me to be an extremely fine ring. -It was set with an antique polished intaglio surrounded by diamonds. The -ring was probably unique, and would be worth perhaps £70 to a collector. -I have seen very inferior mediaeval intaglios sold for that sum. I -examined the diamonds with a lens, and then inquired of the youth where -he had bought it, and if he was anything of a collector. - -“I picked it up going home one wet night,” he replied. “I advertised for -the owner in all the papers for a week--it cost me thirty shillings in -that way,--but no one ever came forward to claim it. I would gladly have -sold the thing for thirty shillings at the end of a month; but then I -found that it was worth close upon a hundred pounds.” - -“You’re the luckiest chap I ever met,” said I. - -In the course of a short time another of the reporters asked me if I had -ever seen the watch that the same youth habitually wore. I replied that -I had never seen it, but should like to do so. The same night I was -in the reporters’ room, when the one who had mentioned the watch to me -asked the wearer of the article if ten o’clock had yet struck. The youth -forthwith drew out of his pocket one of the most charming little watches -I ever saw. The back was Italian enamel on gold, both outside and -within, and the outer case was bordered with forty-five rubies. A black -pearl about the size of a pea was at the bow, right round the edge of -the case were diamonds, and in the rim for the glass were twenty-five -rubies and four stones which I fancied at a casual glance were pale -sapphires. I examined these stones with my magnifier, and I thought I -should have fainted when I found that they were blue diamonds. - - “Le Temps est pour l’Homme, - - L’Eternité est pour l’Amour” - -was the inscription which I managed to make out on the dial. - -I handed back the watch to the reporter--his salary was £120 per -annum--and inquired if he had found this article also. - -“Yes,” he said, with a laugh. “I picked that up, curiously enough, -during a trip that I once made to the Scilly Islands. I advertised it in -the Plymouth papers the next day, for I believed it to have been dropped -by some wealthy tourist; but I got no applicant for it; and then I came -to the conclusion that the watch had been among the treasures of some of -the descendants of the smugglers and wreckers of the old days. It keeps -good enough time now, though a watchmaker valued the works at five -shillings.” - -“Any time you want a hundred pounds--a hundred and fifty pounds,” said -I, “don’t hesitate to bring that watch to me. Have you found many other -articles in the course of your life?” I asked, as I was leaving the -room. - -“Lots,” he replied. “When I was in Liverpool I lived about two miles -from my office, and through getting into a habit of keeping my eyes -on the ground, I used to come across something almost every week. -Unfortunately, most of my finds were claimed by the owners.” - -“You have no reason to complain,” said I. - -I was set thinking if there might not be the potentialities of wealth in -the art of walking with one’s eyes modestly directed to the ground; and -for three nights I was actually idiot enough to walk home from my -office with looks, not “commercing with the skies,” but--it was purely -a question of commerce--with the pavements. The first night I nearly -transfixed a policeman with my umbrella, for the rain was coming down -in torrents; the second, I got my hat knocked into the mud by coming in -contact with the branch of a tree overhanging the railings of a square, -and the third I received the impact of a large-boned tipsy man, who was, -as the idiom of the country has it, trying to walk on both sides of the -road at once. - -I held up my head in future. - -The reporter left the newspaper in the course of a few months, and I -never saw him again. But quite recently I was reading Miss Dougall’s -novel “Beggars All,” and when I came upon the account of the reporter -who carries out several adroit schemes of burglary, the recollection of -the remarkable “finds” of the young man whose ring and watch had -excited my envy, flashed across my mind; and I began to wonder if it -was possible that he had pursued a similar course to that which Miss -Dougall’s hero found so profitable. I should like to consult Mr. -Sherlock Holmes on this point when he returns from Switzerland--we -expect him every day. - -At any rate, it is certain that the calling of a reporter would afford -many opportunities to a clever burglar, or even an adroit pickpocket. -A reporter can take his walks abroad at any hour of the night without -exciting the suspicion of a policeman; or, should such suspicion be -aroused, he has only to say “Press,” and he may go anywhere he pleases. -The Press rush in where the public dare not tread; and no one need be -surprised if some day a professional burglar takes to stenography as an -auxiliary to the realisation of his illegitimate aims. - -***** - -One of the countless St. Peter stories has this privilege of the Press -for its subject, and a reporter for its hero. This gentleman was walking -jauntily through the gate of him “who keeps the keys,” but was stopped -by the stern janitor, who inquired if he had a ticket. - -“Press,” said the reporter, trying to pass. - -“What do you mean by that? You know you can’t be admitted anywhere -without a ticket.” - -“I tell you that I belong to the Press; you don’t expect a reporter to -pay, do you?” - -“Why not? Why shouldn’t you be treated the same as the rest of the -people? I can’t make flesh of one and fish of another,” added St. Peter, -as if a professional reminiscence had occurred to him. - -The reporter suddenly brightened up. “I don’t want exceptional -treatment,” said he. “Now that I come to think of it, aren’t they all -_deadheads_ who come here?” - -I fancy that reporter was admitted. - - - - -CHAPTER III.--THE EDITOR OF THE PAST. - - -_Proprietary rights--Proprietary wrongs--Exclusive rights--The -“leaders” of a party--The fossil editor--The man and the dog and the -boar--An unpublished history--The newspaper hoax--A premature obituary -notice--The accommodating surgeon--A matter of business--The death of -Mr. Robinson--The quid pro quo_’. - -IT is only within the past few years that the Editor has obtained -public recognition as a personality; previously his personality was -merged in the proprietor, and when his efforts were successful in -keeping a Corporation from making fools of themselves--this is assuming -an extreme case of success--or in exposing some attempted fraud that -would have ruined thousands of people, he was compelled to accept his -reward through the person of the proprietor. The proprietor was made -a J.P., and sometimes even became Mayor or Chairman of the Board of -Guardians, when the editor succeeded in making the paper a power in the -county. Latterly, however, the editors of some provincial journals have -been obtaining recognition. - -They have been granted the dubious honour of knighthood; and the public -have discovered that the brains which have dictated a policy that -has influenced the destinies of a Ministry, may be entrusted with the -consideration of sewage and main drainage questions on a Town Council, -or with the question of the relative degrees of culpability of a man who -jumps upon his wife’s face and is fined ten shillings, and the boy -who steals a raw turnip and is sent to a reformatory for five years--a -period quite insufficient for the adequate digestion of that comestible, -which it would appear boys are ready to sacrifice years of their liberty -to obtain. - -I must say that, with one exception, the proprietors whom I have met -were highly competent business men--men whose judgment and public -spirit were deserving of that wide recognition which they nearly -always obtained from their fellow-citizens. One, and one only, was not -precisely of this type. He used to write with a blue pencil across an -article some very funny comments. - -I have before me at this moment a letter in which he asked me to -abbreviate something; and he gave me an example of how to do it by -cutting out a letter of the word--he spelt it _abrievate_. - -He had a perfect passion for what he called “exclusives.” The most -trivial incident--the overturning of a costermonger’s barrow, and the -number of the contents sustaining fatal injuries; the blowing off of -a clergyman’s hat in the street, with a professional opinion as to the -damage done; the breaking of a window in a private house--he regarded as -good foundation for an “exclusive”; and indeed it must be said that the -information given to the public by the organ of which he was proprietor -was rarely ever to be found in a rival paper. At the same time, upon -no occasion of his obtaining a really important piece of news did he -succeed in keeping it from the others. This annoyed him extremely He was -in great demand as chairman of amateur reciting classes--a distinction -that was certainly dearly purchased. I never knew of one of these -reciting entertainments being refused a full report in his newspaper -upon any occasion when he presided. He also aspired to the chairmanship -of small political meetings, and once when he found himself in such a -position, he said he would sing the audience a song, and he carried out -his threat. His song was probably more convincing than his speech would -have been. He had a famous story for platform use. It concerned a donkey -that he knew when they were both young. - -He said it made people laugh, and it surely did. At a public dinner he -formulated the plausible theory that to be a good player of golf was to -be a gentleman. He was a poor golfer himself. - -***** - -Now, regarding London editors I have not much to say. I am not -personally acquainted with any one of them. But for twelve years I -read every political article that appeared in each of the six principal -London daily papers; I also read a report of every speech made in the -House of Commons, and of every speech made by a statesman of Cabinet -rank outside Parliament; and I am prepared to say that the great -majority of these speeches bore the most unmistakable evidence of -being--well, not exactly inspired by, but certainly influenced by some -leading article. In one word, my experience is that what the newspapers -say in the morning the statesmen say in the evening. - -Of course Mr. Gladstone must not be included in the statesmen to whom -I refer. His inspiration comes from another direction. That is how he -succeeds in startling so many people. - -The majority of provincial editors include, I have good reason to know, -some of the best men in the profession. Only here and there does one -meet with a fossil of journalism who is content to write a column of -platitudes over a churchwarden pipe and then to go home to sleep. - -With only one such did I come in contact recently. He was connected with -a newspaper which should have had unbounded influence in its district, -but which had absolutely none. The “editor” was accustomed to enter his -room about noon, and he left it between seven and eight in the evening, -having turned out a column of matter of which he was an earnest reader -the next morning. And yet this same newspaper received during the night -sometimes twelve columns of telegraphic news and verbatim reports of the -chief speeches in Parliament. - -The poor old gentleman had never been in London, and never could see -why I should be so constantly going to that city. He was under the -impression that George Eliot was a man, and he one day asked me what -the Royal Academy was. Having learned that it was a place where pictures -that richly deserved exposure were hung, he shortly afterwards -assumed that the French Academy was a gallery in which naughty French -pictures--he assumed that everything French was naughty--were exhibited. -He occasionally referred to the _Temps_ phonetically, and up to the -day of his death he never knew why I laughed when I first heard his -pronunciation of the name of that organ. - -The one dread of his life was that I might some time inadvertently -suggest that I was the editor of the paper. As if any sane human being -would have such an aspiration! His opportunity came at last. A cabinet -photograph of a man and a dog arrived at the office one day addressed -to the editor. He hastened to the proprietor and “proved” that the -photograph represented me and my dog, and that it had been addressed “to -the editor.” The proprietor was not clever enough to perceive that -the features of the portrait in no way resembled those with which I -am obliged to put up, and so I ran a chance of being branded as a -pretender. - -Fortunately, however, the fascinating little daughter of the proprietary -household contrived to see the photograph, and on being questioned as -to its likeness to a member of the staff, declared that there was no one -half so goodlooking connected with the paper. On being assured that the -original had already been identified, she expressed her willingness to -stake five pounds upon her opinion; and the injured editor accepted her -offer. - -Now, all this time I had never been applied to by the disputants, though -I might have been expected to know something of the matter,--people -generally remember a visit to their photographer or their -stockbroker,--but just as the young lady was about to appeal to me as -an unprejudiced arbiter on the question at issue, the manager of the -advertisement department sent to inquire if any one on the editorial -staff had come upon a photograph of a man and a collie. An advertisement -for a lost collie had, he said, been appearing in the paper, and a -postcard had just been received from the owner stating that he had -forwarded a photograph of the animal, in order that, should any one -bring a collie to the office and claim the reward, the advertising -department would be in a position to see that the animal was the right -one. - -The young lady got her five pounds, and, having a considerable interest -in the stocking of a farm, purchased with it an active young boar which, -in an impulse of flattery, she named after me, and which, so far as I -have been able to gather, is doing very well, and has already seen his -children’s children. - -When I asked the young lady why she had called the animal after me, she -said it was because he was a bore. She had a graceful wit. - -In a weak moment this editor confided to me that he was engaged in -writing a book--“A History of the Orange” was to be the title, he told -me; and he added that I could have no idea of the trouble it was causing -him; but there he was wrong. After this he was in the habit of writing -a note to me about once a week, asking me if I would oblige him by doing -his work for him, as all his time was engrossed by his “History.” - It appears to me rather melancholy that the lack of enterprise among -publishers is so great that this work has not yet been given a chance -of appearing. I looked forward to it to clear up many doubtful points of -great interest. Up to the present, for instance, no intelligent effort -has been made to determine if it was the introduction of the orange -into Great Britain that brought about the Sunday-school treat, or if the -orange was imported in order to meet the legitimate requirements of this -entertainment. - -***** - -Human nature---and there is a good deal of it in a large manufacturing -centre--could not be restrained in the neighbourhood of such a relic of -a past generation, and, consequently, that form of pleasantry known -as the hoax was constantly attempted upon him. One morning the -correspondence columns, which he was supposed to edit with scrupulous -care, appeared headed with an account of the discovery of some ancient -pottery bearing a Latin inscription--the most venerable and certainly -the most transparent of newspaper hoaxes. - -It need scarcely be said that there was an extraordinary demand for -copies of the issue of that day; but luckily the thing was discovered -in time to disappoint a large number of those persons who came to the -office to mock at the simplicity of the good old soul, who fancied he -had found a congenial topic when he received the letter headed with an -appeal to archæologists. - -Is there a more contemptible creature in the world than the newspaper -hoaxer? The wretch who can see fun in obtaining the publication of some -filthy phrase in a newspaper that is certain to be read by numbers of -women, should, in my mind, be treated as the flinger of a dynamite bomb -among a crowd of innocent people. The sender of a false notice of a -marriage, a birth, or a death, is usually difficult to bring to justice, -but when found, he--or she--should be treated as a social leper. The -pain caused by such heartless hoaxes is incalculable. - -***** - -Sometimes a careless reporter, or foreman printer, is unwittingly the -means of causing much annoyance, and even consternation, by allowing an -obituary notice to appear prematurely. On every well-managed paper there -is a set of pigeon-holed obituaries of eminent persons, local as well as -national. When it is almost certain that one of them is at the point of -death, the sketch is written up to the latest date, and frequently put -in type, to be ready in case the news of the death should arrive when -the paper is going to press. Now, I have known of several cases in which -the “set-up” obituary notice contrived to appear before the person -to whom it referred had breathed his last. This is undoubtedly a very -painful occurrence, and in some cases it may actually precipitate the -incident which it purports to record. Personally, I should not consider -myself called on to die because a newspaper happened to publish an -account of my death; but I know of at least one case in which a -man actually succumbed out of compliment to a newspaper that had -accidentally recorded his death. - -That person was not made of the same fibre as a certain eminent surgeon -with whom I was well acquainted. He was thoughtful enough to send for -a reporter on one Monday evening, and said that as he did not wish -the pangs of death to be increased by the reflection that a ridiculous -sketch of his career would be published in the newspapers, he thought -he would just dictate three-quarters of a column of such a character -as would allow of his dying without anything on his mind. Of course the -reporter was delighted, and commenced as usual:-- - -“It is with the deepest regret that we have to announce this morning the -decease of one of our most eminent physicians, and best-known citizens. -Dr. Theobald Smith, M.Sc., F.R.C.S.E., passed peacefully away at o’clock -{last night/this morning} at his residence, Pharmakon House, surrounded -by the members of the family to whom he was so deeply attached, and to -whom, though a father, he was still a friend.” - -“Now, sir,” said the reporter, “I’ve left a space for the hour, and I -can strike out either ‘last night,’ or ‘this morning,’ when I hear of -your death.” - -“That’s right,” said the doctor. “Now, I’ll give you some particulars of -my life.” - -“Thanks,” said the reporter. “You will not exceed three-quarters of a -column, for we’re greatly crushed for space just now. If you could put -it off till Sunday, I could give you a column with leads, as Parliament -doesn’t sit on Saturday.” - -It seemed a tempting offer; but the doctor, after pondering for a few -moments, as if trying to recollect his engagements, shook his head, and -said he would be glad to oblige, but the matter had really passed beyond -his control. - -“But there’ll surely be time for you to see a proof?” cried the -reporter, with some degree of anxiety in his voice. - -“I’ll take good care of that,” said the doctor. “You can send it to me -in the morning. I think I’ll die between eleven and twelve at night.” - -“That would suit us exactly,” said the reporter genially. “We could then -send the obituary away in the first page at one o’clock. The foreman -grumbles if he has to put obituaries on page 5, which goes down to the -machine at half-past three.” - -The doctor said that of course business was business, and he should do -his best to accommodate the foreman. - -He died that night at twenty minutes past eleven. - -***** - -I have suggested the possibility of the record of a death in a public -print having a disastrous effect upon a sick man, and the certainty -of its causing pain to his relatives. This view was not taken by the -eccentric proprietor to whom I have already alluded. Upon one occasion -he heard casually that a man named Robinson had just died. He hastened -to his office, found a reporter, and told him to write a paragraph -regretting the death of Mr. Richard Robinson. He assumed that it was -Richard Robinson who was dead, but it so happened that it was Mr. Thomas -Robinson, although Mr. Richard Robinson had been in feeble health for -some time. Now, when the son of the living Mr. Robinson called upon the -proprietor the next day to state that his father had read the paragraph -recording his death, and that the shock had completely prostrated him, -the proprietor turned round upon him, and said that Mr. Robinson and -his family should rather feel extremely grateful for the appearance of -a paragraph of so complimentary a character. Young Mr. Robinson, fearing -that the next move on the part of the proprietor would be to demand -payment for the paragraph at scale rates, begged that his intrusion -might be pardoned; and hurried away congratulating himself at having -escaped very easily. - -***** - -Editors are always supposed to know nearly everything, and they -nearly always do. In this respect they differ materially from the -representatives of other professions. If you were to ask the average -clergyman--if there is such a thing as an average clergyman--what he -thought of the dramatic construction of a French vaudeville, he would -probably feel hurt; but if an editor failed to give an intelligent -opinion on this subject, as well as upon the tendencies to Socinianism -displayed in the sermon of an eminent Churchman, he would be regarded -as unfit for his business. You can get an intelligent opinion from -an editor on almost any subject; but you are lucky if you can get an -intelligent opinion on any one subject from the average professional -man--a lawyer, of course, excepted. - -But undoubtedly curious specimens of editors might occasionally have -been found in the smaller newspaper offices in the provinces long ago. -More than twenty years have passed since the sub-editor of a rather -important paper in a town in the Midlands interviewed, on a matter of -professional etiquette, the editor--he was an Irishman--of a struggling -organ in the same town. - -It appeared that the chief reporter of the sub-editor’s paper had given -some paragraph of news to a brother on the second paper, and yet when -the latter was respectfully asked for an equivalent, he refused it; -hence the need for diplomatic representations. - -“I say that our reporters must have a _quid pro quo_ in every case where -they have given a par. to yours,” said the sub-editor, who was entrusted -with the negotiations. - -“Must have a what?” asked the Irish editor. “A _quid pro quo_,” said the -sub-editor. “Now I’ve come here for the _quid_ and I don’t mean to go -until I get it.” - -The editor looked at him, then felt for something in his waistcoat -pocket. Producing a piece of that sort of tobacco known as Limerick -twist, he bit it in two, and offered one portion to the sub-editor, -saying, “There’s your quid for you; but, so help me Gad, I’ve only got -what you see in my mouth to last me till morning.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV.--THE UNATTACHED EDITOR. - - -_The “casual” word--The mighty hunter--The retort discourteous--How the -editor’s chair was broken--An explanation on a clove--The master of -a system--A hitch in the system--The two Alhambras--A parallel--The -unattached parson--Another system--A father’s legacy--The sermon--The -imagination and its claims--The evening service--Saying a few -words--Antique carved oak--How the chaplain’s doubts were dispersed--A -literary tinker--A tinker’s triumph--The two Joneses._ - - -THE “scratch” editor also may now and again be found to possess -some eccentricities. He is the man who is taken on a newspaper in an -emergency to fill the place of an editor who may perhaps be suffering -from a serious illness, or who may, in an unguarded moment, have died. -There is a class of journalists with whom being out of employment -amounts almost to a profession in itself. But the “unattached” editor is -usually no more brilliant a man than the unattached gentleman “in holy -orders”--the clergyman who appears suddenly at the vestry door carrying -a black bag, and probably with his nose a little red (the result of a -cold railway journey), and who introduces himself to the sexton as ready -to do duty for the legitimate, but temporarily incapacitated, incumbent, -whose telegram he had received only the previous day. - -As the congregation are glad to get any one who can read the prayers -with an air of authority in the absence of their pastor, so the -proprietors of a newspaper are sometimes pleased to welcome the -“scratch,” or casual, editor. - -I have met with a few of the class, but never with one whose chronic -unattached condition I could not easily account for, before we had been -together long. Most of them hated journalism---and everything else -(with one important exception). All of them boasted of their feats as -journalists. A fine crusted specimen was accustomed to declare nightly -that he had once kept hunters; another that he had not always been -connected with such a miserable rag as the journal on which he was -temporarily employed. - -“I’ve been on the best papers in the three kingdoms,” he shouted one -night. - -“That’s only another way of saying that you’ve been kicked off the most -influential organs in the country,” remarked a bystander. - -“If you don’t look out you’ll soon be kicked off another.” - -No verbal retort is possible to such brutality of language. None was -attempted. - -When I was explaining, the next day, to the proprietor how the chair in -the editor’s room came to be broken, and also how the silhouette of an -octopus came to be executed so boldly in ink upon the wall of the -same apartment, the “scratch” editor (his appellation had a double -significance this day) entered suddenly. He said he had come to explain -something. - -Now when a literary gentleman appears with long strips of sticking -plaster loosely adhering to one side of his face, as white caterpillars -adhere to a garden wall, and when, moreover, the perfume that floats on -the air at his approach is that of a peppermint lozenge that has been -preserved from decay in alcohol, any explanation that he may offer -in regard to a preceding occurrence is likely to be received with -suspicion, if not with absolute distrust. In this case, however, no -opportunity was given the man for justifying any claim that he might -advance to be credited. - -The proprietor assured him that he had already received an account of -the deplorable occurrence of the night before, and that he hoped mutual -apologies would be made in the course of the day, so that, in diplomatic -language, the incident might be considered closed before night. - -The “scratch” man breathed again--heavily, alcoholically, -peppermintally. And before night I managed to sticking-plaster up a -peace between the belligerents. - -At the end of a month some busybody outside the paper had the bad taste -to point out to the proprietor that one of the leading articles--the one -contributed by the “scratch” man--in a recent issue of the paper, was -to a word identical with one which had appeared a fortnight before in a -Scotch paper of some importance. The “scratch” man explained--on alcohol -and a clove--that the Scotch paper had copied his article. But the -proprietor expressed his grave doubts on this point, his chief reason -for adopting this course being that the Scotch paper with the article -had appeared ten days previously. Then the “scratch” man said the matter -was a singular, but by no means unprecedented, coincidence. - -The proprietor opened the office door. - -***** - -One of the most interesting of these “casuals” had been a clergyman (he -said). I never was quite successful in finding out with what Church he -had been connected, nor, although pressed for a reply, would he ever -reveal to me how he came to find himself outside the pale of his -Church--whatever it was. He had undoubtedly some of the mannerisms of a -clergyman who is anxious that every one should know his profession, and -he could certainly look out of the corners of his eyes with the best of -them. Like the parson who is so very “low” that he steadily refuses to -cross his t’s lest he should be accused of adopting Romish emblems, he -declined to turn his head without moving his whole body. - -He wore rusty cloth gloves. - -He was also the most adroit thief whom I ever met; and I have lived -among some adroit ones in my time. - -I never read such brilliant articles as he wrote nightly--never, until I -came upon the same articles in old files of the London newspapers, where -they had originally appeared. The original articles from which his were -copied _verbatim_ were, I admit, quite as brilliant as his. - -His _modus operandi_ was simplicity itself. He kept in his desk a -series of large books for newspaper cuttings, and these were packed with -articles on all manner of subjects, clipped from the best newspapers. -Every day he spent an hour making these extracts, by the aid of a pot of -paste, and indexing them on the most perfect system of double entry that -could be conceived. - -At night I frequently came down to my office and found that he had -written two columns of the most delightful essays. One might, perhaps, -be on the subject of Moresco-Gothic Architecture and its influence -on the genius of Velasquez, another on Battueshooting and the -Acclimatisation of the Bird of Paradise in English coverts; but both -were treated with equal grace. That such erudition and originality -should be associated with cloth gloves astonished me. One day, however, -the man wrote a column upon the decoration of one of the courts of the -Alhambra, and a more picturesque article I never read--up to a certain -point; and this point was reached when he commenced a new paragraph as -follows:-- - -“Alas! that so lovely a piece of work should have fallen a prey to the -devastating element that laid the whole structure in ruins, and eclipsed -the gaiety, if not of nations, at any rate of the people of London, who -were wont to resort nightly to this Thespian temple of Leicester Square, -feeling certain that under the liberal management of its enterprising -_entrepreneur_ some brilliant stage spectacle would be brought before -their eyes. Now, however, that the company for the restoration of the -building has been successfully floated, we may hope for a revival of the -ancient glories of the Alhambra.” - -I inquired casually of the perpetrator of the article if he had ever -heard of the Alhambra? - -“Why, I wrote of it yesterday,” he said. - -“I’ve been in it; it’s in Leicester Square.” - -“Did you ever hear of another Alhambra?” - -I asked blandly. - -“Yes; there’s one in Glasgow.” - -“Did you ever hear of one that wasn’t a music-hall?” - -“Never. Maybe the temperance people give one of their new-fashioned -coffee places the name to attract sinners on false pretences.” - -“Did you ever hear of an Alhambra in Spain?” - -“You don’t mean to say that they have music-halls in Spain? But why -shouldn’t they? Spaniards are fond of dancing, I believe.” - -“Why not indeed?” said I. - -The next day he had an explanation to offer to the chief of the staff. -In the evening he told me that he was going to leave the paper. - -“How is that?” I inquired. - -“I don’t like it,” he replied. “My ideas are cribbed, cabined, and -confined here.” - -“They are certainly cribbed,” said I. “Did you never hear of the Alhambra -at Grenada?” - -“Never; that’s what played the mischief with the article. You’ll see how -the mistake arose. There was a capital article in the _Telegraph_ about -the Alhambra--I see now that it must have referred to the one in -Spain--about four years ago; well, I cut it out and indexed it. A year -ago, when the Alhambra in Leicester Square was about to re-open, there -was an article in the _Daily News_. I found it in my index also, and -incorporated the two articles in mine. How the mischief was I to know -that one referred to Grenada and the other to London? These writer chaps -should be more explicit. What do they get their salaries for, anyway?” - -***** - -I have referred to a certain resemblance existing between the unattached -parson and the unattached editor. This resemblance is the more impressed -on me now that, after recalling a memory of an appropriator of another -man’s literary work by the “casual” editor, I can recollect how I lived -for some years next door to a “casual” parson, who had annexed a bagful -of sermons left by his father, one of which he preached whenever he -obtained an engagement. It was said that on receiving the usual telegram -from a disabled rector on Saturday evening, he was accustomed to go to -the sermon-sack, and, putting his hand down the mouth, take out a sermon -with the same ease and confidence as are displayed by the professional -rat-catcher in extracting from his bag one of its lively contents for -the gratification of a terrier. It so happened, however, that upon -a fine Sunday morning, he set out to do duty for a clergyman at a -distance, having previously felt about the sermon-sack until he found -a good fat roll of manuscript, which he stuffed into his pocket. He -reached the church--in which, it should be mentioned, he had never -before preached--and, bustling through the service with his accustomed -celerity, ascended the pulpit and flattened out with a slap or two -the sermon on the cushion in front of him. The sermon proved to be the -valedictory one preached by his father in the church of which he had -been rector for half a century. It was unquestionably a very fine -effort, but it might seem to some people to lack local colour. Delivered -in a church to which the preacher was a complete stranger, it had a -certain amount of inappropriateness about it which might reasonably be -expected to diminish from its effect. - -“It is a solemn moment for us all, my dear, dear friends. It is a solemn -moment for you, but ah! how much more solemn for me! Sunday after Sunday -for the past fifty years I have stood in the pulpit where I stand to-day -to preach the Gospel of Truth. I see before me now the well-known faces -of my flock. Those who were young when I first came among you are now -well stricken in years. Some whom I baptised as infants, have brought -their infants to me to be baptised; these in turn have been spared to -bring their infants to be admitted into the membership of the Church -Militant. For fifty years have I not taken part in your joys and your -sorrows, and now who shall say that the hour of parting should not be -bitter? I see tears on the faces before me----” - -And the funny part of the matter was that he did. No one present -seemed to see anything inappropriate in the sermon; and at the pathetic -references to the hour of parting, there was not a dry eye in the -church--except the remarkably bright pair possessed by a female scoffer, -who told the story to me. It was not to be expected that the clergyman -would become aware of the mistake--if it was a mistake--that he had -made: he had for years been a preaching machine, and had become as -devoid of feeling as a barrel organ; but it seemed to me incredible that -only one person in the church should discover the ludicrous aspect of -the situation. - -So I remarked to my informant, and she said that it was all the same a -fact that the people were weeping copiously on all sides. - -“I asked the doctor’s wife the next day what she thought of the sermon,” - added my informant, “and she replied with a sigh that it was beautifully -touching; and when I put it straight to her if she did not think it was -queer for a clergyman who was a total stranger to us to say that he had -occupied the pulpit for fifty years, she replied, ‘Ah, my dear, you’re -too matter of fact: sermons should not be taken too literally. _You -should make allowance for the parsons imagination_.’” - -It is told of the same “casual” that an attempt was made to get the -better of him by a parsimonious set of churchwardens upon the occasion -of his being engaged to do duty for the regular parson of the parish. -The contract made with the “casual” was to perform the service and -preach the sermon in the morning for the sum of two guineas. He turned -up in good time on the Sunday morning and performed his part of the -contract in a business-like way. In the vestry, after he had preached -the sermon, he was waited on by the senior churchwarden, who handed him -his fee and expressed the great satisfaction felt by the churchwardens -at the manner in which the work had been executed. He added that as the -clergyman’s train would not leave the village until half-past eight at -night, perhaps the reverend gentleman would not mind dining with him, -the senior churchwarden, and performing a short evening service at six -o’clock. - -“That will suit me very well indeed,” said the reverend gentleman. “I -thank you very much for your hospitable offer. I charge thirty shillings -for an evening service with sermon.” - -The hospitable churchwarden replied that he feared the resources of the -church would not be equal to such a strain upon them. He thought that -the clergyman might not object under the circumstances to give his -services gratis. - -“Do you dispose of your excellent cheeses gratis?” asked the clergyman -courteously. The churchwarden was in the cheese business. - -“Well, no, of course not,” laughed the churchwarden. “But still--well, -suppose we say a guinea for the evening service?” - -“That’s my charge for the service, leaving out the sermon,” said the -clergyman. - -He explained that it was the cheapest thing in the market at the time. -It was done with only the smallest margin of profit. Allowing for the -wear and tear, it left hardly anything for himself. - -The churchwarden shook his head. He feared that they would not be able -to trade on the terms, he said. Suddenly, however, he brightened up. -Could the reverend gentleman not give them a good, sound, second quality -sermon? he inquired. They did not expect an A-1, copper-fastened, -platinum-tipped, bevelled-edged, full-calf sermon for the money; but -hadn’t the reverend gentleman a sound, clump-soled, celluloid-faced, -nickel-plated sermon--something evangelical that would do very well for -one evening? - -The clergyman replied that he had nothing of the sort in stock. - -“Well, at any rate, you will say a few words to the congregation--not -a sermon, you know--after the service, for the guinea?” suggested the -churchwarden. - -“Oh, yes, I’ll say a few words, if that’s all,” said the clergyman. - -And he did. - -When he had got to that grand old Amen which closes the Evening Service, -he stood up and said,-- - -“Dear brethren, there will be no sermon preached here this evening.” - -***** - -Having entered upon the perilous path that is strewn with stories of -clergymen, I cannot leave it without recalling certain negotiations -which a prelate once opened with me for the purchase of an article -of furniture that remained at the palace when he was translated (with -footnotes in the vernacular by local tradesmen) to a new episcopate. I -have always had a weakness for collecting antique carved oak, and the -prelate, being aware of this, called my attention to what he termed an -“antique carved oak cabinet,” which occupied an alcove in the hall. He -said he thought that I might be glad to have a chance of purchasing it, -for he himself did not wish to be put to the trouble of conveying it to -his new home--if a palace can be called a home. Now, there had been a -three days’ auction at the palace where the antiquity remained, and, -apparently, all the dealers had managed to resist the temptation that -was offered them of acquiring a rare specimen of old oak; but, assuming -that the dignitary had placed a high reserve price upon it from which -he might now be disposed to abate, I replied that it would please me -greatly to buy the cabinet if it was not too large. By appointment -I accompanied a seemingly meek domestic chaplain to the dis-.mantled -palace; and there, sure enough, in a dark alcove of the long and narrow -hall--for the palace was not palatial--I saw (dimly) a huge thing like -a wardrobe with pillars, or it might have been a loose box, or perhaps a -bedstead gone wrong, or a dismantled hearse. - -“That’s a dreadful thing,” I remarked to the meek chaplain. - -“Dreadful, indeed,” he replied. “But it’s antique carved oak, so I -suppose it’s a treasure.” - -“Have you a match about you?” I asked, for the place was very dark. - -The meek chaplain looked scandalised--it was light enough to allow of -my seeing that--at the suggestion that he carried matches. He said he -thought he knew where some might be had. He walked to the end of the -passage, and I saw him take out a box of matches from a pocket. He came -back, saying he recollected having seen the box on a ledge “down there.” - I struck a match and held the light close to the fabric. I gave a -portion of it a little scrape with my knife, and then tested the carving -by the same implement. - -“How did his lordship describe this?” I inquired. - -“He said it was antique carved oak,” said the meek chaplain. - -“Did you ever hear of Cuvier and the lobster?” I inquired further. - -He said he never had. - -“That being so, I may venture to say that his lordship’s description -of this thing is an excellent one,” I remarked; “only that it is not -antique, it is not carved, and it is not oak.” - -“What do you mean?” asked the meek chaplain.. - -I struck another match, and showed him the white patch that I had -scraped with my knife, and he admitted that old oak was not usually -white beneath the surface. I showed him also where the carving had -sprung up before the point of my knife, making plain the ‘fact that the -carving had been glued to the fabric. - -“His lordship got that made by a local carpenter twenty-five years ago,” - said I; “and yet he tries to sell it to me for antique carved oak. It -strikes me that in Wardour Street he would find a congenial episcopate.” - -The meek chaplain stroked his chin reflectively; then, putting his -umbrella under one arm, he joined the tips of his fingers, saying,-- - -“Whatever unworthy doubts I may once have entertained on the difficult -subject of Apostolic succession are now, thank God, set at rest.” - -“What do you mean?” I inquired. - -“Is it possible,” he asked, “that you do not perceive how strong an -argument this incident furnishes in favour of our Church’s claim to the -Apostolic succession of her bishops?” - -I shook my head. - -“St. Peter was a Jew,” said the meek chaplain. - -***** - -Another of the casual ward of editors who appears on the tablets of my -memory was a gentleman who came from Wales--and a large number of other -places. He had a rooted objection to write anything new; but he was the -best literary tinker I ever met. In Spitzhagen’s story, “Sturmfluth,” - there is a most amusing account of the sculptor who made the statues of -distinguished Abstractions, which he had carved in his young days, do -duty for memorial commissions of lately-departed heroes. A bust of Homer -he had no difficulty in transforming into one of Germania weeping for -her sons killed in the war, and so forth. The sculptor’s talent was the -same as that of the editor. He had the draft of about fifty articles, -and three obituary notices. These he managed to tinker up, chipping a -bit off here and there, and giving prominence to other portions, until -his purpose of the moment was served. I have seen him turn an article -that purported to show the absurdity of free trade, into an attack upon -the Irish policy of the Government; and in the twinkling of an eye upon -another occasion he made one on the Panama swindle do duty for one on -the compulsory rescue of Emin by Stanley. With only a change of a line -or, two, the obituary notice of Gambetta was that which he had used for -Garibaldi; and yet when the Emperor Frederick died, it was the same -article that was furbished up for the occasion. Every local medical man -who died was dealt with in the appreciative article which he had written -some years before on the death of Sir William Gull; and the influence of -the career of every just deceased local philanthropist was described in -the words (slightly altered to suit topography) that had been written -for the Earl of Shaftesbury. - -It was really little short of marvellous how this system worked. It was -a tinker’s triumph. - -I must supplement my recollections of these worthies by a few lines -regarding a man of the same type who, I believe, never put pen to paper -without being guilty of some extraordinary error. A high compliment was -paid to me, I felt, when I had assigned to me, as part of my duties, -the reading of his proof sheets nightly. In everyone that I ever read -I found some monstrous mistake; and as he was old enough to be my -grandfather, and extremely sensitive besides, I was completely exhausted -by my expenditure of tact in pointing out to him what I called his -“little inaccuracies.” One night he laid his proof sheet before me, -saying triumphantly, “You’ll not find any of the usual slips in that, -I’m thinking. I’ve managed to write one leader correct at last.” - -I read the thing he had written. It referred to a letter which Mr. Bence -Jones had contributed to _The Times_ on the subject of the Irish Land -League Agitation. After commenting on this letter, he wound up by -saying that Mr. Bence Jones had proved himself to be as practical an -agriculturalist as he was an expert painter. - -“Are you certain that Bence Jones is a painter?” I asked. - -“As certain as I can be of anything,” was the reply. “I’ve seen his work -referred to dozens of times. I believe there’s a picture of his in -the Grosvenor Gallery this very year. I thought you knew all about -contemporary art,” he added, with a sneer. - -“Art is long,” said I, searching for a Grosvenor Gallery catalogue, -which I knew I had thrown among my books. “Now, will you just turn up -the picture you say you saw noticed, and I’ll admit that you know more -than I do?” - -I handed him the catalogue. He adjusted his spectacles, looked at the -index, gave a triumphant “Ha! I have you now,” and forthwith turned up -“The Golden Stair,” by E. _Burne_ Jones. - - - - -CHAPTER V.--THE SUB-EDITORS. - -_The old and the new--The scissors and paste auxiliaries--A night’s -work--“A dorg’s life”--How to communicate with the third floor--A modern -man in the old days--His migration--Other migrants--Some provincial -correspondents--Forgetful of a Town Councillor--The Plymouth Brother -as a sub-editor--A vocal effort--“Summary” justice--Place aux Dames--A -ghost story--Suggestions of the Crystal Palace--The presentation._ - -IT would give me no difficulty to write a book about sub-editors -with illustrations from those whom I have met. It is, perhaps, in this -department of a newspaper office that the change from the old _regime_ -is most apparent. The young sub-editors are frequently graduates of -universities; but, in spite of this, most of them are well abreast -of French and German as well as English literature. They bear out my -contention, that journalism is beginning to be taken seriously. The new -men have chosen journalism as their profession; they have not, as was -the case with the men of a past age, merely drifted into journalism -because they were failures in banks, in tailors’ shops, in the drapery -line, and even in the tobacco business--one in which failure is almost -impossible. - -I have met in the old days with specimens of such men--men who fancied, -and who got their employers to fancy also, that because they had failed -in occupations that demanded the exercise of no intellectual powers for -success, they were bound to succeed in something that they termed “a -literary calling.” They did not succeed as a rule. They glanced over -their column or two of telegraphic news,--in those days few provincial -papers contained more than a double column of telegrams,--they glanced -through the country correspondence and corrected such mistakes in -grammar as they were able to detect: it was with the scissors and paste, -however, that their most striking intellectual work was done. In this -department the brilliancy of the old sub-editor’s genius had a chance -of being displayed. It coruscated, so to speak, on the rim of the paste -pot, and played upon the business angle of the scissors, as the St. -Elmo’s light gleams on the yard-arms. - -“Ah!” said one of them to me, with a glow of proper pride upon his face, -as he ran the closed scissors between the pages of the _Globe_. “Ah, -it’s only when it comes to a question of cutting out that your true -sub-editor reveals himself.” - -And he forthwith annexed the “turn-over,” without so much as acquainting -himself with the nature of the column. - -“Do you never read the thing before you cut it out?” I inquired timidly. - -He smiled the smile of the professor at the innocent question of a tyro. - -“Not likely, young fellow,” he replied. “It’s bad enough to have to read -all the cuttings when they appear in our next issue, without reading -them beforehand.” - -“Then how do you know whether or not the thing that you cut out is -suitable for the paper?” I asked. - -“That’s where the instinct of your true subeditor comes in,” said he. -“I put in the point of the scissors mechanically and the right thing is -sure to come between the blades.” - -In a few minutes he had about thirty columns of cuttings ready for the -foreman printer. - -I began to feel that I had never done full justice to the sub-editor or -the truffle hunter. - -***** - -I have said that in those old days not more than two columns of wired -news ever came to any provincial paper--_The Scotsman_, the _Glasgow -Herald_, and a Liverpool and Manchester organ excepted. The private wire -had not yet been heard of. In the present day, however, I have seen -as many as sixteen columns of telegraphic news in a very ordinary -provincial paper. I myself have come into my office at ten o’clock to -find a speech in “flimsy,” of four columns in length, on some burning -question of the moment. I have read through all this matter, and placing -it in the printers’ hands by eleven, I have written a column of comment -(about one thousand eight hundred words), read a proof of this column -and started for home at half-past one. I may mention that while waiting -for the last slips of my proof, I also made myself aware of the contents -of the _Times_, the _Telegraph_, the _Standard_, and the _Morning Post_, -which had arrived by the midnight train. - -I suppose there are hundreds of editors throughout the provinces to whom -such a programme is habitually no more a thing to shrink from than it -was to me for several years of my life. But I am sure that if any one -of the sub-editors of the old days had been required to read even five -columns of a political speech, and eight of parliament, he would have -talked about slave-driving and a “dorg’s life” until he had fallen -asleep--as he frequently did--with his arms on his desk and the -“flimsies” on the floor. - -Some time ago I was in London, and had written an article at my rooms, -with a view of putting it on the special wire at the Fleet Street end -for transmission to the newspaper on which I was then employed. It so -happened, however, that I was engaged at other matters much longer than -I expected to be that night, so that it was past one o’clock in the -morning when I drove to the office in Fleet Street. The lower door was -shut, and no response was given to my ring. I knew that the editor had -gone home, but of course the telegraph operator was still in his room--I -could see his light in the topmost window--and I made up my mind to -rouse him, for I assumed that he was taking his usual sleep. After -ringing the bell twice without result, it suddenly occurred to me that -I might place myself in connection with him by some other means than the -bell-wire. I drove to the Central Telegraph Office, and sent a telegram -to the operator at the Irish end of the special wire, asking him to -arouse the Fleet Street operator and tell him to open the street door -for me. - -When I returned to Fleet Street I found the operator waiting for me -at the open door. In other words, I found that my easiest plan of -communicating with the third floor from the street was by means of an -office in Ireland. - -I do not think that any of the old-time subeditors would have been -likely to anticipate the arrival of a day when such an incident would be -possible. - -***** - -The only modern man of the old school, so to speak, with whom I came in -contact at the outset of my journalistic life, now occupies one of the -highest places on the London Press. I have never met so able a man since -I worked by his side, nor have I ever met with one who was so accurate -an observer, or so unerring a judge of men. He was everything that -a subeditor should be, and if he erred at all it was on the side of -courtesy. I have known of men coming down to the office with an action -for libel in their hearts, and bitterness surpassing the bitterness of -a Thomson whose name has appeared with a p, in the account of the -attendance at a funeral, and yet going back to their wives and families -quite genial, owing to the attitude adopted toward them by this -subeditor; yes, and without any offer being made by him to have the -mistake, of which they usually complained, altered in the next issue. - -He was one of the few men whom I have known to go to London from the -provinces with a doubt on his mind as to his future success. Most of -those to whom I have said a farewell that, unfortunately, proved to -be only temporary, had made up their minds to seek the metropolis on -account of the congenial extent of the working area of that city. A -provincial town of three hundred thousand inhabitants had a cramping -effect upon them, they carefully assured me; the fact being that any -place except London was little better than a kennel--usually a good deal -worse.. - -I have come to the conclusion, from thinking over this matter, that, -although self-confidence may be a valuable quality on the part of a -pressman, it should not be cultivated to the exclusion of all other -virtues. - -The gentleman to whom I refer is now managing editor of his paper, and -spends a large portion of his hardly-purchased leisure hours answering -letters that have been written to him by literary aspirants in his -native town. One of them writes a pamphlet to prove that there never has -been and never shall be a hell, and he sends it to be dealt with on the -following morning in a leader in the leading London newspaper. He, -it seems, has to be written to--kindly, but firmly. Another wishes a -poem--not on a death in the Royal Family--to be printed, if possible, -between the summary and the first leader; a third reminds the managing -editor that when sub-editor of the provincial paper eleven years before, -he inserted a letter on the disgraceful state of the footpath on one of -the local thoroughfares, and hopes that, now that the same gentleman -is at the head of a great metropolitan organ, he will assist him, his -correspondent, in the good work which has been inaugurated. The footpath -is as bad as ever, he explains. But it is over courteously repressive -letters to such young men--and old men too--as hope he may see his way -to give them immediate and lucrative employment on his staff, that most -of his spare time and all his spare stamps are spent. - -Ladies write to him by the hundred--for it seems that any one may become -a lady journalist--making valuable suggestions to him by means of which -he may, if he chooses, obtain daily a chatty column with local social -sketches, every one guaranteed to be taken from life. - -He doesn’t choose. - -The consequence is that the ladies write to him again without the loss -of a post, and assure him that if he fancies his miserable paper is -anything but the laughing-stock of humanity, he takes an absurdly -optimistic view of the result of his labours in connection with it. - -***** - -About five years after he had left the town where we had been located -together, I met a man who had come upon him in London, and who had -accepted his invitation to dinner. - -“We had a long talk together,” said the man, recording the transaction, -“and I was surprised to find how completely he has severed all his -former connections and old associations. I mentioned casually the names -of some of the most prominent of the people here, but he had difficulty -in recalling them. Why, actually--you’ll scarcely believe it--when I -spoke of Sir Alexander Henderson, he asked who was he! It’s a positive -fact!” - -Now Sir Alexander Henderson was a Town Councillor. - -***** - -The provincial successor to the sub-editor just referred to was -undoubtedly a remarkable man. He was a Plymouth Brother, and without -guile. He was, for some reason or other, very anxious that I should -join “The Church” also. I might have done so if I had succeeded in -discovering what were the precise doctrines held by the body. But it -would seem that the theology of the Plymouth Brethren is not an exact -science. A Plymouth Brother is one who accepts the doctrines of the -Plymouth Brethren. So much I learned, and no more. - -He possessed a certain amount of confidence in the correctness of his -views--whatever they may have been, and he never allowed any pressman to -enter his room without writing a summary on some subject; for which, it -may be mentioned, he himself got credit in the eyes of the proprietor. -He had no singing voice whatsoever, but his views on the Second Advent -were so deep as to force him to give vocal expression to them thus:-- - -“Parlando. The Lord shall come. Will you write me a bit of a summary?” - -[Illustration: 0092] - -The request to anyone who chanced to be in the room with him, following -so hard upon the vocal assertion of the most solemn of his theological -tenets, had a shocking effect; more especially as the newspaper offices -in those old days were constantly filled with shallow scoffers and -sceptics; and, of course, persons were not wanting who endeavoured to -evade their task by assuring him that the Sacred Event was not one that -could be legitimately treated within a lesser space than a full column. - -He usually offered to discuss with me at 2 a.m. such subjects as the -Immortality of the Soul or the Inspiration of Holy Writ. When he would -signify his intention of proving both questions, if I would only wait -for four hours. - -I was accustomed to adopt the attitude of the schoolboy who, when the -schoolmaster, after drawing sundry lines on the blackboard, asserted -that the square described upon the diagonal of a double rectangular -parallelogram was equal to double the rectangle described upon the other -two sides, and offered to prove it, said, “Pray don’t trouble yourself, -sir; I don’t doubt it in the least.” - -I assured the sub-editor that there was nothing in the somewhat -extensive range of theological belief that I wouldn’t admit at 2 a.m. -after a long night’s work. - -***** - -The most amusing experience was that which I had with the same gentleman -at the time of the Eastern crises of the spring of 1878. During the -previous year he had accustomed himself to close his nightly summary of -the progress of the war between Russia and Turkey and the possibility of -complications arising with England, with these words:--“Fortunate -indeed it is that at the present moment we have at our Foreign Office so -sagacious and far-seeing a statesman as Earl Derby. Every confidence may -be reposed in his judgment to avert the crisis which in all probability -is impending.” - -Certainly once a week did this summary appear in the paper, until I -fancy the readers began to tire of it. As events developed early in the -spring, the paragraph was inserted with feverish frequency. He was at it -again one night--I could hear him murmur the words to himself as he went -over the thing--but the moment he had given out the copy I threw down in -front of him a telegram which I had just opened. - -“That will make a good summary,” I said. “The Reserves are called out -and Lord Derby has resigned.” - -He sprang to his feet, exclaiming, like the blameless George, -“What--what--what?” - -“There’s the flimsy,” said I. “It’s a good riddance. He never was worth -much. The idea of a conscientious Minister at the Foreign Office! Now -Beaconsfield will have a free hand. You’d better write that summary.” - -“I will--I will,” he said. “But I think I’ll ask you to dictate it to -me.” - -“All right,” said I. “Heave ahead. ‘The news of the resignation of Earl -Derby will be received by the public of Great Britain with feelings akin -to those of relief.... The truth is that for several months past it was -but too plain to even the least sagacious persons that Lord Derby at the -Foreign Office was the one weakness in the _personnel_ of the Ministry. -In colloquial, parlance he was the square peg in the round hole. Now -that his resignation has been accepted we may say farewell, a long -farewell, to a feeble and vacillating Minister of whose capacity at such -a serious crisis we have frequently thought it our duty to express our -grave doubts.’” - -He took a shorthand note of this stuff, which he transcribed, and -ordered to be set up in place of the first summary. For the next three -months that original metaphor of the square peg and the round hole -appeared in relation to Lord Derby once a week in the political summary. - -***** - -Among the minor peculiarities of this subeditor of the old time was -an apparently irresistible desire for the companionship of his wife at -nights. Perhaps, however, I am doing him an injustice, and the evidence -available on this point should only be accepted as indicating the desire -of his wife for the companionship of her husband. At any rate, for some -reason or other, the lady occupied an honoured place in her husband’s -room certainly three nights every week. - -The pair never exchanged a word for the six or seven hours that -they remained together. Perhaps here again I am doing one of them an -injustice, for I now remember that during at least two hours out of -every night the door of the room was locked on the inside, so they -may have been making up their arrears of silence by discussing the -immortality of the soul, or other delicate theological points, during -this “close” season. - -The foreman printer was the only one in the office who was in the habit -of complaining about the presence of the lady in the sub-editor’s room. -He was the rudest-voiced man and the most untiring user of oaths ever -known even among foremen printers, and this is saying a great deal. He -explained to me in language that was by no means deficient in force, -that the presence of the lady had a cramping and enervating effect upon -him when he went to tell the sub-editor that he needn’t send out any -more “copy,” as the paper was overset. How could any conscientious -foreman do himself justice under such circumstances? he asked me. - -***** - -The same sub-editor had a ghost story. He was the only man whom I ever -met who believed in his own ghost story. I have come in contact with -several men who had ghost stories in their _répertoire_, but I never met -any but this one who was idiot enough to believe in the story that he -had to tell. I am sorry that I cannot remember its many details. But -the truth is that it made no more impression on me than the usual ghost -story makes upon a man with a sound digestion. As a means of earning a -livelihood the journalistic “spook” occupies a legitimate place among -the other devices of modern enterprise to effect the same praiseworthy -object; but a personal and unprofessional belief in the possibility of -the existence in visible form of a “ghost” is the evidence either of -a mind constitutionally adapted to the practice of imposture, or of a -remarkable capacity for being imposed upon. My friend the sub-editor had -not a heart for falsehood framed, so I believed that he believed that -he had seen the spirit of his father make an effective exit from -the apartment where the father had died. This was, I recollect, the -foundation of his story. I remember also that the spirit took the form -of a small but compact ball of fire, and that it rolled up the spout--on -the outside--and then broke into a thousand stars. - -The description of the incident suggested a lesser triumph of Messrs. -Brock at the Crystal Palace rather than the account of the solution of -the greatest mystery that man ever has faced or ever can face. When I -had heard the story to the end--up to the moment that the old nurse came -out of the house crying, “He’s gone, he’s gone!” preparatory to throwing -her apron over her head--I merely asked,-- - -“How many nights did you say you had been watching by your father?” - -“Three,” he replied. “But I don’t think that I said anything to you -about watching.” Neither had he. Like the witness at the mysterious -murder trial who didn’t think it worth while mentioning to the police -that he had seen a man, who had a grudge against the deceased, leaving -the room where the body was found, and carrying in one hand a long knife -dripping with blood, my friend did not think that the circumstance -of his having had no sleep for three nights had any bearing upon the -question of the accuracy of his eyesight. - -Of course I merely said that the story was an extraordinary one. - -I have noticed that Plymouth Brotherhood, vegetarianism, soft hats, bad -art, and a belief in at least one ghost usually are found associated. - -This sub-editor emigrated several years ago to the South Sea Islands -with evangelistic intentions. On his departure his colleagues made him -a graceful and appropriate gift which could not fail to cause him to -recall in after years the many pleasant hours they had spent together. - -It took the form of an immense marble chimney-piece clock, weighing -about a hundredweight and a half, and looking uncomfortably like an -eighteenth-century mural tomb. It was such a nice present to make to an -evangelist in the neophyte stage, every one thought; for what the gig -was in the forties as a guarantee of all that was genteel, the massive -marble clock was in the eyes of the past generation of journalists. I -happen to know something about the sunny islands of the South Pacific -and their inhabitants, and it has often occurred to me that the -guarantees of gentility which find universal acceptance where the -hibiscus blooms, may not be wholly identical with those that were in -vogue among journalists long ago. Should these unworthy doubts which now -and again occur to me when I am alone, be well founded, I fear that the -presentation to my friend may repose elsewhere than on a chimney-piece -of Upolu or Tahiti. - -As a matter of fact, I read a short time ago an account of a remarkable -head-dress worn by a native chief, which struck me as having many points -in common with a massive dining-room marble clock. - - - -CHAPTER VI--THE SUB-EDITORS (continued). - - -_The opium eater--A babbler o’ green fields--The “Brither Scots”--A -South Sea idyl--St. Andrew Lang Syne--An intelligent community--The -arrival of the “Bonnie Doon,” Mackellar, master--Captain Mackellar “says -a ‘sweer’”--A border raid on a Newspaper--It pays--A raid of the wild -Irish--Naugay Doola as a Newspaper editor--An epic--How the editor -came to buy my emulsion--The constitutionially quarlsome sub-editor--The -melancholy man--Not without a cause--The use of the razor._ - - -ANOTHER remarkable type of the subeditor of the past was a middle-aged -man whom it was my privilege to study for some months. No one could -account for a curious _distrait_ air which he frequently wore; but I had -only to look at his eyes to become aware of the secret of his life. I -had seen enough of opium smokers in the East to enable me to pronounce -decisively on this “case.” He was a most intelligent and widely-read -man; but he had wrecked his life over opium. He could not live without -it, and with it he was utterly unfit for any work. Night after night -I did the wretched man’s work while he lay in a corner of the room -wandering through the opium eater’s paradise. After some months he -vanished, utterly from the town, and I never found a trace of him -elsewhere. - -***** - -He was much to be preferred to a curious Scotsman who succeeded him. It -was not the effects of opium that caused this person to lie in a -corner and babble o’ green fields upon certain occasions, such as the -anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns, the anniversary of the death -of the same poet, the celebration of the Annual Festival of St. Andrew, -the Annual Dinner of the Caledonian Society, the Anniversary Supper -of the Royal Scottish Association, the Banquet and Ball of the Sons -of Scotia, the “Nicht wi’ Our Ain Kin,” the Ancient Golf Dinner, the -Curlers’ Reunion, the “Rink and Drink” of the “Free Bowlers”--a local -festival--the Pipe and Bagpipe of the Clans Awa’ Frae Harne--another -local club of Caledonians. Each of these celebrations of the -representatives of his nation, which took place in the town to which he -came--I need scarcely say it was not in Scotland--was attended by him; -hence the babbling o’ green fields between the hours of one and three -a.m. He babbled once too often, and was sent forth to fresh fields by -his employer, who was not a “brither Scot.” I daresay he is babbling up -to the present hour. - -In spite of the well-known and deeply-rooted prejudices of the Scottish -nation against the spirit of what may be termed racial cohesion, it -cannot be denied that they have been known now and again to display a -tendency--when outside Scotland--to localise certain of their national -institutions. They do so at considerable self-sacrifice, and the result -is never otherwise than beneficial to the locality operated on. No more -adequately attested narrative has been recorded than that of the -two Shanghai merchants--Messrs. Andrew Gareloch and Alexander -MacClackan--who were unfortunate enough to be wrecked on the voyage to -England. They were the sole survivors of the ship’s company, and -the island upon which they found themselves was in the middle of the -Pacific, and about six miles long by four across. In the lagoon were -plenty of fish, and on the ridge of the slope cocoanuts, loquats, -plantains, and sweet potatoes were growing, so that there was no -question as to their supplies holding out. After a good meal they -determined that their first duty was to name the island. They called it -St. Andrew Lang Syne Island, and became as festive and brotherly--they -pronounced it “britherly”--as was possible over cocoanut milk: it was -a long time since either of them had tasted milk. The second day they -founded a local Benevolent Society of St. Andrew, and held the inaugural -dinner; the third day they founded a Burns Club, and inaugurated the -undertaking with a supper; the fourth day they started a Scottish -Association, and with it a series of monthly reunions for the discussion -of Scotch ballad literature; the fifth day they laid out a golf links -with the finest bunkers in the world, and instituted a club lunch -(strictly non-alcoholic); the sixth day they formed a Curling Club--the -lagoon would make a braw rink, they said, if it only froze; if it didn’t -freeze, well, they could still have the annual Curlers’ supper--and they -had it; the Seventh Day they _kept_. On the evening of the same day a -vessel was sighted bearing up for the island; but, of course, neither -of the men would hoist a signal on the Seventh Day, and they watched the -craft run past the island, though they were amazed to find that she -had only her courses and a foresail set, in spite of the fact that -the breeze was a light one. The next morning, when they were sitting -together at breakfast discussing whether they should lay the foundation -stone--with a commemorative lunch--of a free kirk, a U.P. meeting-house, -or an Auld Licht meeting-house--they had been fiercely discussing the -merits of each at every spare moment during the previous twenty years at -Shanghai--they saw the vessel returning with all sail set and a signal -flying. To run up one of their shirts to a pole at the entrance to the -lagoon was a matter of a moment, and they saw that their signal was -responded to. Sail was taken off the ship, she was steered by signals -from the shore through the entrance to the lagoons and dropped anchor. - -She turned out to be the _Bonnie Doon_, of Dundee, Douglas Mackellar, -master. He had found portions of wreckage floating at sea, and had -thought it possible that some of the survivors of the wreck might want -passages “hame.” - -“Nae, nae,” said both the men, “we’re no in need o’ passages hame just -the noo. But what for did ye no mak’ for the passage yestere’en in the -gloaming?” - -“Ay,” said Captain Mackellar, “I ran by aboot the mirk; but hoot -awa’--hoot awa’, ye wouldn’t hae me come ashore on the Sawbath Day.” - -“Ye shortened sail, tho’,” remarked Mr. MacClackan. - -“Ay, on Saturday nicht. I never let her do more than just sail on the -Sawbath. Why the eevil didn’t ye run up a bit signal, ye loons, if ye -spied me sae weel?” - -“Hoot awa’--hoot awa’, ye wouldn’t hae us mak’ a signal on the Sawbath -day.” - -“Na’, na’, no regular signal; but ye might hae run up a wee bittie--just -eneugh tae catch my e’en. Ay, an’ will ye nae come aboard?” - -“We’ll hae to talk owre it, Captain.” - -Well; they did talk over the matter, cautiously and discreetly, for a -few hours, for Captain Mackellar was a hard man at a bargain, and he -would not agree to give them a passage at anything less than two pound -a head. At last negotiations were concluded, the men got aboard the -_Bonnie Doon_ and piloted her out of the lagoon. They reached the Clyde -in safety, having on the voyage found that Captain Mackellar was a -religious man and never used any but the most God-fearing of oaths at -his crew. - -“Weel, ma freends,” said he, as they approached Greenock--“Weel, I’m in -hopes that ye’ll be paying me the siller this e’en.” - -“Ay, mon, that we will, certes,” said the passengers. “In the meantime, -we’d tak’ the liberty o’ calling your attention to a wee bit claim we -hae japped doon on a bit slip o’ paper. It’s three poon nine for -harbour dues that ye owe us, Captain Mackellar, and twa poon ten -for pilotage--it’s compulsory at yon island, so maybe ye’ll mak’ -it convenient to hand us owre the differs when we land. Ay, Douglas -Mackellar, ye shouldn’a try to get the better o’ brither Scots.” - -Captain Douglas Mackellar was a God-fearing man, but he said “Dom!” - -I once had some traffic with a newspaper office that had suffered from -a border raid. In the month of June a managing editor had been imported -from the Clyde, and although previously no “hand” from north of the -Tweed had ever been located within its walls, yet before December had -come, to take a stroll through any department of that office was like -taking a walk down Sauchiehall Street, or the Broomielaw. The foreman -printer used weird Scotch oaths, and his son was the “devil”--pronounced -_deevil_. His brother-in-law was the day foreman, and his -brother-in-law’s son was a junior clerk. The stereotyper was the -stepson of the night foreman’s mother, and he had a nephew who was -the machinist, with a brother for his assistant. The managing editor’s -brother was sub-editor, and the man to whom his wife had been engaged -before she married him, was assistant-editor. The assistant-editor’s -uncle became the head of the advertising department, and he had three -sons; two of them became clerks with progressive salaries, and the third -became the chief reporter, also with a progressive salary. In fact, the -paper became a one-family show--it was like a “nicht wi’ Burns,”--and no -paper was ever worked better. It never paid less than fifteen per cent. - -A rather more amusing experience was of the overrunning of a newspaper -office by the wild Irishry. The organ in question had a somewhat -chequered career during the ten months that it existed. At one -period--for even as long as a month--it was understood to pay its -expenses; but when it failed to pay its expenses, no one else paid them; -hence in time it came to be looked upon as a rather unsound property. -The original editor, a man of ability and culture, declined to be -dictated to in some delicate political question by the proprietor, and -took his departure without going through the empty formality--it was, -after all, only a point of etiquette--of asking for the salary that was -due to him. For some weeks the paper was run--if something that scarcely -crawled could be said to be run--without an editor; then a red-headed -Irishman of the Namgay Doola type appeared--like a meteor surrounded -by a nimbus of brogue--in the editor’s room. His name was O’Keegan, but -lest this name might be puzzling to the English nation, he weakly gave -in to their prejudices and simplified it into O’Geogheghoiran. He was a -Master of Arts of the Royal University in Ireland, and a winner of gold -medals for Greek composition, as well as philosophy. He said he had -passed at one time at the head of the list of Indian Civil Service -candidates, but was rejected by the doctor on account of his weak lungs. -When I met him his lungs had apparently overcome whatever weakness they -may once have had. He had a colloquial acquaintance with Sanscrit, and -he had also been one of the best billiard markers in all Limerick. - -I fancy he knew something about every science and art, except the -art and science of editing a daily newspaper on which the payment of -salaries was intermittent. In the course of a week a man from Galway -had taken the vacant and slightly injured chair of the sub-editor, a man -from Waterford said he had been appointed chief of the reporting staff, -a man from Tipperary said he was the new art editor and musical critic, -and a man from Kilkenny said he had been invited by his friend Mr. -O’Geogheghoiran to “do the reviews.” I have the best of reasons for -knowing that he fancied “doing the reviews” meant going into the park -upon military field-days, and reporting thereupon. - -In short, the newspaper _staff_ was an Irish blackthorn. - -It began to “behave as sich.” - -The office was situated down a court on my line of route homeward; and -one morning about three o’clock I was passing the entrance to the court -when I fancied I heard the sound of singing. I paused, and then, out of -sheer curiosity, moved in the direction of the newspaper premises. -By the time I had reached them the singing had broadened into -recrimination. I have noticed that singing is usually the first step -in that direction. The members of the literary staff had apparently -assembled in the reporters’ room, and, stealing past the flaring gas jet -on the very rickety stairs, I reached that window of the apartment which -looked upon the lobby. When I rubbed as much dust and grime off one of -the panes as admitted of my seeing into the room, I learned more -about fighting in five minutes than I had done during a South African -campaign. - -A dozen or so bottles of various breeds lay about the floor, and a -variety of drinking vessels lay about the long table at the moment of my -glancing through the window. Only for a moment, however, for in another -second the editor had leapt upon the table, and with one dexterous -kick--a kick that no amount of Association play could cause one to -acquire; a kick that must have been handed down, so to speak, from -father to son, unto the third and fourth generations of backs--had -sent every drinking vessel into the air. One--it was a jug--struck -the ceiling, and brought down a piece of plaster about the size of a -cart-wheel; but before the mist that followed this transaction had risen -to obscure everything, I saw that a tumbler had shot out through the -window that looked upon the court. I heard the crash below a moment -afterwards. A mug had caught the corresponding portion of the anatomy of -the gentleman from Waterford, and it irritated him; a cup crashed at the -open mouth of the reviewer from Kilkenny, and, so far as I could see, -he swallowed it; a tin pannikin carried away a portion of the ear of -the musical critic from Tipperary--it was so large that he could easily -spare a chip or so of it, though some sort of an ear is essential to the -conscientious discharge of the duties of musical critic. - -For some time after, I could not see very distinctly what was going on -in the room, for the dust from the dislodged plaster began to rise, -and “friend and foe were shadows in the mist.” Now and again I caught -a glimpse of the red-head of the Master of Arts and Gold Medallist -permeating the mist, as the western sun permeates the smoke that hangs -over a battle-field; and wherever that beacon-fire appeared devastation -was wrought. The subeditor had gone down before him--so much I could -see; and then all was dimness and yells again--yells that brought down -more of the plaster and a portion of the stucco cornice; yells that -chipped flakes off the marble mantelpiece and sent them quivering -through the room; yells that you might have driven tenpenny nails home -with. - -Then the dust-cloud drifted away, and I was able to form a pretty good -idea of what was going on. The meeting in mid-air of the ten-light -gasalier, which the dramatic critic had pulled down, and the iron -fender, which the chief of the reporting staff had picked up when he saw -that his safety was imperilled, was epic. The legs of chairs and stools -flying through the air suggested a blackboard illustration of a shower -of meteors; every now and again one crashed upon a head and cannoned off -against the wall, where it sometimes lodged and became a bracket -that you might have hung a coat on, or else knocked a brick into the -adjoining apartment. - -The room began to assume an untidy appearance after a while; but I -noticed that the editor was making praiseworthy efforts to speak. I -sympathised with the difficulty he seemed to have in that direction. -It was not until he had folded in two the musical critic and the chief -reporter, and had seated himself upon them without straightening them -out, that his voice was heard. - -“Boys,” he cried, “if this work goes on much longer I fear there’ll be -a breach of the peace. Anyhow, I’m thirsty. I’ve a dozen of porter in my -room.” - -The only serious accident of the evening occurred at this point. The -reviewer got badly hurt through being jammed in with the other six in -the door leading to the editor’s room. - -The next morning the paper came out as usual, and the fact that the -leaders were those that had appeared on the previous day, and that -the Parliamentary report had been omitted, was not noticed. I met the -red-haired editor as he came out of a chemist’s shop that afternoon. I -asked, as delicately as possible, after his health. - -“I’d be well enough if it wasn’t for the sense of responsibility that -sometimes oppresses me,” said he. “It’s a terrible weight on a single -man’s shoulders that a daily paper is, so it is.” - -“No doubt,” said I. “Do you feel it on your shoulders now?” - -“Don’t I just?” said he. “I’ve been buying some emulsion inside to see -if that will give me any ease.” - -He then told me a painfully circumstantial story of how, when walking -home early in the morning, he was set upon by some desperate miscreant, -who had struck him twice upon his left eye, which might account, he -said, for any slight discolouration I might notice in the region of that -particular organ if I looked closely at it. - -“But what’s the matter with your hair?” - -I inquired. “It looks as if it had been powdered.” - -“Blast it!” said he, taking off his hat, and disclosing several -hillocks of red heather with a patch of white sticking-plaster on their -summits--like the illustration of the snow line on a geological model -of the earth’s surface. “Blast it! It must have been the ceiling. It’s a -dog’s life an editor’s is, anyhow.” - -I never saw him again. - -***** - -Of course, the foregoing narrative is only illustrative of the -exuberance of the Irish nature under depressing circumstances; but I -have also come in contact with sub-editors who were constitutionally -quarrelsome. They were nearly as disagreeable to work with as those who -were perpetually standing on their dignity--men who were never without a -complaint of being insulted. I bore with one of this latter class longer -than any one else would have done. He was the most incompetent man whom -I ever met, so that one night when he growled out that he had never been -so badly treated by his inferiors as he was just at that instant, I had -no compunction in saying,-- - -“By whom?” - -“By my inferiors in this office,” he replied. - -“I’d like to know where your inferiors are,” said I. “They’re not in -this office--so much I can swear. I doubt if they are in any other.” - -He asked me if I meant to insult him, and I assured him that I -invariably made my meaning so plain when I had occasion to say anything, -there was no excuse for asking what I meant. - -He never talked to me again about being insulted. - -***** - -Another curious specimen of an extinct animal was subject to remarkable -fits of depression and moroseness. He offered to make me a bet one night -that he would not be alive on that day week. I took him up promptly, and -offered to stake a five-pound note on the issue, provided that he did -the same. He said he hadn’t a five-pound note in the world, though he -had been toiling like a galley slave for twenty years. I pitied the poor -fellow, though it was not until I saw his wife--a mass of black -beads and pomatum--that I recognised his right to the consolation -of pessimism. I believe that he was only deterred from suicide by an -irresistible belief in a future state. He had heard a well-meant but -injudicious sermon in which the statement was made that husband and -wife, though parted by death, would one day be reunited. Believing this -he lived on. What was the use of doing anything else? - -***** - -I met with another sub-editor on whom for a period I looked with some -measure of awe, being _in statu pupillari_ at the time. - -Every night he used to take a razor out of his press and lay it beside -his desk, having opened it with great deliberation and a hard look upon -his haggard face. I believed that he was possessed of strong suicidal -impulses, and that he was placing the razor where it would be handy in -case he should find it necessary to make away with himself some night or -in the early hours of the morning. - -I held him in respect for just one month. At the end of that time I saw -him sharpening his pencil with the razor, and I ventured to inquire if -he usually employed the instrument for that purpose. - -“I do,” he replied. “I lost six penknives in this room within a -fortnight; those blue-pencilled reporters use up a lot of knives, and -they never buy any, so I brought down this old razor. They’ll not steal -that.” - -And they didn’t. - -But I lost all respect for that sub-editor. - - - - -CHAPTER VII.--SOME EXTINCT TYPES. - - -_A perturbed spirit--The loss of a fortune--A broken bank--A study -in bimetallism--Auri sacra fames--A rough diamond--A friend of the -peerage--And of Dublin stout--His weaknesses--The Quarterly Review--The -dilemma--An amateur hospital nurse--A terrible night--Benvenuto -Cellini--A subtle jest--The disappearance of the jester--An appropriated -leaderette--An appropriated anecdote--An appropriated quatrain._ - - -ONCE I saw a sub-editor actually within easy reach of suicide. It was -not the duplicating of a five-column speech in flimsy, nor was it that -the foreman printer had broken his heart. It was that he had been the -victim of a heartless theft. His savings of years had been carried off -in the course of a single night. So he explained to me with “tears in -his eyes, distraction in’s aspect,” when I came down to the office one -evening. He was walking up and down his room, with three hours’ arrears -of unopened telegrams on his desk and a _p.p.c._ note from the foreman -beneath a leaden “rule,” used as a paper weight; for the foreman, being, -as usual, a conscientious man, invariably promised to hand in his notice -at sundown if kept waiting for copy. - -“What on earth is the matter?” I inquired. - -“Is it neuralgia or----” - -“It’s worse--worse!” he moaned. “I’ve lost all my money--all--all! -there’s the tin I kept it in--see for yourself if there’s a penny left -in it.” He threw himself into his chair and bowed down his head upon his -hands. - -Far off a solitary (speaking) trumpet blew. - -“If the hands are to go home you’ve only got to say so and I release -them,” was the message that was delivered into my ear when I went to the -end of the tube communicating with the foreman. - -“Three columns will be out inside half an hour,” I replied. Then I -turned to the sobbing sub-editor. “Come,” said I, “bear it like a man. -It’s a terrible thing, of course, but still it must be faced. Tell me -how many pounds you’ve lost, and I’ll put the matter into the hands of -the police.” - -He looked up with a vacant white face. - -“How many--there were a hundred and forty pence in the tin when I went -home last night. See if there’s a penny left.” - -A cursory glance at the chocolate tin that lay on the table was quite -sufficient to convince me that it was empty. - -“Cheer up,” I said. “A hundred and forty pence. It sounds large in -pence, to be sure, but when you think of it from the standard of the -silver currency it doesn’t seem so formidable. Eleven and eightpence. Of -course it’s a shocking thing. Was it all in pence?” - -“All--all--every penny of it.” - -“Keep up your heart. We may be able to trace the money. I suppose you -are prepared to identify the coins?” - -He ran his fingers through his hair, and I could see that he was -striving manfully to collect his thoughts. - -“Identify? I could swear to them if I saw them in the lump--one hundred -and forty--one--hundred--and--forty--pence! Yes, I’ll swear that I could -swear to them in the lump. But singly--oh, I’ll never see them again!” - -“Tell me how it came about that you had so much money in this room,” - said I, beginning to open the telegrams. “Man, did you not think of the -terrible temptation that you were placing in the way of the less opulent -members of the staff? Eleven and eight in a disused chocolate tin! It’s -a temptation like this that turns honest men into thieves.” - -Then it was that he informed me on the point upon which I confess I was -curious--namely, how he came to have this fortune in copper. - -His wife, he said, was in the habit of giving him a penny every rainy -night, this being his tramcar fare from his house to his office. But--he -emphasised this detail--she was usually weak enough not to watch to see -whether he got into the tramcar or not, and the consequence was that, -unless the night was very wet indeed, he was accustomed to walk the -whole way and thus save the penny, which he nightly deposited in the -chocolate tin: he could not carry it home with him, he said, for his -wife would be certain to find it when she searched his waistcoat pockets -before he arose in the morning. - -“For a hundred and forty times you persevered in this course of -duplicity for the sake of the temporary gain!” said I. “It is this -craving to become quickly rich that is the curse of the nineteenth -century. I thought that journalists were free from it; I find that they -are as bad as Stock Exchange gamblers or magazine proprietors. Oh, -gold! gold! Go on with your work or there’ll be a blue-pencilled row -to-morrow. Don’t fancy you’ll obtain the sympathy of any human being in -your well-earned misfortune. You don’t deserve to have so good a wife. -A penny every rainy night--a penny! Oh, I lose all patience when I think -of your complaining. Go on with your work.” - -He went on with his work. - -Some months after this incident he thought it necessary to tell me that -he was a Scotchman. - -It was not necessary; but I asked him if his wife was one too. - -“Not exactly,” said he argumentatively. “But she’s a native of -Scotland--I’ll say that much for her.” - -I afterwards heard that he had become the proprietor of that very -journal upon which he had been sub-editor. - -I was not surprised. - -***** - -My memories of the sub-editor’s room include a three months’ experience -of a remarkable man. He imposed upon me for nearly a week, telling me -anecdotes of the distinguished persons whom he had met in the course of -his career. It seemed to me--for a week--that he was the darling of the -most exclusive society in Europe. He talked about noble lords by their -Christian names, and of noble ladies with equal breezy freedom. Many -of his anecdotes necessitated a verbatim report of the replies made by -marquises and countesses to his playful sallies; and I noticed that, -so far as his recollection served him, they had always addressed him as -George; sometimes--but only in the case of over-familiar daughters of -peers--Georgie. I felt--for a week--that journalism had made a sensible -advance socially when such things were possible. Perhaps, I thought, -some day the daughter of a peer may distort my name, so that I may not -die undistinguished. - -I have seen a good many padded peeresses and dowdy duchesses since those -days, and my ambition has somehow drifted into other channels; but while -the man talked of his intimacies with peers, and his friendship--he -assured me on his sacred word of honour (whatever that meant) that it -was perfectly Platonic--with peeresses. - -I was carried away--for a week. - -He was an undersized man, with a rooted prejudice against soap and the -comb. He spoke like a common man, and wore clothes that were clearly -second-hand. He posed as the rough diamond, the untamed literary lion, -the genius who refuses to be trammelled by the usages--most of them -purely artificial--of society, and on whom society consequently dotes. - -What he doted on was Dublin stout. If he had acquired during his -intercourse with the aristocracy their effete taste in the way of -drinking, he certainly managed to chasten it. He drank six bottles of -stout in the course of a single night, and regretted that there was not -a seventh handy. - -For a month he did his work moderately well, but at the end of that time -he began to put it upon other people. He made excuse after excuse to -shirk his legitimate duties. One night he came down with a swollen face. -He was suffering inexpressible agony from toothache, he said, and if -he were to sit down to his desk he really would not guarantee that some -shocking mistake would not occur. He would, he declared, be serving the -best interests of the paper if he were to go home to his bed. He only -waited to drink a bottle of stout before going. - -A few days after his return to work he entered the office enveloped in -an odoriferous muffler, and speaking hoarsely. He had, he said, caught -so severe a cold that the doctor was not going to allow him to leave his -house; but so soon as he got his back turned, he had run down to tell -us that it was impossible for him to do anything for a night or two. He -wanted to bind us down in the most solemn way not to let the doctor know -that he came out, and we promised to let no one know except the manager. -This assurance somehow did not seem to satisfy him. But he drank a -bottle of porter and went away. - -The very next week he came to me in confidence, telling me that he had -just received the proofs of his usual political article in the -_Quarterly_, and that the editor had taken the trouble to telegraph to -him to return the proofs for press without fail the next day. Now, the -only question with him was, should he chuck up the _Quarterly_, for -which he had written for many years, or the humble daily paper in the -office of which he was standing. - -I did not venture to suggest a solution of the problem. - -He did. - -“Maybe you wouldn’t mind taking a squint”--his phraseology was that -of the rough genius--“through the telegrams for to-night,” said he. “I -don’t like to impose on a good-natured sonny like you, but you see how -I’m situated. Confound that _Quarterly!_” - -“Do you do the political article for the _Quarterly?_” I asked. - -“Man, I’ve done it for the past eleven years,” said he. “I thought every -one knew that. It’s editor of the _Quarterly_ that I should be to-day -if William Smith hadn’t cut me out of the job. But I bear him no -malice--bless your soul, not I. You’ll go over the flimsies?” - -I said I would, and he wiped a bath sponge of porter-froth off his beard -in order to thank me. - -I knew that he was telling me a lie about the _Quarterly_, but I did his -work. - -Less than a week after, he entered my room to express the hope that I -would be able to make arrangements to have his work done for him once -again, the fact being that he had just received a message from Mrs. -Thompson--the wife of young Thompson, the manager for Messrs. Gibson, -the shippers--to ask him for heaven’s sake to help her to look after her -husband that night. Young Thompson had been behaving rather wildly of -late, it appeared, and was suffering from an attack of that form of -heredity known as _delirium tremens_. He had been held down in the bed -by three men and Mrs. Thompson the previous night, my informant said, -and added that he himself would probably be one of a fresh batch on whom -a similar duty would devolve inside an hour or so. - -He had scarcely left the office--after refreshing himself by the -artificial aid of Guinness--before a knock came to my door, and the next -moment Mr. Thompson himself quietly entered. I saw that the poker was -within easy reach, and then asked him how he was. - -“I’m all right,” he replied. “I merely dropped in to borrow the _Glasgow -Herald_ for a few minutes. I heard to-day that a ship of ours was -reported as spoken, but I can’t find it in any paper that has come to -us.” - -“You can have the _Herald_ with pleasure,” said I. “You didn’t go to the -concert last night?” - -“No,” said he. “You see it was the night of our choir practice, and I -had to attend it to keep the others up to their work.” - -The next night I asked the sub-editor how his friend Mr. Thompson was, -and if he had experienced much difficulty in keeping him from making an -onslaught upon the snakes. - -He shook his head solemnly, as if his experiences of the previous night -were too terrible to be expressed in ordinary colloquialisms. - -“Sonny,” said he, “pray that you may never see all that I saw last -night.” - -“Or all that Thompson saw,” said I. “Was he very bad?” - -“As bad as they make them,” he replied. “I sat on his head for hours at -a stretch.” - -“When he was off his head you were on it?” - -“Ay; but every now and again he would, by an almost superhuman effort, -toss me half way up to the ceiling. Man, it was an awful night! It’s -heartless of me not being with the poor woman now; but I said I’d do a -couple of hours’ work before going.” - -“All right,” said I. “Maybe Thompson will call here and you can walk up -with him.” - -“Thompson call? What the blue pencil do you mean?” - -“Just what I say. If you had waited for five minutes last night you -might have had his company up to that pleasant little _séance_ in which -you turned his head into a chair. He called to see the _Glasgow Herald_ -before you could have reached the end of the street.” - -He gave a little gasp. - -“I didn’t say Thompson, did I?” he asked, after a pause. - -“You certainly did,” said I. - -“I’ll be forgetting my own name next,” said he. “The man’s name is -Johnston--he lives in the corner house of the row I lodge in.” - -“Anyhow, you’ll not see him to-night,” said I. - -***** - -The fellow failed to exasperate me even then. But he succeeded early the -next month. He came to me one night with a magazine in his hand. - -“I wonder if the boss”--I think I mentioned that he was a rough -diamond--“would mind my inserting a column or so of extracts from this -paper of mine in the _Drawing Room_ on Benvenuto Cellini?” He pronounced -the name “Selliny.” - -“On whom is the paper?” I inquired. - -“Selliny--Benvenuto Selliny. I’ve made Selliny my own--no man living can -touch me there. I knocked off the thing in a hurry, but it reads very -well, though I say it who shouldn’t.” - -“Why shouldn’t you say it?” I inquired. - -“Well when you’ve written as much as me,”--he was a rough -diamond--“maybe you’ll be as modest,” he cried, gaily. “When you can -knock off a paper----” - -“There’s one paper that you’ll not knock off, but that you’ll be pretty -soon knocked off,” said I; “and that paper is the one that you are -connected with just now. If lies were landed property you’d be one of -the largest holders of real estate in the world. I never met such a liar -as you are. You never wrote that article on Benvenuto Cellini--you don’t -even know how to pronounce the man’s name.” - -“The boy’s mad--mad!” he cried, with a laugh that was not a laugh. “Mr. -Barton,”--the managing editor had entered the room,--“this fair-haired -young gentleman is a bit off his head, I’m thinking.” - -“I’m not off my head in the least,” said I. “Do you mean to say, in the -presence of Mr. Barton, that you wrote that paper in the _Drawing Room_ -on Benvenuto Cellini?” - -“Do you want me to take my oath that I wrote it?” said he. “What makes -you think that I didn’t write it?” - -“Nothing beyond the fact that I wrote it myself, and that this slip -of paper which I hold in my hand is the cheque that was sent to me -in payment for it, and that this other slip is the usual form of -acknowledgment--you see the title of the article on the side--which I -have to post to-morrow.” - -There was a silence in the room. The managing editor had seated himself -in my chair and was scribbling something at the desk. - -“My fair-haired friend,” said the sub-editor, “I thought that you would -have seen from the first the joke I was playing on you. Why, man, the -instant I read the paper I knew it was by you. Don’t you fancy that I -know your fluent style by this time?” - -“I fancy that there’s no greater liar on earth than yourself,” said I. - -“Look here,” he cried, assuming a menacing attitude. “I can stand a lot, -but----” - -“And so can I,” said the managing editor, “but at last the breaking -strain is reached. That paper will allow of your drawing a -month’s salary to-morrow,”--he handed him the paper which he had -scribbled,--“and I think that as this office has done without you for -eleven nights during the past month, it will do without you for the -twelfth. Don’t let me find you below when I am going away.” - -He didn’t. - -***** - -I cannot say that I ever met another man connected with a newspaper -quite so unscrupulous as the man with whom I have just dealt. I can -certainly safely say that I never again knew of a journalist laying -claim to the authorship of anything that I wrote, either in a daily -paper, where everything is anonymous, or in a magazine, where I employed -a pseudonym. No one thought it worth his while doing so. A man who -was not a journalist, however, took to himself the honour and glory -associated with the writing of a leaderette of mine on the excellent -management of a local library. The man who was idiot enough to do so was -a theological student in the Presbyterian interest. He began to frequent -the library without previously having paid his fare, and on being -remonstrated with mildly by the young librarian, said that surely it was -not a great concession on the part of the committee to allow him the -run of the building after the article he had written in the leading -newspaper on the manner in which the institution was conducted. It so -happened, however, that the librarian had, at my request, furnished me -with the statistics that formed the basis of the leaderette, and he -had no hesitation in saying of the divinity student at his leisure what -David said of all men in his haste. But after being thrust out of the -library and called an impostor, the divinity student went home and wrote -a letter signed “Theologia,” in which he made a furious onslaught upon -the management of the library, and had the effrontery to demand its -insertion in the newspaper the next day. - -He is now a popular and deservedly respected clergyman, and I hear that -his sermon on Acts v., 1-11 is about to be issued in pamphlet form. - -***** - -Curiously enough quite recently a man in whose chambers I was -breakfasting, pointed out to me what he called a good story that had -appeared in a paper on the previous evening. - -The paragraph in which it was included was as follows:-- - -“A rather amusing story is told by the _Avilion Gazettes_ Special -Commissioner in his latest article on ‘Ireland as it is and as it would -be.’ It is to the effect that some of the Irish members recently wished -to cross the Channel for half-a-crown each, and to that end called on a -boat agent, a Tory, who knew them, when the following conversation took -place:-- - -“‘Can we go across for half-a-crown each?’ - -“‘No, ye can’t, thin.’ - -“‘An’ why not?’ - -“‘Because’tis a cattle boat.’ - -“‘Nevermind that, sure we’re not particular.’ - -“‘No, but the cattle are.’” - -That was the entire paragraph.. - -“It’s a bit rough on your compatriots,” said my host. “You look as if -you feel it.” - -“I do,” said I; “I feel it to be rather sad that a story that a fellow -takes the trouble to invent and to print in a pamphlet, should be picked -up by an English correspondent in Dublin, printed in one of his letters -from Ireland, and afterwards published in a London evening paper without -any acknowledgment being made of the source whence it was derived.” - -And that is my opinion still. The story was a pure invention of my own, -and it was printed in an anonymous skit, only without the brogue. It -was left for the English Special Commissioner to make a feature of the -brogue, of which, of course, he had become a master, having been close -upon two days in Dublin. - -But the most amusing thing to me was to find that the sub-editor of the -newspaper with which I was connected had actually cut the paragraph out -of the London paper and inserted it in our columns. He pointed it out to -me on my return, and asked me if I didn’t think it a good story. - -I said it was first rate, and inquired if he had ever heard the story -before. He replied that he never had. - -That was, I repeat, the point of the whole incident which amused me -most; for I had made the sub-editor a present of the original pamphlet, -and he said he had enjoyed it immensely. - -He also hopes to be one day an ordained clergyman. - -***** - -When in Ireland during the General Election of 1892, I got a telegram -one night informing me that Mr. Justin M’Carthy had been defeated in -Derry that day by Mr. Ross, Q.C. - -It occurred to me that if a quatrain could be made upon the incident it -might be read the next day. The following was the result of the great -mental effort necessary to bring to bear upon the task:-- - - “That the Unionists Derry can win - - Is a matter to-day beyond doubt; - - For Ross the Q.C. is just in, - - And the one that’s Justin is just out.” - -I put my initials to this masterpiece, and I need scarcely say that I -was dizzy with pride when it appeared at the head of a column the -next morning. Now, that thing kept staring me in the face out of every -newspaper, English as well as Irish, that I picked up during the next -fortnight, only it appeared without my initials, but in compensation -bore as preface, lest the reader might be amazed at coming too suddenly -upon such subtle humour, these words:-- - -“The following epigram by a Dublin wit is being widely circulated in the -Irish metropolis.” Some months afterwards, when I chanced to pay a visit -to Dublin, the author of the epigram was pointed out to me. - -“So it was he who wrote that thing about just in and just out?” I -remarked. - -“It was,” said my friend. “I’d introduce you to him only, between -ourselves, though a nice enough fellow before he wrote that, _he hasn’t -been very approachable since_.” - -I felt extremely obliged to the gentleman. I thought of Mary Barton, -the heroic lady represented by Miss Bateman long ago, who had accused -herself of the crime committed by another. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII.--MEN, MENUS, AND MANNERS. - - -_A humble suggestion--The reviewer from Texas--His treatment of the -story of Joseph and his Brethren--A few flare-up headings--The -Swiss pastor--Some musical critics--“Il Don Giovanni”--A subtle -point--Newspaper suppers--Another suggestion--The bitter cry of the -journalist--The plurality of porridge--An object lesson superior to -grammatical rules--The bloater as a supper dish--Scarcely an unequivocal -success._ - - -I HOPE I may not be going too far when I express the hope in this place -that any critic who finds out that some of my jottings are ancient will -do me the favour to state where the originals are to be found. I have -sufficient curiosity to wish to see how far the jottings deviate from -the originals. - -In the preparation of stories for the Press it is, I feel more impressed -every day, absolutely necessary to bear in mind the authentic case of -the young sailor’s mother who abused him for telling her so palpably -impossible a yarn about his having seen fish rise from the water and fly -along like birds, but who was quite ready to accept his account of the -crimson expanse of the Red Sea. Some of the most interesting incidents -that have actually come under my notice could not possibly be published -if accuracy were strictly observed as to the details. They are “owre -true” to obtain credence.. - -In this category, however, I do not include the story about the -gentleman from Texas who, after trying various employments in Boston to -gain a dishonest livelihood, represented himself at a newspaper office -as a journalist, and only asked for a trial job. The editor, believing -he saw an excellent way of getting rid of a parcel of books that had -come for review, flung him the lot and told him to write three-quarters -of a column of flare-up head-lines, and a quarter of reviews, and maybe -some fool might be attracted to the book column. Now, at the top of the -batch there chanced to be the first instalment of a new Polyglot Bible, -after the plan so successfully adopted by Messrs. Bagster, about to -be issued in parts, and the reviewer failed to recognise the Book of -Genesis, which he accordingly read for fetching head-lines. The result -of his labours by some oversight appeared in the next issue of the -paper, and attracted a considerable amount of interest in religious -circles in Boston. - -[Illustration: 0136] - -The remaining quarter of a column was occupied by a circumstantial -and highly colloquial account of the incidents recorded in the Book of -Genesis, and it very plainly suggested that the work had been published -by Messrs. Hoskins as a satire upon the success of the Hebrew race in -the New England States. The reviewer even made an attempt to identify -Joseph with a prominent Republican politician, and Potiphar’s wife with -the Democratic party, who were alleged to be making overtures to the -same gentleman. - -But I really did once meet with a sub-editor who had reviewed “The Swiss -Family Robinson” as a new work. He commenced by telling the readers -of the newspaper that the book was a wholesome story of a worthy Swiss -pastor, and so forth. - -I also knew a musical critic who, on being entrusted with the duty of -writing a notice of _Il Don Giovanni_, as performed by the Carl Rosa -Company, began as follows: “Don Giovanni, the gentleman from whom the -opera takes its name, was a licentious Spanish nobleman of the past -century.” The notice gave some account of the _affaires_ of this -newly-discovered reprobate, glossing over the Zerlina business rather -more than Mozart thought necessary to do, but being very bitter against -Leporello, “his valet and confidant,” and finally expressing the opinion -somewhat dogmatically that “few of the public would be disposed to say -that the fate which overtook this callous scoundrel was not well earned -by his persistence in a course of unjustifiable vice. The music is -tuneful and was much encored.” - -Upon the occasion of this particular representation I recollect that I -wrote, “An Italian version of a Spanish story, set to music by a German, -conducted by a Frenchman, and interpreted by a Belgian, a Swiss, an -Irishman and a Canadian--this is what is meant by English Opera.” - -My notice gave great offence; but the other was considered excellent. - -The moral tone that pervaded it was most praiseworthy, the people said. - -And so it was. - -I have got about five hundred musical jottings which, if provoked, I -may one day publish; but, meantime, I cannot refrain from giving one -illustration of the way in which musical notices were managed long ago. - -Madame Adelina Patti had made her first (and farewell) appearance in the -town where I was located. I was engaged about two o’clock in the morning -putting what I considered to be the finishing touches to the column -which I had written about the diva’s concert, when the reporter of the -leading paper burst into the room in which I was writing. He was in -rather a dishevelled condition, and he approached me and whispered that -he wanted to ask me a question outside--there were others in the room. I -went through the door with him and inquired what I could do for him. - -“I was marked for that blessed concert, and I went too, and now I’m -writing the notice,” said he. “But what I want to know is this--_Is -Patti a soprano or a contralto?_” - -***** - -I have just now discovered that it would be unwise for me to continue -very much farther these reminiscences of editors and sub-editors, the -fact being that I have some jottings about every one of the race whom -I have ever met, and when one gets into a desultory vein of anecdotage -like that in which I now find myself for the first time in my life, -one is liable to exhaust a reader’s forbearance before one’s legitimate -subject has become exhausted. I think it may be prudent to make a -diversion at this period from the sub-editors of the past to the suppers -of the newspaper office. Gastronomy as a science is not drawn out to its -finest point within these precincts. There is still something left to be -desired by such persons as are fastidious. I have for long thought that -it would be by no means extravagant to expect every newspaper office to -be supplied with a kitchen, properly furnished, and with the “good plain -cook,” who so constantly figures in the columns (advertising), at hand -to turn out the suppers for all departments engaged in the production of -the paper. - -It is inconvenient for an editor to be compelled to cook his own supper -at his gas stove, while the flimsies of the speech upon which he is -writing are being laid on his desk by the sub-editor, and the foreman’s -messenger is asking for them almost before they have ceased to flutter -in the cooling draught created by opening the door. Equally inconvenient -is it for the sub-editor and the reporters to get something to prevent -them from succumbing to starvation. The compositors in some offices -have lately instituted a rule by which they “knock off” for supper at -half-past ten; but what sort of a meal do they get to sustain them until -four in the morning? I have no hesitation in pronouncing it to be almost -as indifferent as that upon which the editor is forced to subsist for, -perhaps, the same period. I have seen the compositors--some of them -earning £5 a week--crouching under their cases, munching hunches -(the onomatopæia is Homeric) of bread, while their cans of tea--that -abomination of cold tea warmed up--were stewing over their gas burners. - -In the sub-editors’ room, and the reporters’ room, tea was also being -cooked, or bottles of stout drunk, the accompanying, comestibles being -bread or biscuits. After swallowing tea that has been stewing on its -leaves for half-an-hour, and eating a slab of office bread out of one -hand while the other holds the pen, the editor writes an article on -the grievances of shopmen who are only allowed an hour for dinner and -half-an-hour for tea; or, upon the slavery of a barmaid; or, perhaps, -composes a nice chatty half-column on the progress of dyspepsia and the -necessity for attending carefully to one’s diet. - -Now, I affirm that no newspaper office should be without a kitchen. The -compositors should be given a chance of obtaining all the comforts of -home at a lesser cost than they could be provided at home; and later on -in the night the reporters, sub-editors, and editor should be able to -send up messages as to the hour they mean to take supper, and the dish -which they would like to have. Here is an opportunity for the Institute -of Journalists. Let them take sweet counsel together on the great -kitchen question, and pass a resolution “that in the opinion of the -Institute a kitchen in complete working order should form part of every -morning newspaper office; and that a cook, holding a certificate from -South Kensington, or, better still, Mrs. Marshall, should be regarded as -essential to the working staff as the editor.” - -I do not say that a box of Partagas, or Carolinas, should be provided -by the management for every room occupied by the literary staff; though -undoubtedly a move in the right direction, yet I fear that public -feeling has not yet been sufficiently aroused by the bitter cry of the -journalist, to make the cigar-box and the club chair probable; but I do -say that since journalism has become a profession, those who practise it -should be treated as if they were as deserving of consideration as the -salesmen in drapers’ shops. Surely, as we have sent the bitter cry into -all the ends of the earth on behalf of others, we might be permitted the -luxury of a little bitter cry on our own account. - -***** - -This brings me down to the recollections I retain of the strange ideas -that some of the staff of journals with which I have been connected, -possessed as to the most appropriate menu for supper. One of these -gentlemen, for instance, was accustomed to make oatmeal porridge in a -saucepan for himself about two o’clock in the morning. When accused of -being a Scotchman, he indignantly denied that he was one. He admitted, -however, that he was an Ulsterman, and this was considered even worse -by his accusers. He invariably alluded to the porridge in the plural, -calling it “them.” I asked him one night why the thing was entitled to -a plural, and he said it was because no one but a blue-pencilled fool -would allude to it as otherwise. I had the curiosity to inquire farther -how much porridge was necessary to be in the saucepan before it became -entitled to a plural; if, for instance, there was only a spoonful, -surely it would be rather absurd to still speak of it as “them.” He -replied, after some thought, that though he had never considered the -matter in all its bearings, yet his impression was that even a spoonful -was entitled to a plural. - -“Did you ever hear any one allude to brose as ‘it’?” he asked. - -I admitted that I never had. - -“Then if you call brose ‘them,’ why shouldn’t you call stirabout -‘them’?” he asked, triumphantly. - -“I must confess that I never had the matter brought so forcibly before -me,” said I. - -As he was going to “sup them,” as he termed the operation of ladling the -contents of the saucepan into his mouth, I hastily left the room. I have -eaten tiffin within easy reach of a dozen lepers on Robben Island in -Table Bay, I have taken a hearty supper in a tent through which a camel -every now and again thrust its nose, I have enjoyed a biltong sandwich -on the seat of an African bullock waggon with a Kaffir beside me, I have -even eaten a sausage snatched by the proprietor from the seething panful -in the window of a shop in the Euston Road--I did so to celebrate the -success of a play of mine at the Grand Theatre--but I could not remain -in the room while that literary gentleman partook of that simple supper -of his. - -On my return when he had finished I never failed to allow in the most -cordial way the right of the preparation to a plural. It was to be -found in every part of the room; the table, the chairs, the floor, the -fireplace, the walls, the ceiling--all bore token to the fact that it -was not one but many. - -In the hands of a true Ulsterman stirabout “are” a terrible weapon. - -As a mural decorative medium “they” leave much to be desired. - -***** - -Only one man connected with the Press did - -I ever know addicted to the bloater as a supper dish. The man came among -us like a shadow and disappeared as such, after a week of incompetence; -but he left a memory behind him that not all the perfumes of Arabia can -neutralise. It was about one o’clock in the morning--he had come on duty -that night--that there floated through the newspaper office a dense blue -smoke and a smell--such a smell! It was of about the same density as -an ironclad. One felt oneself struggling through it as though it were a -mass of chilled steel plates, backed with soft iron. On the upper floor -we were built in by it, so to speak. It arose on every side of us like -the wall of a prison, and we kept groping around it for a hole large -enough to allow of our crawling through. Two of us, after battering at -that smell for a quarter of an hour, at last discovered a narrow passage -in it made by a current of air from an open window, and having squeezed -ourselves through, we ran downstairs to the sub-editors’ room. - -Through the crawling blue smoke we could just make out the figure of -a man standing in his shirt sleeves in front of the fire using a large -two-pronged iron fork as a toothpick. On a plate on the table lay the -dislocated backbone of a red herring (_harengus rufus_). - -The man was perfectly self-possessed. We questioned him closely about -the origin of the smoke and the smell, and he replied that, without -going so far as to pronounce a dogmatic opinion on the subject, and -while he was quite ready to accept any reasonable suggestion on -the matter from either of us, he, for his part, would not be at all -surprised if it were found on investigation that both smoke and smell -were due to his having openly cooked a rather bloated specimen of the -Yarmouth bloater. He always had one for his supper, he said; critically, -when not too pungent--he disliked them too pungent--he considered that -a full-grown bloater, well preserved for its years and considering the -knocking about that it must have had, was fully equal to a beefsteak. -There was much more practical eating in it, he should say, speaking as -man to man. And it was so very simple--that was its great charm. - -For himself, he never could bear made-up dishes; they were, he thought, -usually rich, and he had a poor-enough digestion, so that he could not -afford to trifle with it. - -Just then the foreman loomed through the dense smoke, and, being -confronted with the hydra-headed smell, he boldly grappled with it, and -after a fierce contest, he succeeded in strangling one of the heads and -then set his foot on it. He hurriedly explained to the subeditor that -all the hands who had lifted the copy that had been sent out were -setting it up with bowls of water beside them to save themselves the -trouble of going to the water-tap for a drink. - -The next day the clerks in the mercantile department were working with -bottles of carbolic under their noses, and every now and again a note -would be brought in from a subscriber ordering his paper to be stopped -until a new consignment of printers’ ink should arrive, in which the -chief ingredient was not so pungent. - -At the end of a week the sub-editor was given a month’s salary and an -excellent testimonial, and was dismissed. The proprietor of the journal -had the sub-editors’ room freshly painted and papered, and made the -assistant-editor a present of two pounds to buy a new coat to replace -the one which, having hung in the room for an entire night, had to be -burnt, no cleaner being found who would accept the risk of purifying it. -The cleaners all said that they would not run the chance of having all -the contents of their vats left on their hands. They weren’t as a rule -squeamish in the matter of smells; they only drew the line at creosote, -and the coat was a long way on the other side. - -Seven years have passed since that sub-editor partook of that simple -supper, and yet I hear that every night drag-hounds howl at the door of -the room, and strangers on entering sniff, saying,-- - -“Whew! there’s a barrel of red herrings somewhere about.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX.--ON THE HUMAN IMAGINATION. - - -_Mr. Henry Irving and the Stag’s Head--The sense of smell--A personal -recollection--Caught “tripping”--The German band--In the pre-Wagnerian -days--Another illustration of a too-sensitive imagination--The doctor’s -letter--Its effects--A sudden recovery--The burial service is postponed -indefinitely_. - - -IT might be as well, I fancy, to accept with caution the statement made -in the last lines of the foregoing chapter. At any rate, I may frankly -confess that I have always done so, knowing how apt one is to be carried -away by one’s imagination in some matters. Mr. Henry Irving told me -several years ago a curious story on this very point, and in regard also -to the way in which the imagination may be affected through the sense of -smell. - -When he was very young he was living at a town in the west of England, -and in one of the streets there was a hostelry which bore a swinging -sign with a stag’s head painted upon it, with a sufficient degree of -legibility to enable casual passers-by to know what it was meant to -simulate. But every time he saw this sign, he had a feeling of nausea -that he could overcome only by hurrying on down the street. Mr. Irving -explained to me that it did not appear to him that this nausea was -the result of an offended artistic perception owing to any indifferent -draughtsmanship or defective _technique_ in the production of the sign. -It actually seemed to him that the painted stag possesses some influence -akin to the evil eye, and it was altogether very distressing to him. -After a short time he left the town, and did not revisit it until he had -attained maturity; and then, remembering the stag’s head and the curious -way in which it had affected him long before, he thought he would look -up the old place, if it still existed, and try if the evil charm of -the sign had ceased to retain its potency upon him. He walked down the -street; there the sign was swinging as of old, and the moment he saw it -he had a feeling of nausea. Now, however, he had become so impregnated -with the investigating spirit of the time, that he determined to search -out the origin of the malign influence of the neighbourhood; and then he -discovered that the second house from the hostelry was a soap and candle -factory, on a sufficiently extensive scale to make a daily “boiling” - necessary. It was the odour arising from this enterprise that induced -the disagreeable sensation which he had experienced years before, and -from which few persons are free when in the neighbourhood of tallow in a -molten state. - -I do not think that this story has been published. But even if it has -appeared elsewhere it scarcely requires an apology. - -***** - -Though wandering even more widely than usual from my text--after all, -my texts are only pretexts for unlimited ramblings--I will give another -curious but perfectly authentic case of the force of imagination. In -this case the imagination was reached through the sense of hearing. - -At one time I lived in a town at the extremity of a very fine bay, at -the entrance to which there was a small village with a little bay of -its own and a long stretch of sand, the joy of the “tripper.” I was -a “tripper” of six in those days, and during the summer months -an excursion by steamer on the bay was one of the most joyous of -experiences. But the steamer was a very small one, and apt to yield -rather more than is consistent with modern ideas of marine stability -to the pressure of the waves, which in a north-easterly wind--the -prevailing one--were pretty high in our bay. The effect of this -instability was invariably disastrous to a maiden aunt who was supposed -to share with me the enjoyment of being caught “tripping.” With the -pertinacity of a man of six carrying a model of a cutter close to his -bosom, I refused to “go below” under the circumstances, with my groaning -but otherwise august relative, and she was usually extremely unwell. -It so happened, however, that the proprietors of the steamboat were -sufficiently enterprising to engage--perhaps I should say, to permit--a -German band to drown the groans of the sufferers in the strains of the -beautiful “Blue Danube,” or whatever the waltz of the period may have -been--the “Blue Danube” is the oldest that I can remember. Now, when -the “season” was over, and the steamer was laid up for the winter, the -Germans were accustomed to give open-air performances in the town; so -that during the winter months we usually had a repetition on land of -the summer’s _répertoire_ at sea. The first bray that was given by the -trombone in the region of the square where we lived was, however, quite -enough to make my aunt give distinct evidence of feeling “a little -squeamish”; by the time the oboe had joined hands, so to speak, with the -parent of all evil, the trombone, she had taken out her handkerchief and -was making wry faces beneath her palpably false scalpet. But when the -wry-necked fife, and the serpent--the sea-serpent it was to her--were -doing their worst in league with, but slightly indifferent to, the -cornet and the Saxe-horn, my aunt retired from the apartment amid the -derisive yells of the young demons in the schoolroom, and we saw her no -more until the master of the music had pulled the bell of the hall-door, -and we had insulted him in his own language by shouting through the -blinds “schlechte musik!--sehr schlechte musik!” We were ready enough to -learn a language for insulting purposes, just as a parrot which declines -to acquire the few refined words of its mistress, will, if left within -the hearing of a groom, repeat quite glibly and joyously, phrases -which make it utterly useless as a drawing-room bird in a house where a -clergyman makes an occasional call. For years my aunt could never hear -a German band without emotion, since the crazy little steamer had danced -to their strains. In this case, it must also be remarked, the feeling -was not the result of a highly-developed artistic temperament. The -blemishes of the musical performances were in no way accountable for -my relative’s emotions, though I believe that the average German band -frequenting what theatrical-touring companies call “B. towns,” might -reasonably be regarded as sufficient to precipitate an incipient -disorder. No, it was the force of imagination that brought about my -aunt’s disaster, which, I regret to say, I occasionally purchased, when -I felt that I owed myself a treat, for a penny, for this was the lowest -sum that the _impresario_ would take to come round our square and make -my aunt sick. The sum was so absurdly low, considering the extent of the -results produced, I am now aware that no really cultured musician, no -_impresario_ with any self-respect, would have accepted it to bring -his band round the corner; but when one reflects that the sum on the -original _scrittura_ was invariably doubled--for my aunt sent a penny -out when her sufferings became intense, to induce the band to go -away--the transaction assumes another aspect. - -We hear of the enormous increase in the salaries paid to musical artists -nowadays, and as an instance of this I may mention that a friend of mine -a few months ago, having occasion for the services of a German band--not -for medicinal purposes but for a philological reason--was forced to pay -two shillings before he could effect his object! Truly the conditions -under which art is pursued have undergone a marvellous change within a -quarter of a century. I could have made my aunt sick twenty-four times -for the sum demanded for a single performance nowadays. And in the -sixties, it must also be remembered, Wagner had not become a power. - -***** - -Strong-minded persons, such as the first Lord Brougham, may take a -sardonic delight in reading their own obituary notices, and such persons -would probably scoff at the suggestion made in an earlier chapter, that -the shock of reading the record of his death in a newspaper might have a -disastrous effect upon a man, but there is surely no lack of evidence to -prove the converse of “_mentem mortalia tangunt_.” - -I heard when in India a story which seemed to me to be, as an -illustration of the effects of imagination, quite as curious as the -well-known case of the sailor who became cured of scurvy through -fancying that the clinical thermometer with which the surgeon took his -temperature was a drastic remedy. A young civil servant at Colombo felt -rather fagged after an unusually long stretch of work, and made up his -mind to consult the best doctor in the place. He did so, and the doctor -went through the usual probings and stethoscopings, and then looked -grave and went over half the surface again. He said he thought that -on the whole he had better write his opinion of the “case” in all its -particulars and send it to the patient. - -The next morning the patient received the following letter:-- - -“My dear Sir,--I think it only due to the confidence which you have -placed in me to let you know in the plainest words what is the result of -my diagnosis of your condition. Your left lung is almost gone, but -with care you might survive its disappearance. Unhappily, however, -the cardiac complications which I suspected are such as preclude the -possibility of your recovery. In brief, I consider it to be my duty to -advise you to lose no time in carrying out any business arrangements -that demand your personal attention. You may of course live for some -weeks; but I think you would do wisely to count only on days. - -“Meantime, I would suggest no material change in your diet, except the -reduction of your brandy pegs to seven per diem.” - -This letter was put into the hands of the unfortunate man when he -returned from his early ride the next morning. Its effect was to -diminish to an appreciable degree his appetite for breakfast. He sat -motionless on his chair out on the verandah and stared at the letter--it -was his death-warrant. After an hour he felt a difficulty in breathing. -He remembered now that he had always been uneasy about his lungs--his -left in particular. He put his hand over the place where he supposed -his heart to lie concealed. How could he have lived so many years in the -world without becoming aware of the fact that as an every-day sort of an -organ--leaving the higher emotions out of the question altogether--his -heart was a miserable failure? Sympathy, friendship, love, emotion,--he -would not have minded if his heart were incapable of these, if it only -did its business as a blood pump; but it was perfectly plain from the -manner in which it throbbed beneath his hand, that it was deserving of -all the reprobation the doctor had heaped upon it. - -His difficulty of respiration increased, and with this difficulty he -became conscious of an acute pain under his ribs. He found when he -attempted to rise that he could only do so with an effort. He managed -to totter into his bedroom, and when he threw himself on his bed, it was -with the feeling that he should never rise from it again. - -His faithful Khânsâmah more than once inquired respectfully if the -Preserver of the Poor would like to have the Doctor Sahib sent for, and -if the Joy of the Whole World would in the meantime drink a peg. But the -Preserver of the Poor had barely strength to express the hope that the -disappearance of the Doctor Sahib might be effected by a supernatural -agency, and the Joy of the Whole World could only groan at the -suggestion of a peg. The pain under his ribs was increasing, and he -had a general nightmare feeling upon him. Toward evening he sank into a -lethargy, and at this point the Khânsâmah made up his mind that the time -for action had come; he went for the doctor himself, and was fortunate -enough to meet him going out in his buggy to dine. - -“What on earth have you been doing with yourself?” he inquired, when he -had felt the pulse of the patient. “Why, you’ve no pulse to speak of, -and your skin--What the mischief have you been doing since yesterday?” - -“How can you expect a chap’s pulse to be anything particular when he has -no heart worth speaking of?” gasped the patient. - -“Who has no heart worth speaking of?” - -The patient looked piteously up at him. - -“That’s kicking a man when he’s down,” he murmured. - -“What’s the matter with you anyway?” said the doctor. “Your heart’s all -right, I know--at least, it was all right yesterday. Is it your liver? -Let me have a look at your eyes.” - -He certainly did let the doctor have a look at his eyes. He lay staring -at the good physician for some minutes. - -“No, your liver is no worse than it was yesterday,” said the doctor, - -“Do you mean to say that your letter was only a joke?” said the patient, -still staring. - -“A joke? Don’t be a fool. Do you fancy that I play jokes upon my -patients? I wrote to you what was the exact truth. I flatter myself I -always tell the truth even to my patients.” - -“Oh,” groaned the patient. “And after telling me that I hadn’t more than -a few days to live you now say my heart’s all right.” - -“You’re mad, my good fellow, mad! I said that you must go without the -delay of a day for a change--a sea voyage if possible--and that in a -week you’d be as well as you ever were. Where’s the letter?” - -It was lying on the side of the bed. The patient had read it again after -he had thrown himself down. - -“My God!” cried the doctor, when he had brought it over to the lamp. “An -awful thing has happened. This is the letter that I wrote to Lois Perez, -the diamond merchant, who visited me yesterday just before you came. -My assistant must have put the letter that was meant for Perez into the -envelope addressed to you, and your letter into the other cover. Great -heavens!” - -The patient was sitting up in the bed. - -“You mean to say that--that--I’m all right?” he gasped. - -“Of course you’re all right. You told me you wanted a sea voyage, and -naturally I prescribed one for you to give you a chance of getting your -leave without any trouble.” - -The patient stared at the doctor for another minute and then fell back -upon his pillow, turned his face to the wall, and wept. - -Only for a few minutes, however; then he suddenly sprang from the bed, -caught the doctor by the collar of his coat, looked around for a weapon -of percussion, picked up the pillow and forthwith began to belabour the -physician with such vehemence that the Khânsâmah, who hurried into the -room hearing the noise of the scuffle, fled from the compound, being -certain that the Joy of the Whole World had become a maniac. - -After the lapse of about a minute the doctor was lying on the floor with -the tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks and on to his disordered -shirt-front, while the patient sat limp on a chair yelling with -laughter--a trifle hysterically, perhaps. At the end of five minutes -both were sitting over a bottle of champagne--not too dry--discussing -the extraordinary effect of the imagination upon the human frame. - -“But, by Jingo! I mustn’t forget poor Lois Perez,” cried the doctor, -starting up. “You may guess what a condition he is in when you know that -the letter you read was meant for him.” - -“By heavens, I can make a good guess as to his condition,” said the -patient. “I was within measurable distance of that condition half an -hour ago. But I’m hanged if you are going to make any other poor devil -as miserable as you made me. Let the chap die in peace.” - -“There’s something in what you say,” said the doctor. “I believe that -I’ll take your advice; only I must rescue your letter from him. If it -were found among his effects after his death next week, I’d be set down -as little better than a fool for writing that he was generally sound but -in need of a long sea voyage.” - -He drove off to the house of the Portuguese dealer in precious stones, -and on inquiring for him, learned that he had left in the afternoon by -the mail steamer to take the voyage that the doctor had recommended. -He meant to call at the Andamans, and then go on to Rangoon, the man in -charge of the house said. - -“There’ll be an impressive burial service aboard that steamer before it -arrives at the Andaman Islands,” said the doctor to his wife as he told -her what had occurred. The doctor was in a very anxious state lest -the letter which the Portuguese had received should be found among his -papers. His wife, however, took a more optimistic view of the situation. -And she was right; for Lois Perez returned in due course from Rangoon -with a very fine collection of rubies; and five years afterwards he had -still sufficient strength left to get the better of me in the sale of a -cat’s-eye to which he perceived I had taken a fancy that was not to be -controlled. - - - - -CHAPTER X--THE VEGETARIAN AND OTHERS. - - -_“Benjamin’s mess”--An alluring name--Scarcely accurate--A frugal -supper--Why the sub-editor felt rather unwell--“A man should stick -to plain homely fare”--Two Sybarites--The stewed lemon as a -comestible--The midnight apple--The roasted crabs--The Zenana -mission--The pibroch as a musical instrument--A curious blunder--The -river Deccan--Frankenstein as the monster--The outside critics--A -critical position--The curate as critic--A liberal-minded -clergyman--Bound to be a bishop--The joy-bells._ - - -TO return to the sub-editors and their suppers, I may say that I never -met but one vegetarian pressman. He was particularly fond of a supper -dish to which the alluring name of Benjamin’s Mess was given by the -artful inventor. I do not know if the editor of this compilation had any -authority--Biblical or secular--for assuming that its ingredients were -identical with those with which Joseph, with the best of intentions, no -doubt, but with very questionable prudence, heaped upon the dish of -his youngest brother. I am not a profound Egyptologist, but I have a -distinct recollection of hearing something about the fleshpots of Egypt, -and the longing that the mere remembrance of these receptacles created -in the hearts of the descendants of Joseph and his Brethren, when -undergoing a course of enforced vegetarianism, though somewhat different -in character from that to which, at a later period, Nebuchadnezzar--the -most distinguished vegetarian that the world has ever known--was -subjected. Therefore, I think it is only scriptural to assume that the -original mess of Benjamin was something like a glorified Irish stew, or -perhaps what yachtsmen call “lobscouce,” and that it contained at least -a neck of mutton and a knuckle of ham--the prohibition did not exist in -those days, and if the stew did not contain either ham or corned beef -it would not be worth eating. But the compilation of which my friend was -accustomed to partake nightly, and to which the vegetarian cookery book -arrogates the patriarchal title, was wholly devoid of flesh-meat. It -consisted, I believe, of some lentils, parsnips, a turnip, a head of -cabbage or so, a dozen of leeks, a quart of split peas, a few vegetable -marrows, a cucumber, a handful of green gooseberries, and a diseased -potato to give the whole a piquancy that could not be derived from the -other simple ingredients. - -I was frequently invited by the sub-editor to join him in his frugal -supper, but invariably declined. I told him that I had no desire to -convert my frame into a costermonger’s barrow. - -Upon one occasion the man failed to come down to the office when he -was due. He appeared an hour later, looking very pale. His features -suggested those of an overboiled cauliflower that has not been -sufficiently strained after being removed from the saucepan. He -explained to me the reason of his delay and of his overboiled -appearance. - -“The fact is,” said he, “that I did not feel at all well this morning. -For my breakfast I could only eat one covered dishful of peasepudding, -a head or two of celery and a few carrots, with a tureen of lentil soup -and a raw potato salad; so my wife thought she would tempt me with -a delicacy for my dinner. She made me a bran pie all for -myself--thirty-two Spanish onions and four Swedish turnips, with -a beetroot or two for colouring, and a thick paste of oatmeal and -bran--that’s why it’s called a bran pie. Confound the thing! It’s too -fascinating. I can never resist eating it all, and scraping the stable -bucket in which it is cooked. I did so to-day, and that’s why I’m late. -Well, well, perhaps I’ll gain sense late in life. I don’t feel quite -myself even yet. Oh, confound all those dainty dishes! A man should -stick to plain homely fare when he has work to do.” - -But on reflection I think that the most peculiar supper menus of the -sub-editorial staff were those partaken of by two journalists who -occupied the same room for close upon a year--a room to which I had -access occasionally. One of these gentlemen was accustomed to place in -a saucepan on the fire a number of unpeeled lemons with as much water -as just covered them. After four hours’ stewing, this dainty midnight -supper was supposed to be cooked. It certainly was eaten, and with very -few indications, all things considered, of abhorrence, by the senior -occupant of the sub-editor’s room. He told me once in confidence that -he really did not dislike the stewed lemons very much. He had heard -that they were conducive to longevity, and in order to live long he was -prepared to make many sacrifices. There could be little doubt, he said, -that the virtue attributed to them was real, for he had been partaking -of them for supper for over three years, and he had never suffered from -anything worse than acute dyspepsia. I congratulated him. Nothing worse -than acute dyspepsia! - -His stable companion, so to speak, did not believe in heavy hot suppers -such as his colleague indulged in. He said it was his impression that -no more light and salutary supper could be imagined than a single apple, -not quite ripe. - -He acted manfully up to his belief, for every night I used to see him -eating his apple shortly after midnight, and without offering the fruit -the indignity of a paring. The spectacle was no more stimulating than -that of the lemon-eater. My mouth invariably became so puckered up -through watching the midnight banquets of these Sybarites, it was only -with difficulty that I could utter a word or two of weak acquiescence in -their views on a question of recognised difficulty. - -It is somewhat remarkable that the apple-eating sub-editor should be -the one who was guilty of the most remarkable error I ever knew in -connection with an attempted display of erudition. He had set out to -write a lively little quarter-of-a-column leaderette on a topic which -was convulsing society in those days--namely, the cruelty of boiling -lobsters alive. I am not quite certain that the question has even yet -been decided to the satisfaction either of the humanitarian who likes -lobster salad, or of the lobster that finds itself potted. Perhaps the -latter may some day come out of its shell and give us its views on the -question. - -At any rate, in the year of which I write, the topic was almost a -burning one: the month was September, Parliament had risen, and as -yet the sea-serpent had not appeared on the horizon. The apple-eating -sub-editor was doing duty for the assistant-editor, who was on his -holidays; and as evidence of his light and graceful erudition, he -asserted in his article that, however inhuman modern cooks might be -in their preparation of Crustacea for the fastidious palates of their -patrons, quite as great cruelty--assuming that it was cruelty--was in -the habit of being perpetrated in cookery in the days of Shakespeare. -“Readers of the immortal bard of Avon,” he wrote, “will recollect how, -in one of the charming lyrics to ‘Love’s Labour’s Lost,’ among the -homely pleasures of winter it is stated that ‘roasted crabs hiss in the -bowl.’ - -“This reference to the preparation of crabs for the table makes it -perfectly plain that it was quite common to cook them alive, for were it -otherwise, how could they hiss? That listening to the expression of the -suffering of the crabs should be regarded by Shakespeare as one of the -joys of a household, casts a somewhat lurid light upon the condition of -English Society in the sixteenth century.” - -***** - -It was the lemon-eating sub-editor who, on being requested by the editor -to write something about the Zenana Mission, pointing out the great good -that it was achieving, and the necessity there was for maintaining it in -an efficient condition, produced a neat little article on the subject. -He assured the readers of the paper that, among the many scenes of -missionary labour, none had of late attracted more attention than the -Zenana mission, and assuredly none was more deserving of this attention. -Comparatively few years had passed since Zenana had been opened up to -British trade, but already, owing to the devotion of a handful of men -and women, the nature of the inhabitants had been almost entirely -changed. The Zenanese, from being a savage people, had become, in a -wonderfully short space of time, practically civilised; and recent -travellers to Zenana had returned with the most glowing accounts of the -continued progress of the good work in that country. The writer of the -article then branched off into the “labourer-worthy-of-his-hire” side of -this great evangelisation question--in most questions of missionary -enterprise this side has a special interest attached to it--and the -question was aptly asked if the devoted labourers in that remote -vineyard were not deserving of support. Were civilisation and -Christianity to be snatched from the Zenanese just when both were within -their grasp? So on for nearly half a column the writer meandered in the -most orthodox style, just as he had done scores of times before when -advocating certain missions. - -I found him the next day running his finger down the letter Z, in the -index to the Handy Atlas, with a puzzled look upon his face. I knew then -that he had received a letter from the editor, advising him to look out -Zenana in the Atlas before writing anything further about so ticklish a -region. - -***** - -I also knew a sub-editor who fancied that the pibroch was a musical -instrument widely circulated in the Highlands. - -But who can blame a humble provincial journalist for making an odd -blunder occasionally, when a leading London newspaper, in announcing the -death, some years ago, of Captain Wallace, son of Sir Richard Wallace, -stated that the sad event had occurred while he was “playing at -bagatelle in the Bois de Boulogne”? It might reasonably have been -expected, I think, that the sub-editor of the foreign news should know -of the existence of the historic mansion Bagatelle, which the Marquis -of Hertford left to Sir Richard Wallace with the store of art treasures -that it contained. - -What excuse, one may also ask, can be made for the Dublin Professor who -referred in print “to those populous districts of Hindostan, watered by -the Ganges and the Deccan”? - -***** - -In alluding to Frankenstein as the monster, and not merely the maker -of the monster, the mistakes made by provincial journalists of the old -school may certainly also be condoned, when we find the same ridiculous -hallucination maintained by one of the most highly representative of -modern journalists, as-well as by the editor of a weekly paper of large -circulation, who enshrined it in the preface to a book for which he was -responsible. In this case the writer could not have been pressed -for time. But the marvel is, not that so many errors are run into by -provincial journalists, but that so few can be laid to their charge. -With telegrams pouring in by private wire, as well as by the P.A. and -C.N., to say nothing of Baron Reuter’s and Messrs, Dalziel’s special -services; with the foreman printer, too, appearing like a silent spectre -and departing like one that is not silent, leaving the impression -behind him that no newspaper, except that composed by a hated rival, can -possibly be produced the next morning;--with all these drags upon the -chariot wheels of composition, how can it be reasonably expected that -an editor or a sub-editor will become Academic in his erudition? When, -however, it is discovered the next day by some tenth-rate curate, who -probably gets a free copy of the paper, that the quotation “_O tempora! -O mores!_” is attributed to Virgil instead of Cicero, in a leading -article a column in length, written upon a speech of seven columns, the -writer is at once referred to as an ignorant boor, and an invitation is -given to all that curate’s friends to point the finger of scorn at the -journalist. - -A long experience has convinced me that the curate who gets a free copy -of the paper, and who is most velvet-gloved in approaching any member -of the staff when he wants a favour, such as a leaderette on the Zenana -Mission, in which several of his lady friends are deeply interested, or -a paragraph regarding a forthcoming bazaar, or the insertion of a letter -signed “Churchman,” calling attention to some imaginary reform which -he himself has instituted--this very curate is the person who sends -the marked copies of the paper to the proprietor with a gigantic _Sic_ -opposite every mistake, even though it be only a turned letter. - -I put a stop to the tricks of one of the race who had annoyed me -excessively. I simply inserted verbatim a long letter that he wrote on -some subject. It was full of mistakes, and to these the next day, in a -letter which he meant to be humorous, he referred as “printer’s errors.” - I took the liberty of appending an editorial note to this communication, -mentioning that the mistakes existed in the original letter, and adding -that I trusted the writer would not think it necessary to attribute -to the printer the further blunders which appeared in the humorous -communication to which my note was appended. - -The fellow sought an interview with me the next day, and found it. He -was furiously indignant at the course which I had adopted, and said I -had taken advantage of the haste in which he had written both letters. I -brought out of my desk forthwith a paper which he had taken the trouble -to re-edit with red ink for the benefit of the proprietor, who had, -naturally, handed it to me. I recognised the handwriting of the red-ink -editor the moment I received the first of his letters. - -“Did you make any allowance for the haste of the writers of these -passages that you took the trouble to mark and send to the proprietor?” - I inquired blandly. - -He said he did not know what it was that I referred to; and added that -it was a gratuitous assumption on my part to say that he had marked and -sent the paper. - -“Very well,” said I. “I’ll assume that you deny having done so. May I do -so?” - -“Certainly you may,” he replied. “I have something else to do beside -pointing out the blunders of your staff.” - -“Then I ask your pardon for having assumed that you marked the paper,” - said I. “I was too hasty.” - -“You were--quite too hasty,” said he, going to the door. - -“I’ve acknowledged it,” said I. “And therefore I’ll not go to your -rector until to-morrow evening to prove to him that his curate is a -sneak and a liar as well as an extremely ignorant person.” - -He returned as I sat down. - -“What paper is it that you allude to?” he asked. - -“I showed it to you,” said I. “It was the paper that you re-edited in -red ink and posted anonymously to the proprietor.” - -“Oh, that?” said he. “Why on earth didn’t you say so at once? Of course -I sent that paper. My dear fellow, it was only my little joke. I meant -to have a little chaff with you about the mistakes.” - -“Go away--go away,” said I. “Go away, _Stiggins_.” - -And he went away. - -***** - -I need scarcely say that such clergymen are not to be interviewed every -day. Equally exceptional, I think, was the clergyman who was good enough -to pay me a visit a few months after I had joined the editorial staff -of a daily paper. Although I had never exactly been the leader of the -coughers in church, yet on the other hand I had never been a leader of -the scoffers outside it; and somehow the parson had come to miss me. -I had an uneasy feeling when he entered my room that he had come on -business--that he might possibly have fancied I was afflicted with -doubts on, say, the right of unbaptised infants to burial in consecrated -ground, and that he had come prepared to lift the burden from my soul; -but he never so much as spoke of business until he had picked up his hat -and gloves, and had said a cheerful farewell. Only then he remarked, as -if the thing had occurred to him quite suddenly,-- - -“Oh, by the way, I don’t think I noticed you in church during the past -few Sundays. I was afraid that you were indisposed.” - -“Oh, no,” said I. “I was all right; but the fact is, you see, that I’ve -become a sort of editor, and as I can never get to bed before three -or four in the morning, it would be impossible for me to rise before -eleven. To be sure I’m not on duty on Saturday nights, but the force of -habit is so great that, though I may go to bed in decent time on that -night, I cannot sleep until my usual hour.” - -“Oh, I see, I see,” said he, beginning to draw on his gloves. “Well, -perhaps on the whole--all things considered--the--ah--” here he was -seized with a fit of coughing, and when he recovered he said he had -always been an admirer of old Worcester, and he rather thought that some -cups which I had on a shelf were, on the whole, the most characteristic -as regards shape that he had ever seen. - -Then he went away, and I perceived from the appearance that his back -presented to me, that he would one day become a bishop. A clergyman with -such tact as he exhibited can no more avoid being made a bishop than the -young seal can avoid taking to the water. - -Before five years had passed he was, sure enough, raised to the Bench, -and every one is delighted with him. The celery from the Palace garden -invariably takes the first prize at the local shows; his lordship smiles -when you congratulate him on his repeated successes with celery, but -when you talk about chrysanthemums he becomes grave and shakes his head. - -This is his tact. - -***** - -The church of which he was rector was situated in a fashionable suburb -of the town, and it possessed one of the noisiest peals of bells -possible to imagine. They were the terror of the neighbourhood. - -Upon one occasion an elderly gentleman living close to the church -contracted some malady which necessitated, the doctor said, the -observance of the strictest quiet, even on Sundays. A message was sent -to the chief of the bellringers to this effect, the invalid’s wife -expressing the hope that for a Sunday or two the bells might be -permitted to remain silent. Of course her very reasonable wish was -granted. The chief of the ringers thoughtfully called every Sunday -morning to inquire after the sufferer’s condition, and for three weeks -he learned that it was unchanged, and the bells consequently remained -silent. On the fourth Sunday, he was told that the man had died during -the night. He immediately hastened off to the other seven bellringers, -worse than the first, and telling them that their prohibition was -removed, they climbed the belfry and rang forth the most joyous peal -that had ever annoyed the neighbourhood. - -“Ah,” said the lady with whom I lodged, “there are the joy bells once -more. Poor Mr. Jenkins must be dead at last.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI.--ON SOME FORMS OF SPORT. - - -_An invitation to shoot rooks--The sub-editors gun--A quotation -from “The Rivals”--The rook in repose--How the gun came to be -smashed--Recollections of the Spanish Main--A greatly overrated -sport--The story of Jack Burnaby’s dogs--A fastidious man--His keeper’s -remonstrance--The Australian visitor---A kind offer--Over-willing -dogs--The story of a muzzle-loader--How Mr. Egan came to be alive--Why -Patsy Muldoon smiled--The moral--Degrees of dampness--Below the -surface--The chameleon blackberry--A superlative degree of thirst._ - - -A FRIEND of mine once came to my office to invite me to an afternoon’s -rook-shooting. I was not in my room and he found me in the sub-editor’s. -I inquired about the trains to the place where the slaughter was to be -done, and finding that they were satisfactory, agreed to join him on the -following afternoon. - -Then he turned to the sub-editor--a pleasant young fellow who had ideas -of going to the bar--and asked him if he would care to come also. At -first the sub-editor said he did not think he would be able to come, -though he would like very much to do so. A little persuasion was -sufficient to make him agree to be one of our party. He had not a gun of -his own, he said, but a friend had frequently offered to lend him -one, so that there would be no difficulty so far as that matter was -concerned. - -The next day I managed, as usual, just to catch the train as it began to -move-away from the platform. My colleague on the newspaper had the -door of the compartment open for me, and I could see the leather of his -gun-case under the seat. I put my rook rifle--it was not in a case--in -the network, and we had a delightful run through the autumn landscape -to the station--it seemed miles from any village--where my friend was -awaiting us in his dogcart, driving tandem. The drive of three miles -to the rook-wood was exhilarating, and as we skirted some lines of -old gnarled oaks, I perceived in a moment that we could easily fill a -railway truck with birds, they were so plentiful. I made a remark to -this effect to my friend, who was driving, and he said that when we -arrived at the shooting ground and gave the birds the chance to which -they were entitled we mightn’t get more than a couple of hundred all -told. - -The shooting ground was under a straggling tree about fifty yards from -the ruin of an old castle, said to have been built by the Knights -Templar. Here we dismounted from the dogcart, sending it a mile or two -farther along the road in charge of the man, and got ready our rifles. - -“What on earth have you got there?” my friend inquired of the -sub-editor, who was working at the gun-case. - -“It’s the gun and cartridges,” replied the young man; “but I’m not quite -certain how to make fast the barrels to the stock.” - -“Great heavens!” cried my friend. “You’ve brought a double-barrelled -sporting gun to shoot rooks!” - -And so he had. - -We tried to explain to him that for any human being to point such a -weapon at a rook would be little short of murder, but he utterly failed -to see the force of our arguments. He very good-humouredly said that, -as we had come out to shoot rooks, he couldn’t see how it -mattered--especially to the rooks--whether they were shot with his gun -or with our rook rifles. He added that he thought the majority of the -birds were like Bob Acres, and would as lief be shot in an ungentlemanly -as a gentlemanly attitude. - -Of course it is impossible to argue with such a man. We only said that -he must accept the responsibility for the butchery, and in this he -cheerfully acquiesced, slipping cartridges into both barrels--the friend -from whom he had borrowed the weapon had taught him how to do this. - -We soon found that at this point the breaking-strain of his information -was reached. He had no more idea of sport than a butcher, or the -_Sonttag jager_ of the _Oberlander Blatter._ - -As the rooks flew from the ruins to the belt of trees my friend and I -brought down one each, and by the time we had reloaded, we were ready -for two more, but I fired too soon, so that only one bird dropped. I -saw the eyes of the man with the shot-gun gleam, “his heart with lust -of slaying strong,” and he forthwith fired first one barrel and then the -other at an old rook that cursed us by his gods, sitting on a branch of -a tree ten yards off. - -The bird flapped heavily away, becoming more vituperative every moment. - -“Look here,” I shouted, “you mustn’t shoot at a bird that’s sitting on a -branch.” - -“Oh. yes,” said my friend, with a grim smile. “Oh, yes, he may. It’ll do -him no more harm than the birds.” - -Not a bird did that young sportsman fire at except such as had assumed -a sitting posture, and, incredible though it may seem, he only succeeded -in killing one. But from the moment that his skill was rewarded by -witnessing the downward flap of this one, the lust for blood seemed -to take possession of him, as it does the young soldiers when their -officers have succeeded in preventing them from blazing away at the -enemy while still a mile off. He continued to load and fire at birds -that were swaying on the trees beside us. - -“There’s a chance for you,” said my friend, “sarkastik-like,” pointing -to a rook that had flapped into a branch just above our heads. - -The young man, his face pale and his teeth set, was in no mood for -distinguishing between one tone of voice and another. He simply took -half a dozen steps into the open and, aiming steadily at the bird, -fired both barrels simultaneously. Down came the rook in the usual way, -clawing from branch to branch. It remained, however, for several seconds -on a bough about eight feet from the ground; then we had a vision of the -sportsman clubbing his gun, and making a wild rush at his prey--and -then came a crash and a cheer. The sportsman held aloft in one hand -the tattered rook and in the other a double-barrelled gun with a broken -stock. - -He had never fired a shot in his life before this day, and all his ideas -of musketry were derived from the stories of pirates and buccaneers -of the Spanish Main--wherever that may be--which had come to him for -review. He thought that the clubbing of his weapon, in order to prevent -the escape of the rook, quite a brilliant thing to do. - -He had, however, completely smashed the gun, and that, my friend said, -was a step in the right direction. He could not do any more butchery -with it that day. - -It cost him four pounds getting that gun repaired, and he confessed to -me that, according to his experience, fowling was a greatly overrated -sport. - -***** - -It was while we were driving to the train that my friend told me the -story of Jack Burnaby’s dogs--a story which he frankly confessed he had -never yet got any human being to believe, but which was accurate in -all its details, and could be fully verified by affidavit. He did -not succeed in obtaining my credence for it. There are other forms of -falsehood besides those verified by an affidavit, and I could not have -given more implicit disbelief than I did to the story, even if it had -formed the subject of this legal method of embodying a fiction. - -It appeared that never was there a more fastidious man in the matter -of his sporting dogs than one Algy Grafton. Pointers that called -for outbursts of enthusiasm on the part of other men--quite as good -sportsmen as Algy--failed to obtain more than a complimentary word from -him, and even this word of praise was grudgingly given and invariably -tempered by many words which were certainly not susceptible of a -eulogistic meaning. - -Among his friends--such as declined to resent the insults which he put -upon their dogs--there was a consensus of opinion that the animal which -would satisfy him would not be born--allowing a reasonable time for the -various processes of evolution--for at least a thousand years, and then, -taking into consideration the growth of radical ideas, and the decay of -the English sport, there would be little or no demand for a first-class -dog in the British Islands. - -Algy Grafton had just acquired the Puttick-Foozler moor, and almost -every post brought him a letter from his head-keeper describing the -condition of the birds and the prospects of the Twelfth. Though the -letters were written on a phonetic principle, the correctness of which -was, of course, proportionate to the accuracy of a Scotchman’s ear, -and though the head-keeper was scarcely an optimist, still there was -no mistaking the general tone of the information which Algy received -through this source from the north: he gathered that he might reasonably -look forward to the finest shoot on record. - -Every letter which he got from the moor, however, contained the -expression of the keeper’s hope that his master would succeed in his -search for a couple of good dogs. The keeper’s hope was shared by Algy; -and he did little else during the month of July except interview dogs -that had been recommended to him. He travelled north and south, east and -west, to interview dogs; but so ridiculously fastidious was he that at -the close of the first week in August he was still without a dog. He was -naturally at his wit’s end by this time, for as the Twelfth approached -there was not a dog in the market. He telegraphed in all directions in -the endeavour to secure some of the animals which he had rejected during -the previous month, but, as might have been expected, the dogs were no -longer to be disposed of: they had all been sold within a day or two -after their rejection by Mr. Grafton. It was on the seventh of August -that he got a letter from his correspondent on the moor, and in this -letter the tone of mild remonstrance which the keeper had hitherto -adopted in referring to his master’s extravagant ideas on the dog -question, was abandoned in favour of one of stern reprimand; in fact, -some sentences were almost abusive. Mr. Donald MacKilloch professed to -be anxious to know what was the good of his wearing out his life on the -moor if his master did not mean to shoot on it. He hoped he would not -be thought wanting in respect if he doubted the sanity of the policy of -waiting without a dog until it pleased Providence--Mr. MacKilloch was -a very religious man--to turn angels into pointers and saints into -setters, a period which, it seemed to Mr. MacKilloch, his master was -rather oversanguine in anticipating. - -It was not surprising that, after receiving this letter from the -Highlands, Algy Grafton was somewhat moody as he strolled about his -grounds on the morning of the eighth, nor was it remarkable that, -when the rectory boy appeared with a letter stating that the Reverend -Septimus Burnaby was anxious for him to run across in time to lunch at -the rectory, to meet Jack Burnaby, who had just returned from Australia, -Algy said that the rector and his brother Jack and all the squatters in -the Australian colonies might be hanged together. Mrs. Grafton, however, -whose life had not been worth a month’s purchase since the dog problem -had presented itself for solution, insisted on his going to the rectory -to lunch, and he went. It was while smoking a cigar in the rectory -garden with Jack Burnaby, who had spent all his life squatting, but with -no apparent inconvenience to himself, that Algy mentioned that he was -broken-hearted on account of his dogs. He gave a brief summary of his -travels through England in search of trustworthy animals, and lamented -his failure to obtain anything that could be depended on to do a day’s -work. - -“By George! you don’t mean to say there’s not a good dog in the market -now?” said Mr. Burnaby, the squatter. - -“But that’s just what I do mean to say,” cried Algy, so plaintively that -even the stern and unbending MacKilloch might have pitied him. “That’s -just what I do mean to say. I’d give fifty pounds to-day for a pair -of dogs that I wouldn’t have given ten pounds for a month ago. I’m -heart-broken--that’s what I am!” - -“Cheer up!” said Mr. Burnaby. “I have a couple of sporting dogs that -I’ll lend to you until I return to the Colony in February next--the best -dogs I ever worked with, and I’ve had some experience.” - -“It was Providence that caused you to come across to me to-day, -Grafton,” said the rector piously, as Algy stood speechless among the -trim rosebeds. - -“You’re sure they’re good?” said Algy, his old suspicions returning. - -“Good?--am I sure?--oh, you needn’t have them if you don’t like,” said -the Australian. - -“I beg your pardon a thousand times,” cried Algy. “Don’t fancy that I -suggest that the dogs are not first rate. Oh, my dear fellow, I don’t -know how to thank you. I am--well, my heart is too full for words.” - -“There’s not a man in England except yourself that I’d lend them to,” - said Mr. Burnaby. “I give you my word that I’ve been offered forty -pounds for each of them. Oh, there isn’t a fault between them. They’re -just perfect.” - -Algy was delighted, and for the remainder of the evening he kept -assuring his poor wife that he was not quite such a fool as some people, -including the Scotch keeper, seemed to fancy that he was. - -He had felt all along, he said, that just such a piece of luck as -had occurred was in store for him, and it was on this account he had -steadily refused to be gulled into buying any of the inferior animals -that had been offered to him. - -Oh, yes, he assured her, he knew what he was about, and he’d let -MacKilloch know who it was that he had to deal with. - -The Australian’s dogs were in the custody of a man at Southampton, but -he promised to have them sent northward in good time. It was the evening -of the eleventh when they arrived at the lodge. They were strange wiry -brutes, and like no breed that Algy had ever seen. The head-keeper -looked at them critically, and made some observations regarding -them that did not seem grossly flattering. It was plain that if Mr. -MacKilloch had conceived any sudden admiration for the dogs he contrived -to conceal it. Algy said all that he could say, which was that Mr. -Burnaby knew perfectly well what a dog was, and that a dog should be -proved before it was condemned. Mr. MacKilloch, hearing this excellent -sentiment, grunted. - -The next day was a splendid Twelfth so far as the weather was concerned. -Algy and his two friends were on the moor at dawn. At a signal from the -head-keeper the dogs were put to their work. They seemed willing enough -to work. Under their noses rose an old cock. To the horror of every one -they made a snap for him, and missing him they rushed full speed through -the heather in the direction he had taken, setting up birds right and -left, and driving them by the score into the next moor. Algy stood -aghast and speechless. It would be inaccurate to describe the attitude -of Donald MacKilloch as passive. He was not silent. But in spite of his -shouts--in spite of a fusi-lade of the strongest “sweers” that ever came -from a God-fearing Scotchman with well-defined views of his own on the -Free Kirk question, the two dogs romped over the moor, and the air was -thick with grouse of all sorts and conditions, from the wary cocks to -the incipient cheepers. - -To the credit of Algy Grafton it must be stated that he resolutely -refused to allow a gun to be put into the hands of Donald MacKilloch. -There was a blood-thirsty look in the keeper’s eyes as now and again one -of the dogs appeared among the clumps of purple heather. When they were -tired out toward evening they were captured by one of the keepers, and -led off the moor, Algy following them, for he feared that they might -meet with an accident. He sent a telegram that night to their owner, and -the next morning received the following reply:-- - -“The infernal idiot at Southampton sent you the wrong dogs. The right -ones will reach you to-morrow. You have got a pair of the best -kangaroo hounds in the world--worth five hundred guineas. Take care of -them.--Burnaby.” - -“_Kangaroo hounds! kangaroo hounds!_” murmured Algy with a far-away look -in his eyes. - -It seems that he is not quite so fastidious about dogs as he used to be. - -***** - -When in the west of Ireland some years ago, pretending to be on the -look-out for “local colour” for a novel, I heard, with about ten -thousand others, a very amusing story regarding a gun. It was told to -me by a man who was engaged in grazing a cow along the side of a ditch -where I sat while partaking of a sandwich, fondly hoping that at sundown -I might be able to look a duck or two straight in the face as the “fly” - came over the smooth surface of the glorious lake along which the road -skirted. - -“Your honour,” said the narrator--he pronounced the words something -like “yer’an’r,” but the best attempts to reproduce a brogue are -ineffective--“Your honour will mind how Mr. Egan was near having an -accident just as he drew by the bit of stone wall beyond the entrance to -his own gates?” - -“Yes,” I replied, “I remember hearing that he was fired at by some -ruffian, and that his horse ran away with him.” - -“It’s likely that that’s the same story only told different. Maybe you -never heard tell that it was Patsy Muldoon that was bid to do the job -for Mr. Egan, God save him!” - -“I never heard that.” - -“Maybe not, sir. Ay, Patsy has repented for that shot, for it knocked -the eye of him that far into the inside of his head that the doctors had -no machine long enough to drag for it in the depths of his ould skull. -Patsy wasn’t a well-favoured boy before that night, and with the loss of -his ear and the misplacement of his eye--it’s not lost that it is, for -it’s somewhere in the inside of his head--he’s not a beauty just now. -You see, sir, Patsy Muldoon, Conn Moriarty, Jim Tuohy, and Tim Gleeson -was all consarned in the business. They got the lend of a loan of ould -Gleeson’s gun, and the powder was in a half-pint whisky-bottle with a -roll of paper for a cork, and every boy was supposed to bring his own -bullets. Well, sir, ould Gleeson, before going quiet to his bed, had put -a full charge of powder and a bullet down the throat of the gun, and had -left her handy for Tim in the turf stack. But when Tim got a hoult of -the wippon, he didn’t know that the ould man had loaded her, and so -he put another charge in her, and rammed it home to make sure. Then -he slipped the bottle with the rest of the powder into his pocket and -strolled down to the bit of dead wall--I suppose they call them dead -walls, sir, because they’re so convanient for such-like jobs. Anyhow, he -laid down herself and the powder-bottle handy among the grass, and went -back to the cabin, so as not to be suspected by the polis of interferin’ -with the job that was Patsy’s by right. Well, sir, my brave Conn was the -next to come to the place, just to see that Tim hadn’t played a thrick -on him. He knew that it was all right when he saw herself lying among -the grass, and as he didn’t know that Tim had loaded her, he gave her a -mouthful of powder himself and rammed down the lead. After him came my -bould Tuohy, and, by the Powers, if he didn’t load herself in proper -style too. Last of all came Patsy that was to do the job--he’d been -consalin’ himself in the plantation, and it was barely time he had -to put another charge into the ould gun, when Mr. Egan came up on his -horse. Patsy slipped a cap on the nipple, and took a good aim from the -side of the wall. When he pulled the trigger it’s a dead corp that the -gentleman would ha’ been only for the accident that occurred just -then, for by some reason or other that nobody can account for, herself -burst--a thing she’d never done before--and Patsy’s eye was druv into -his head, and he was left searching by the aid of the other for the half -of his ear, while Mr. Egan was a mile away on a mad horse. That’s the -story, your honour, only nobody can account to this day for the quare -way that Patsy smiles when he sees a single barr’l gun with the barr’l a -bit rusty.” - -***** - -It was, I recollect, on the day following the rehearsal of this pretty -little tale--the moral of which is that no man should shoot at a fellow -man from the shelter of a crumbling wall, without having ascertained the -exact numerical strength of the charges already within the barrel of -the gun--that I was caught on the mountain in a shower of rain which -penetrated my two coats within half-an-hour, leaving me in the condition -of a bath sponge that awaits squeezing. While I was trickling down to -the plains I met with the narrator of the story just recorded, and to -him I explained that I was wet to the skin. - -“And if your honour’s wet to the skin, and you with an overcoat on, how -much worse amn’t I that was out through all the shower with only a rag -on my back?” - -It is said that it was in this neighbourhood that the driver of one -of the “long cars,” on being asked by a tourist what was the name of a -berry growing among the hedges, replied, “Oh, them’s blackberries, your -honour.” - -“Blackberries?” said the tourist. “But these are not black, but pink.” - -“Oh, yes, sir; but blackberries is always pink when they’re green,” was -the ready explanation. - -I cannot guarantee the novelty of this story; but I can certainly affirm -that it is far more reasonable than the palpable invention regarding the -nervous curate who is said to have announced that, “next Tuesday, -being Easter Monday, an open air meeting will be held in the vestry, -to determine what colour the interior of the schoolhouse shall be -whitewashed outside.” - -***** - -“Am I dhry? Is it am I dhry, that you’re afther askin’ me?” said a car -driver to a couple of country solicitors, whom he was “conveying” to a -court-house at a distant town on a summer’s day. “Dhry? By the Powers! -I’m that dhry that if you was to jog up against me suddint-like, the -dust would fly out of my mouth.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII.--SOME REPORTERS. - - -_An important person--The mayor-maker--Two systems--The puff and -the huff--“Oh that mine enemy were reported verbatim!”--Errors of -omission--Summary justice--An example--The abatement of a nuisance--The -testimony of the warm-hearted--The fixed rate--A possible placard--A -gross insult--Not so bad as it might have been--The subdivision of an -insult--An inadequate assessment--The Town Councillor’s bribe--Birds -of a feather--A handbook needed--An outburst of hospitality--Never -again--The reporters “gloom”--The March lion--The popularity of the -coroner._ - - -THE chief of the reporting staff is usually the most important person -connected with a provincial newspaper. It is not too much to say that -it is in his power to make or to annihilate the reputation of a Town -Councillor, or even a Poor Law Guardian. He may do so by the adoption of -either of two systems: the first is persistent attention, the second is -persistent neglect. He may either puff a man into a reputation, or -puff him out of it. There are some men who become universally abhorred -through being constantly alluded to as “our respected townsman”; such a -distinction seems an invidious one to the twenty thousand townsmen who -have never been so referred to. If a reporter persists in alluding to a -certain person as “our respected townsman,” he will eventually succeed -in making him the most highly disrespected burgess in the municipality, -if he was not so before.’ On the other hand a reporter may, by judicious -neglect of a burgess who burns for distinction, destroy his chances of -becoming a Town Councillor; and, perhaps, before he dies, Mayor. But my -experience leads me to believe that if a reporter has a grudge against a -Town Councillor, a Poor Law Guardian, or a Borough Magistrate, and if he -is really vindictive, the most effective course of vengeance that he can -adopt is to record verbatim all that his enemy utters in public. The man -who exclaimed, at a period of the world’s history when the publishing -business had not attained its present proportions, “Oh that mine enemy -had written a book!” knew what he was talking about. “Oh that mine enemy -were reported verbatim!” would assuredly be the modern equivalent of the -bitter cry of the patriarch. The stutterings, the vain repetitions, and -the impossible grammar which accompany the public utterances--imbecile -only when they are not commonplace--of the average Town Councillor or -Poor Law Guardian, would require the aid of the phonograph to admit of -their being anly when they are not commonplace--of the average Town -Councillor or Poor Law Guardian, would require the aid of the phonograph -to admit of their being adequately depreciated by the public. - -The worst offenders are those men who are loudest in their complaints -against the reporters, and who are constantly writing to correct what -they call “errors” in the summary of their speeches. A reporter puts in -a grammatical and a moderately reasonable sentence or two the ridiculous -maunderings and wanderings of one of these “public men,” and the only -recognition he obtains assumes the form of a letter to the editor, -pointing out the “omissions” made in the summary. Omissions! I should -rather think there were omissions. - -I have no hesitation in affirming that the verbatim reporting of their -speeches would mean the annihilation of ninety-nine out of every hundred -of these municipal orators. - -Only once, on a paper with which I was connected, had a reporter the -courage to try the effect of a literal report of the speech of a man -who was greatly given to complaining of the injustice done to him in -the published accounts of his deliverances. Every “haw,” “hum,” “ah,” - “eh--eh;” every repetition, every reduplication of a repetition, every -unfinished sentence, every singular nominative to a plural verb, every -artificial cough to cover a retreat from an imbecile statement, was -reported. The result was the complete abatement of this nuisance. A -considerable time elapsed before another complaint as to omissions in -municipal speeches was made. - -***** - -To my mind, the ability and the judgment shown by the members of the -reporting staff cannot be too warmly commended. It is not surprising -that occasionally attempts should be made by warm-hearted persons to -express in a substantial way their recognition of the talents of this -department of a newspaper. I have several times known of sums of money -being offered to reporters in the country, with a view of obtaining the -insertion of certain paragraphs or the omission of others. Half-a-crown -was invariably the figure at which the value of such services was -assessed. I am still of the opinion that this was not an extravagant sum -to offer a presumably educated man for running the risk of losing his -situation. Curiously enough, the majority of these offers of money came -from competitors at ploughing matches, at exhibitions of oxen and swine, -and at flower shows. Why agriculturalists should be more zealous to show -their appreciation of literary work than the rest of the population it -would be difficult to say; but at one time--a good many years ago--I -heard so much about the attempted distribution of half-crowns in -agricultural districts, I began to fear that at the various shows -it would be necessary to have a placard posted, bearing the words: -“GRATUITIES TO REPORTERS STRICTLY PROHIBITED.” - -Many years ago I was somewhat tired of hearing about the numerous -insults offered to reporters in this way. A head-reporter once told me -that a junior member of his staff had come to him after a day in the -country, complaining bitterly that he had been grossly insulted by an -offer of money. - -“And what did you say to him?” I inquired. - -“I asked him how much he had been offered,” replied the head-reporter, -“and when he said, ‘Half-a-crown,’ I said, ‘Pooh! half-a-crown! that -wasn’t much of an insult. How would you like to be offered a sovereign, -as I was one day in the same neighbourhood? You might talk of your -insults then.’ That shut him up.” - -I did not doubt it. - -“You think the juniors protest too much?” said I. - -The reporter laughed shrewdly. - -“You remember _Punch’s_ picture of the man lying drunk on the pavement, -and the compassionate lady in the crowd who asked if the poor fellow -was ill, at which a man says, ‘Ill? ‘im ill? I only wish I’d alf his -complaint’?” - -I admitted that I had a vivid recollection of the picture; but I -added that I could not see what it had to say to the subject we were -discussing. - -Again the reporter smiled. - -“If you had seen the chap’s face to-day when I talked of the sovereign -you would know what I meant; his face said quite plainly, ‘I wish I had -half of that insult.’” - -That view was quite intelligible to me some time after, when a reporter, -whose failings were notorious, came to me with the old story. He had -been offered half-a-crown by a man in a good social position who had -been fined at the police court that day for being drunk and assaulting a -constable, and who was anxious that no record of the transaction should -appear in the newspaper. - -“Great heavens!” said I, “he had the face to offer you half-a-crown?” - -“He had,” said the reporter, indignantly. “Half-a-crown! The low hound! -He knew that if I included his case in to-morrow’s police news he would -lose his situation, and yet he had the face to offer me half-a-crown. -What hounds there are in the world! Two pounds would have been little -enough.” - -***** - -I never heard of a Town Councillor offering a bribe to a reporter; but -I have heard of something more phenomenal--a Town Councillor indignantly -rejecting what he conceived to be a bribe. He took good care to boast of -it afterwards to his constituents. It happened that this Councillor -was the leader of a select faction of three on the Corporation, whose -_métier_ consisted in opposing every scheme that was brought forward by -the Town Clerk, and supported by the other members of the Corporation. -Now the Town Clerk had hired a shooting one autumn, and as the birds -were plentiful, he thought that it would be a graceful act on his part -to send a brace of grouse to every Alderman and every Councillor. He did -so, and all the members of the Board accepted the transaction in a right -spirit--all, except the leader of the opposition faction. He explained -his attitude to his constituents as follows: - -“Gentlemen, you’ll all be glad to hear that I’ve made myself formidable -to our enemies. I’ve brought the so-called Town Clerk down on his knees -to me. An attempt was made to bribe me last week, which I am determined -to expose. One night when I came home from my work, I found waiting for -me a queer pasteboard box with holes in it. I opened it, and inside I -found a couple of fat _brown pigeons_, and on their legs a card printed -‘With Mr. Samuel White’s compliments.’ ‘Mr. Samuel White! That’s the -Town Clerk,’ says I, ‘and if Mr. Samuel White thinks to buy my -silence by sending me a pair of brown pigeons with Mr. Samuel White’s -compliments, Mr. Samuel White is a bit mistaken;’ so I just put the -pigeons back into their box, and redirected them to Mr. Samuel White, -and wrote him a polite note to let him know that if I wanted a pair of -pigeons I could buy them for myself. That’s what I did.” (Loud cheers.) - -When it was explained to him some time after that the birds were grouse, -and not pigeons, he asked where was the difference. The principle -would be precisely the same, he declared, if the birds were eagles or -ostriches. - -***** - -It has often occurred to me that for the benefit of such men, a complete -list should be made out of such presents as may be legitimately received -from one’s friends, and of those that should be regarded as insultive in -their tendency. It must puzzle a good many people to know where the line -should be drawn. Why should a brace of grouse be looked on as a graceful -gift, while a pair of fowl--a “yoke,” they are called in the West of -Ireland--can only be construed as an affront? Why should a haunch of -venison (when not over “ripe”) constitute an acceptable gift, while a -sirloin of prime beef could only be regarded as having an eleemosynary -signification? Why may a lover be permitted to offer the object of his -attachment a fan, but not a hat? a dozen of gloves, but not a pair of -boots? These problems would tax a much higher intelligence--if it would -be possible to imagine such--than that at the command of the average -Town Councillor. - -***** - -It was the same member of the Corporation who, one day, having -succeeded--greatly to his astonishment--in carrying a resolution -which he had proposed at a meeting, found that custom and courtesy -necessitated his providing refreshment for the dozen of gentlemen -who had supported him. His ideas of refreshment revolved round a -public-house as a centre; but when it was explained to him that the -occasion was one that demanded a demonstration on a higher level, and -with a wider horizon, he declared, in the excitement of the moment, that -he was as ready as any of his colleagues to discharge the duties of host -in the best style. He took his friends to a first-class restaurant, -and at a hint from one of them, promptly ordered a couple of bottles -of champagne. When these had been emptied, the host gave the waiter a -shilling, telling him in a lordly way to keep the change. The waiter -was, of course, a German, and, with a smile and a bow, he put the -coin into his pocket, and hastened to help the gentlemen on with their -overcoats. When they were trooping out, he ventured to enquire whom the -champagne was to be charged to. - -The hospitable Councillor stared at the man, and then expressed the -opinion that all Frenchmen, and perhaps Italians, were the greatest -rogues unhung. - -“You savey!” he shouted at the waiter--for like many persons on the -social level of Town Councillors, he assumed that all foreigners are a -little deaf,--“You savey, I give you one shilling--one bob--you savey!” - -The waiter said he was “much oblige,” but who was to pay for the -champagne? - -The gentlemen who had partaken of the champagne nudged one another, but -one of them was compassionate, and explained to the Councillor that the -two bottles involved the expenditure of twenty-four shillings. - -“Twenty-eight shillings,” the waiter murmured in a submissive, -subject-to-the-correction-of-the-Court tone. The wine was Heidsieck of -‘74, he explained. - -The Councillor gasped, and then smiled weakly. He had been made the -subject of a jest more than once before, and he fancied he saw in the -winks of the men around him, a loophole of escape from an untenable -position. - -“Come, come,” said he, “I’ve no more time to waste. Don’t you flatter -yourselves that I can’t see this is a put-up job between you all and the -waiter.” - -“Pay the man the money and be hanged to you!” said an impetuous member -of the party. - -Just then the manager of the restaurant strolled up, and received with a -polite smile the statement of the hospitable. Councillor regarding what -he termed the barefaced attempt to swindle on the part of the German -waiter. - -“Sir,” said the manager, “the price of the wine is on the card. Here it -is,”--he whipped a card out of his pocket. “‘Heidsieck--1874--14s.’” - -The generous host fell back on a chair speechless. - -Had any of his friends ever read Hamlet they would certainly not have -missed quoting the lines: - - “Indeed this (Town) Councillor - - Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, - - Who was in life--” - -Well--otherwise. However, _Hamlet_ remained unquoted. - -After a long pause he recovered his powers of speech. - -“And that’s champagne--that’s champagne!” he said in a weak voice, -“Champagne! By the Lord Harry, I’ve tasted better ginger-beer!” - -He has lately been very cautious in bringing forward any resolutions -at the Corporation. He is afraid that another of them may chance to be -carried. - -***** - -The reporter who told me the story which I have just recorded, was an -excellent specimen of the class--shrewd, a capital judge of character, -and a good organiser. He had, however, never got beyond the stereotyped -phrases which appear in every newspaper--indeed, there was no need for -him to get beyond them. Every death “cast a gloom” over the locality -where it occurred; and a chronicle of the weather at any time during -the month of March caused him to let loose the journalist’s lion upon an -unsuspecting public. - -Once it occurred to me that he went a little too far with the gloom that -he kept, as Captain Mayne Reid’s Mexicans kept their lassoes, ready to -cast at a moment’s notice. - -He wrote an account of a fire which had caused the death of two persons, -and concluded as follows:-- - -“The conflagration, which was visible at a distance of four miles, and -was not completely subjugated until a late hour, cast a gloom over the -entire quarter of the town, that will be felt for long, more especially -as the premises were wholly uninsured.” - -Yes, I thought that this was carrying the gloom a little too far. - -I will say this for him, however: it was not he who wrote: “A tall but -well-dressed man was yesterday arrested on suspicion of being concerned -in a recent robbery.” - -Nor was it he who headed a paragraph, “Fatal Death by Drowning.” - -***** - -In a town in which I once resided the coroner died, and there was quite -a brisk competition for the vacant office. The successful candidate was -a gentleman whose claims had been supported by a newspaper with which I -was connected. Three months afterwards the proofreader brought under the -notice of the sub-editor in my presence a paragraph which had come from -the reporter’s room, and which had already been “set up.” So nearly as -I can remember, it was something like this:--“Yesterday, no fewer than -three inquests were held in various parts of this town by our highly -respected coroner. Indeed, any doubts that may possibly have existed as -to the qualification of this gentleman for the coronership, among those -narrowminded persons who opposed his selection, must surely be dispelled -by reference to the statistics of inquests held during the three months -that he has been in office. The increase upon the corresponding quarter -last year is thirteen, or no less than 9.46 per cent. Compared with -the immediately preceding quarter the figures are no less significant, -showing, as they do, an increase of seventeen, or 12.18 per cent. -In other words, the business of the coroner has been augmented by -one-eighth since he came into office. This fact speaks volumes for the -enterprise and ability of the gentleman whose candidature it was our -privilege to support.” - -Of course this paragraph was suppressed. The sub-editor told me the next -day that it had been written by a junior reporter, who had misunderstood -the instructions of his chief. The fact was that the coroner wanted an -increase of remuneration,--he was paid by a fixed salary, not by “piece -work,” so to speak,--and he had suggested to the chief reporter that -a paragraph calling attention to the increase of inquests in the town -might have a good effect. The chief reporter had given the figures to -a junior, with a few hasty instructions, which he had somehow -misinterpreted. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII--THE SUBJECT OF REPORTS. - - -_The lecture society--“Early Architecture”--The professional -consultation--Its result--“Un verre d’eau”--Its story--Lyrics as -an auxiliary to the lecture--The lecture in print--A well-earned -commendation--The preservation of ancient ruins--The best -preservative--“Stone walls do not a prison make”--The Parnell -Commission--A remarkable visitor--A false prophet--Sir Charles -Russell--A humble suggestion--The bashful young man--Somewhat -changed--“Ireland a Nation”--Some kindly hints--The “Invincibles” in -court--The strange advertisement--How it was answered--Earl Spencer as a -patron--“No kindly act was ever done in vain!”_ - - -A REPORTER is now and again compelled to exercise other powers than -those which are generally supposed to be at the command of the writer -of shorthand and the paragraphist. I knew a very clever youth who in a -crisis showed of what he was capable. There was, in the town where we -lived, a society of very learned men and equally learned women. Once -a fortnight a paper was read, usually on some point of surpassing -dulness--this was in the good old days, when lectures were solemn and -theatres merry. Just at present, I need scarcely say, the position of -the two is reversed: the theatres are solemn (the managers, becoming -pessimistic by reason of their losses, endeavour to impress their -philosophy upon the public), but the lecture-room rings with laughter -as some _savant_ treats of the “Loves of Coleoptera” with limelight -illustrations, or “The Infant Bacillus.” The society which I have -mentioned had engaged as lecturer for a certain evening a local -architect, who had largely augmented his professional standing by a -reputation for conviviality; and the subject with which he was to deal -was “Early Architecture.” A brother professional man, whose sympathies -were said to extend in many directions, had promised to take the chair -upon this occasion. It so happened, however, that, owing to his pressing -but unspecified engagements, the lecturer found himself, on the day for -which the lecture was announced, still in doubt as to the sequence that -his views should assume when committed to paper. About noon on this day -he strolled into the office of the gentleman who was advertised to take -the chair in the evening, and explained that he should like to discuss -with him the various aspects of the question of Early Architecture, so -that his mind might be at ease on appearing before the audience. - -They accordingly went down the street, and made an earnest inspection of -the interior of a cave-dwelling in the neighbourhood--it was styled -“The Cool Grot,” and tradition was respected by the presence therein of -shell-fish, oat-cake, and other elementary foods, with various samples -of alcohol in a rudimentary form. In this place the brother architects -discussed the subject of Early Architecture until, as a reporter would -say, “a late hour.” The result was not such as would have a tendency to -cause an unprejudiced person to accept without some reserve the theory -that on a purely æsthetic question, a just conclusion can most readily -be arrived at by a friendly discussion amid congenial surroundings. - -A small and very solemn audience had assembled some twenty minutes or so -before the lecturer and chairman put in an appearance, and then no time -was lost in commencing the business of the meeting. The one architect -was moved to the chair, and seconded, and he solemnly took it. Having -explained that he occupied his position with the most pleasurable -feelings, he poured himself out a glass of water with a most -unreasonable amount of steadiness, and laid the carafe exactly on the -spot--he was most scrupulous on this point--it had previously occupied. -He drank a mouthful of the water, and then looked into the tumbler -with the shrewd eye of the naturalist searching for infusoria. Then he -laughed, and told a story that amused himself greatly about a friend of -his who had attended a temperance lecture, and declared that it -would have been a great success if the lecturer had not automatically -attempted to blow the froth off the glass of water with which he -refreshed himself. Then he sat down and fell asleep, before the lecturer -had been awakened by the secretary to the committee, and had opened his -notes upon the desk. For about ten minutes the lecturer made himself -quite as unintelligible as the most erudite of the audience could have -desired; but then he suddenly lapsed into intelligibility--he had -reached that section of his subject which necessitated the recitation of -a poem said to be in a Scotch dialect, every stanza of which terminated -with the words, “A man’s a man for a’ that!” He then bowed, and, -recovering himself by a grasp of the desk, which he shook as though it -were the hand of an old schoolfellow whom he had not met for years, he -retired with an almost supernatural erectness to his chair. - -In a moment the chairman was on his feet--the sudden silence had -awakened him. In a few well-chosen phrases he thanked the audience for -the very hearty manner in which they had drunk his health. He then told -them a humorous story of his boyhood, and concluded by a reference to -one “Mr. Vice,” whom he trusted frequently to see at the other end -of the table, preparatory to going beneath it. He hoped there was no -objection to his stating that he was a jolly good fellow. No absolute -objection being made, he ventured on the statement--in the key of B -flat; the lecturer joined in most heartily, and the solemn audience -went to their homes, followed by the apologies of the secretary to the -committee. - -The chairman and the lecturer were then shaken up by the old man who -came to turn out the lights. He turned them out as well. - -Now, the reporter who had been “marked” for that lecture found that he -had some much more important business to attend to. He did not reach -the newspaper office until late, and then he seated himself, and -thoughtfully wrote out the remarks which nine out of every ten chairmen -would have made, attributing them to the gentleman who presided at -the lecture; and then gave a general summary of the lecture on “Early -Architecture” which ninety-nine out of every hundred working architects -would deliver if called on. He concluded by stating that the usual vote -of thanks was conveyed to the lecturer, and suitably acknowledged -by him, and that the audience was “large, representative, and -enthusiastic.” - -The secretary called upon the proprietor of the paper the next day, -and expressed his high appreciation of the tact and judgment of the -reporter; and the proprietor, who was more accustomed to hear comments -on the display of very different attainments on the part of his staff, -actually wrote a letter of commendation to the reporter, which I think -was well earned. - -The most remarkable point in connection with this occurrence was the -implicit belief placed in the statements of the newspaper, not only -by the public--for the public will believe anything--but also by the -architect-lecturer and the architect-chairman. The professional standing -of the former was certainly increased by the transaction, and till the -day of his death he was accustomed to allude to his lecture on “Early -Architecture.” The secretary to the committee, for his own credit’s -sake, said nothing about the fiasco, and the solemn members of the -audience were so accustomed to listen to incomprehensible lectures in -the same room that they began to think that the performance at which -they had “assisted” was only another of the usual type, so they also -held their peace on the matter. - -***** - -Having introduced this society, I cannot refrain from telling the story -of another transaction in which it was concerned. The ramifications of -the society extended in many directions, and a more useful organisation -could scarcely be imagined. It was like an elephant’s trunk, which can -uproot a tree--if the elephant is in a good humour--but which does not -disdain to pick up a pin--like the boy who afterwards became Lord Mayor -of London. The society did not shrink from discussing the question “Is a -Monarchy or a Republic the right form of Government?” on the same -night that it dealt with a new stopper for soda-water bottles. The -Carboniferous Future of England was treated of upon the same evening as -the Immortality of the Soul; perhaps there is a closer connection -than at first meets the eye between the two subjects. It took ancient -buildings under its protection, as well as the most recently fabricated -pre-historic axe-head; and it was the discharge of its functions -in regard to ancient buildings that caused the committee to pass a -resolution one day, calling on their secretary to communicate with the -owner of a neighbouring property, in the midst of which a really fine -ruin of an ancient castle, with many interesting associations, was -situated, begging him to order a wall to be built around the ruins, so -as to prevent them from continuing to be the resort of cows with a fine -taste in archaeology, when the summer days were warm and they wanted -their backs scratched. - -The property was in Ireland, consequently the landlord lived in England, -and had never so much as seen the ruins. It was news to him that -anything of interest was to be found on his Irish estates; but as his -son was contemplating the possibility of entering Parliament as the -representative of an Irish borough, he at once crossed the Channel, -had an interview with the society’s secretary, and, with the president, -visited the old castle, and was delighted with it. He sent for his -bailiff, and told him that he wanted a wall four feet high to be built -round the field in the centre of which the ruins lay--he even went so -far as to “peg out,” so to speak, the course that he wished the wall to -take. - -The Irish bailiff stared at his master, but expressed the delight it -would give him to carry out his wishes. - -The owner crossed to England, promising to return in three months to see -how the work had been done. - -He kept his word. He returned in three months, and found, sure enough, -that an excellent wall had been built on the exact lines he had -laid down, but every stone of the ruins of the ancient castle had -disappeared. - -The bailiff stood by with a beaming face as he explained how the ruins -had gone. - -_He had caused the wall to be built out of the stones of the ancient -castle, to save expense._ - -***** - -If reporters were only afforded a little leisure, any one of them who -has lived in a large town could compile an interesting volume of his -experiences. I have often regretted that I could never master the art -of shorthand. I worked at it for months when a boy, and made sufficient -progress to be able to write it pretty fairly; but writing is not -everything. The capacity for transcribing one’s notes is something to be -taken into account; and it was at this point that I broke down, and was -forced to become a novelist--a sort of novelist. The first time that I -went up country in Africa, my stock of paper being limited, I carried -only two pocket-books, and economised my space by taking my notes in -shorthand. I had no occasion to refer to these notes until I was writing -my novel “Daireen,” and then I found myself face to face with a hundred -pages of hieroglyphs which were utterly unintelligible to me. In despair -I brought them to a reporter, and he read them off for me much more -rapidly than he or anyone else could read my ordinary handwriting -to-day. In fact, he read just a little too fast,--I was forced to beg -him to stop. There are some occurrences of which one takes a note in -shorthand in one’s youth in a strange country, but which one does not -wish particularly to offer to the perusal of strangers years afterwards. - -But although I could never be a reporter, I now and again availed myself -of a reporter’s privileges, when I wished to be present at a trial that -promised some interesting features to a student of good and evil. It -seemed to me that the Parnell Commission was an epitome of the world’s -history from the earliest date. No writer has yet done justice to that -extraordinary incident. I have asked some reporters, who were -present day after day, if they intended writing a real history of the -Commission; not the foolish political history of the thing, but the -story of all that was laid bare to their eyes hour after hour,--the -passions of patriotism, of power, of hate, of revenge; the devotion to -duty, the dogged heroism, the religious fervour; every day brought to -light such examples of these varied attributes of the Irish nature as -the world had never previously known. - -The reporters said they had no time to devote to such thankless work; -and, besides, every one was sick of the Commission. - -Often as I went into the court and faced the scene, it never lost its -glamour for me. Every day I seemed to be wandering through a world of -romance. I could not sleep at night, so deeply impressed was I with the -way certain witnesses returned the scrutiny of Sir Charles Russell; with -the way Mr. Parnell hypnotised others; with the stories of the awful -struggle of which Ireland was the centre. - -Going out of the courts one evening, I came upon an old man standing -with his hat off and with one arm uplifted in an attitude of -denunciation that was tragic beyond description. He was a handsome old -man, very tall, but slightly stooped, and he clearly occupied a good -position in the world. - -We were alone just outside the courts. I pretended that I had suddenly -missed something. I stood thrusting my hands into my pockets and feeling -between the buttons of my coat, for I meant to watch him. At last I -pulled out my cigarette-case and strolled on. - -“You were in that court?” the old man said, in a tone that assured me I -had not underestimated his social position. - -He did not wait for me to reply. - -“You saw that man sitting with his cold impassive face while the tears -were on the cheeks of every one else? Listen to me, sir! I called upon -the Most High to strike him down--to strike him down--and my prayer was -heard. I saw him lying, disgraced, deserted, dead, before my eyes; and -so I shall see him before a year has passed. ‘Mene, mene, tekel, -upharsin.’” - -Again he raised his arm in the direction of the court, and when I saw -the light in his eyes I knew that I was looking at a prophet. - -Suddenly he seemed to recover himself. He put on his hat and turned -round upon me with something like angry surprise. I raised my hat. He -did the same. He went in one direction and I went in the opposite. - -He was a false prophet. Mr. Parnell was not dead within the year. In -fact, he was not dead until two years and two months had passed. In -accordance with the thoughtful provisions of the Mosaic code, that old -gentleman deserved to be stoned for prophesying falsely. But his manner -would almost have deceived a reporter. - -***** - -Having introduced the subject of the Parnell Commission, I may perhaps -be permitted to express the hope that Sir Charles Russell will one day -find sufficient leisure to give us a few chapters of his early history. -I happen to know something of it. I am fully acquainted with the nature -of some of its incidents, which certainly would be found by the public -to possess many interesting and romantic elements; though, unlike the -romantic episodes in the career of most persons, those associated with -the early life of Sir Charles Russell reflect only credit upon himself. -Every one should know by this time that the question of what is -Patriotism and what is not is altogether dependent upon the nature of -the Government of the country. In order to prolong its own existence for -six months, a Ministry will take pains to alter the definition of the -word Patriotism, and to prosecute every one who does not accept the -new definition. Forty years ago the political lexicon was being daily -revised. I need say no more on this point; only, if Sir Charles Russell -means to give us some of the earlier chapters of his life he should -lose no time in setting about the task. A Lord Chief Justice of England -cannot reasonably be expected to deal with any romantic episodes in his -own career, however important may be the part which he feels himself -called on now and again to take in the delimitation of the romantic -elements (of a different type) in the careers of others of Her Majesty’s -subjects. - -***** - -It may surprise some of those persons who have been unfortunate enough -to find themselves witnesses for the prosecution in cases where Sir -Charles Russell has appeared for the defence, to learn that in his -young days he was exceedingly shy. He has lost a good deal of his early -diffidence, or, at any rate, he manages to prevent its betraying itself -in such a way as might tend to embarrass a hostile witness. As a -rule, the witnesses do not find that bashfulness is the most prominent -characteristic of his cross-examination. But I learned from an early -associate of Sir Charles’s, that when his name appeared on the list to -propose or to respond to a toast at one of the dinners of a patriotic -society of which my informant as well as Sir Charles was a member, he -would spend the day nervously walking about the streets, and apparently -quite unable to collect his thoughts. Upon one occasion the proud duty -devolved upon him of responding to the toast, “Ireland a Nation!” - Late in the afternoon my informant, who at that time was a small -shopkeeper--he is nothing very considerable to-day--found him in a -condition of disorderly perturbation, and declaring that he had no -single idea of what he should say, and he felt certain that unless -he got the help of the man who afterwards became my informant he must -inevitably break down. - -“I laughed at him,” said the gentleman who had the courage to tell the -story which I have the courage to repeat, “and did my best to give him -confidence. ‘Sure any fool could respond to “Ireland a Nation!”’ said I; -‘and you’ll do it as well as any other.’ But even this didn’t give him -courage,” continued my informant, “and I had to sit down and give him -the chief points to touch on in his speech. He wrung my hand, and in the -evening he made a fine speech, sir. Man, but it was a pity that there -weren’t more of the party sober enough to appreciate it!” - -I tell this tale as it was told to me, by a respectable tradesman whose -integrity has never been questioned. - -It occurred to me that that quality in which, according to his -interesting reminiscence of forty years ago, his friend Russell was -deficient, is not one that could with any likelihood of success be -attributed to the narrator. - -***** - -If any student of good and evil--the two fruits, alas! grow upon the -same tree--would wish for a more startling example of the effect of a -strong emotion upon certain temperaments than was afforded the people -present in the Dublin Police Court on the day that Carey left the dock -and the men he was about to betray to the gallows, that student would -indeed be exacting. - -I had been told by a constabulary officer what was coming, so that, -unlike most persons in the court, I was not too startled to be able -to observe every detail of the scene. Carey was talking to a brother -ruffian named Brady quite unconcernedly, and Brady was actually smiling, -when an officer of constabulary raised his finger and the informer -stepped out of the dock, and two policemen in plain clothes moved to his -side. Carey glanced back at his doomed accomplices, and muttered some -words to Brady. I did not quite catch them, but I thought the words -were, “It’s half an hour ahead of you that I am, Joe.” - -Brady simply looked at his betrayer, whom it seems he had been anxious -to betray. There was absolutely no expression upon his face. Some of the -others of the same murderous gang seemed equally unaffected. One of them -turned and spat on the floor. But upon the faces of at least two of the -men there was a look of malignity that transformed them into fiends. It -was the look that accompanies the stab of the assassin. Another of them -gave a laugh, and said something to the man nearest to him; but the -laugh was not responded to. - -The youngest of the gang stared at one of the windows of the court-house -in a way that showed me he had not been able to grasp the meaning of -Carey’s removal from the dock. - -In half-an-hour every expression worn by the faces of the men had -changed. They all had a look that might almost have been regarded as -jocular. There can be no doubt that when a man realises that he has been -sentenced to death, his first feeling is one of relief. His suspense is -over--so much is certain. He feels that--and that only--for an hour or -so. I could see no change on the faces of these poor wretches whom the -Mephistophelian fun of Fate had induced to call themselves Invincible, -in order that no devilish element might be wanting in the tragedy of the -Phoenix Park. - -***** - -I do not suppose that many persons are acquainted with the secret -history of the detection of the “Invincibles.” I think I am right in -stating that it has never yet been made public. I am not at liberty -to mention the source whence I derived my knowledge of some of the -circumstances that led to the arrest of Carey, but there is no doubt in -my mind as to the accuracy of my “information received” on this matter. - -It may, perhaps, be remembered that, some months after the date of the -murders, a strange advertisement appeared in almost every newspaper in -Great Britain. It stated that if the man who had told another, on the -afternoon of May 6th, 1882, that he had once enjoyed a day’s skating on -the pond at the Viceregal Lodge, would communicate with the Chief of the -Detective Department at Dublin Castle, he would be thanked. Now beyond -the fact that May 6th was the date of the murders, and that they had -taken place in the Phoenix Park, there was nothing in this advertisement -to suggest that it had any bearing upon the shocking incident; still -there was a general feeling that it had a very intimate connection with -the efforts that the police were making to unravel the mystery of the -outrage; and this impression was well founded. - -I learned that the strangely-worded advertisement had been inserted in -the newspapers at the instigation of a constabulary officer, who had, in -many disguises, been endeavouring to find some clue to the assassins -in Dublin. One evening he slouched into a public-house bespattered as -a bricklayer, and took a seat in a box, facing a pint of stout. He had -been in public-house after public-house every Saturday night for several -weeks without obtaining the slightest suggestion as to the identity of -the murderers, and he was becoming discouraged; but on this particular -evening he had his reward, for he overheard a man in the next box -telling some others, who were drinking with him, that Lord Spencer was -not such a bad sort of man as might be supposed from the mere fact of -his being Lord-Lieutenant. He (the narrator) had been told by a man in -the Phoenix Park on the very evening of the murders that he (the man) -had not been ashamed to cheer Lord Spencer on his arrival at Dublin that -day, for when he had last been in Dublin he had allowed him to skate -upon the pond in the Viceregal grounds. - -The officer dared not stir from his place: he knew that if he were at -all suspected of being a detective, his life would not be worth five -minutes’ purchase. He could only hope to catch a glimpse of some of the -party when they were leaving the place. He failed to do so, for some -cause--I cannot remember what it was--nor could the barmaid give any -satisfactory reply to his cautiously casual enquiries as to the names of -any of the men who had occupied the box. - -It was then that the advertisement was inserted in the various -newspapers; and, after the lapse of some weeks, a man presented himself -to the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department, saying that he -believed the advertisement referred to him. The man seemed a respectable -artisan, and his story was that one day during the last winter that Earl -Spencer had been in Ireland, he (the man) had left his work in order -to have a few hours’ skating on the ponds attached to the Zoological -Gardens in the Phoenix Park, but on arriving at the ponds he found that -the ice had been broken. “I was just going away,” the man said, “when -a gentleman with a long beard spoke to me, and enquired if I had had a -good skate. I told him that I was greatly disappointed, as the ice had -all been broken, and I would lose my day’s pay. He took a card out of -his pocket, and wrote something on it,” continued the man, “and then -handed it to me, saying, ‘Give that to the porter at the Viceregal -Lodge, and you’ll have the best day’s skating you have had in all your -life.’ He said what was true: I handed in the card and told the porter -that a tall gentleman with a beard had given it to me. ‘That was His -Excellency himself,’ said the porter, as he brought me down to the pond, -where, sure enough, I had such a day’s skating as I’ve never had before -or since.” - -“And you were in the Phoenix Park on the evening of the murders?” said -the Chief of the Department. - -“I must have been there within half-an-hour of the time they were -committed,” replied the man. “But I know nothing of them.” - -“I’m convinced of it,” said the officer. “But I should like to hear if -you met any one you knew in the Park as you were coming away.” - -“I only met one man whose name I knew,” said the other, “and that was a -builder that I have done some jobs for: James Carey is his name.” - -This was precisely the one bit of evidence that was required for the -committal of Carey. - -An hour afterwards he offered to turn Queen’s Evidence. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV.--IRELAND AS A FIELD FOR REPORTERS. - - -_The humour of the Irish Bench--A circus at Bombay--Mr. Justice -Lawson--The theft of a pig--“Reasonably suspected”--A prima facie case -for the prosecution--The defence--The judge’s charge--The scope of a -judge’s duties in Ireland--Collaring a prisoner--A gross contempt of -court--How the contempt was purged--The riotous city--The reporter as -a war correspondent--“Good mixed shooting”--The tram-car driver -cautioned--The “loot” mistaken for a violin--The arrest in the -cemetery--Pommelling a policeman--A treat not to be shared--A case of -discipline--The German infantry--A real grievance--“Palmam qui meruit -ferat.”_ - - -THERE is plenty of light as well as gloom to be found in the law -courts, especially in Ireland. Until recently, the Irish Bench included -many humorists. Perhaps the last of the race was Mr. Baron Dowse. -Reporters were constantly giving me accounts of the brilliant sallies of -this judge; but I must confess it seemed to me that most of the examples -which I heard were susceptible of being regarded as evidence of the -judge’s good memory rather than of his original powers. - -Upon one occasion, he complained of the misprints in newspapers, and -stated that some time before, he had made the quotation in court, -“Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay,” but the report of -the case in the newspaper attributed to him the statement, “Better fifty -years of Europe than a circus at Bombay.” - -He omitted giving the name of the paper that had so ill-treated him -and Lord Tennyson. He had not been a judge for fifteen years without -becoming acquainted with the rudiments of story-telling. - -***** - -Mr. Justice Lawson was another Irish judge with a strong vein of humour -which he sometimes repressed, for I do not think that he took any great -pleasure in listening to that hearty, spontaneous, and genial outburst -of laughter that greets every attempt at humour on the part of a judge. -It is a nasty thing to say, but I do believe that he now and again -doubted the sincerity of the appreciation of even the junior counsel. -A reporter who was present at one Cork Assizes when Lawson was at his -best, told me a story of his charge to a jury which conveys a very good -idea of what his style of humour was. - -A man was indicted for stealing a pig--an animal common in some parts -of Ireland. He was found driving it along, with no more than the normal -amount of difficulty which such an operation involves; and on being -spoken to by the sergeant of constabulary, he stated that he had bought -the pig in a neighbouring town, and that he had paid a certain specified -sum for it. On the same evening, however, a report reached the police -barrack that a pig, the description of which corresponded with the -recollection which the sergeant retained of the one which he had seen -some hours before, had been stolen from its home in the neighbourhood. -The owner was brought face to face with the animal that the sergeant had -met, and it was identified as the one that had been stolen. The man in -whose possession the pig was found was again very frank in stating where -he had bought it; but his second account of the transaction was not -on all fours with his first, and the person from whom he said he had -purchased it, denied all knowledge of the sale--in fact, he was able to -show that he was at Waterford at the time he was alleged to be disposing -of it. - -All these facts were clearly proved; and no attempt was made to -controvert them in the defence. The counsel for the prisoner admitted -that the police had a good _prima facie_ case for the arrest of his -client; there were, undoubtedly, some grounds for suspecting that -the animal had disappeared from the custody of its owner through the -instrumentality of the prisoner; but he felt sure that when the jury -had heard the witnesses for the defence, they would admit that it was -utterly impossible to conceive the notion that he had had anything -whatever to do with the matter. - -The parish priest was the first witness called, and he stated that he -had known the prisoner for several years, and had always regarded him as -a thrifty, sober, hard-working man, adding that he was most regular in -his attendance to his religious duties. Then the episcopal clergyman -was examined, and stated that the prisoner was an excellent father and -a capital gardener; he also knew something about the care of poultry. -Several of the prisoner’s neighbours testified to his respectability -and his readiness to oblige them, even at considerable personal -inconvenience. - -After the usual speeches, the judge summed up as follows:-- - -“Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the evidence in the case, and -it’s not for me to say that any of it is false. The police sergeant met -the prisoner driving the stolen pig, and the prisoner gave two different -accounts as to how it had come into his possession, but neither of these -accounts could be said to have a particle of truth in it. On the other -hand, however, you have heard the evidence of the two clergymen, to whom -the prisoner was well known. Nothing could be more satisfactory than -the character they gave him. Then you heard the evidence given by the -neighbours of the prisoner, and I’m sure you’ll agree with me that -nothing could be more gratifying than the way they all spoke of his -neighbourly qualities. Now, gentlemen, although no attempt whatever has -been made by the defence to meet the evidence given for the prosecution, -yet I feel it necessary to say that it is utterly impossible that you -should ignore the testimony given as to the character of the prisoner -by so many witnesses of unimpeachable integrity; therefore, gentlemen, -I think that the only conclusion you can come to is that the pig was -stolen by the prisoner and that he is the most amiable man in the County -Cork.” - -***** - -Mr. Justice Lawson used to boast that he was the only judge on the -Bench who had ever arrested a man with his own hand. The circumstances -connected with this remarkable incident were related to me by a reporter -who was present in the court when the judge made the arrest. - -The _locale_ was the court-house of an assize town in the South of -Ireland. For several days the Crown had failed to obtain a conviction, -although in the majority of the cases the evidence was practically -conclusive; and as each prisoner was either sent back or set free, the -crowds of sympathisers made an uproar that all the ushers in attendance -were powerless to suppress. On the fourth day the judge, at the opening -of the court, called for the County Inspector of Constabulary, and, when -the officer was brought from the billiard-room of the club, and bustled -in, all sabre and salute, the judge, in his quiet way, remarked to him, -“I’m sorry for troubling you, sir, but I just wished to say that as the -court has been turned into a bear-garden for some hours during the past -three days, I intend to hold you responsible for the maintenance of -perfect order to-day. Your duty is to arrest every man, woman, or child -that makes any demonstration of satisfaction or dissatisfaction at the -result of the hearing of a case, and to put them in the dock, and give -evidence as to their contempt of court. I’ll deal with them after that.” - The officer went down, and orders were given to his men, of whom -there were about fifty in the court, to arrest any one expressing his -feelings. The first prisoner to be tried was a man named O’Halloran, and -his case excited a great deal of interest. The court was crowded to a -point of suffocation while the judge was summing up, which he did with a -directness that left nothing to be desired. In five minutes the jury -had returned a verdict of “Not Guilty.” At that instant a wild “Hurroo!” - rang through the court. It came from a youth who had climbed a pillar at -a distance of about a yard from the Bench. In a moment the judge had put -out his hand and grasped the fellow by the collar; and then, of course, -the policemen crushed through the crowd, and about a dozen of them -seized the prehensible legs of the prisoner Stylites. - -“One of you will be ample,” said the judge. “Don’t pull the boy to -pieces; let him down gently.” - -This operation was carried out, and the excitable youth was placed in -the dock, whence the prisoner just tried had stepped. - -“Now,” said the judge, “I’m going to make an example of you. You heard -what I said to the Inspector of Constabulary, and yet I arrested you -with my own hand in the very act of committing a gross contempt of -court. I’ll make an example of you for the benefit of others. What’s -your name?” - -“O’Halloran, yer honour,” said the trembling youth. - -“Isn’t that the name of the prisoner who has just been tried?” said the -judge. - -“It is, my lord,” replied the registrar. - -“Is the last prisoner any relation of yours?” the judge asked of the -youth in the dock. - -“He’s me brother, yer honour,” was the reply. - -“Release the boy, and go on with the business of the court,” said the -judge. - -***** - -I chanced to be in Belfast at the time of the riots in 1886, and my -experience of the incidents of every day and every night led me to -believe that British troops have been engaged in some campaigns that -were a good deal less risky to war correspondents than the riots were -to the local newspaper reporters. Six of them were more or less severely -wounded in the course of a week. I found it necessary, more than once, -to go through the localities of the disturbances, and I must confess -that I was always glad when I found myself out of the line of fire. I am -strongly of the opinion that the reporters should have been paid at the -ratio of war correspondents at that time. When they engaged themselves -they could not have contemplated the possibility of being forced daily -for several weeks to stand up before a fusilade of stones weighing a -pound or so each, and Martini-Henry bullets, with an occasional iron -“nut” thrown in to make up weight, as it were. In the words of the -estate agents’ advertisements, there was a great deal of “good mixed -shooting” in the streets almost nightly for a month. - -Several ludicrous incidents took place while the town was crowded with -constabulary who had been brought hastily from the country districts. A -reporter told me that he was the witness of an earnest remonstrance on -the part of a young policeman with a tram-car driver, whom he advised to -take his “waggon” down some of the side streets, in order to escape -the angry crowd that had assembled farther up the road. Upon another -occasion, a grocer’s shop had been looted by the mob at night, and a -man had been fortunate enough to secure a fine ham which he was -endeavouring, but with very partial success, to secrete beneath his -coat. A whole ham takes a good deal of secreting. The police had orders -to clear the street, and they were endeavouring to obey these orders. -The man with the ham received a push on his shoulder, and the policeman -by whom it was dealt, shouted out in a fine, rich Southern brogue -(abhorred in Belfast), “Git along wid ye, now thin, you and yer violin. -Is this any toime for ye to be after lookin’ to foind an awjence? Ye’ll -get that violin broke, so ye will.” - -The man was only too glad to hurry on with his “Strad.” of fifteen -pounds’ weight, mild-cured. He did not wait to explain that there is a -difference between the viol and “loot.” - -***** - -One of the country policemen made an arrest of a man whom he saw in the -act of throwing a stone, and the next day he gave his evidence at the -Police Court very clearly. He had ascertained that the scene of the -arrest was York Street, and he said so; but the street is about a mile -long, and the magistrate wished to know at what part of it the incident -had occurred. - -“It was just outside the cimitery, yer wash’p,” replied the man. - -“The cemetery?” said the magistrate. “But there’s no cemetery in York -Street.” - -“Oh, yes, yer wash’p--there’s a foine cimitery there,” said the -policeman. “It was was just outside the cimitery I arrested the -prisoner.” - -“It’s the first I’ve heard of a cemetery in that neighbourhood,” said -the Bench. “Don’t you think the constable is mistaken, sergeant?” - -The sergeant put a few questions to the witness, and asked him how he -knew that the place was a cemetery. - -“Why, how would anybody know a cimitery except by the tombstones?” said -the witness. “I didn’t go for to dig up a corp or two, but there was the -foinest array of tombstones I ever clapt oyes on.” - -“It’s the stonecutter’s yard the man means,” came a voice from the body -of the court; and in another moment there was a roar of laughter from -all present. - -The arrest had been made outside a stonecutter’s railed yard, and the -strange policeman had taken the numerous specimens of the proprietor’s -craft, which were standing around in various stages of progress, for the -_bona fide_ furnishing of a graveyard. - -He was scarcely to be blamed for his error. - -***** - -I believe that it was during these riots the story originated--it is now -pretty well known, I think--of the man who had caught a policeman, and -was holding his head down while he battered him, when a brother rowdy -rushed up, crying,-- - -“Who have you there, Bill?” - -“A policeman.” - -“Hold on, and let me have a thump at him.” - -“Git along out of this, and find a policeman for yourself!” - -***** - -Having referred to the Royal Irish Constabulary, I may not perhaps -be regarded as more than usually discursive if I add my expression of -admiration for this splendid Force to the many pages of commendation -which it has received from time to time from those whose opinion carries -weight with it--which mine does not. The men are the flower of the -people of Ireland. They have a _sense_ of discipline--it has not to -be impressed upon them by an occasional “fortnight’s C.B.” Upon one -occasion, I was the witness of the extent to which this innate sense of -discipline will stretch without the breaking strain being reached. One -of the most distinguished officers in the Force was parading about one -hundred men armed with the usual carbine--the handiest of weapons--and -with swords fixed. He was mounted on a charger with some blood in -it--you would not find the same man astride of anything else--and for -several days it had been looking down the muzzles of the rifles of a -couple of regiments of autumn manoeuvrers who had been engaged in a sham -fight in the Park; but it had never shown the least uneasiness, even -when the Field Artillery set about the congenial task of annihilating a -skeleton enemy. It stood patiently while the constabulary “ported,” - “carried,” and “shouldered”; but so soon as the order to “present” was -given, a gleam of sunlight glanced down the long line of fixed swords, -and that twinkle was just what an Irish charger, born and bred among the -fogs of the Atlantic seaboard, could not stand. It whirled round, and -went at full gallop across the springy turf, then suddenly stopped, -sending its rider about twenty yards ahead upon his hands and knees. -After this feat, it allowed itself to be quietly captured by the mounted -orderly who had galloped after it. The orderly dismounted from his -horse, and passed it on to the officer, who galloped back to the long -line of men standing at the “present” just as they had been before -he had left them so hurriedly. They received the order to “shoulder” - without emotion, and then the parade went on as if nothing had happened. -Subsequently, the officer remounted his own charger--which had been led -up, and had offered an ample apology--and in course of time he again -gave the order to “present.” The horse’s ears went back, but it did not -move a hoof. After the “shoulder” and “port” the officer made the men -“charge swords,” and did not halt them until they were within a yard of -the horse’s head. The manouvre had no effect upon the animal. - -I could not help contrasting the discipline shown by the Irish -Constabulary upon this occasion with the bearing of a company of a -regiment of German Infantry, who were being paraded in the Thiergarten -at Berlin, when I was riding there one day. The captain and lieutenant -had strolled away from the men, leaving them standing, not “at ease,” - but at “attention”--I think the officers were making sure that the -carriage of the Crown Prince was not coming in their direction. But -before two minutes had passed the men were standing as easy as could -well be, chatting together, and suggesting that the officers were -awaiting the approach of certain young ladies, about whose personal -traits and whose profession they were by no means reticent. Of course, -when the officers turned, the men stood at “attention”; but I trotted on -to where I lived In Den Zelten, feeling that there was but little sense -of discipline in the German Army--so readily does a young man arrive -at a grossly erroneous conclusion through generalising from a single -instance. - -***** - -It is difficult to understand how it comes that the splendid services -of the Royal Irish Constabulary have not been recognised by the State. -I have known officers who served on the staff during the Egyptian -campaign, but who confessed to me that they never heard a shot fired -except for saluting purposes, and yet they wore three decorations -for this campaign. Surely those Irish Constabulary officers, who have -discharged the most perilous duties from time to time, as well as -daily duties requiring the exercise of tact, discretion, judgment, and -patience, are at least as deserving of a medal as those soldiers who -obtained the maximum of reward at the minimum of risk in Egypt, South -Africa, or Ashantee. The decoration of the Volunteers was a graceful -recognition of the spirit that binds together these citizen soldiers. -Surely the services of some members of the Irish Constabulary should be -similarly recognised. This is a genuine Irish grievance, and it is one -that could be redressed much more easily than the majority of the ills -that the Irish people are heir to. A vote for a thousand pounds would -purchase the requisite number of medals or stars or crosses--perhaps -all three might be provided out of such a fund--for those members of the -Force who have distinguished themselves. The right adjudication of -the rewards presents no difficulty, owing to the “record” system which -prevails in the Force. - - - - -CHAPTER XV.--IRISH TROTTINGS AND JOTTINGS. - - -_Some Irish hotels--When comfort comes in at the door, humour flies -out by the window--A culinary experience--Plenty of new sensations--A -kitchen blizzard--How to cook corned beef--A théoriser--Hare soup--A -word of encouragement--The result--An avenue forty-two miles long--Nuda -veritas--An uncanny request--A diabolic lunch--A club dinner--The pièce -de resistance--Not a going concern--A minor prophecy--An easy drainage -system--Not to be worked by an amateur--Après moi, le deluge--Hot water -and its accompaniments--The boots as Atropos--A story of Thackeray--A -young shaver._ - - -WHEN writing for an Irish newspaper, I took some pains to point out -how easily the country might be made attractive to tourists if only the -hotels were improved. I have had frequent “innings,” and my experiences -of Irish hotels in various districts where I have shot, or fished, or -yachted, or boated, would make a pretty thick volume, if recorded. But -while most of these experiences have some grain of humour in them, that -humour is of a type that looks best when viewed from a distance. When it -is first sprung upon him, this Irish fun is not invariably relished by -the traveller. - -Mr. Max O’Rell told me that he liked the Irish hotels at which he had -sojourned, because he was acknowledged by the _maîtres_ to possess an -identity that could not be adequately expressed by numerals. But on the -whole it is my impression that the numerical system is quite tolerable -if one gets good food and a clean sleeping-place. To be sure there is no -humour in a comfortable dinner, or a bed that does not require a layer -of Keating to be spread as a sedative to the army of occupation; still, -though the story of tough chickens and midnight hunts can be made -genuinely entertaining, I have never found that these actual incidents -were in themselves very inspiriting. - -A friend of mine who has a capital shooting in a picturesque district, -was compelled to lodge, and to ask his guests to lodge, at the little -inn during his first shooting season. Knowing that the appetite of men -who have been walking over mountains of heather is not usually very -fastidious, he fancied that the inn cook would be quite equal to the -moderate demands made upon her skill. The experiment was a disastrous -one. The more explicit the instructions the woman was given regarding -the preparation of the game, the more mortifying to the flesh were -her achievements. There was, it is true, a certain amount of interest -aroused among us every day as to the form that the culinary whim of the -cook would assume. The monarch that offered a reward for the discovery -of a new sensation would have had a good time with us. We had new -sensations at the dinner hour every day. “Lord, we know what we are, -but know not what we may be,” was an apothegm that found constant -illustration when applied to that woman’s methods: we knew that we gave -her salmon, and grouse, and hare, and snipe; but what was served to us, -Heaven and that cook only knew--on second thoughts I will leave Heaven -out of the question altogether. The monstrous originalities, the -appalling novelties, the confounding of substances, the unnatural daring -manifested in every day’s dinner, filled us with amazement, but, -alas! with nothing else. We were living in a sort of perpetual kitchen -blizzard--in the centre of a culinary chaos. The whirl was too much for -us. - -Our host took upon him to allay the fiend. He sent to the nearest town -for butcher’s supplies. The first joint that arrived was a fine piece of -corned beef. - -“There, my good woman,” cried our host, putting it into the cook’s -hands, “I suppose you can cook that, if you can’t cook game.” - -“Oh, yes, your honour, it’s misself that can cook it tubbe sure,” she -cried in her lighthearted way. - -She did cook it. - -_She roasted it for five hours on a spit in front of the kitchen fire._ - -As she laid it on the table, she apologised for the unavoidable absence -of gravy. - -It was the driest joint she had ever roasted, she said; and I do believe -that it was. - -***** - -One of the party, who had theories on the higher education of women, and -other methods of increasing the percentage of unmarriageable females, -said that the cook had never been properly approached. She could not -be expected to know by intuition that the flavour of salmon trout was -impaired by being stewed in a cauldron with a hare and many friends, or -that the prejudices of an effete civilisation did not extend so far -as to make the boiling of grouse in a pot with bacon a necessity of -existence. The woman only needed a hint or two and she would be all -right. - -He said he would give her a hint or two. He made soup the basis of his -first hints. - -It was so simple, he said. - -He picked up a couple of hares, an old cock grouse and a few snipe, and -told the woman to put them in a pot, cover them with water, and leave -them to simmer--“Not to boil, mind; you understand?”--“Oh, tubbe sure, -sorr,”--for the six hours that we would be on the mountain. He showed -her how to cut up onions, and they cut up some between them; he then -taught her how to fry an onion in the most delicate of ribbon-like -slices for “browning.” All were added to the pot, and our friend joined -us with a very red face, and carrying about him a flavour of fried -onions as well defined as a saint’s halo by Fra Angelico. The dogs -sniffed at him for a while, and so did the keeper. - -He declared that the woman was a most intelligent specimen, and quite -ready to learn. We smiled grimly. - -All that day our friend shot nothing. We could see that, like Eugene -Aram, his thought was otherwhere. We knew that he was thinking over the -coming soup. - -On returning to the inn after a seven hours’ tramp, he hastened to the -kitchen. A couple of us loitered outside the door, for we felt certain -that a surprise was awaiting our friend--the pot would have leaked, -perhaps; but the savoury smell that filled the kitchen and overflowed -into the lobby and the room where we dined made us aware that everything -was right. - -Our friend turned a stork’s eye into the pot, and then, with a word -of kind commendation to the cook--“A man’s word of encouragement is -everything to a woman, my lad, with a wink to me--he called for a pint -of port wine and placed it handy. - -“Now,” said he to the woman, “strain off that soup in a quarter of an -hour, add that wine, and we’ll show these gentlemen that between us we -can cook.” - -In a quarter of an hour we were sitting round the table. Our friend -tried to look modest and devoid of all self-consciousness as the woman -entered with a glow of crimson triumph on her face, and bearing in her -hands an immense dish with the well-known battered zinc cover concealing -the contents. - -Down went the dish, and up went the cover, disclosing a rugged, -mountainous heap of the bones of hare, with threads of flesh still -adhering to them, and the skeletons of some birds. - -“Good Lord!” cried our host. “What’s this anyway? The rags of what was -stewed down for the soup?” - -Our theorising friend leapt up. - -“Woman,” he shouted, “where the devil is the soup?” - -“Sure, didn’t ye bid me strain it off, sorr?” said the woman. - -“And where the blazes did you strain it off?” he asked, in an awful -whisper. - -“Why, where should I be after straining it, sorr, but into the bog?” she -replied. - -The bog was an incident of the landscape at the back of the inn. - -***** - -I recollect that upon the occasion of this shooting party, a new -under-keeper arrived from Connaught, and I overheard him telling a -colleague who came from the county Clare, that the avenue leading to his -last employer’s residence was forty-two miles long. - -“By me sowl,” said the Clare man, “it’s not me that would like to be -set down at the lodge gates on an empty stomach within half-an-hour of -dinner-time.” - -After some further conversation, the Connaught man began to dilate upon -the splendour of his late master’s family. He reached a truly dramatic -climax by saying,-- - -“And every night of their lives at home the ladies strip for dinner.” - -“Holy Moses!” was the comment. - -“Do your master’s people at home strip for dinner?” enquired the -Connaught man. - -“No; but they link in,” was the thoughtful reply. - -Sometimes, it must be acknowledged, an unreasonable strain is put upon -the resources of an Irish inn by an inconsiderate tourist. Some years -ago, my brother-in-law, Bram Stoker, was spending his holiday in a -picturesque district of the south-west. He put up at the usual inn, and -before leaving for a ramble, oh the morning of his arrival, the cook -(and waitress) asked him what he would like for lunch. The day was a -trifle chilly, and, forgetting for the moment that he was not within the -precincts of the Green-room or the Garrick, he said, “Oh, I think that -it’s just the day for a devil--yes, I’ll cat a devil at two.” - -“Holy Saints!” cried the woman, as he walked off. “What sort of a man is -that at all, at all? He wants to lunch off the Ould Gentleman.” - -The landlord scratched his chin and said that this was the most -unreasonable demand that had ever been made upon his house. He -expressed the opinion that the gastronome whose palate was equal to this -particular _plat_ should seek it elsewhere--he even ventured to specify -the _locale_ at which the search might appropriately begin with the best -chances of being realised. His wife, however, took a less despondent -view of the situation, and suggested that as the powers of exorcising -the Foul Fiend were delegated to the priest, it might be only reasonable -to assume that the reverend gentleman would be equal to the much less -difficult feat involved in the execution of the tourist’s order. - -But before the priest had been sent for, the constabulary officer drove -up, and was consulted on the question that was agitating the household. -With a roar of laughter, the officer called for a couple of chops and -the mustard and cayenne pots--he had been there before--and showed the -cook the way out of her difficulty. - -But up to the present hour I hear that that landlord says,-- - -“By the powers, it’s misself that never knew what a divil was till Mr. -Stoker came to my house.” - -***** - -However piquant a comestible the Foul Fiend might be, I believe that -in point of toughness he would compare favourably with a fully-matured -swan. Among the delicacies of the table I fear that the swan will not -obtain great honour, if any dependence may be placed upon a story which -was told to me at a fishing inn in Connemara, regarding an experiment -accidentally tried upon such a bird. I repeat the story in this place, -lest any literary man may be led to pamper a weak digestion by indulging -in a swan supper. The specimen in question was sent by a gentleman, who -lived in a stately home in Lincolnshire, as a gift to the Athenæum club, -of which he was a member. The bird was addressed to the secretary, and -that gentleman without delay handed it over to the cook to be prepared -for the table. There was to be a special dinner at the end of the week, -and the committee thought that a distinctive feature might be made of -the swan. They were not mistaken. As a _coup d’oil_ the swan, resting -on a great silver dish, carried to the table by two servitors, could -scarcely have been surpassed even by the classical peacock or the -mediaeval boar’s head. The croupier plunged a fork with a steady hand -into the right part--wherever that was situated--and then attacked the -breast with his knife. Not the slightest impression could he make upon -that portion of the mighty structure that faced him. The breast turned -the edge of the knife; and when the breast did that the people at the -table began to wonder what the drum-sticks would be like. A stronger -blade was sent for, and an athlete--he was not a member of the -Athenæum--essayed to penetrate the skin, and succeeded too, after a -vigorous struggle. When he had wiped the drops from his brow he went -at the flesh with confidence in his own powers. By some brilliant -wrist-practice he contrived to chip a few flakes off, but it soon became -plain that eating any one of them was out of the question. One might as -well submit as a _plat_ a drawer of a collector’s geological cabinet. -The club cook was sent for, and he explained that he had had no previous -experience of swans, but he considered that the thirteen hours’ boiling -to which he had submitted the first specimen that had come under his -notice, all that could reasonably be required by any bird, whether swan -or cassowary. He thought that perhaps with a circular saw, after a -steam roller had been passed a few times over the carcass, it might be -possible.... - -“Well, I hope you got my swan all right,” said the donor a few days -after, addressing the secretary. - -“That was a nice joke you played on us,” said the secretary. - -“Joke? What do you mean?” - -“As if you didn’t know! We had the thing boiled for thirteen hours, and -yet when it was brought to the table we might as well have tried to cut -through the Rock of Gibraltar with a pocket-knife.” - -“What do you mean? You don’t mean to say that you had it cooked?” - -“Didn’t you send it to be cooked?” - -“Cooked! cooked! Great heavens, man! I sent it to be stuffed and -preserved as a curiosity in the club. That swan has been in my family -for two hundred and eighty years. It was one of the identical birds -fed by the children of Charles I.--you’ve seen the picture of it. My -ancestor held the post of ‘master of the swans and keeper of the king’s -cygnets sure.’ It is said that a swan will live for three hundred years -or thereabouts. And you plucked it, and cooked it! Great heavens! It was -a bit tough, I suppose?” - -“Tough?” - -“Yes; I daresay you’d be tough, too, about a.d. 2200. And I thought it -would look so well in the hall!” - -***** - -At the same time that the tale just recorded was told to me, I heard -another Lincolnshire story. I do not suppose that it is new. A certain -church was situated at a place that was within the sphere of influence -of some fens when in flood. The consequence was that during a severe -winter, divine service was held only every second Sunday. Once, however, -the weather was so bad that the parson did not think it worth his while -going near the church for five Sundays. This fact came to the ears of -the Bishop, and he wrote for an explanation. The clergyman replied as -follows:-- - -“Your lordship has been quite correctly informed regarding the length of -the interval that has elapsed since my church was open; but the fact is -that the devil himself couldn’t get at my parishioners in the winter, -and I promise your lordship to be before him in the spring.” - -***** - -That parson took a humbler view of his position and privileges in the -world than did a Presbyterian minister in Ulster whose pompous way of -moving and of speaking drew toward him many admirers and imitators. He -paid a visit to Palestine at one time of his life, and on his return, -he preached a sermon introducing some of his experiences. Now, the only -inhabitants of the Holy Land that the majority of travellers can talk -about are the fleas; but this Presbyterian minister had much to tell -about all that he had seen. It was, however, only when he began to show -his flock how strictly the inspiriting prophecies of Jeremiah and Joel -and the rest had been fulfilled that he proved that he had not visited -the country in vain. - -“My dear friends,” said he, “I read in the Sacred Book the prophecy -that the land should be in heaps: I looked up from the page, and there, -before my eyes, were the heaps. I read that the bittern should cry -there: I looked up; lo! close at hand stood a bittern. I read that the -Minister of the Lord should mourn there: _I was that minister._” - -***** - -Upon one occasion, when sojourning at a picturesquely situated Connemara -inn, hot water was left outside my bedroom door in a handy soup tureen, -in which there was also a ladle reposing. One morning in the same -“hotel” I called the attention of the official, who discharged -(indifferently) the duties of boots and landlord, to the circumstance -that my bath (recollecting the advertisement of the entertainment which -it was possible to obtain under certain conditions at the Norwegian inn, -I had brought the bath with me) had not been emptied since the previous -day. The man said, “It’s right that you are, sorr,” and forthwith -remedied the omission by throwing the contents of the bath out of the -window. - -I was so struck by the convenience of this system of main drainage, and -it seemed so simple, that the next morning, finding that the bath was -in the same condition as before, I thought to save trouble by performing -the landlord’s operation for myself. I opened the window and tilted over -the bath. In a moment there was a yell from below, and the air became -sulphurous with Celtic maledictions. These were followed by roars of -laughter in the vernacular, so that I thought it prudent to lower both -the window and the blind without delay. - -“Holy Biddy!” remarked the landlord when I had descended to -breakfast--not failing to observe that a portly figure was standing in a -_semi-nude_ condition in front of the kitchen fire, while on the back of -a chair beside him a black coat was spread-eagled, sending forth a cloud -of steam--“Holy Biddy, sorr, what was that ye did this morning, anyway?” - -“What do you mean, Dennis?” I asked innocently. “I shaved and dressed as -usual.” - -“Ye emptied the tin tub [_i.e_., my zinc bath] out of the windy over -Father Conn,” replied the landlord. “It’s himself that’s being dried -this minute before the kitchen fire.” - -“I’m very sorry,” said I. “You see, I fancied from the way you emptied -the bath yesterday that that was the usual way of doing the business.” - -“So it is, sorr,” said he. “But you should always be after looking out -first to see that all’s clear below.” - -“Why don’t you have those directions printed and hung up in the -bedroom?” said I, assuming--as I have always found it safe to do upon -such occasions--the aggressive tone of the injured party. - -“We don’t have so many gentlemen coming here that’s so dirty that they -need to be washed down every blessed marnin’,” he replied; and I -thought it better to draw upon my newspaper experience, and quote the -three-starred admonition, “All communications on this subject must now -cease.” - -However, the trout which were laid on the table in front of me were -so numerous, and looked so tempting, that I went into the kitchen, and -after making an elaborate apology to Father Conn, the amiable parish -priest, for the mishap he had sustained through my ignorance of the -natural precautions necessary to be taken when preparing my bath, -insisted on the reverend gentleman’s joining me at breakfast while his -coat was being dried. - -With only a superficial reluctance, he accepted my invitation, -remarking,-- - -“I had my own breakfast a couple of hours ago, sir, but in troth I feel -quite hungry again. Faith, it’s true enough that there’s nothing like a -morning swim for giving a man an appetite.” - -***** - -Two lady relatives of mine were on their way to a country house in the -county Galway, and were compelled to stay for a night at the inn, which -was a sort of half-way house between the railway station and their -destination. On being shown to their bedroom while their dinner was -being made ready, they naturally wished to remove from their faces the -traces of their dusty drive of sixteen miles, so one of them bent over -the banisters--there was no bell in the room, of course--and inquired if -the servant would be good enough to carry upstairs some hot water. - -“Surely, miss,” the servant responded from below. - -In a few minutes, the door of the bedroom was knocked at, and the woman -entered, bearing in her hand a tray with two glasses, a saucer of loaf -sugar, a lemon, a ladle, and a small jug of hot water. - -It appeared that in this district the use of hot water is unknown -except as an accompaniment to whisky, a lemon, and a lump of sugar. The -combination of the four is said to be both palatable and popular. - -***** - -It was at a much larger and more pretentious establishment in the -south-west that I was staying when a box of books arrived for me from -the library of Messrs. Eason & Son. It was tied with stout, tough cord, -about as thick as one’s little finger. I was in the act of dressing when -the boots brought up the box, so I asked him to open it for me. The man -fumbled for some time at the knot, and at last he said he would have to -cut the cord. - -When I had rubbed the soap out of my eyes, - -I noticed him in the act of sawing through the tough cord with one of my -razors which I had laid on the dressing-table after shaving. - -“Stop, stop,” I shouted. “Man, do you know that that’s a razor?” - -“Oh, it’ll do well enough for this, sir. I’ve forgot my knife -downstairs,” said the man complacently. - -If the razor did for the operation, the operation certainly did for the -razor. - -***** - -And here I am led to recall a story told to me by the late Dr. George -Crowe, the husband of Miss Bateman, the distinguished actress, and -brother to Mr. Eyre Crowe, A.R.A. It will be remembered by all who are -familiar with the chief incidents in the life of Thackeray, that in 1853 -he adopted Miss Amy Crowe (her father, an historian and journalist of -eminence in his day, had been one of the novelist’s closest friends), -and she became one of the Thackeray household. Her brother George was -at school, but he had “the run of the house,” so to speak, in Onslow -Square. Next to the desire to become an expert smoker, the desire to -become an accomplished shaver is, I think, the legitimate aspiration -of boyhood; and George Crowe had his longings in this direction, -when examining Thackeray’s razors with the other contents of his -dressing-room one day. The means of gratifying such an aspiration are -(fortunately) not invariably within the reach of most boys, and young -Crowe was not exceptionally situated in this matter. The same spirit -of earnest investigation, however, which had led him to discover -the razors, caused him to find in one of the garrets an old but -well-preserved travelling trunk, bound with ox-hide, and studded with -brass nails. To spread a copious lather over a considerable part of the -lid, and to set about the removal, by the aid of a razor, of the hair of -the ox-hide, occupied the boy the greater part of an afternoon. -Though not exactly so good as the real operation, this shave was, he -considered, a move in the right direction; and it was certainly better -than nothing at all. By a singular coincidence, it was about this time -that Thackeray began to complain of the difficulty of putting an edge -upon his razors, and to inquire if any one had been at the case where -they were kept. Of course, no one except the boy knew anything about the -business, and he, for prudential reasons, preserved silence. The area -of the ox-hide that still remained hirsute was pretty extensive, and he -foresaw many an hour of fearful joy, such as he had already tasted in -the garret. Twice again he lathered and shaved at the ox-hide; but the -third attempt was not a success, owing to the sudden appearance of the -housekeeper, who led the boy to the novelist’s study and gave evidence -against him, submitting as proofs the razor, the shaving-brush, and a -portion of George Crowe’s thumb which he had inadvertently sliced off. -Thackeray rose from his desk and mounted the stairs to the garret; -and when the housekeeper followed, insisting on the boy’s accompanying -her--probably on the French principle of confronting a murderer with the -body of his victim--Thackeray was found seated on an unshaved portion of -the trunk, and roaring with laughter. - -So soon as he had recovered, he shook his finger at the delinquent (who, -twenty-five years afterwards, told me the story), and merely said: - -“George, I see clearly that in future I’ll have to buy my trunks bald.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI.--IRISH TOURISTS AND TRAINS. - - -_The late Emperor of Brazil--An incredulous hotel manager--The surprised -A.R.A.--The Emperor as an early riser--The habits of the English -actor--A new reputation--Signor Ciro Pinsuti--The Prince of -Bohemia--Treatment au prince--The bill--An Oriental prince--An ideal -costume for a Scotch winter--Its subsequent modification--The -royal sleeping-place--Trains and Irish humour--The courteous -station-master--The sarcasm of the travellers--“Punctually seven minutes -late”--Not originally an Irishman--The time of departure of the 7.45 -train--Brahke, brake, brake--The card-players--Possibility of their -deterioration--The dissatisfied passenger--Being in a hurry he threatens -to walk--He didn’t--He wishes he had._ - - -ONCE I was treated very uncivilly at an hotel in the North of Ireland, -and as the occasion was one upon which I was, I believed, entitled to be -dealt with on terms of exceptional courtesy, I felt the slight all the -more deeply. The late Emperor of Brazil, in yielding to his desire to -see everything in the world that was worth seeing, had appeared suddenly -in Ireland. I had had the privilege of taking tiffin with His Majesty -aboard a man-of-war at Rio Janeiro some years previously, and on calling -upon him in London upon the occasion of his visit to England, I found to -my surprise that he remembered the incident. He asked me to go with him -to the Giant’s Causeway, and I promised to do so if he did not insist on -starting before sunrise,--he was the earliest riser I ever met. His -idea was that we could leave Belfast in the morning, travel by rail -to Portrush (sixty-seven miles distant), drive along the coast to the -Giant’s Causeway (eight miles), and return to Belfast in time to catch -the train which left for Dublin at three o’clock. - -This programme was actually carried out. On entering the hotel at -Portrush--we arrived about eight in the morning--I hurried to the -manager. - -“I have brought the Emperor of Brazil to breakfast,” said I, “so that -if you could let us have the dining-room to ourselves I should be much -obliged to you.” - -“Who is it that you say you’ve brought?” asked the manager sleepily. - -“The Emperor of Brazil,” I replied promptly. - -“Come now, clear off out of this, you and your jokes,” said the manager. -“I’ve been taken in before to-day. You’ll need to get up earlier in the -morning if you want to do it again. The Emperor of Brazil indeed! It’ll -be the King of the Cannibal Islands next!” - -I felt mortified, and so, I fancy, did the manager shortly afterwards. - -Happily the hotel is now managed by the railway company, and is one of -the best in all Ireland. - -***** - -I fared better in this matter than the messenger who hurried to the -residence of a painter, who is now a member of the Royal Academy, to -announce his election as Associate in the days of Sir Francis Grant. It -is said that the painter felt himself to be so unworthy of the honour -which was being thrust upon him, that believing that he perceived an -attempt on the part of some of his brother-artists to make him the -victim of a practical joke, he promptly kicked the messenger downstairs. - -The manager of the hotel did not quite kick me out when I explained to -him that his house was to be honoured by the presence of an Emperor, but -he looked as if he would have liked to do so. - -Regarding the early rising of the Emperor Dom Pedro II., several amusing -anecdotes were in circulation in London upon the occasion of his first -visit. One morning he had risen, as usual, about four o’clock, and was -taking a stroll through Covent Garden market, when he came face to face -with three well-known actors, who were returning to their rooms after -a quiet little supper at the Garrick Club. The Emperor inquired who -the gentlemen were, and he was told. For years afterwards he was, it -is said, accustomed to declare that the only men he met in England who -seemed to believe with him that the early morning was the best part -of the day, were the actors. The most distinguished members of the -profession were, he said, in the habit of rising between the hours of -three and four every morning during the summer. - -***** - -A story which tends to show that in some directions, at any rate, -in Ireland the hotel proprietors are by no means wanting in -courtesy towards distinguished strangers, even when travelling in -an unostentatious way, was told to me by the late Ciro Pinsuti, the -well-known song writer, at his house in Mortimer Street. (When he -required any changes in the verses of mine which he was setting, he -invariably anticipated my objections by a story, told with admirable -effect.) It seems that Pinsuti was induced some years before to take a -tour to the Killarney Lakes. On arriving at the hotel where he had been -advised to put up, he found that the house was so crowded he had to -be content with a sort of china closet, into which a sofa-bed had been -thrust. The landlord was almost brusque when he ventured to protest -against the lack of accommodation, but subsequently a compromise was -effected, and Pinsuti strolled away along the lakes. - -On returning he found in the hall of the hotel the genial nobleman who -was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and an old London friend of Pinsuti’s. -He was on a visit to the Herberts of Muckross, and attended only by his -son and one aide-de-camp. - -Now, at one time the same nobleman had been in the habit of contracting -Pinsuti’s name, when addressing him, into “Pince”; in the course of time -this became improved into “Prince”; and for years he was never addressed -except in this way; so that when he entered the hall of the hotel, His -Excellency lifted up his hands and cried,-- - -“Why, Prince, who on earth would have fancied meeting you here of all -places in the world?” - -Pinsuti explained that he had merely crossed the Channel for a day or -two, and that he was staying at the hotel. - -“Come along then, and we’ll have lunch together,” said the Lord -Lieutenant; and Pinsuti forthwith joined the Viceregal party. - -But when luncheon was over, and the Viceroy was strolling through the -grounds for a smoke by the side of the musician, the landlord approached -His Excellency’s son, saying,-- - -“I beg your lordship’s pardon, but may I ask who the Prince is that -lunched with you and His Excellency?” - -“What Prince?” said Lord Ernest, somewhat puzzled. - -“Yes, my lord; I heard His Excellency address him as Prince more than -once,” said the landlord. - -Then Lord Ernest, perceiving the ground for a capital joke, said,-- - -“Oh, the Prince--yes, to be sure; I fancied you knew him. Prince! yes, -that’s the Prince of Bohemia.” - -“The Prince of Bohemia! and I’ve sent him to sleep on an iron chair-bed -in a china closet!” cried the landlord. - -Lord Ernest looked grave. - -“I wouldn’t have done that if I had been you,” he said, shaking his -head. “You must try and do better for him than that, my man.” Shortly -afterwards the Viceregal party drove off, and then the landlord -approached Pinsuti, and bowing to the ground, said,-- - -“I must humbly apologise to your Royal Highness for not having a -suitable room for your Royal Highness in the morning; but now I’m proud -to say that I have had prepared an apartment which will, I trust, give -satisfaction.” - -“What do you mean by Highnessing me, my good man?” asked Pinsuti. - -“Ah,” said the landlord, smiling and bowing, “though it may please your -Royal Highness to travel _incognito_, I trust I know what is due to your -exalted station, sir.” - -For the next two days Pinsuti was, he told me, treated with an amount of -respect such as he had never before experienced. A waiter was specially -told off to attend to him, and every time he passed the landlord the -latter bowed in his best style. - -It was, however, an American lady tourist who held an informal meeting -in the drawingroom of the hotel, at which it was agreed that no one -should be seated at the _table d’hote_ until the Prince of Bohemia had -entered and taken his place. - -On the morning of his departure he found, waiting to take him to the -railway station, a carriage drawn by four horses. Out to this he passed -through lines of bowing tourists--especially Americans. - -“It was all very nice, to be sure,” said Pinsuti, in concluding his -narrative; “but the bill I had to pay was not so gratifying. However, -one cannot be a Prince, even of Bohemia, without paying for it.” - -This story more than neutralises, I think, the impression likely to be -produced by the account of the insolence of the official at the northern -hotel. Universal civility may be expected even at the largest and -best-appointed hotels in Ireland. - -***** - -As I have somehow drifted into these anecdotes about royal personages, -at the risk of being considered digressive--an accusation which I -spurn--I must add one curious experience which some relations of mine -had of a genuine prince. My cousin, Major Wyllie, of the Madras Staff -Corps, had been attached to the prince’s father, who was a certain -rajah, and had been the instrument employed by the Government for giving -him some excellent advice as to the course he should adopt if he were -desirous of getting the Star which it was understood he was coveting. -The rajah was anxious to have his heir, a boy of twelve, educated in -England, and he wished to find for him a place in a family where his -morals--the rajah was great on morals--would be properly looked after; -so he sought the advice of Major Wyllie on this important subject. After -some correspondence and much persuasion on the part of the potentate, my -cousin consented to send the youth to his father’s house near Edinburgh. -The rajah was delighted, and promised to have an outfit prepared for his -son without delay. The result of the consultation which he had with some -learned members of his _entourage_ on the subject of the costume daily -worn in Edinburgh by gentlemen, was peculiar. I am of the opinion that -some of its distinctive features must have been exaggerated, while the -full value of others cannot have been assigned to them; for the young -prince submitted himself for the approval of Major Wyllie, and some -other officers of the Staff, wearing a truly remarkable dress. His boots -were of the old Hessian pattern, with coloured silk tassels all round -the uppers. His knees were bare, but just above them the skirt of a kilt -flowed, in true Scotch fashion, only that the material was not cloth but -silk, and the colours were not those of any known tartan, but simply a -brilliant yellow. The coat was of blue velvet, crusted with jewels, and -instead of the flowing shoulder-pieces, there hung down a rich mantle -of gold brocade. The crowning incident of this ideal costume of an -unobtrusive Scotch gentleman whose aim is to pass through the streets -without attracting attention, was a crimson velvet glengarry cap worn -over a white turban, and containing three very fine ostrich feathers of -different, colours, fastened by a diamond aigrette. - -Yes, the consensus of opinion among the officers was that the rajah had -succeeded wonderfully in giving prominence to the chief elements of the -traditional Scottish national dress, without absolutely extinguishing -every spark of that orientalism to which the prince had been accustomed. -It was just the sort of costume that a simple body would like to wear -daily, walking down Prince’s Street, during an inclement winter, they -said. There was no attempt at ostentation about it; its beauty consisted -in its almost Puritan simplicity; and there pervaded it a note of that -sternness which marks the character of the rugged North Briton. - -The rajah was delighted with this essay of his advisers at making a -consistent blend of Calicut and Caledonia in _modes_; but somehow the -prince arrived in Scotland in a tweed suit. - -***** - -I afterwards heard that on the first morning after the arrival of the -prince at his temporary home, he was missing. His bed showed no signs of -having been slept in during the night; but the eiderdown quilt was not -to be seen. It was only about the breakfast hour that the butler found -His Highness, wrapped in the eiderdown quilt, _under the bed._ - -He had occupied a lower bunk in a cabin aboard the P. & O. steamer on -the voyage to England, and he had taken it for granted that the sleeping -accommodation in the house where he was an honoured guest was of the -same restricted type. He had thus naturally crept under the bed, so -that some one else might enjoy repose in the upper and rather roomier -compartment. - -***** - -The transition from Irish inns to Irish railways is not a violent one. -On the great trunk lines the management is sufficiently good to present -no opportunities for humorous reminiscences. It is with railways as with -hotels: the more perfectly appointed they are, the less humorous are the -incidents associated with them in the recollection of a traveller. It is -safe to assume that, as a general rule, native wit keeps clear of a line -of rails. Mr. Baring Gould is good enough to explain, in his “Strange -Survivals and Superstitions,” that the fairy legend is but a shadowy -tradition of the inhabitants during the Stone Age; and he also explains -how it came about that iron was accepted as a potent agent for driving -away these humorous folk. The iron road has certainly driven the witty -aborigines into the remote districts of Ireland. A railway guard has -never been known to convulse the passengers with his dry wit as he snips -their tickets, nor do the clerks at the pigeon-holes take any particular -trouble to Hash out a _bon mot_ as one counts one’s change. The man who, -after pouring out the thanks of the West for the relief meal given to -the people during the last failure of the potato and every other -crop, said, “Troth, if it wasn’t for the famine we’d all be starving -entirely,” lived far from the sound of the whistle of an engine. - -Still, I have now and again come upon something on an Irish railway that -was droll by reason of its incongruity. There was a station-master at a -small town on an important line, who seemed a survival of the leisurely -days of our grandfathers. He invariably strolled round the carriages -to ask the passengers if they were quite comfortable, just as the -conscientious head waiter at the “_Trois Frères_” used to do in respect -of his patrons. He would suggest here and there that a window might -be closed, as the morning air was sometimes very treacherous. He even -pressed foot-warmers upon the occupants of the second-class carriages. -He was the friend of all the matrons who were in the habit of travelling -by the line, and he inquired after their numerous ailments (including -babies), and listened with dignified attention while they told him -all that should be told in public--sometimes a trifle more. A medical -student would learn as much about a very interesting branch of the -profession through paying attention to the exchange of confidences -at that station, as he would by walking the hospitals for a year. The -station-master was greatly looked up to by agriculturists, and it was -commonly reported that there was no better judge of the weather to be -found in the immediate neighbourhood of the station. - -It was really quite absurd to hear English commercial travellers -and other persons in the train, who had not become aware of the good -qualities of this most estimable man, grumbling because the train -usually remained at this platform for ten minutes instead of the two -minutes allotted to it in the “A B C.” The engine-drivers, it was said, -also growled at being forced to run the twenty miles on either side of -this station at as fast a rate as forty miles an hour, instead of the -thirty to which they had accustomed themselves, to save their time. The -cutting remarks of the impatient passengers made no impression upon him. - -“Look here, station-master,” cried a commercial gentleman one day when -the official had come across quite an unusual number of acquaintances, -“is there a breakdown on the line?” - -“I don’t know indeed, sir, but I’ll try and find out for you,” said the -station-master blandly. He went off hurriedly (for him), and did not -return for five minutes. - -“I’ve telegraphed up the line, sir,” said he to the gentleman, who only -meant to be delicately sarcastic, “and I’m happy to assure you that -no information regarding a breakdown has reached any of the principal -stations. It has been raining at Ballynamuck, but I don’t think it will -continue long. Can I do anything more for you, sir?” - -“No, thank you,” said the commercial gentleman meekly. - -“I can find out for you if the Holyhead steamer has had a good passage, -if you don’t mind waiting for a few minutes,” suggested the official. -“What! you are anxious to get on? Certainly, sir; I’ll tell the guard. -Good morning, sir.” - -When the train was at last in motion a wiry old man in a corner pulled -out his watch, and then turned to the commercial traveller. - -“Are you aware, sir,” he said tartly, “that your confounded inquiries -kept us back just seven minutes? You should have some consideration for -your fellow-passengers, let me tell you, sir.” - -A murmur of assent went round the compartment. - -***** - -Upon another occasion a passenger, on arriving at the station over whose -destinies this courteous official presided, put his head out of the -carriage window, and inquired if the train had arrived punctually. - -“Yes, sir,” replied the station-master, “very punctually: seven minutes -late to a second.” - -Upon another occasion I heard him say to an inquirer,-- - -“Oh no, sir; I wasn’t originally an Irishman. I am one now, however.” - -***** - -“By heavens!” said some one at the further end of the compartment, “that -reply removes all doubt on the subject.” - -Several years ago I was staying at Lord Avonmore’s picturesque lodge at -the head of Lough Dearg. A fellow-guest received a telegram one Sunday -afternoon which compelled his immediate departure, and seeing by the -railway time-table that a train left the nearest station at 7.45, we -drove in shortly before that hour. There was, however, no sign of life -on the little platform up to 7.50. Thereupon my friend became anxious, -and we hunted in every direction for even the humblest official. After -some trouble we found a porter asleep on a pile of cushions in the -lamp-room. We roused him and said,-- - -“There’s a train marked on the time-table to leave here at 7.45, but -it’s now 7.50, and there’s no sign of a train. What time may we expect -it?” - -“I don’t know, sir, for myself.” said the porter, “but I’ll ask the -station-master.” - -We followed him down the platform, and then a man, in his shirt sleeves, -came out of an office. - -“Mr. O’Flaherty,” cried the porter, “here’s two gentlemen that wants to -know, if you please, at what o’clock the 7.45 train leaves.” - -“It leaves at eight on weekdays and a quarter past eight on Sundays,” - was the thoughtful reply. - -***** - -It is reported that on the same branch, an engine-driver, on reaching -the station more than usually behind his time, declared that he had -never known “herself”--meaning the engine--to be so sluggish before. She -needed a deal of rousing before he could get any work whatever out of -her, he said; and she had pulled up at the platform without a hand being -put to the brake. When he tried to start the engine again he failed -utterly in his attempt. She had “rusted,” he said, and when an engine -rusted she was more stubborn than any horse. - -It was a passenger who eventually suggested that perhaps if the brakes -were turned off, the engine might have a better chance of doing its -work. - -This suggestion led to an examination of the brake wheels of the engine. - -“By me sowl, that’s a joke!” said the engine-driver. “If I haven’t been -driving her through the county Tipperary with the brakes on!” - -And so he had. - -***** - -On a branch line farther north the official staff were said to be so -extremely fond of the Irish National game of cards--it is called “Spoil -Five”--that the guard, engine-driver, and stoker invariably took a hand -at it on the tool-box on the tender--a poor substitute for a table, the -guard explained to an interested passenger who made inquiries on the -subject, but it served well enough at a pinch, and it was not for him to -complain. He was right: it was for the passengers to complain, and -some of them did so; and a remonstrance was sent to the staff which -practically amounted to a prohibition of any game of cards on the engine -when the train was in motion. It was very reasonably pointed out by -the manager that, unless the greatest watchfulness were observed by the -guard, he might, when engaged at the game, allow the train to run past -some station at which it was advertised to stop--as a matter of fact -this had frequently occurred. Besides, the manager said, persistence in -the practice under the conditions just described could not but tend to -the deterioration of the staff as card-players; so he trusted that they -would see that it was advisable to give their undivided attention to -their official duties. - -The staff cheerfully acquiesced, admitting that now and again it was a -great strain upon them to recollect what cards were out, and at the same -time what was the name of the station just passed. The fact that the -guard had been remiss enough, on throwing down the hand that had just -been dealt to him on the arrival of the train at Ballycruiskeen, to walk -down the platform crying out “Hearts is thrumps!” instead of the name of -the station, helped to make him at least see the wisdom of the manager’s -remonstrance; and no more “Spoil Five” was played while the engine was -in motion. - -But every time the train made a stoppage, the cards were shuffled on the -engine, and the station-master for the time being took a hand, as well -as any passenger who had a mind to contribute to the pool. Now and -again, however, a passenger turned up who was in a hurry to get to his -journey’s end, and made something of a scene--greatly to the annoyance -of the players, and the couple of policemen, and the porter or two, -who had the _entrée_ to the “table.” Upon one occasion such a passenger -appeared, and, in considerable excitement, pointed out that the train -had taken seventy-five minutes to do eight miles. He declared that this -was insufferable, and that, sooner than stand it any longer, he would -walk the remainder of the distance to his destination. - -He was actually showing signs of carrying out his threat, when the guard -threw down his hand, dismounted from the engine and came behind him. - -“Ah, sir, you’ll get into the train again, won’t you?” said he. - -“No, I’ll be hanged if I will,” shouted the passenger. “I’ve no time to -waste, I’ll walk.” - -“Ah, no, sir; you’ll get into the train. Do, sir; and you’ll be at -the end of the journey every bit as soon as if you walked,” urged the -official. - -His assurance on this point prevailed, and the passenger returned to -his carriage. But unless the speed upon that occasion was a good -deal greater than it was when I travelled over the same line, it is -questionable if he would not have been on the safe side in walking. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII--HONORARY EDITORS AND OTHERS. - - -_Our esteemed correspondent--The great imprinted--Lord Tennyson’s -death--“Crossing the Bar”--Why was it never printed in its -entirety?--The comments on the poem--Who could the Pilot have -been?--Pilot or pilot engine?--A vexed and vexing question--Erroneous -navigation--Tennyson’s voyage with Mr. Gladstone--Its far-reaching -results--Tennyson’s interest in every form of literary work--“My -Official Wife”--Amateur critics--The Royal Dane--Edwin Booth and -his critic--A really comic play--An Irving enthusiast--“Gemini and -Virgo”--“Our sincerest laughter”--The drollest of soliloquies--“Eugene -Aram” for the hilarious--The proof of a sincere devotion._ - - -THE people who spend their time writing letters to newspapers pointing -out mistakes, or what they imagine to be mistakes, and making many -suggestions as to how the newspaper should be conducted in all its -departments, constitute a branch of the profession of philanthropy, to -which sufficient attention has never been given. - -I do not, of course, allude to the type whom Mr. George Du Maurier -derided when he put the phrase _J’écrirai à le Times_ into his mouth on -being compelled to pay an extravagant bill at a French hotel; there are -people who have just grievances to expose, and there are newspapers -that exist for the dissemination of those grievances; but it is an -awful thought that at this very moment there are some hundreds--perhaps -thousands--of presumably sane men and women sitting down and writing -letters to their local newspapers to point out to the management that -the jeu d’esprit attributed in yesterday’s issue to Sydney Smith, -was one of which Douglas Jerrold was really the author; or that the -quotation about the wind being tempered to the shorn lamb is not to -be found in the Bible, but in “the works of the late Mr. Sterne”; or -perhaps suggesting that no country could rightly be regarded as exempted -from the list of lands forming a legitimate sphere for missionary -labour, whose newspapers give up four columns daily to an account of the -horse-racing of the day before. A book might easily be written by -any one who had some experience, not of the letters that appear in a -newspaper, but of those that are sent to the editor by enthusiasts on -the subject of finance, morality, religion, and the correct text of some -of Burns dialect poems. - -When Lord Tennyson died, I printed five columns of a biographical and -critical sketch of the great poet. I thought it necessary to quote only -a single stanza of “Crossing the Bar.” During the next clay I received -quite a number of letters asking in what volume of Tennyson’s works the -poem was to be found. In the succeeding issue of the paper I gave -the poem in full. From that day on during the next fortnight, no post -arrived without bringing me a letter containing the same poem, with a -request to have it published in the following issue; and every writer -seemed to be under the impression that he (or she) had just discovered -“Crossing the Bar.” Then the clergymen who forwarded in manuscript the -sermons which they had preached on Tennyson, pointing out the “lessons” - of his poems, presented their compliments and requested the insertion of -“Crossing the Bar,” _in its entirety_, in the place in the sermons where -they had quoted it. All this time “poems” on the death of Tennyson kept -pouring in by the hundred, and I can safely say that not one came under -my notice that did not begin, - - “Yes, thou hast cross’d the Bar, and face to face - - Thy Pilot seen,” - -or with words to that effect. - -After this had been going on for some weeks a member of the -proprietorial household came to me with a letter open in his hand. - -“I wonder how it was that we missed that poem of Tennyson’s.” said -he. “It would have done well, I think, if it had been published in our -columns at his death.” - -“What poem is that?” I inquired. - -“This is it,” he replied, offering me the letter which he held. “A -personal friend of my own sends it to me for insertion. It is called -‘Crossing the Bar.’ Have you ever seen it before?” - -The aggregate thickness of skull of the proprietorial household was -phenomenal. - -***** - -When writing on the subject of this poem I may perhaps be permitted to -express the opinion, that the remarks made about it in some directions -were the most astounding that ever appeared in print respecting a -composition of the character of “Crossing the Bar.” - -One writer, it may be remembered, took occasion to point out that the -“Pilot” was, of course, the poet’s son, by whom he had been predeceased. -The “thought” was, we were assured, that his son had gone before him to -show him the direction to take, so to speak. Now whatever the “thought” - of the poet was, the thought of this commentator converged not upon a -pilot but a pilot-engine. - -Then another writer was found anxious to point out that Tennyson’s -navigation was defective. “What would be the use of a pilot when the bar -was already crossed?” was the question asked by this earnest inquirer. -This gentleman’s idea clearly was that Tennyson should have subjected -himself to a course of Mr. Clark Russell before attempting to write such -a poem as “Crossing the Bar.” - -***** - -The fact was that Tennyson knew enough navigation for a poet, just as -Mr. Gladstone knows enough for a premier. When the two most picturesque -of Englishmen (assuming that Mr. Gladstone is an Englishman) took their -cruise together in a steam yacht they kept their eyes open, I have -good reason to know. I question very much if the most ideal salt in the -mercantile marine could make a better attempt to describe some incidents -of the sea than Tennyson did in “Enoch Arden”; and as the Boston -gentleman was doubtful if more than six men in his city could write -“Hamlet,” so I doubt if the same number of able-bodied seamen, whose -command of emphatic language is noted, could bring before our eyes the -sight, and send rushing through our ears the sound, of a breaking wave, -with greater emphasis than Tennyson did when he wrote,-- - - “As the crest of some slow-arching wave - - Heard in dead night along that table-shore - - Drops flat; and after the great waters break, - - Whitening for half a league, and thin themselves - - Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud - - From less and less to nothing.’’ - -It was after he had returned from his last voyage with Mr. Gladstone -that Tennyson wrote “Crossing the Bar.” - -It was after Mr. Gladstone had returned from the same voyage that he -consolidated his reputation as a statesman by a translation of “Rock of -Ages” into Italian. He then made Tennyson a peer. - -Perhaps it may not be considered an impertinence on my part if I give, -in this place, an instance, which came under my notice, of the eclectic -nature of Lord Tennyson’s interest in even the least artistic branches -of literary work. A relative of mine went to Aldworth to lunch with the -family of the poet only a few weeks before his death saddened every home -in England. Lord Tennyson received his guest in his favourite room; -he was seated on a sofa at a window overlooking the autumn russet -landscape, and he wore a black velvet coat, which made his long delicate -fingers seem doubly pathetic in their worn whiteness. He had been -reading, and laid down the book to greet his visitor. This book was “My -Official Wife.” - -Now the author of the story so entitled is not the man to talk of his -“Art,” as so many inferior writers do, in season and out of season. -He knows that his stories are no more deserving of being regarded as -high-class literature than is the scrappy volume at which I am now -engaged. He knows, however, that he is an excellent exponent of a form -of art that interests thousands of people on both sides of the Atlantic; -and the fact that Tennyson was able to read such a story as “My Official -Wife” seems to me to show how much the poet was interested in a very -significant phase of the constantly varying taste of the great mass of -English readers. - -It is the possession of such a sympathetic nature as this that prevents -a man from ever growing old. Mr. Gladstone also seems to read everything -that comes in his way, and he is never so busy as to be unable to snatch -a moment to write a word of kindly commendation upon an excessively dull -book. - -***** - -It is not only upon the occasion of the death of a great man or a prince -that some people are obliging enough to give an editor a valuable hint -or two as to the standpoint from which the character of the deceased -should be judged. They now and again express themselves with great -freedom on the subject of living men, and are especially frank in -their references to the private lives of the best-known and most highly -respected gentlemen. It is, however, the performances of actors that -form the most fruitful subject of irresponsible comment for “outsiders.” - It has often seemed to me that every man has his own idea of the way -“Hamlet” should be represented. When I was engaged in newspaper work -I found that every new representation of the play was received by some -people as the noblest effort to realise the character, while others were -of the opinion that the actor might have found a more legitimate subject -than this particular play for burlesque treatment. Mr. Edwin Booth once -told me a story--I dare say it may be known in the United States--that -would tend to convey the impression that the study of Hamlet has made -its way among the coloured population as well as the colourless--if -there are any--of America. - -Mr. Booth said that he was acting in New Orleans, and when at the hotel, -his wants were enthusiastically attended to by a negro waiter. At every -meal the man showed his zeal in a very marked way, particularly by never -allowing another waiter to come within hailing distance of his chair. -Such attention, the actor thought, should be rewarded, so he asked -Caractacus if he would care to have an order for the theatre. The waiter -declared that if he only had the chance of seeing Mr. Booth on the -stage, he (the waiter) would die happy when his time came. The actor at -once gave him an order for the same night, and the next morning he found -the man all teeth and eyes behind his chair. - -“Well, Caractacus, did you manage to go to the theatre last night?” - asked Booth. - -“Didn’t I jus’, Massa Boove,” cried the waiter beaming. - -“And how did you enjoy the piece?” - -“Jus’ lubly, sah; nebber onjoyed moself so well--it kep’ me in a roar o’ -larfta de whole ebening, sah. Oh, Massa Boove, you was too funny.” - -The play that had been performed was _Hamlet._ - -***** - -I chanced to be residing for a time in a large manufacturing town which -Mr. Irving visited when “touring” some twelve years ago. In that town an -enthusiastic admirer of Mr. Irving’s lived, and he was, with Mr. Irving -and myself, a guest of the mayor’s at a dinner party on one Sunday -night. In the drawing-room of the mayoress the great actor repeated -his favourite poem--“Gemini and Virgo,” from Calverley’s “Verses and -Translations,” dealing with inimitable grace with the dainty humour of -this exquisite trifle; and naturally, every one present was delighted. -For myself I may say that, frequently though I had heard Mr. Irving -repeat the verses. - -I felt that he had never before brought to bear upon them the consummate -art of that high comedy of which he is the greatest living exponent. -But I could not help noticing that the gentleman who had protested so -enthusiastic an admiration for the actor, was greatly puzzled as the -recitation went on, and I came to the conclusion that he had not the -remotest idea what it was all about. When some ladies laughed outright -at the delivery of the lines, with matchless adroitness, - - “I did not love as others do-- - - None ever did that I’ve heard tell of,” - -the man looked angrily round and cried “Hsh!” but even this did not -overawe the young women, and they all laughed again at, - - “One night I saw him squeeze her hand-- - - There was no doubt about the matter. - - I said he must resign, or stand - - My vengeance--and he chose the latter.” - -But by this time it had dawned upon the jealous guardian of Mr. Irving’s -professional reputation that the poem was meant to be a trifle humorous, -and so soon as he became convinced of this, he almost interrupted the -reciter with his uproarious hilarity, especially at places where the -humour was far too subtle for laughter; and at the close he wiped his -eyes and declared that the fun was too much for him. - -I asked a relative of his if he thought that the man had the slightest -notion of what the poem was about, and his relative said,-- - -“It might be in Sanskrit for all he understands of it. He loves Mr. -Irving for himself alone. He has got no idea of art.” - -Later in the night the conversation turned upon the difference between -the elocutionary modes of expression of the past and the present day. -In illustration of a point associated with the question of effect, Mr. -Irving gave me at least a thrill such as I had never before experienced -through the medium of his art, by repeating,-- - - “To be or not to be: that is the question.” - -Before he had reached the words,-- - - “To die: to sleep: - - No more,” - -I felt that I had suddenly had a revelation made to me of the utmost -limits of art; that I had been permitted a glimpse behind the veil, if -I may be allowed the expression; that I had been permitted to take a -single glance into a world whose very name is a mystery to the sons of -men. - -Every one present seemed spellbound. A commonplace man who sat next to -me, drew a long breath--it was almost a gasp--and said,-- - -“That is too much altogether for such people us we are. My God! I don’t -know what I saw--I don’t know how I come to be here.” - -He could not have expressed better what my feeling was; and yet I had -seen Mr. Irving’s Hamlet seventeen times, so that I might have been -looked upon as unsusceptible to any further revelation on a point in -connection with the soliloquy. - -When I glanced round I saw Mr. Irving’s enthusiastic admirer once more -wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. It was not, however, until -Mr. Irving was in the act of reciting “The Dream of Eugene Aram,” that -the same gentleman yielded to what he conceived to be the greatest comic -treat of the evening. - -Happily he occupied a back seat, and smothered his laughter behind a -huge red handkerchief, which was guffaw-proof. - -He was a little lower than the negro waiter in his appreciation of the -actor’s art. - -A year afterwards I met the same gentleman at an hotel in Scotland, and -he reminded me of the dinner-party at the mayor’s. His admiration for -Mr. Irving had in no degree diminished. He was partaking of a simple -lunch of cold beef and pickled onions; and when he began to speak of the -talents of the actor, he was helping himself to an onion, but so excited -did he become that instead of dropping the dainty on his plate, he put -it into his mouth, and after a crunch or two, swallowed it. Then he -helped himself to a second, and crunched and talked away, while my -cheeks became wrinkled merely through watching him. He continued -automatically ladling the onions into his mouth until the jar was nearly -empty, and the roof of my mouth felt crinkly. Fortunately a waiter came -up--he had clearly been watching the man, and perceived that the hotel -halfcrown lunch in this particular case would result in a loss to the -establishment--and politely inquired if he had quite done with the -pickle bottle, as another gentleman was asking for it. - -I wondered how the man felt after the lapse of an hour or so. I could -not but believe in the sincerity of a devotion that manifested itself in -so striking a manner. - -***** - -I have mentioned “The Dream of Eugene Aram.” Has any one ever attempted -to identify the “little boy” who was the recipient of the harrowing tale -of the usher? In my mind there is no doubt that the “gentle lad” whom -Hood had in his eye was none other than James Burney, son of Dr. Burney, -and brother of the writer of “Evelina.” He was a pupil at the school -near Lynn which was fortunate enough to obtain the services of Eugene -Aram as usher; and I have no doubt that, when he settled down in London, -after joining in the explorations of Captain Cook, he excited the -imagination of his friend Hood by his reminiscences of his immortal -usher. - -Gessner’s “Death of Abel” was published in England before the edition, -illustrated by Stothard, appeared in 1797. Perhaps, however, young -Master Burney carried his Bible about with him. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII.--OUTSIDE THE LYCEUM BILL. - - -_Mr. Edwin Booth--Othello and Iago at supper--The guest--Mr. Irving’s -little speech--Mr. Booth’s graceful reply--A striking tableau--A -more memorable gathering--The hundredth night of “The Merchant of -Venice”--The guests--Lord Houghton’s speech--Mr. Irving’s reply--Mr. -J: L. Toole supplies an omission--Mr. Dion Boncicault at the -Lyceum--English as she is spoke--“Trippingly on the tongue”--The man -who was born to teach the pronunciation of English--A Trinity College -student--The coveted acorn--A good word for the English._ - - -I DID not mean to enter upon a course of theatrical anecdotage in these -pages, but having mentioned the name of a great actor recently dead, I -cannot refrain from making a brief reference to what was certainly one -of the most interesting episodes in his career. I allude to Mr. Edwin -Booth’s professional visit to London in 1881. It may truthfully be said -that if Mr. Booth was not wholly responsible for the financial failure -of his abbreviated “season” at the Princess’s Theatre, neither was he -wholly responsible for his subsequent success at the Lyceum. I should -like, however, to have an opportunity of bearing testimony to his frank -and generous appreciation of the courtesy shown to him by Mr. Henry -Irving, in inviting him to play in _Othello_. when it became plain that -the performances of the American actor at the Princess’s were not likely -to make his reputation in England. It would be impossible for me to -forget the genuine emotion shown by Mr. Booth when, on the Saturday -night that brought to a close the notable representations of _Othello_ -at the Lyceum, he referred to the kindness which he had received at that -theatre. Although the occasion to which I refer was the most private of -private suppers, I do not feel that I can be accused of transgressing -the accepted _codex_ of the Beefsteak Room in touching upon a matter -which is now of public interest. Early in the week Mr. Irving had been -good enough to invite me to meet Mr. Booth at supper on the Saturday. -After the performance, in which Mr. Irving was Othello and Mr. Booth -Iago, I found in the supper-room, in addition to the host and the guest -of the evening, Mr. John McCullough, who, it will be remembered, paid -a visit to England at the same time as Mr. Booth; and a member of -Parliament who subsequently became the Leader of the House of -Commons. Mr. J. L. Toole and Mr. Bram Stoker subsequently arrived. We -found a good deal to talk about, and it was rather late--too late for -the one guest who was unconnected with theatrical matters (at least, -those outside St. Stephen’s)--when Mr. Irving, in a few of those -graceful, informal sentences which he seems always to have at his -command, and only rising to his feet for a moment, asked us to drink to -the health of Mr. Booth. Mr. Irving, I recollect, referred to the fact -that the representations of _Othello_ had filled the theatre nightly, -and that the instant the American actor appeared, the English actor had -to “take a back seat.” - -The playful tone assumed by him was certainly not sustained by Mr. -Booth. It would be impossible to doubt that he made his reply under the -influence of the deepest feeling. He could scarcely speak at first, and -when at last he found words, they were the words of a man whose eyes are -full of tears. “You all know how I came here,” he said. “You all know -that I went to another theatre in London, and that I was a big failure, -although some newspaper writers on my side of the water had said that -I would make Henry Irving and the other English actors sit up. Well, -I didn’t make them sit up. Yes, I was a big failure. But what happened -then? Henry Irving invites me to act with him at his theatre, and makes -me share the success which he has so well earned. He changes my big -failure into a big success. What can I say about such generosity? Was -the like of it ever seen before? I am left without words. Friend Irving, -I have no words to thank you.” The two actors got upon their feet, and -as they clasped hands, both of them overcome, I could not help feeling -that I was looking upon an emblematic tableau of the artistic union of -the Old World and the New. So I was. - -***** - -I could not help contrasting this graceful little incident with the more -memorable episode which had taken place in the same building some years -previously. On the evening of February 14th, 1880, Mr. Irving gave -a supper on the stage of the Lyceum, to celebrate the hundredth -representation of _The Merchant of Venice_. I do not suppose that upon -any occasion within the memory of a middle-aged man so remarkable a -gathering had assembled at the bidding of an actor. Every notable man -in every department of literature, art, and science seemed to me to -be present. The most highly representative painters, poets, novelists, -play-writers, actors of plays, composers of operas, singers of operas, -composers of laws, exponents of the meaning of these laws, journalists, -financiers,--all this goodly company attended on that moist Saturday -night to congratulate the actor upon one of the most signal triumphs of -the latter half of the century. Of course it was well understood by Mr. -Irving’s personal friends that an omission of their names from the list -of invitations to this marvellous function was inevitable. Capacious -though the stage of the Lyceum is, it would not meet the strain that -would be put on it if all the personal friends of Mr. Irving were to be -invited to the supper. So soon as I heard, however, that every living -author who had written a play that had been produced at the Lyceum -Theatre would be invited, I knew that, in spite of the fact that I only -escaped by the skin of my teeth being an absolute nonentity--I had only -published nine volumes in those days--I would not be an “outsider” upon -this occasion. Two years previously a comedietta of mine had been played -at this theatre for some hundred nights, while the audience were being -shown to their places and were chatting genially with the friends whom -they recognised three or four seats away. That was my play. No human -being could deprive me of the consciousness of having written a play -that was produced at the Lyceum Theatre. It was not a great feat, but it -constituted a privilege of which I was not slow to avail myself. - -The invitations were all in the handwriting of Mr. Irving, and -the _menu_ was, in the words of Joseph in “Divorçons,” _délicat, -distingué--très distingué_. While we were smoking some cigars the merits -of which have never been adequately sung, though they would constitute a -theme at least equal to that of the majority of epics, our host strolled -round the tables, shaking hands and talking with every one in that -natural way of his, which proves conclusively that at least one trait of -Garrick’s has never been shared by him. - - “Twas only that when he was off he was acting,” - -wrote Garrick’s--and everybody else’s--friend, Goldsmith. No; Mr. Irving -cannot claim to be the inheritor of all the arts of Garrick. - -More than an hour had passed before Lord Houghton rose to propose the -toast of the evening. He did so very fluently. He had evidently prepared -his speech with great care; and as the _doyen_ of literature--the true -patron of art and letters during two generations--his right to speak -as one having authority could not be questioned. No one expected a -commonplace speech from Lord Houghton, but few of Mr. Irving’s guests -could have looked for precisely such a speech as he delivered. It struck -a note of far-reaching criticism, and was full of that friendly counsel -which the varied experiences of the speaker made doubly valuable. Its -commendation of the great actor was wholly free from that meaningless -adulation, which is as distasteful to any artist who knows the -limitations of his art, as it is prejudicial to the realisation of his -aims. In his masterly biography of the late Lord Houghton, Mr. Wemyss -Reid refers to the great admiration which Lord Houghton had for Mr. -Irving; and this admiration was quite consistent with the tone of the -speech in which he proposed the health of our host. It was probably Lord -Houghton’s sincere appreciation of the aims of Mr. Irving that caused -him to make some delicate allusion to the dangers of long runs. -Considering that we had assembled on the stage of the Lyceum to -celebrate a phenomenal run on that stage, the difficulty of the course -which Lord Houghton had to steer in order to avoid giving the least -offence to even the most susceptible of his audience, will be easily -recognised. There were present several playwriters who, by the exercise -of great dexterity, had succeeded in avoiding all their lives the -pitfall of the long run; and these gentlemen listened, with mournful -acquiescence, while Lord Houghton showed, as he did quite conclusively, -that, on the whole, the interests of dramatic art are best advanced by -adopting the principles which form the basis of the Théâtre Français. -But there were also present some managers who had been weak enough to -allow certain plays which they had produced, to linger on the stage, -evening after evening, so long as the public chose to pay their money -to see them. I glanced at one of these gentlemen while Lord Houghton was -delivering his tactful address, and I cannot say that the result of my -glance was to assure me that the remarks of his lordship were convincing -to that manager. Contrition for those past misdeeds that took the form -of five-hundred-night runs was not the most noticeable expression upon -his features. But then the manager was an actor as well, so that he may -only have been concealing his remorse behind a smiling face. - -Mr. Irving’s reply was excellent. With amazing good-humour he touched -upon almost every point brought forward by Lord Houghton, referring to -his own position somewhat apologetically. Lord Houghton had, however, -made the apologetic tone inevitable; but after a short time Mr. Irving -struck the note for which his friends had been waiting, and spoke -strongly, earnestly, and eloquently on behalf of the art of which he -hoped to be the exponent. - -We who knew how splendid were the aims of the hero of a hundred nights, -with what sincerity and at how great self-sacrifice he had endeavoured -to realize them; we who had watched his career in the past, and were -hopefully looking forward to a future for the English drama in a -legitimate home; we who were enthusiastic almost to a point of passion -in our love and reverence for the art of which we believed Irving to -be the greatest interpreter of our generation,--we, I say, felt that -we should not separate before one more word at least was spoken to our -friend whose triumph we regarded as our own. - -It was Mr. J. L. Toole, our host’s oldest and closest friend, who, in -the Beefsteak Room some hours after midnight, expressed, in a few -words that came from his heart and were echoed by ours, how deeply Mr. -Irving’s triumph was felt by all who enjoyed his friendship--by all who -appreciated the difficulties which he had surmounted, and who, having at -heart the best interests of the drama, stretched forth to him hands of -sympathy and encouragement, and wished him God-speed. - -Thus closed a memorable gathering, the chief incidents in which I have -ventured to chronicle exactly as they appeared to me. - -***** - -Only to one more Lyceum performance may I refer in this place. It may be -remembered that ten or eleven years ago the late Mr. Dion Boucicault -was obliging enough to offer to give a lecture to English actors on the -correct pronunciation of their mother-tongue. The offer was, I suppose, -thought too valuable to be neglected, and it was arranged that the -lecture should be delivered from the stage of the Lyceum Theatre. A more -interesting and amusing function I have never attended. It was clear -that the lecturer had formed some very definite ideas as to the way -the English language should be spoken; and his attempts to convey these -ideas to his audience were most praiseworthy. His illustrations of -the curiosities of some methods of pronouncing words were certainly -extremely curious. For instance, he complained bitterly of the way the -majority of English actors pronounced the word “war.” - -“Ye prenounce the ward as if it wuz spelt w-a-u-g-h,” said the lecturer -gravely. “Ye don’t prenounce it at all as ye shud. The ward rhymes with -‘par, ‘are,’ and ‘kyar,’ and yet ye will prenounce it as if it rhymed -with ‘saw’ and ‘Paw-’ Don’t ye see the diffurnce?” - -“We do, we do!” cried the audience; and, thus encouraged by the ready -acquiescence in his pet theories, the lecturer went on to deal with -the gross absurdity of pronouncing the word “grass,” not to rhyme with -“lass,” which of course was the correct way, but almost--not quite--as -if it rhymed with “laws.” - -“The ward is ‘grass,’ not ‘graws,’” said our lecturer. “It grates on a -sinsitive ear like mine to hear it misprenounced. Then ye will never be -injuced to give the ward ‘Chrischin’ its thrue value as a ward of -three syllables; ye’ll insist on calling it ‘Christyen,’ in place of -‘Chrischin.’ D’ye persave the diffurnce?” - -“We do, we do!” cried the audience. - -“Ay, and ye talk about ‘soots’ of gyar-ments, when everybody knows -that ye shud say ‘shoots’; ye must give the full valye to the letter -‘u’--there’s no double o in a shoot of clothes. Moreover, ye talk of the -mimbers of the polis force as ‘cunstables,’ but there’s no ‘u’ in the -first syllable--it’s an ‘o,’ and it shud be prenounced to rhyme with -‘gone,’ not with ‘gun.’ Then I’ve heard an actor who shud know better -say, in the part of Hamlet, ‘wurds, wurds, wurds’; instead of giving -that fine letter ‘o’ its full value. How much finer it sounds to -prenounce it as I do, ‘wards, wards, wards’! But when I say that I’ve -heard the ward ‘pull’ prenounced not to rhyme with ‘dull,’ as ye’ll all -admit it shud be, but actually as if it was within an ace of being spelt -‘p double o l,’ I think yell agree with me that it’s about time that -actors learnt something of the rudiments of the art of ellycution.” - -I do not pretend that these are the exact instances given by Mr. -Boucicault of the appalling incorrectness of English pronunciation, -but I know that he began with the word “war,” and that the impression -produced upon my mind by the discourse was precisely as I have recorded -it. - -***** - -There is a tradition at Trinity College, Dublin, that a student who -spoke with a lovely brogue used every art to conceal it, but with -indifferent success; for however perfect the “English accent” which -he flattered himself he had grafted upon the parent stem indigenous to -Kerry may have been when he was cool and collected, yet in moments of -excitement--chiefly after supper--the old brogue surrounded him like -a fog. This was a great grief to him; but his own weakness in this way -caused him to feel a deep respect for the natives of England. - -After a visit to London he gave the result of his observations in a few -words to his friends at the College. - -“Boys,” he cried, the “English chaps are a poor lot, no matter how you -look at them. But I will say this for them,--no matter how drunk any one -of them may be, he never forgets his English accent.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX.--SOME IMPERFECT STUDIES. - - -_A charming theme--The new tints--An almost perfect descriptive -system--An unassailable position--The silver mounting of the newspaper -staff--An unfair correspondcnt--A lady journalist face to face--The -play-hawkers Only in two acts--An earnest correspondent--A haven -at last--Well-earned repose--The “health columns”--Answers to -correspondents--Other medical advisers--The annual meeting--The largest -consultation on record over one patient--He recovers!--A garden-party--A -congenial locale--The distinguished Teuton--The local medico--Brain -“sells”--A great physician--Advice to a special correspondent--Change -of air--The advantages of travel--The divergence of opinion among -medical men--It is due to their conscientiousness._ - - -AS this rambling volume does not profess to be a guide to the -newspaper press, I have not felt bound to follow any beaten track in its -compilation. But I must confess that at the outset it was my intention -to deal with that agreeable phase known as the Lady Journalist. -Unhappily (or perhaps I should say, happily), “the extreme pressure on -our space” will not permit of my giving more than a line or two to a -theme which could only be adequately treated in a large volume. It has -been my privilege to meet with three lady journalists, and I am bound to -say that every one of the three seemed to me to combine in herself all -the judgment of the trained journalist (male) with the lightness of -touch which one associates with the doings of the opposite sex. All were -able to describe garments in picturesque phrases, frequently producing -by the employment of a single word an effect that a “gentleman -journalist”--this is, I suppose, the male equivalent to a lady -journalist--could not achieve at any price. They wrote of ladies being -“gowned,” and they described the exact tint of the gowns by an admirable -process of comparison with the hue of certain familiar things. They -rightly considered that the mere statement that somebody came to -somebody else’s “At Home” in brown, conveys an inadequate idea of the -colour of a costume: “postman’s bag brown,” however, brings the dress -before one’s eye in a moment. To say that somebody’s daughter appeared -in a grey wrap would sound weak-kneed, but a wrap of _eau de Tamise_ is -something stimulating. A scarlet tea-jacket merely suggests the Book of -Revelation, but a Clark-Russell-sunset jacket is altogether different. - -They also wrote of “picture hats,” and “smart frocks,” and many other -matters which they understood thoroughly. I do not think that any -newspaper staff that does not include a lady journalist can hope for -popularity, or for the respect of those who read what is written by the -lady journalist, which is much better than popularity. I have got good -reason to know that in every newspaper with which I was associated, the -weekly column contributed by the lady journalist was much more earnestly -read than any that came from another source. - -Yes, I feel that the position of the lady in modern journalism is -unassailable; and the lady journalists always speak pleasantly about one -another, and occasionally describe each other’s “picture hats.” - -In brief, the lady journalist is the silver mounting of the newspaper -_staff_. - -***** - -I once, however, received an application from a lady, offering a weekly -letter on a topic already, I considered, ably dealt with by another -lady in the columns of the newspaper with which I was connected. I wrote -explaining this to my correspondent, and by the next post I got a -letter from her telling me that of course she was aware that a letter -purporting to be on this topic was in the habit of appearing in the -paper, but expressing the hope that I did not fancy that she would -contribute “stuff of that character.” - -I did not have the faintest hope on the subject. - -Now it so happened that the lady who wrote to me had some months before -gone to the lady whose weekly letters she had derided, and had begged -from her some suggestions as to the topics most suitable to be dealt -with by a lady journalist, and whatever further hints she might be -pleased to offer on the general subject of lady journalism. In short, -all that she had learned of the profession--it may be acquired in three -lessons, most young women think--she had learned from the lady at whom -she pointed a finger of scorn. - -This I did not consider either ladylike or journalist-like, so that I -can hardly consider it lady-journalist-like. - -Lady journalists have recently taken to photographing each other and -publishing the results. - -This is another step in the right direction. - -***** - -Once I had an opportunity of talking face to face with a lady -journalist. It happened at the house of a distinguished actress in -London. By the merest chance I had a play which I felt certain would -suit the actress, and I went to make her acquainted with the joyful -news. To my great chagrin I found that I had arrived on a day when she -was “receiving.” Several literary men were present, and on some of their -faces. - -I thought I detected the hang-dog look of the man who carries a play -about with him without a muzzle. I regret to say that they nearly all -looked at me with distrust. - -I came by chance upon one of them speaking to our charming hostess -behind a _portiere_. - -“I think the part would suit you down to the ground.” he was saying. -“Yes, six changes of dress in the four acts, and one of them a ballroom -scene.” - -I walked on. - -Ten minutes afterwards I overheard a second, who was having a romp with -our hostess’s little girl, say to that lady,-- - -“Oh, yes, I am very fond of children, when they are as pretty as Pansy -here. By the way, that reminds me that I have in my overcoat pocket a -comedy that I think will give you a chance at last. If you will allow me -when those people go....” - -I passed on. - -“The piece I brought with me is very strong. You were always best at -tragedy, and I have frequently said that you are the only woman in -London who can speak blank verse,” were the words that I heard spoken by -the third literary gentleman at the further side of a group of palms on -a pedestal. - -I thought it better not to say anything about my having a play concealed -about my person. It occurred to me that it might be well to withhold my -good news for a day or two. Meantime I had a delightful chat with the -lady journalist, and confided in her my belief that some of the -literary men present had not come for the sake of the intellectual treat -available at every reception of our hostess’s, but solely to try and -palm off on her some rubbish in the way of a play. - -She replied that she could scarcely believe that any man could be so -base, and that she feared I was something of a cynic. - -When she was bidding good-bye to our hostess I distinctly heard the -latter say,-- - -“I am sorry that you have only made it in two acts; however, you may -depend on my reading it carefully, and doing what I can with it for -you.” - -The above story might be looked on as telling against myself in some -measure, so I hasten to obviate its effect by mentioning that the play -which I had in my pocket was acted by the accomplished lady for whom I -designed it, and that it occupied a dignified place among the failures -of the year. - -***** - -There was a lady journalist--at least a lady so describing herself--who -sent me long accounts of the picture shows three days after I had -received the telegraphed accounts from the art correspondent employed by -the newspaper. She wanted to get a start, she said; and it was in vain -that I tried to point out to her that it was the other writers who got -the start of her, and that so long as she allowed this to happen she -could not expect anything that she wrote to be inserted. - -It so happened, however, that her art criticisms were about on a level -with those that a child might pass upon a procession of animals to or -from a Noah’s Ark. Then the lady forwarded me criticisms of books that -had not been sent to me for review, and afterwards an interview or two -with unknown poets. Nothing that she wrote was worth the space it would -have occupied. - -Only last year I learned with sincere pleasure that this energetic lady -had obtained a permanent place on the staff of a lady’s halfpenny weekly -paper. I could not help wondering on what department she could have been -allowed to work, and made some inquiry on the subject. Then it was -I learned that she had been appointed superintendent of the health -columns. It seems that the readers of this paper are sanguine enough to -expect to get medical advice of the highest order in respect of their -ailments for the comparatively trilling expenditure of one halfpenny -weekly. By forwarding a coupon to show that they have not been mean -enough to try and shirk payment of the legitimate fee, they are entitled -to obtain in the health columns a complete reply as to the treatment of -whatever symptoms they may describe. As this reply is seldom printed in -the health columns until more than a month or six weeks after the coupon -has been sent in to the newspaper, addressed “M.D.,” the extent of the -boon that it confers upon the suffering--the long-suffering--subscribers -can easily be estimated. - -As the superintendent of the column signed “M.D.,” the lady who had -failed as an art critic, as a reviewer, and as an interviewer, had at -last found a haven of rest. Of course, when she undertook the duties -incidental to the post she knew nothing whatever of medicine. But since -then, my informant assured me that she had been gradually “feeling her -way,” and now, by the aid of a half-crown handbook, she can give the -best medical advice that can be secured in all London for a halfpenny -fee. - -I had the curiosity to glance down one of her columns the other day. It -ran something like this:-- - -“Gladys.--Delighted to hear that you like your new mistress, and that -the cook is not the tyrant that your last was. As scullery-maid I -believe you are entitled to every second evening out. But better apply -(enclosing coupon) to the Superintendent of the Domestic Department. -Regarding the eruptions on the forehead, they may have been caused by -the use of too hot curling tongs on your fringe. Why not try the new -magnetic curlers? (see advertisement, p. 9). It would be hard to be -compelled to abandon so luxurious a fringe for the sake of a pimple or -two. Thanks for your kind wishes. Your handwriting is striking, but -I must have an impression of your palm in wax, or on a piece of paper -rubbed with lamp-black, before I can predict anything certain regarding -your chances of a brilliant marriage.” - -“Airy Fairy Lilian.--What a pretty pseudonym! Where did you contrive to -find it? Yes, I think that perhaps the doctor who visited you was right -after all. The symptoms were certainly those of typhoid. Have you tried -the new Omniherbal Typhoid Tablets (see advertisement, p. 8). If not too -late they might be of real service to you.” - -“Harebell.--I should say that if your waist is now forty-two inches, it -would be extremely imprudent for you to try and reduce it by more than -ten or eleven inches. Besides, there is no beauty in a wasp-like waist. -The slight redness on the outside tegument of the nose probably proceeds -from cold, or most likely heat. Try a little _poudre des fées_ (see -advertisement, p. 9).” - -“Shy Susy.--It is impossible to answer inquiries in this column in less -than a month. (1) If your tooth continues to ache, why not go to Mr. -Hiram P. Prosser, American Dental Surgeon (see advertisement, p. 8), and -have it out. (2) The best volume on Etiquette is by the Countess of D. -It is entitled ‘How to Behave’ (see advertisement outside cover). -(3) No; to change hats in the train does not imply a promise to marry. -It would, however, tell against the defendant in the witness-box. -(4) Decidedly not; you should not allow a complete stranger to see you -to your door, unless he is exceptionally good-looking. (5) Patchouli is -the most fashionable scent.” - -***** - -I do not suppose that this enterprising young woman is an honoured guest -at the annual meeting of the British Medical Association. Certainly no -lady superintendent of the health columns of a halfpenny weekly paper -was pointed out to me at the one meeting of this body which I had the -privilege of attending, and at which, by the way, some rather amusing -incidents occurred. - -An annual, meeting of the British Medical Association seemed to me to -be a delightful function. For some days there were _fêtes_ (with -fireworks), receptions (with military bands playing), dances (with that -exhilarating champagne that comes from the Saumur districts), -excursions to neighbouring ruins of historic interest, and the common -or garden-party in abundance. In addition to all these, a rumour was -circulated that papers were being read in some out-of-the-way hall--no -one seemed to know where it was situated, and the report was generally -regarded as a hoax--on modern therapeutics, for the entertainment of -such visitors as might be interested in the progress of medical science. - -No one seemed interested in that particular line. - -A concert took place one evening, and was largely attended, every seat -in the building being occupied. The local amateur tenor--the microbe -of this malady has not yet been discovered--sang with his accustomed -throaty incorrectness, and immediately afterwards there was a -considerable interval. Then the conductor appeared upon the platform and -said that an unfortunate accident had happened to the gentleman who had -just sung, and he should feel greatly obliged if any medical gentleman -who might chance to be present would kindly come round to the retiring -room. - -It seemed to me that the audience rose _en masse_ and trooped round -to the retiring room. I was one of the few persons who remained in the -hall. - -“Say, why didn’t some strong man throw himself between the audience -and the door?” a stranger shouted across the hall to me in an American -accent. - -“With what object?” I shouted back. - -“Wal,” said the stranger, “I opine that if this community is subject to -such visitations as we have just had from that gentleman who sang last, -his destruction should be made a municipal affair.” - -“We know what we’re about,” said I. “How would you like to look up and -find two hundred and forty-seven fully qualified medical men standing by -your bed-side.” - -“Not much,” said he. - -“I wonder if the story of the opossum that was up a gum tree, and begged -a military man beneath not to fire, as he would come down, had reached -the States before you left,” said I. - -He said he hadn’t heard tell of it. - -“Well,” said I, “there was an opossum----” - -But here the hall began to refill, and the concert was proceeded with. -The sufferer had recovered, we heard, in spite of all that was against -him. A humorist said that he had merely slipped from a ladder in -endeavouring to reach down his high C. - -When he was told that he had to pay two hundred and forty-seven guineas -for medical attendance he nearly had a relapse. - -***** - -It was at the same meeting of the Medical Association that a -garden-party was given by the Superintendent of the District Lunatic -Asylum. This was a very pleasant affair, and was attended by about five -hundred persons. A detestable man who was present, however, thought -fit to make an effort to give additional spirit to the entertainment -by pointing out to some of his friends the short, ungainly figure of a -German _savant_, who was wandering about the grounds in a condition -of loneliness, and by telling a story of a homicide of a bloodcurdling -type, to account for the gentleman’s presence at the institution. - -The jester gave free expression to his doubts as to the wisdom of the -course adopted by the medical superintendent in permitting such -freedom to a man who was supposed to be confined during Her Majesty’s -pleasure,--this was, he said, because of the merciful view taken by the -jury before whom he had been tried. He added, however, that he supposed -the superintendent knew his own business. - -As this story circulated freely, the German doctor, whose appearance and -dress undoubtedly lent it a certain plausibility, became easily the most -attractive person in view. Young men and maidens paused in the act of -“service” over the lawn tennis nets, to watch the little man whose large -eyes stared at them from beneath a pair of shaggy eyebrows, and whose -ill-cut grey frieze coat suggested the uniform of the Hospital for -the Insane. Strong men grasped their walking sticks more firmly as he -passed, and women, well gowned, and wearing picture hats--I trust I -am not infringing the copyright of the lady journalist--drew back, but -still gazed at him with all the interest that attaches itself to a great -criminal in the eyes of women. - -The little man could not but feel that he was attracting a great deal of -attention; but being probably well aware of his own attainments, he did -not shrink from any gaze, but smiled complacently on every side. Then -a local medical man, whose self-confidence had never been known to fail -him in an emergency, thought that the moment was an auspicious one for -exhibiting the extent of his researches in cerebral phenomena, beckoned -the German to his side, and, removing the man’s hat, began to prove -to the bystanders that the shape of his head was such as precluded the -possibility of his playing any other part in the world but that of a -distinguished homicide. But the German, who understood English very -well, as he did everything else, turned at this point upon the local -practitioner and asked him what the teuffil he meant. - -“Don’t be alarmed, ladies,” said the practitioner assuringly, as there -was a movement among his audience. “I know how to treat this form of -aberration. Now then, my good man----” - -But at this moment a late arrival in the form of a great London surgeon -strolled up accompanied by the medical superintendent of the Asylum, -and with an exclamation of pleasure, pounced upon the subject of the -discourse and shook him warmly by the hand. The Teuton was, however, by -no means disposed to overlook the insult offered to him. He explained -in the expressive German tongue what had occurred, and any one could see -that he was greatly excited. - -But Sir Gregory, the English surgeon, had probably some experience of -cases like this. He put his hand through the arm of the German, and then -giving a laugh that in an emergency might obviate the use of a lancet, -he said loudly enough to be heard over a considerable area,-- - -“Come along, my dear friend; there is no visiting an hospital for the -insane without coming across a lunatic,--a medical practitioner without -discretion is worse.” - -The local physician was left standing alone on the lawn. - -He shortly afterwards went home. - -If you wish to anger him now you need only talk about brain “sells.” - -***** - -At the same meeting it was my privilege to be presented to a really -great London physician. He was the medical gentleman who was consulted -by a special correspondent on his return from making a tour with the -Marquis of Lome, when the latter became Viceroy of Canada. The special -correspondent had left for Canada on the very day that he arrived in -England from the Cape, having gone through the Zulu campaign, and he had -reached the Cape direct from the Afghan war. After about two years of -these experiences he felt run down, and acting on the suggestion of a -friend, lost no time in consulting the great physician. - -On learning that the man was suffering from a curious impression of -weariness for which he could not account, but which he had tried in vain -to shake off, the great physician asked him what was his profession. He -replied that he was a literary man--that he wrote for a newspaper. - -“Ah, I thought so,” cried the great physician. “Your complaint is easily -accounted for. I perceived in a moment that you had been leading a -sedentary life. That is what plays havoc with literary men. What you -need just now is a complete change--no half measures, mind you--a -complete change--a sea voyage would brace you up, or,--let me see--ah, -yes, Margate might do. Try a fortnight at Margate.” - -***** - -I am bound to say that it was another doctor who, when a naval captain -who had been in charge of a corvette on the South Pacific station for -five years, went to him for advice, gravely remarked,-- - -“I wonder, sir, if at any time of your life you got a severe wetting?” - -The modern physician is most earnest in recommending changes of air and -scene and employment. He is an enemy to the drug system. But the last -enemy that shall be destroyed is the drug system. The “masses” believe -in it as they believe no other system, whether in medicine, religion, or -even gambling. - -I shall never forget the ring of contempt that there was in the voice of -a servant of mine at the Cape, when, on the army surgeon’s giving him -a prescription to be made up, he found that the whole thing only cost -fourpence, and he said,-- - -“That there coor can’t be much of a coor, sir; only corst fourpence, and -me ready to pay ‘arf-a-crown.” - -In the smoking-room of an hotel in Liverpool some years ago a rather -self-assertive gentleman was dilating to a group in a cosy corner on the -advantages of travel, not merely as a physical, but as an intellectual -stimulant. - -“Am I right, sir?” he cried, turning to me. “Have you ever travelled?” - -I mentioned that I had done a little in that way. - -“Where do you come from now, sir?” he asked. - -“South America,” said I meekly. - -“And you, sir,” he cried, turning to another stranger; “have you -travelled?” - -“Well, a bit,” replied the man. “I was in ‘Frisco this day fortnight, -and I’ll be in Egypt on this day week.” - -“I knew by the look of those gentlemen that they had travelled,” said -the loud man, turning to his group. “I believe in the value of travel. -I travel myself--just like those gentlemen. Yes; a week ago I was at -Bradford. Here I am at Liverpool to-day, and Heaven knows where I may be -next week--at Manchester, may be.” - -***** - -So far as I can gather, the impression seems to be pretty general that -some divergence of opinion is by no means impossible among physicians -in their diagnosis of a case. Doctors themselves seem to have at last -become aware of the fact that the possibility of a difference being -manifested in their views on some cases is now and again commented on -by the irresponsible layman. An eminent member of that profession which -makes a larger demand than any other upon the patience, the judgment, -and the self-sacrifice of those who practise it, defended, a short time -ago, in the course of a very witty speech, the apparent want of harmony -between the views of physicians on some technical points. He said that -perhaps he might not be going too far if he remarked that occasionally -in a court of law the technical evidence given by two doctors seemed -at first sight not to agree. This point was readily conceded by the -audience; and the professor then went on to say that surely the absence -of this mechanical agreement on all points should be accepted as -powerful testimony to the conscientiousness of the profession. One of -the rarest of charges brought against physicians was that of collusion. -In fact, while he believed that, if put to it, his memory would be -quite equal to recall some instances of a divergence of opinion between -doctors in a witness-box, he did not think that he could remember a -single case in which a charge of collusion against two members of the -profession had been brought home to them. - -Most sensible people will, I am persuaded, take this view of a matter -which has called for comment in all ages. It is because doctors are so -singularly sensitive that, sooner than run the chance of being accused -of acting in collusion in any case, they now and again have been known -to express views that were--well, not absolutely in harmony the one with -the other. - -The distinguished physician who made so reasonable a defence of the -profession which he adorns, told me that it was one of his early -instructors who made that excellent summary of the relative values of -medical attendance:-- - -“I have no hesitation in saying that it’s not better to be attended by a -good doctor than a bad doctor; but I won’t go the length of saying that -it’s not better to be attended by no doctor at all than by either.” - - - - -CHAPTER XX.--ON SOME FORMS OF CLEVERNESS. - - -_The British Association--The late Professor Tyndall--His Belfast -address--The centre of strict orthodoxy--The indignation of the -pulpits--Worse than atheism--Biology and blasphemy allied sciences--The -champion of orthodoxy--The town is saved--After many days--The second -visit of Professor Tyndall to Belfast--The honoured guest of the -Presbyterians--Public opinion--Colour blindness--Another meeting of the -British Association--A clever young man--The secret of the ruin--The -revelation of the secret--The great-grandfather of Queen Boadicea--The -story of Antonio Giuseppe--Accepted as primo tenore--The birthday -books--A movable feast--A box at the opera--Transferable--The discovery -of the transfers--An al fresco operatic entertainment--No harm done._ - - -THE annual meetings of the British Association for the Advancement -of Science can be made quite as delightful functions as those of the -British Medical Association, if they are not taken too seriously; and I -don’t think that there is much likelihood of that happening. I have -had the privilege of taking part in several of the dances, the garden -parties, and the concerts which have taken place under the grateful -protection of science. I have also availed myself of the courtesy of -the railway companies that issued cheap tickets to the various places of -interest in the locality where the annual festivities took place under -the patronage of the British Association. The only President’s address -which I ever heard delivered was, however, that of Professor Tyndall at -Belfast. - -I was little more than a boy at the time, and that is probably why I was -more deeply interested in Biology and Evolution than I have been in more -recent years. It is scarcely necessary to say that Professor Tyndall’s -utterance would take a very humble place in the heterodoxy of the -present day, for the exponents of theology have found it necessary to -enlarge their borders as the century draws to a close, and I suppose -that if poor Tyndall had offered to lecture in St. Paul’s Cathedral his -appearance under the dome would have been welcomed by the authorities, -as it certainly would have been by the public. But Belfast had for -long been the centre of strict orthodoxy, and so soon as the address of -Professor Tyndall was printed a great cry arose from every pulpit. The -excellent Presbyterians of Ulster were astounded at the audacity of the -man in coming into the midst of such a community as theirs in order to -deliver an address that breathed of something worse than the ancient -atheists had ever dreamed of in their most heterodox moments. If the man -had wanted to blaspheme--and a good _primâ facie_ case was made out in -favour of the assumption that he had--could he not have taken himself -off to some congenial locality for the purpose? Why should he come to -Belfast with such an object? Would the town ever get rid of the stigma -that would certainly be attached to it as the centre from which the -blasphemies of Biology had radiated upon this occasion? - -These were the questions that afflicted the good people for many days, -and the consensus of opinion seemed to be in favour of the theory that -unless the town should undergo a sort of moral fumigation, it would not -be restored to the position it had previously occupied in the eyes of -Christendom. The general idea is that to slaughter a pig in a Mohammedan -mosque is an act the consequences of which are so far-reaching as to be -practically irreparable; the act of Professor Tyndall at Belfast was of -precisely this nature in the estimation of the inhabitants. - -Fortunately, however, a champion of orthodoxy appeared in the form of a -Professor at the Presbyterian College who wrote a book--I believe some -copies may still be purchased--to make it impossible for Tyndall or any -other exponent of Evolution to face an audience of intelligent people. -This book was the saving of the town. Belfast was rehabilitated, and the -people breathed again. - -But the years went by; Darwin’s funeral service was held in Westminster -Abbey, and Professor Tyndall’s voice was now and again heard like an -Alpine echo of his master. In Belfast a University Extension Scheme was -set on foot and promised to be a brilliant success--it collapsed after -a time, but that is not to the point. What is to the point, however, is -the fact that the inaugural lecture of the University Extension series -was on the subject of Biology, and the chosen exponent of the science -was Professor Tyndall. He came to Belfast as the honoured guest of the -city--it had become a city since his memorable visit--and he passed -some days at the official residence of the Presbyterian President of -the Queen’s College, who had been a pupil at the divinity school of -the clergyman who had written the book that was supposed to have -re-consecrated, as it were, the locality defiled by the British -Association address of 1874. - -This incident appears to me to be noteworthy--almost as noteworthy as -the reception given in honour of Monsieur Emile Zola in the Guildhall -a few years after Mr. Vizetelly had been sent to gaol for issuing a -purified translation of a work of Zola’s. - -I think it was Mr. Forster who, in the spring of 1882, when Mr. Parnell -and his friends were languishing in Kilmainham, said that the Irish -Channel was like the water described by Byron: a palace at one side, -a prison on the other. The Irish members left Kilmainham, and in a few -hours found themselves in Westminster Palace--at least, Westminster -Palace Hotel. - -Public opinion knows but the two places of residence--a palace and a -prison. When a man leaves the one he is considered fit for the other. -Public opinion knows but black and white, and vacillates from one to the -other with the utmost regularity. - -The only constant thing in the world is change. - -***** - -At another meeting of the British Association I was a witness of a -remarkable piece of cleverness on the part of a young man who has -since proved his claim to be regarded as one of the most adroit men in -England. Among the excursions the chief was to the locality of a ruin, -the origin of which was, like the origin of the De la Pluche family, -lost in the mists of obscurity. The ruin had been frequently visited -by distinguished archæologists, but none had ventured to do more than -guess--if one could imagine guesswork and archaeology associated--what -period should be assigned to the dilapidated towers. It so happened, -however, that an elderly professor at the local college had, by living -laborious days, and mastering the elements of a new language, succeeded -in wresting their secret from the lichened stones, and he made up his -mind that when the British Association had its excursion to the ruin, he -would reveal all that he had discovered regarding it, and by this _coup -de théâtre_ become famous. - -But the clever young man had an interesting young brother who had gained -a reputation as a poet, and who dressed perhaps a trifle in excess -of this reputation; and when the old professor was about to make his -revelation regarding the ruin, the clever young man put up his brother -in another part of the enclosure to recite one of his own poems on -the locality. In a few moments the professor, who had commenced -his discourse, was practically deserted. Only half a dozen of the -excursionists rallied round him, and permitted themselves to be -mystified; the cream of the visitors, to the number of perhaps a -hundred, were around the reciter on an historic hillock fifty yards -away, and his mellow cadences sounded very alluring to the few people -who listened to the jerky delivery of the lecturer in the ruin. - -But the clever young man did not yield to the alluring voice of his -brother. He had heard that voice before, and was well acquainted with -its cadences. He was also well acquainted with the poem that was -being recited--he had heard it more than once before. What he was not -acquainted with was the marvellous discovery made by the professor who -was in the act of revealing it to ten ears--that is allowing that -only one person of those around him was deaf. The clever young man sat -concealed behind a wall covered with ivy and listened to every word of -the revelation. When it was over he unostentatiously joined the crowd -around his brother, and heard with pleasure that the delivery of the -poem had been very striking. - -“But we must not waste our time,” said the clever young man, with -the air of authority of a personal conductor. “We have several other -interesting points to dwell upon”--he spoke as if he and his brother -owned the ruins and the natural landscape into the bargain. “Oh, yes, we -must hurry on. I do not suppose there is any lady or gentleman present -who is aware of the fact that we are within a few yards of the place -where the great-grandfather of Queen Boadicea lies buried.” - -A murmur of negation passed round the crowd. - -“Follow me,” said the clever young man; and they followed him. - -He led them to the very place where the professor had made his -revelation, and then, standing on a portion of the ruined structure, -he gave in choice language, and with many inspiring quotations from -the literature of the Ancient Britons, the substance of the professor’s -revelation. - -For half an hour he continued his discourse, and quite delighted every -one who heard him, except, perhaps, the elderly professor. He was among -the audience, and he listened, with staring eyes, to the clever young -man’s delightful mingling of the deepest archaeological facts with -fictions that had a semblance of truth, and he was speechless. The -innocent old soul actually believed that the clever young man had -surpassed him, the professor, in the profundity of his researches into -the history of the ruin; he knew that the face of the clever young -man had not been among the faces of the few people who had heard his -revelation, but he did not know that the clever young man was hidden -among the ivy a few yards away. - -When the people were applauding the delightful discourse, he pressed -forward to the impromptu lecturer and shook him warmly by the hand. - -“Sir!” he cried, “you have in you the stuff that goes to make a great -archæologist. I have worked at nothing else but this ruin for the last -eight years, and yet I admit that you know more about it than I do.” - -“Oh, my dear sir,” said the clever young man, “the world knows that in -your own path you are without a rival. I am content to sit at your feet. -It is an honourable position. Any time you want to know something of -this locality and its archæology do not hesitate to command me.” - -***** - -The only rival in adroitness to the young man whose feats I have just -recorded was one Antonio Giuseppe. I came upon this person in London, -but only when I was in Milan did I become acquainted with the extent of -his capacity. One of the stories I heard about him is, I think, worth -repeating, illustrating, as it does, the difference between the English -and the Italian systems of imposture. - -Antonio Giuseppe certainly was attached to the State Opera Company, but -it would be difficult to define with any degree of exactness his duties -in connection with that Institution. He had got not a single note in his -voice, and yet--nay, on this account--he had passed during a season at -Homburg as a distinguished tenor--for Signor Giuseppe was careful to -see that his portmanteau was inscribed in white letters of considerable -size, “Signor Antonio Giuseppe, State Opera Company.” He gave himself as -many airs as a professional--nay, as an amateur, tenor, and he was thus -assigned the most select apartment in the hotel during his sojourn, and -a large folding screen was placed between his seat at the _table d’hote_ -and the window. There was, indeed, every excuse for taking Signor -Giuseppe for a distinguished operatic tenor. He spoke all European -languages with equal impurity, he went about in a waistcoat that -resembled, in combination of colours, the drop scene of a theatre, he -wore a blue velvet tie, made up in a knot to display a carbuncle pin -about the size of a tram-car light, and his generosity in wristband -was equalled only by his prodigality of cigarette paper. These -characteristics, coupled with the fact that he had never been known to -indulge in the luxury of a bath, gave rise to the rumour that he was the -greatest tenor in Europe; consequently he was looked upon with envy by -the Dukes with incomes of a thousand pounds a day, who were accustomed -to resort for some months out of the year to Homburg; while Countesses -in their own right sent him daily missives expressive of their -admiration for his talents, and entreating the favour of his autograph -in their birthday books. Poor Signor Giuseppe was greatly perplexed by -the arrival of a birthday book at his apartment every morning; but so -soon as its import was explained to him, he never failed to respond to -the request of the fair owners of the volumes. His caligraphy did not -extend beyond the limits of his autograph, and his birthday seemed to be -with him a movable feast, for in no two of the books did his name appear -on the pages assigned to the same month. As a matter of fact, it is -almost impossible for a man who has never been acquainted with his -father or mother, to know with any degree of accuracy the exact day -on which he was born, so that Signor Giuseppe, who was discovered by a -priest in a shed at the quay at Leghorn on St. Joseph’s day, was not to -blame for his ignorance in respect of his nativity. - -Of course, when Mr. Fitzgauntlet, the enterprising impresario of the -State Opera, turned up at Homburg in the course of a week or two, it -became known that whatever position Signor Giuseppe might occupy in the -State Opera Company, it was not that of _primo tenore_, for the most -exacting impresario has never been known to include among the duties of -a _primo tenore_ the unpacking of a portmanteau and the arrangement of -its contents around the dressing room of the impresario. The folding -screen was removed from behind Signor Giuseppe on the day following -the arrival of Mr. Fitzgauntlet at Homburg, and from being _feted_ as -Giuseppe the tenor, he was scorned as Giuseppe the valet. - -But in regarding Signor Giuseppe as nothing beyond the valet to the -impresario the sojourners at the hotel were as greatly in error as in -accepting him as the tenor. To be sure Signor Giuseppe now and again -discharged the duties that usually devolve upon the valet, but the -scope of his duties extended far beyond these limits. It was his task -to arrange the _claque_ for a new _prima donna_, and to purchase the -bouquets to be showered upon the stage when the impresario was anxious -to impress upon the public the admirable qualities possessed by a -_débutante_ whose services he had secured for a trifle. It was also -Giuseppe’s privilege to receive the bouquets left at the stage door by -the young gentlemen--or the old gentlemen--who had become struck with -the graceful figure of the _premiere danseuse_ or perhaps _cinquantième -danseuse_, and the emoluments arising from this portion of his duties -were said to be equal to a liberal income, exclusive of what he made -by the disposal of the bouquets to the florist from whom they had been -originally purchased. This invaluable official also made a little money -for himself by his ingenuity in obtaining the photographs and autographs -of the chief artists of the company, which he distributed for sale every -evening in the stalls; but not quite so profitable was that part of his -business which consisted in inventing stories to account for the absence -of the impresario when tradesmen called at the State theatre with their -bills; still, the thoughtfulness and ingenuity of Signor Giuseppe were -quite equal to the strain put upon them in this direction, and Mr. -Fitzgauntlet had no reason to be otherwise than satisfied. When it is -understood that Giuseppe transacted nearly all their business for the -chief artists in the company, engaged their apartments, and looked after -their luggage when on tour in the provinces, it will readily be believed -that he had, as a rule, more money at his banker’s than any official -connected with the State Opera. - -The confidence which had always been placed in Signor Giuseppe’s -integrity by the artists of the company was upon one occasion rudely -shaken, and the story of how this disaster occurred is about to be -related. Signor Giuseppe did a little business in wine and cigars, -principally of British manufacture, and he had, with his accustomed -dexterity, hitherto escaped a criminal prosecution under the Sale -of Drugs Act for the consequences of his success in disposing of his -commodities in this line of business. He also did a little in a medical -way, a certain bottle containing a bright crimson liquid with a horrible -taste being extremely popular among the members of the extensive -chorus of the State Opera. When a “cyclus” of modern German opera was -contemplated by Mr. Fitzgauntlet, Giuseppe increased his medical stock, -feeling sure that the result of the performances would occasion a run -upon his drugs; but the negotiations fell through, and it was only by -the force of his perseverance and persuasiveness he contrived to get rid -of his surplus to the gentlemen who played the brass instruments in the -orchestra. It was not, however, on account of his transactions in the -medical way that he almost forfeited the respect in which he was held -by the artists, but because of the part he played with regard to the -disposal of a certain box of cigars. After the production of the opera -_Le Diamant Noir_, Signor Boccalione, the great basso, went to Giuseppe, -saying,-- - -“Giuseppe, I want your advice: you know I have made the success of the -opera, but I do not read music very quickly, and Monsieur Lejeune has -had a good deal of trouble with me. I should like to make him some -little return; what would you suggest?” - -Giuseppe was lost in thought. He wondered, could he suggest the -propriety of the basso’s offering the _maestro di piano_ a case of -Burgundy--Giuseppe had just received three cases of the finest Burgundy -that had ever been made in the Minories. - -“A present to the value of how much?” he asked of Signor Boccalione. - -“Oh,” said the basso airily, and with a gesture of indifference, “about -sixty francs. Monsieur Lejeune had not really so much trouble with -me--no one else in the company would think of acknowledging his -services, but with me it is different--I cannot live without being -generous.” - -Giuseppe mused. - -“If the signor would only go so far as seventy francs, I could get him a -box of the choicest cigars,” he said after a pause; and then he went -on to explain that the cigars were in the possession of a friend of his -own, whom he had passed into the opera one night, and who consequently -owed him some compliment, so that the box, which in the ordinary way of -business was really worth eighty francs, might be obtained for seventy. -The generosity of the basso, however, was not without its limits; it -would, sustain the tension put upon it by the expenditure of sixty -francs, but it was not sufficiently strong to face the outlay suggested -by Giuseppe.. - -“Sixty francs!” he cried, “sixty francs is a small fortune, and I myself -smoke excellent cigars at thirty. I will give no more than sixty.” - -Giuseppe did not think the box could be purchased for the money, but he -said he would try and induce his friend to be liberal. The next day he -came to Signor Boccalione with the box containing the hundred cigars of -the choicest brand--the quality of the cigars will be fully appreciated -when it is understood that the hundred cost Giuseppe originally close -upon thirteen shillings. - -“Per Bacco!” cried the basso, “Monsieur Lejeune should be a happy -man--he had hardly any trouble with me, now that I come to reflect. Oh, -I am the only man in the company who would be so foolish as to think of -a present--and such a present--for him.” - -“Oh, Signor!” said Giuseppe, “such a present! The perfume, signor, -wonderful! delicious! celestial!” He then explained how he had persuaded -his friend, by soft words and promises, to part with the box for sixty -francs, and Signor Boccalione listened and laughed; then, on a sheet of -pink notepaper, the basso wrote a dedication, occupying twelve lines, -of the box of cigars to the use of the supremely illustrious _maestro di -piano_, Lejeune, in token of the invaluable assistance he had afforded -to the most humble and grateful of his friends and servants, Alessandro -Boccalione. - -When Giuseppe promised to send the box to the maestro on the following -day he meant to keep his word, and he did keep it. On the same evening -he was met by Maestro Lejeune. The maestro looked very pale in the face. - -“Giuseppe, my friend,” he said with a smile, “you were very good to me -upon our last tour, looking after my luggage with commendable zeal; I -have often thought of making you some little return. You will find a box -of cigars--one hundred all but one--on my dressing table; you may have -them for your own use.” - -Giuseppe was profuse in his thanks, and, on going to the dressing-room -of the maestro, obtained possession once more of the box of cigars -he had sold to the basso. On the mat was the half-smoked sample which -Monsieur Lejeune had attempted to get through. - -Not more than a week had passed after this transaction when Signor -Giuseppe was sent for by Madame Speranza, the celebrated soprano. - -“Giuseppe,” said the lady, “as you have had twenty-seven of my -photographs within the past month, I think you may be able to help me -out of a difficulty in which I find myself.” - -Giuseppe thought it rather ungenerous for a soprano earning--or at least -getting paid--two hundred pounds a week, to make any reference to such a -paltry matter as photographs; he, however, said nothing on this subject, -but only expressed his willingness to serve the lady. She then explained -to him what he knew already, namely, that she had had a serious -difference with Herr Groschen, the conductor, as to the _tempo_ of a -certain air in _Le Diamant Noir_, and that the conductor and she had not -been on speaking terms for more than a fortnight. - -“But now,” said Madame Speranza in conclusion, “now that I have made the -opera so brilliant a success, I should like to make my peace with the -poor old man, who must be miserable in consequence of my treatment of -him,--especially as I got the best of the dispute. I mean to write -to him this evening, and send him some present--something small, you -know--not extravagant.” - -“What would Madame think of the appropriateness of a box of cigars?” - asked Giuseppe after an interval of thought. “I heard Herr Groschen say -that he had just smoked the last of a box, and meant to purchase another -when he had the money,” he added. - -“How much would a box of cigars cost?” asked the _prima donna_. - -“Madame can have cigars at all prices--even as low as sixty-five -francs,” replied her confidential adviser. - -“Mon Dieu! what extravagant creatures men are!” cried the lady. -“Sixty-five francs’ worth of cigars would probably not last him more -than a few months. Never mind; I do not want a cheap box,--my soul is -a generous one: procure me a box at sixty-six francs, and we will say -nothing more about the photographs.” - -Signor Giuseppe said he would try what could be done. A man whom he had -once obliged had a sister married to one of the most intelligent cigar -merchants in the city; but he did not think he had any cigars under -seventy francs. - -“Not a sou more than sixty-six will I pay,” cried the soprano with -emphasis. Giuseppe gave a shrug and said he would see what could be -done. - -What he saw could be done was to expend the sum of twopence English in -the purchase of a cigar, to put in the centre of the package from which -the maestro had taken his sample, and to bring the box sealed to Madame -Speranza, whom he congratulated on being able to present her late enemy -with a box of cigars of a quality not to be surpassed in the island of -Cuba. The lady put her face down to the box and made a little grimace, -and Giuseppe left her apartment with three guineas English in his -pocket. - -Two days afterwards he encountered Herr Groschen. - -“Giuseppe,” said the conductor, “you may remember that when you so -cleverly contrived to have my luggage with the fifteen pounds of tobacco -amongst it passed at the Custom House I said I would make you a present. -Forgive me for my negligence all this time, and accept a box of choice -cigars, which you will find on my table. May you be happy, Giuseppe--you -are a worthy fellow.” - -It is needless to say that Signor Giuseppe recovered his box. On the -hearth-rug lay a half-smoked specimen, and by its side the portion of -Madame Speranza’s letter to the conductor which he had used to light the -one cigar out of the hundred. - -Before another week had passed, the same box had been sold to the tenor, -to present to Mr. Fitzgauntlet, who, on receiving it, put his nose down -to the package, and threw the lot into a corner among waste papers, and -went on with his writing. The box was rescued by Giuseppe, and presented -by him to the husband of Madame Galatini-Purissi, the contralto, in -exchange for three dozen copies of the fair _artiste’s_ portrait. Then -Signor Purissi sent the box to the flautist in the orchestra, who played -the obbligato to some of the contralto’s arias, and as this gentleman -did not smoke he made it over once more to Signor Giuseppe. As the box -had by this time been in the hands of every one in the company likely to -possess a box of cigars, Giuseppe thought it would show a grasping -spirit on his part were he to attempt to dispose of it again; so he -merely made up the ninety-nine cigars in packages of three, which he -sold to thirty-three members of the chorus at a shilling a head. - -It so happened, however, that Herr Groschen, Signor Boccalione, and -Signor Purissi met in a tobacconist’s shop about a week after the final -distribution of the cigars, and their conversation turned upon the -comparative ease with which bad cigars could be procured. Herr Groschen -boasted how he had repaid his obligations to Giuseppe with a box of -cigars, which he was certain satisfied the poor devil. - -“Corpo di Bacco!” cried the basso, “I bought a box from Giuseppe to -present to Maestro Lejeune.” - -“And I,” said the husband of the contralto, “bought another from him. -Can it have been the same box?” - -Suspicion being thus aroused, Boccalione sought out Monsieur Lejeune, -who confessed that he had given the box to Giuseppe; and Signor Purissi -learned from the flautist that his gift had been disposed of in the -same direction. The story went round the company, and poor Giuseppe -was pounced upon by his indignant and demonstrative countrymen, and an -explanation demanded of him on the subject of his repeated disposal of -the same box. Giuseppe was quite as demonstrative as the most earnest of -his interrogators in declaring that he had not disposed of the same box. -His friend had obliged him with several boxes, and he had himself been -greatly put about to oblige the ungrateful people who now turned upon -him. He swore by the tomb of his parents that the obligations he had -already discharged towards the ingrates would never be repeated; they -might in future go elsewhere (Signor Giuseppe made a suggestion as to -the exact locality) for their cigars; but for his part he washed his -hands clean of them and their cigars. For three-quarters of an hour -the basso-profundo, the soprano, and the husband of the contralto -gesticulated before Giuseppe in the portico of the Opera House, until -a crowd collected, the impression being general that an animated scene -from a new opera was being rehearsed by the artists of the State Opera. -A policeman who arrived on the scene could not be persuaded to take this -view of the matter, and he politely requested the distinguished members -of the State Opera Company either to move on or to go within the -precincts of the building. The basso attempted to explain to the -policeman in very choice Italian what Giuseppe had done, but he was so -demonstrative the officer thought he was threatening the police force -generally, and took his name and address with a view to issuing a -summons for this offence. In the meantime Giuseppe got into a hansom -and drove off, craning his neck round the side of the vehicle to make -a parting allusion to the maternity of the husband of the contralto, to -which the soprano promptly replied by a suggestion which, if true, would -tend to remove the mystery surrounding the origin of Giuseppe. A week -afterwards of course all were once again on the most friendly terms; -but Giuseppe now and again feels that his want of ingenuousness in the -cigar-box transaction well-nigh jeopardised the reputation for integrity -he had previously enjoyed among the principals of the State Opera -Company. He has been much more careful ever since, and flatters himself -that not even the _tenore robusto_, who is the most suspicious of -men, can discover the points on which he gets the better of him. As -a practical financier Signor Antonio Giuseppe thinks of himself as a -success; and there can hardly be a doubt that he is fully justified in -taking such a view of his career. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI.--“SO CAREFUL OF THE TYPE.” - - -_Why the chapter is a short one--Straw essential to brick-making--A -suggestion regarding the king in “Hamlet”--The Irish attendant--The -overland route--“Susanna and the editors”--“The violets of his -wrath”--The clergyman’s favourite poem--A horticultural feat--A -tulip transformed--The entertainment of an interment--The autotype -of Russia--A remarkable conflagration and a still more remarkable -dance--Paradise and the other place--Why the concert was a success--The -land of Goschcn--A sporting item--A detective story--The flora and -fauna--The Moors dictum--Absit omen!_ - - -IF this chapter is a short one, it is so for the best of reasons: it -is meant to record some blunders of printers and others which impressed -themselves upon me. It would obviously be impossible to make a chapter -of the average length out of such a record. The really humorous faults -in the setting up of anything I have ever written have been very few. -In the printing of the original edition of my novel _Daireen_ one of the -most notable occurred in a first proof. Every chapter of this book is -headed with a few lines from _Hamlet_, and one of these headings is from -the well-known scene with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, - - _Gull_.--The King, sir---- - - _Hamlet_.--Ay, sir, what of him? - - _Gull_.--Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. - - _Hamlet_.--With drink, sir? - - _Gull_.--No, my lord, rather with choler. - -This was the dialogue as I had written it. The humorous printer added a -letter that somewhat changed the sense. He made the line,-- - - “No, my lord, rather with _cholera_.” - -This was probably an honest attempt on the compositor’s part to work -out a “new reading,” and it certainly did not appear to me to be more -extravagant than the scores of attempts made in the same direction. -If this reading were accepted, the perturbation of Claudius during the -players’ scene, and his hasty Bight before its conclusion, would be -accounted for. - -Another daring new reading in _Hamlet_ was suggested by a compositor, -through the medium of a comma and a capital. In the course of a magazine -article, he set up a line in the third scene of the third act, in this -way,-- - - _Hamlet_.--Now might I do it, Pat! - -It is somewhat curious that some attempt has not been made before now -to justify such a reading. Could it not be suggested that Hamlet had an -Irish servant who was in his confidence? About the time of Hamlet, the -Danes had an important settlement in Ireland, and why might not Hamlet’s -father have brought one of the natives of that island, named Patrick, to -be the personal attendant of the young prince? The whole thing appears -so feasible, it almost approaches the dimensions of an Irish grievance -that no actor has yet had the courage to bring on the Irish servant who -was clearly addressed by Hamlet in the words just quoted. - -So “readings” are made. - -Either of those which the compositors suggested is much more worthy of -respect than the late Mr. Barry Sullivan’s,-- - - “I know a hawk from a heron. Pshaw!” - -But if compositors are sometimes earnest and enterprising students of -Shakespeare, I have sometimes found them deficient on the subject of -geography. Upon one occasion, for instance, I accompanied a number of -them on an excursion to the Isle of Man. The day was one of a mighty -rushing wind, and the steamer being a small one, the disasters among the -passengers were numerous. There was not a printer aboard who was not in -a condition the technical equivalent to which is “pie.” I administered -brandy to some of them, telling them to introduce a “turned rule,” which -means, in newspaper instructions, “more to follow.” But all was of no -avail. We reached the island in safety, however, and then one of the -compositors who had been very much discomposed, seeing the train about -to start for Douglas, told me in a confidential whisper that he had -suffered so much on the voyage, he had made up his mind to return to -Ireland by train. - -***** - -Quite a new reading, not to _Hamlet_, but to one of the lyrics in _The -Princess_, was suggested by another compositor. The introduction of a -comma in the first line of the last stanza of “Home they brought her -warrior dead” produced a quaint effect. - - “Rose a nurse of ninety years, - - Set his child upon her knee,” - -appears in every edition of _The Princess_. But my friend, by his timely -insertion of a comma, made it read thus: - - “Rose, a nurse of ninety years.” - -Perhaps the nurse’s name was Rose, but Tennyson kept this a secret. - -One of the loveliest of Irish national melodies is that for which Moore -wrote the stanzas beginning:-- - - “Silent, O Moyle, be the roar of thy waters!” - -The title of this song appeared in the programme of a St. Patrick’s Day -Concert, which was published in a leading London newspaper, as though -the poem were addressed to one Mr. O’Moyle,--“Silent, O’Moyle.” - -***** - -Another humorist set up a reference to “Susanna and the Elders,” - -“Susanna and the Editors,” which was not just the same thing. Possibly -the printer had another and equally apocryphal episode in his mind’s -eye. - -I felt a warm personal regard for the man who made a lecturer state -that a critic had “poured out the violets of his wrath upon him.” The -criticism did not, under these circumstances, seem particularly severe. - -I must frankly confess, however, that I had nothing but reprobation -for the one who made a clergyman state in a lecture to a class of young -ladies, that his favourite poem of Wordsworth’s was “Invitations to -Immorality.” Nor had I the least feeling except of indignation for the -one who set up the title of a picture in which I was interested, “a rare -turnip,” instead of “a rare tulip.” The printer who at the conclusion of -an obituary notice was expected to announce to the readers of the paper -that “the interment will take place on Saturday,” but who, instead, gave -them to understand that “the entertainment will take place on Saturday,” - did not, I think, cause any awkward mishap. He knew that the idea was -that of entertainment, whatever the word employed might be. - -The compositor who caused an editor to refer to “the autotype of the -Russian people,” when the word _autocrat_ was in the “copy” before him, -was less to be blamed than the reader who allowed such a mistake to pass -without correction. - -When I read on a proof one night that the most striking scene in _The -Dead Heart_ at the Lyceum was “the burning of the Pastille and the dance -of the Rigmarole,” I asked for the “copy” that had been telegraphed; -and I found that the printer was not responsible for this marvellous -blunder. - -***** - -It will be remembered that at one of his lectures in the United States, -Mr. Richard A. Proctor remarked that in the course of a few million -years something remarkable would happen, but that its occurrence would -not inconvenience his audience, as he supposed they would all be in -Paradise at that time. - -In one paper the reporter made him say that he supposed his audience -would all be in Paris at that time. - -The next evening Mr. Proctor turned the mistake to a good “scoring” - account, by stating that he fancied at first an error had been made; but -that shortly afterwards, he remembered that the tradition was, that all -good Americans go to Paris when they die, so that the reporter clearly -understood his business. - -***** - -The enterprising correspondent who sows his telegrams broadcast is a -frequent cause of the appearance of mistakes. I recollect that one sent -a hundred words over the wire regarding some village concert, the great -success of which was due to the zeal of the Reverend John Jones, “the -_locus standi_ of the parish.” He had probably heard something at one -time of a _pastor loci,_ and made a brave but unsuccessful attempt to -reproduce the phrase. - -Another correspondent telegraphed regarding the arrival of two American -cyclists at Queenstown, that their itinerary would be as follows: “They -will travel on their bicycles through Ireland and England, and then -crossing from Dover to Calais they will proceed through Europe, and from -Turkey they will pass through Asia Minor into Xenophon and the Anabasis, -leaving which they will travel to Egypt and the Land of _Goschen_.” - -The reference to Xenophon was funny enough, but the spelling of the -last word, identifying the country with the statesman, seemed to me to -represent the highwater mark of the flood-tide of modernism. A few years -before, when the correspondent was doubtless more in touch with the -vicissitudes of the Children of Israel than with the feats of cyclists -from the United States, he would probably have assimilated Mr. Goschen’s -name with the Land of Goshen; but soon the fame of the ex-Chancellor of -the Exchequer had become of more immediate importance to him, and it was -the land that changed its name in his mind to the name of the ex-Finance -Minister. - -It was probably the influence of the same spirit of modernism that -caused a foreman, in making up the paper for the press, to insert under -the title of “Sporting,” half a column of a report of a lecture by a -clergyman on “The Races of Palestine.” - -***** - -It was, however, the telegraph office that I found to be responsible -for a singular error in the report of the arrest of a certain notorious -criminal. The report should have stated that “a photograph of the -prisoner had been taken by the detective camera,” but the result of the -filtration of the message through a network of telegraph wires was the -statement that the photograph “had been taken by Detective Cameron.” - -***** - -Some years ago a too earnest naturalist was drowned when canoeing on a -lake in the west of Ireland. An enterprising correspondent who clearly -resided near the scene of the accident, forwarded to the newspaper with -which I was connected, a circumstantial account of the finding of the -capsized canoe. In the course of his references to the objects of -the naturalist’s visit to the west, the reporter made the astounding -statement that “he had already succeeded in getting together a -practically complete collection of the _flora_ and _fauna_ of -Ireland,”--truly a “large order.” - -I feel that I cannot do better than bring to a close with this story my -desultory jottings, which may bear to be regarded as a far from -complete collection of the _flora_ and _fauna_ of journalism. Perhaps my -researches into these highways and byways may induce some more competent -and widely experienced brother to publish his notes on men and matters. - -“Not a jot, not a jot,” protested the _Moor_. - -Am I setting the omen at defiance in publishing these Jottings? Perhaps -I am; though I feel easier in my mind on this point when I recall how, -on my quoting in an article the proverb, “_Autres temps, mitres mours”_ -a wag of a printer caused it to appear, “_Autres temps, autres_ Moores!” - - -THE END. - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg’s A Journalists Note-Book, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK *** - -***** This file should be named 51952-0.txt or 51952-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/5/51952/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you’ll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. - -The Foundation’s principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/51952-0.zip b/old/51952-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 78b71aa..0000000 --- a/old/51952-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51952-8.txt b/old/51952-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index dad4008..0000000 --- a/old/51952-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8404 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's A Journalists Note-Book, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: A Journalists Note-Book - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51952] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -Author of "Forbid the Banns," "Daireen,'" "A Gray Eye or So," etc. - -London: Hutchins On And Co., Paternoster Row - -1894 - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0008] - -[Illustration: 0009] - - - - -CHAPTER I.--PAST AND PRESENT. - - -_Odd lots of journalism--Respectability and its relation to -journalism--The abuse of the journal--The laudation of the -journalist--Abuse the consequence of popularity--Popularity the -consequence of abuse--Drain-work and grey hairs--"Don't neglect -your reading for the sake of reviewing"--Reading for pleasure or -to criticise--Literature--Deterioration--The Civil List Pension--In -exchange for a soul._ - - -SOME years ago there was an auction of wine at a country-house in -Scotland, the late owner of which had taken pains to gain a reputation -for judgment in the matter of wine-selecting. He had all his life been -nearly as intemperate as a temperance orator in his denunciation of -whisky as a drink, hoping to inculcate a taste for vintage clarets upon -the Scots; but he that tells the tale--it is not a new one--says that -the man died without seriously jeopardizing the popularity of the -native manufacture. The wines that he had laid down brought good prices, -however; but, at the close of the sale, several odd lots were "put -up," and all were bought by a local publican. A gentleman who had been -present called upon the publican a few days afterwards, and found -him engaged in mixing into one huge cask all the "lots" that he had -bought--Larose, Johannisberg, Chteau Coutet. - -"Hallo," said the visitor, "what's this mixture going to be, Rabbie?" - -"Weel, sir," said the publican, looking with one eye into the cask and -mechanically giving the contents a stir with a bottle of Sauterne which -he had just uncorked--"Weel, sir, I think it should be port, but I'm no -sure." - -These odd lots of journalistic experiences and recollections may be -considered a book, "but I'm no sure." - -***** - -After all, "a book's a book although"--it's written by a journalist. -Nearly every writer of books nowadays becomes a journalist when he has -written a sufficient number. He is usually encouraged in this direction -by his publishers. - -"You're a literary man, are you not?" a stranger said to a friend of -mine. - -"On the contrary, I'm a journalist," was the reply. - -"Oh, I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said the inquirer, detecting a -certain indignant note in the disclaimer. "I beg your pardon. What a -fool I was to ask you such a question!" - -"I hope he wasn't hurt," he added in an anxious voice when we were -alone. "It was a foolish question; I might have known that he was a -journalist, _he looked so respectable_." - -We are all respectable nowadays. We belong to a recognised profession. -We may pronounce our opinions on all questions of art, taste, religion, -morals, and even finance, with some degree of diffidence: we are at -present merely practising our scales, so to speak, upon our various -"organs," but there is every reason to believe that confidence will come -in due time. Are not our ranks being recruited from Oxford? Some years -ago men drifted into journalism; now it is looked on as a vocation. -Journalism is taken seriously. In a word, we are respectable. Have -we not been entertained by the Lord Mayor of London? Have we not -entertained Monsieur Emile Zola? - -***** - -People have ceased to abuse us as they once did with great freedom: they -merely abuse the journals which support us. This is a healthy sign; for -it may be taken for granted that people will invariably abuse the paper -for which they subscribe. They do not seem to feel that they get the -worth of their subscription unless they do so. It is the same principle -that causes people to sneer at a dinner at which they have been -entertained. If we are not permitted to abuse our host, whom may we -abuse? The one thing that a man abuses more than to-day's paper is the -negligence of the boy who omits to deliver it some morning. Only in one -town where I lived did I find that a newspaper was popular. (It was -not the one for which I wrote.) The fathers and mothers taught their -children to pray, "God bless papa, mamma, and the editor of the -_Clackmannan Standard_." - -I met that editor some years afterwards. He celebrated a sort of -impromptu Comminution Service against the people amongst whom he -had lived. They had never paid for their subscriptions or their -advertisements, and they had thus lowered the _Standard_ of Clackmannan -and of the editor's confidence in his fellow-men. - -***** - -The only newspaper that is in a hopeless condition is the one which is -neither blessed at all nor cursed at all. Such a newspaper appeals to no -section of the public. It has always seemed to me a matter of question -whether a man is better satisfied with a paper that reflects (so far -as it is possible for a paper to do so) his own views, or with one that -reflects the views that he most abhors. I am inclined to believe that -a man is in a better humour with those of his fellow-men whom he has -thoroughly abused, than with the one whom he greets every morning on the -top of his omnibus. - -It is quite a simple matter to abuse a newspaper into popularity. One -of the Georges whose biographies have been so pleasantly and touchingly -written by Thackeray and Mr. Justin M'Carthy, conferred a lasting -popularity upon the man whom he told to get out of his way or he would -kick him out of it. - -The moral of this is, that to be insulted by a monarch confers a greater -distinction upon a man living in Clapham or even Brixton than to be -treated courteously by a greengrocer. - -***** - -But though people continue to abuse the paper for which they subscribe, -and for which they are usually some year or two in arrears in the matter -of payment, still it appears to me that the public are slowly beginning -to comprehend that newspapers are written (mostly) by journalists. -Until recently there was, I think, a notion that journalists sat round -a bar-parlour telling stories and drinking whisky and water while the -newspapers were being produced. The fact is, that most of the surviving -anecdotes of the journalists of a past generation smell of the -bar-parlour. The practical jesters of the fifties and the punsters -of the roaring forties were tap-room journalists. They died hard. -The journalists of to-day do not even smile at those brilliant -sallies--bequeathed by a past generation--about wearing frock-coats and -evening dress, about writing notices of plays without stirring from the -taproom, about the mixing up of criticisms of books with police-court -reports. Such were the humours of journalism thirty or forty years ago. -We have formed different ideas as to the elements of humour in these -days. Whatever we may leave undone it is not our legitimate work. - -***** - -It was when journalism was in a state of transition that a youth, -waiting on a railway platform, was addressed by a stranger (one of those -men who endeavour to make religious zeal a cloak for impertinence)--"My -dear young friend, are you a Christian?" - -"No," said the youth, "I'm a reporter on the _Camberwell Chronicle_." - -On the other hand, it was a very modern journalist whose room was -invaded by a number of pretty little girls one day, just to keep him -company and chat with him for an hour or so, as it was the day his -paper--a weekly one--went to press. In order to get rid of them, he -presented each of them with a copy of a little book which he had just -published, writing on the flyleaf, "With the author's compliments." Just -as the girls were going away, one of them spied a neatly bound Oxford -Bible that was lying on the desk for editorial notice. - -"I should so much like that," she cried, pouncing upon it. - -"Then you shall have it, my dear, if you clear off immediately," said -the editor; and, turning up the flyleaf, he wrote hastily on it, "_With -the author's compliments_." - -Yes, he was a modern journalist, and took a reasonable view of the -authoritative nature of his calling. - -***** - -Our position is, I affirm, becoming recognised by the world; but now and -again I am made to feel that such recognition does not invariably extend -to all the members of our profession. Some years ago I was getting my -hair cut in Regent Street, and, as usual, the practitioner remarked in a -friendly way that I was getting very grey. - -"Yes," I said, "I've been getting a grey hair or so for some time. I -don't know how it is. I'm not much over thirty." (I repeat that the -incident occurred some years ago.) - -"No, sir, you're not what might be called old," said he indulgently. -"Maybe you're doing some brain-work?" he suggested, after a pause. - -"Brain-work?" said I. "Oh no! I work for a daily paper, and usually -write a column of leading articles every night. I produce a book a year, -and a play every now and again. But brain-work--oh no!" - -"Oh, in that case, sir, it must be due to something else. Maybe you -drink a bit, sir." - -I did not buy the bottle which he offered me at four-and-nine. I left -the shop dissatisfied. - -This is why I hesitate to affirm that modern journalism is wholly -understanded of the people. - -But for that matter it is not wholly understanded of the people who -might be expected to know something about it. The proprietor of a -newspaper on which I worked some years ago made use of me one day to -translate a few lines of Greek which appeared on the back of an old -print in his possession. My powers amazed him. The lines were from an -obscure and little-known poem called the "Odyssey." - -"You must read a great deal, my boy," said he. - -I shook my head. - -"The fact is," said I, "I've lately had so much reviewing to do that I -haven't been able to read a single book." - -"That's too hard on you," said he gravely. "Get some of the others of -the staff to help you. You mustn't neglect your reading for the sake of -reviewing." - -I didn't. - -Upon another occasion the son of this gentleman left a message for -me that he had taken a three-volume novel, the name of which he had -forgotten, from a parcel of books that had arrived the previous day, -but that he would like a review of it to appear the next morning, as his -wife said it was a capital story. - -He was quite annoyed when the review did not appear. - -***** - -But there are, I have reason to know, many people who have got no more -modern ideas respecting that branch of journalism known as reviewing. - -"Are you reading that book for pleasure or to criticise it?" I was asked -not so long ago by a young woman who ought to have known better. "Oh, I -forgot," she added, before I could think of anything sharp to say by way -of reply--"I forgot: if you meant to review it you wouldn't read it." - -I thought of the sharp reply two days later. - -So it is, I say, that some of the people who read what we write from -day to day, have still got only the vaguest notions of how our work is -turned out. - -Long ago I used to wish that the reviewers would only read the books I -wrote before criticising them; but now my dearest wish is that they will -review them (favourably) without reading them. - -***** - -I heard some time ago of a Scot who, full of that brave sturdy spirit -of self-reliance which is the precious endowment of the race of North -Britons, came up to London to fight his way in the ranks of literature. -The grand inflexible independence of the man asserted itself with such -obstinacy that he was granted a Civil List Pension; and while in receipt -of this form of out-door relief for poets who cannot sell their poetry, -he began a series of attacks upon literature as a trade, and gave to the -world an autobiography in a sentence, by declaring that literature and -deterioration go hand in hand. - -This was surely a very nasty thing for the sturdy Scotchman, who had -attained to the honourable independence of the national almshouse, -to say, just as people were beginning to look on literature as a -profession. - -But then he sat down and forthwith reeled off a string of doggerel -verses, headed "The Dismal Throng." In this fourth-form satirical -jingle he abused some of the ablest of modern literary men for taking a -pessimistic view of life. Now, who on earth can blame literary men for -feeling a trifle dismal if what the independent pensioner says is true, -and success in literature can only be obtained in exchange for a -soul? The man who takes the most pessimistic view of the profession of -literature should be the last to sneer at a literary man looking sadly -on life. - - - - -CHAPTER II.--THE OLD SCHOOL. - - -_The frock-coat and muffler journalist--A doomed race--One of the -specimens--A masterpiece---"Stilt your friend"--A jaunty emigrant--A -thirsty knave--His one rival--Three crops--His destination--"The -New Grub Street"--A courteous friend--Free lodgings--The foreign -guest--Outside the hall door--The youth who found things--His ring--His -watch--The fruits of modesty--Not to be imitated--A question for -Sherlock Holmes--The liberty of the press--Deadheads._ - - -I HAVE come in contact with many journalists of the old school--the -frock-coat and muffler type. The first of the class whom I met was for -a few months a reporter on a newspaper in Ireland with which I was -connected. He had at one time been a soldier, and had deserted. I tried, -though I was only a boy, to get some information from him that I might -use afterwards, for I recognised his value as the representative of a -race that was, I felt, certain to become extinct. I talked to him as -I talked--with the aid of an interpreter--to a Botjesman in the South -African veldt: I wanted to learn something about the habits of a doomed -type. I succeeded in some measure. - -The result of my researches into the nature of both savages was to -convince me that they were born liars. The reporter carried a pair -of stage whiskers and a beard with him when sent to do any work in a -country district; the fact being that the members of the Royal Irish -Constabulary in the country barracks are the most earnest students -of the paper known as _Hue and Cry_, and the man said that, as his -description appeared in every number of that organ, he should most -certainly be identified by a smart country policeman if he did not wear -a disguise. Years afterwards I got a letter from him from one of her -Majesty's gaols. He wanted the loan of some money and the gift of a hat. - -This man wrote shorthand admirably, and an excellent newspaper English. - -***** - -Another specimen of the race had actually attained to the dizzy eminence -of editor of a fourth-class newspaper in a town of one hundred thousand -inhabitants. In those days Mr. Craven Robertson was the provincial -representative of Captain Hawtree in _Caste_, and upon the Captain -Hawtree of Craven Robertson this "journalist" founded his style. He -wore an eyeglass, a moustache with waxed ends, and a frock coat very -carefully brushed. His hair was thin on the top--but he made the most of -it. He was the sort of man whom one occasionally meets on the Promenade -at Nice, wearing a number of orders on the breast of his coat--the order -of Il Bacio di St. Judus, the scarlet riband of Ste. Rahab di Jericho, -the Brazen Lyre of SS. Ananias and Sapphira. He was the sort of man whom -one styles "Chevalier" by instinct. He was the most plausible knave in -the world, though how people allowed him to cheat them was a mystery to -me. His masterpiece of impudence I have always considered to be a letter -which he wrote to a brother-editor, from whom he had borrowed a sum of -money, to be repaid on the first of the next month. When the appointed -day came he chanced to meet this editor-creditor in the street, and -asking him, with a smile as if he had been on the lookout for him, to -step into the nearest shop, he called for a sheet of paper and a pen, -and immediately wrote an order to the cashier of his paper to pay Mr. G. -the sum of five pounds. - -"There you are, my dear sir," said he. "Just send a clerk round to our -office and hand that to the cashier. Meantime accept my hearty thanks -for the accommodation." - -Mr. G. lost no time in presenting the order; but, as might have been -expected, it was dishonoured by the cashier, who declared that the -editor was already eight months in advance in drawing his salary. Mr. G. -hastened back to his own office and forthwith wrote a letter of furious -upbraidings, in which I have good reason to suspect he expressed -his views of the conduct of his debtor, and threatened to "take -proceedings," as the grammar of the law has it, for the recovery of his -money. - -The next day Mr. G. received back his own letter unopened, but inside -the cover that enclosed it to him was the following:-- - -"My dear Mr. G.,-- - -"You may perhaps be surprised to receive your letter with the seal -unbroken, but when you come to reflect calmly over the unfortunate -incident of your sending it to me, I am sure that you will no longer be -surprised. I am persuaded that you wrote it to me on the impulse of -the moment, otherwise it would not contain the strong language which, -I think I may assume, constitutes the major portion of its contents. -Knowing your natural kindness of disposition, and feeling assured that -in after years the consciousness of having written such a letter to me -would cause you many a pang in your secret moments, I am anxious that -you should be spared much self-reproach, and consequently return your -letter unopened. You will, I am certain, perceive that in adopting this -course I am acting for the best. Do not follow the next impulse of your -heart and ask my forgiveness. I have really nothing to forgive, not -having read your letter. - -"With kindest regards, I remain - -"Still your friend - -"A. Swinne Dell." - -If this transaction does not represent the high-water mark of -knavery--if it does not show something akin to genius in an art that has -many exponents, I scarcely know where one should look for evidence in -this direction. - -Five years after the disappearance of Mr. A. Swinne Dell from the scene -of this _coup_ of his, I caught a glimpse of him among the steerage -passengers aboard a steamer that called at Madeira when I was spending -a holiday at that lovely island. His frock-coat was giving signs (about -the collar) of wear, and also (under the arms) of tear. I could not see -his boots, but I felt sure that they were down at the heel. Still, -he held his head jauntily as he pointed out to a fellow-passenger the -natural charms of the landscape above Funchal. - -Another of the old school who pursued a career of knavery by the light -of the sacred lamp of journalism was, I regret to say, an Irishman. His -powers of absorbing drink were practically unlimited. I never knew but -one rival to him in this way, and that was when I was in South Africa. -We had left our waggon, and were crouching in most uncomfortable -postures behind a mighty cactus on the bank of a river, waiting for the -chance of potting a gemsbok that might come to drink. Instead of the -graceful gemsbok there came down to the water a huge hippopotamus. He -had clearly been having a good time among the native mealies, and had -come for some liquid refreshment before returning to his feast. He did -not plunge into the water, but simply put his head down to it and began -to drink. After five minutes or so we noticed an appreciable fall in the -river. After a quarter of an hour great rocks in the river-bed began to -be disclosed. At the end of twenty minutes the broad stream had dwindled -away to a mere trickle of water among the stones. At the end of half an -hour we began to think that he had had as much as was good for him--we -wanted a kettleful of water for our tea--so I put an elephant cartridge -('577) into my rifle and aimed at the brute's eye. He lifted up his head -out of pure curiosity, and perceiving that men with rifles were handy, -slouched off, grumbling like a professional agitator on being turned out -of a public house. - -That hippopotamus was the only rival I ever knew to the old-school -journalist whose ways I can recall--only he was never known to taste -water. Like the man in one of H. J. Byron's plays, he could absorb any -"given"--I use the word advisedly--any given quantity of liquor. - -"Are you ever sober, my man?" I asked of him one day. - -"I'm sober three times a day," he replied huskily. "I'm sober now. This -is one of the times," he added mournfully. - -"You were blind drunk this morning--I can swear to that," said I. - -"Oh, yes," he replied promptly. "But what'se good of raking up the past, -sir? Let the dead past burits dead." He took a step or two toward the -door, and then returned. He carefully brushed a speck of dust off the -rim of his hat. All such men wear the tallest of silk hats, and seem to -feel that they would be scandalised by the appearance of a speck of dust -on the nap. "D'ye know that I can take three crops out of myself in the -day?" he inquired blandly. - -"Three crops?" - -"Three crops--I said so, of drunk. I rise in morn'n,--drunk before -twelve; sleep it off by two, and drunk again by five; sleep it off by -eight--do my work and go to bed drunk at two a.m. You haven't such a -thing as half-a-crown about you, sir? I left my purse on the grand piano -before I came out." - -I was under the impression that this particular man was dead years ago; -and I was thus greatly surprised when, on jumping on a tramcar in a -manufacturing town in Yorkshire quite recently, I recognised my old -friend in a man who had just awakened in a corner, and was endeavouring -to attract the attention of the conductor. When, after much incipient -whistling and waving of his arms, he succeeded in drawing the conductor -to his side, he inquired if the car was anywhere near the Wilfrid Lawson -Temperance Hotel. - -"I'll let you down when we come to it," said the conductor. - -"Do," said the other in his old husky tones. - -"Lemme down at the Wellfed Laws Tenpence Otell." - -In another minute he was fast asleep as before. - -***** - -At present no penal consequences follow any one who calls himself a -literary man. It is taken for granted, I suppose, that the crime brings -its own punishment. - -One of the most depressing books that any one straying through the -King's Highway of literature could read is Mr. George Gissing's "The New -Grub Street." What makes it all the more depressing is the fact of its -carrying conviction with it to all readers. Every one must feel that -the squalor described in this book has a real existence. The only -consolation that any one engaged in a branch of literature can have on -reading "The New Grub Street," comes from the reflection that not one of -the poor wretches described in its pages had the least aptitude for the -business. - -In a town of moderate size in which I lived, there were forty men and -women who described themselves for directory purposes as "novelists." -Not one of them had ever published a volume; but still they all -believed themselves to be novelists. There are thousands of men who -call themselves journalists even now, but who are utterly incapable of -writing a decent "par." I have known many such men. The most incompetent -invariably become dissatisfied with life in the provinces, and hurry -off to London, having previously borrowed their train fare. I constantly -stumble upon provincial failures in London. Sometimes on the Embankment -I literally stumble upon them, for I have found them lying in shady -nooks there trying to forget the world's neglect in sleep. - -Why on earth such men take to journalism has always been a mystery to -me. If they had the least aptitude for it they would be earning money by -journalism instead of trying to borrow half-crowns as journalists. - -***** - -I knew of one who, several years ago, migrated to London. For a long -time I heard nothing about him; but one night a friend of mine mentioned -his name, and asked me if I had ever known him. - -"The fact is," said he, "I had rather a curious experience of him a few -months ago." - -"You were by no means an exception to the general run of people who have -ever come in contact with him," said I. "What was your experience?" - -"Well," replied he, "I came across him casually one night, and as he -seemed inclined to walk in my direction, I asked him if he would mind -coming on to my lodgings to have a bottle of beer. He found that his -engagements for the night permitted of his doing so, and we strolled -on together. I found that there was supper enough for two adults in -the locker, and our friend found that his engagements permitted of his -taking a share in the humble repast. He took fully his share of the -beer, and then I offered him a pipe, and stirred up the fire. - -"We talked until two o'clock in the morning, and, as he told me he -lived about five miles away--he didn't seem quite sure whether it was -at Hornsey or Clapham--I said he could not do better than occupy a spare -truckle that was in my bedroom. He said he thought that I was right, and -we retired. We breakfasted together in the morning, and then we walked -into Fleet Street, where we parted. That night he overtook me on my way -to my lodgings, and in the friendliest manner possible accompanied me -thither. Here the programme of the night before was repeated. The third -night I quite expected to be overtaken by him; but I was mistaken. I was -not overtaken by him: he was sitting in my lodgings waiting for me. -He gave me a most cordial welcome--I will say that for him. The night -following I had a sort of instinct that I should find him waiting for me -again in my sitting-room. Once more I was mistaken. He was not waiting -for me; he had already eaten his supper--_my supper_, and had gone to -bed--_my bed_; but with his usual thoughtfulness, he had left a short -note for me upbraiding me, but in a genial and quite a gentlemanly way, -for staying out so late, and begging me not to awake him, as he was very -tired, and--also genially--inquiring if it was absolutely necessary -for me to make such a row in my bath in the mornings. He was a light -sleeper, he said, and a little noise disturbed him. I did not awake him; -but the next morning I was distinctly cool towards him. I remarked that -I thought it unlikely that I should be at home that night. He begged -of me not to allow him to interfere with my plans. When I returned that -night, I found him sitting at my table playing cards with a bleareyed -foreigner, whom he courteously introduced as his friend Herr Vanderbosch -or something. - -"'Draw your chair to the table, old chap, and join in with us. I'll see -that you get something to drink in a minute,' said he. - -"I thanked him, but remarked that I had a conscientious objection to all -games of cards. - -"'Soh?' said the foreigner. 'Das is yust var yo makes ze mistook. Ze -game of ze gards it is grand--soblime!' - -"He added a few well-chosen sentences about sturm und drang or -something; and in about five minutes I found myself getting a complete -slanging for my narrow-minded prejudices, and for my attempt to curtail -the innocent recreation of others. I will say this for our friend, -however: he never for a moment allowed our little difference on what was -after all a purely academic question, to interfere with his display of -hospitality to myself and Herr Vanderbosch. He filled our tumblers, and -was lavish with the tobacco jar. When I rose to go to bed he called me -aside, and said he had made arrangements for me to sleep in the truckle -for the night, in order to admit of his occupying my bed with Herr -Vanderbosch--the poor devil, he explained to me with many deprecating -nods, had not, he feared, any place to sleep that night. But at this -point I turned. I assured him that I was constitutionally unfitted for -sleeping in a truckle, or, in fact, in any bed but my own. - -"'All right,' he cried in a huff, 'I'll sleep in the truckle, and I'll -make up a good fire for him to sleep before on the sofa.' - -"Well, we all breakfasted together, and the next night the two gentlemen -appeared once more at the door of the house. They were walking in as -usual, when the landlady asked them where they were going. - -"'Why, upstairs, to be sure,' said our friend. "'Oh no!' said the -landlady, 'you're not doing that. Mr. Plantagenet has left his rooms -and gone to the country for a month--maybe two--and the rooms is let -to another gent.' "Well, our friend swore that he had been treated -infernally, and Herr Vanderbosch alluded to me as a schweinhund--I heard -him. I fancy the word must be a term of considerable opprobrium in the -German tongue. Anyhow, they didn't get past the landlady,--she takes a -large size in doors,--and after a while our friend's menaces dwindled -down to a request to be permitted to remove his luggage. - -"'I'll bring it down to you,' said the landlady; and she shut the hall -door very gently, leaving them on the step outside. When she brought -down the luggage--it consisted of three paper collars and one cuff with -a fine carbuncle stud in it--they were gone. - -"Our friend told some one the other day of the disgraceful way I had -treated him and his foreign associate. But he says he would not have -minded so much if the landlady had not shut the door so gently." - -***** - -Another remarkable pressman with whom I came in contact several years -ago was a member of the reporting staff of an Irish newspaper. One day I -noticed him wearing what appeared to me to be an extremely fine ring. -It was set with an antique polished intaglio surrounded by diamonds. The -ring was probably unique, and would be worth perhaps 70 to a collector. -I have seen very inferior mediaeval intaglios sold for that sum. I -examined the diamonds with a lens, and then inquired of the youth where -he had bought it, and if he was anything of a collector. - -"I picked it up going home one wet night," he replied. "I advertised for -the owner in all the papers for a week--it cost me thirty shillings in -that way,--but no one ever came forward to claim it. I would gladly have -sold the thing for thirty shillings at the end of a month; but then I -found that it was worth close upon a hundred pounds." - -"You're the luckiest chap I ever met," said I. - -In the course of a short time another of the reporters asked me if I had -ever seen the watch that the same youth habitually wore. I replied that -I had never seen it, but should like to do so. The same night I was -in the reporters' room, when the one who had mentioned the watch to me -asked the wearer of the article if ten o'clock had yet struck. The youth -forthwith drew out of his pocket one of the most charming little watches -I ever saw. The back was Italian enamel on gold, both outside and -within, and the outer case was bordered with forty-five rubies. A black -pearl about the size of a pea was at the bow, right round the edge of -the case were diamonds, and in the rim for the glass were twenty-five -rubies and four stones which I fancied at a casual glance were pale -sapphires. I examined these stones with my magnifier, and I thought I -should have fainted when I found that they were blue diamonds. - - "Le Temps est pour l'Homme, - - L'Eternit est pour l'Amour" - -was the inscription which I managed to make out on the dial. - -I handed back the watch to the reporter--his salary was 120 per -annum--and inquired if he had found this article also. - -"Yes," he said, with a laugh. "I picked that up, curiously enough, -during a trip that I once made to the Scilly Islands. I advertised it in -the Plymouth papers the next day, for I believed it to have been dropped -by some wealthy tourist; but I got no applicant for it; and then I came -to the conclusion that the watch had been among the treasures of some of -the descendants of the smugglers and wreckers of the old days. It keeps -good enough time now, though a watchmaker valued the works at five -shillings." - -"Any time you want a hundred pounds--a hundred and fifty pounds," said -I, "don't hesitate to bring that watch to me. Have you found many other -articles in the course of your life?" I asked, as I was leaving the -room. - -"Lots," he replied. "When I was in Liverpool I lived about two miles -from my office, and through getting into a habit of keeping my eyes -on the ground, I used to come across something almost every week. -Unfortunately, most of my finds were claimed by the owners." - -"You have no reason to complain," said I. - -I was set thinking if there might not be the potentialities of wealth in -the art of walking with one's eyes modestly directed to the ground; and -for three nights I was actually idiot enough to walk home from my -office with looks, not "commercing with the skies," but--it was purely -a question of commerce--with the pavements. The first night I nearly -transfixed a policeman with my umbrella, for the rain was coming down -in torrents; the second, I got my hat knocked into the mud by coming in -contact with the branch of a tree overhanging the railings of a square, -and the third I received the impact of a large-boned tipsy man, who was, -as the idiom of the country has it, trying to walk on both sides of the -road at once. - -I held up my head in future. - -The reporter left the newspaper in the course of a few months, and I -never saw him again. But quite recently I was reading Miss Dougall's -novel "Beggars All," and when I came upon the account of the reporter -who carries out several adroit schemes of burglary, the recollection of -the remarkable "finds" of the young man whose ring and watch had -excited my envy, flashed across my mind; and I began to wonder if it -was possible that he had pursued a similar course to that which Miss -Dougall's hero found so profitable. I should like to consult Mr. -Sherlock Holmes on this point when he returns from Switzerland--we -expect him every day. - -At any rate, it is certain that the calling of a reporter would afford -many opportunities to a clever burglar, or even an adroit pickpocket. -A reporter can take his walks abroad at any hour of the night without -exciting the suspicion of a policeman; or, should such suspicion be -aroused, he has only to say "Press," and he may go anywhere he pleases. -The Press rush in where the public dare not tread; and no one need be -surprised if some day a professional burglar takes to stenography as an -auxiliary to the realisation of his illegitimate aims. - -***** - -One of the countless St. Peter stories has this privilege of the Press -for its subject, and a reporter for its hero. This gentleman was walking -jauntily through the gate of him "who keeps the keys," but was stopped -by the stern janitor, who inquired if he had a ticket. - -"Press," said the reporter, trying to pass. - -"What do you mean by that? You know you can't be admitted anywhere -without a ticket." - -"I tell you that I belong to the Press; you don't expect a reporter to -pay, do you?" - -"Why not? Why shouldn't you be treated the same as the rest of the -people? I can't make flesh of one and fish of another," added St. Peter, -as if a professional reminiscence had occurred to him. - -The reporter suddenly brightened up. "I don't want exceptional -treatment," said he. "Now that I come to think of it, aren't they all -_deadheads_ who come here?" - -I fancy that reporter was admitted. - - - - -CHAPTER III.--THE EDITOR OF THE PAST. - - -_Proprietary rights--Proprietary wrongs--Exclusive rights--The -"leaders" of a party--The fossil editor--The man and the dog and the -boar--An unpublished history--The newspaper hoax--A premature obituary -notice--The accommodating surgeon--A matter of business--The death of -Mr. Robinson--The quid pro quo_'. - -IT is only within the past few years that the Editor has obtained -public recognition as a personality; previously his personality was -merged in the proprietor, and when his efforts were successful in -keeping a Corporation from making fools of themselves--this is assuming -an extreme case of success--or in exposing some attempted fraud that -would have ruined thousands of people, he was compelled to accept his -reward through the person of the proprietor. The proprietor was made -a J.P., and sometimes even became Mayor or Chairman of the Board of -Guardians, when the editor succeeded in making the paper a power in the -county. Latterly, however, the editors of some provincial journals have -been obtaining recognition. - -They have been granted the dubious honour of knighthood; and the public -have discovered that the brains which have dictated a policy that -has influenced the destinies of a Ministry, may be entrusted with the -consideration of sewage and main drainage questions on a Town Council, -or with the question of the relative degrees of culpability of a man who -jumps upon his wife's face and is fined ten shillings, and the boy -who steals a raw turnip and is sent to a reformatory for five years--a -period quite insufficient for the adequate digestion of that comestible, -which it would appear boys are ready to sacrifice years of their liberty -to obtain. - -I must say that, with one exception, the proprietors whom I have met -were highly competent business men--men whose judgment and public -spirit were deserving of that wide recognition which they nearly -always obtained from their fellow-citizens. One, and one only, was not -precisely of this type. He used to write with a blue pencil across an -article some very funny comments. - -I have before me at this moment a letter in which he asked me to -abbreviate something; and he gave me an example of how to do it by -cutting out a letter of the word--he spelt it _abrievate_. - -He had a perfect passion for what he called "exclusives." The most -trivial incident--the overturning of a costermonger's barrow, and the -number of the contents sustaining fatal injuries; the blowing off of -a clergyman's hat in the street, with a professional opinion as to the -damage done; the breaking of a window in a private house--he regarded as -good foundation for an "exclusive"; and indeed it must be said that the -information given to the public by the organ of which he was proprietor -was rarely ever to be found in a rival paper. At the same time, upon -no occasion of his obtaining a really important piece of news did he -succeed in keeping it from the others. This annoyed him extremely He was -in great demand as chairman of amateur reciting classes--a distinction -that was certainly dearly purchased. I never knew of one of these -reciting entertainments being refused a full report in his newspaper -upon any occasion when he presided. He also aspired to the chairmanship -of small political meetings, and once when he found himself in such a -position, he said he would sing the audience a song, and he carried out -his threat. His song was probably more convincing than his speech would -have been. He had a famous story for platform use. It concerned a donkey -that he knew when they were both young. - -He said it made people laugh, and it surely did. At a public dinner he -formulated the plausible theory that to be a good player of golf was to -be a gentleman. He was a poor golfer himself. - -***** - -Now, regarding London editors I have not much to say. I am not -personally acquainted with any one of them. But for twelve years I -read every political article that appeared in each of the six principal -London daily papers; I also read a report of every speech made in the -House of Commons, and of every speech made by a statesman of Cabinet -rank outside Parliament; and I am prepared to say that the great -majority of these speeches bore the most unmistakable evidence of -being--well, not exactly inspired by, but certainly influenced by some -leading article. In one word, my experience is that what the newspapers -say in the morning the statesmen say in the evening. - -Of course Mr. Gladstone must not be included in the statesmen to whom -I refer. His inspiration comes from another direction. That is how he -succeeds in startling so many people. - -The majority of provincial editors include, I have good reason to know, -some of the best men in the profession. Only here and there does one -meet with a fossil of journalism who is content to write a column of -platitudes over a churchwarden pipe and then to go home to sleep. - -With only one such did I come in contact recently. He was connected with -a newspaper which should have had unbounded influence in its district, -but which had absolutely none. The "editor" was accustomed to enter his -room about noon, and he left it between seven and eight in the evening, -having turned out a column of matter of which he was an earnest reader -the next morning. And yet this same newspaper received during the night -sometimes twelve columns of telegraphic news and verbatim reports of the -chief speeches in Parliament. - -The poor old gentleman had never been in London, and never could see -why I should be so constantly going to that city. He was under the -impression that George Eliot was a man, and he one day asked me what -the Royal Academy was. Having learned that it was a place where pictures -that richly deserved exposure were hung, he shortly afterwards -assumed that the French Academy was a gallery in which naughty French -pictures--he assumed that everything French was naughty--were exhibited. -He occasionally referred to the _Temps_ phonetically, and up to the -day of his death he never knew why I laughed when I first heard his -pronunciation of the name of that organ. - -The one dread of his life was that I might some time inadvertently -suggest that I was the editor of the paper. As if any sane human being -would have such an aspiration! His opportunity came at last. A cabinet -photograph of a man and a dog arrived at the office one day addressed -to the editor. He hastened to the proprietor and "proved" that the -photograph represented me and my dog, and that it had been addressed "to -the editor." The proprietor was not clever enough to perceive that -the features of the portrait in no way resembled those with which I -am obliged to put up, and so I ran a chance of being branded as a -pretender. - -Fortunately, however, the fascinating little daughter of the proprietary -household contrived to see the photograph, and on being questioned as -to its likeness to a member of the staff, declared that there was no one -half so goodlooking connected with the paper. On being assured that the -original had already been identified, she expressed her willingness to -stake five pounds upon her opinion; and the injured editor accepted her -offer. - -Now, all this time I had never been applied to by the disputants, though -I might have been expected to know something of the matter,--people -generally remember a visit to their photographer or their -stockbroker,--but just as the young lady was about to appeal to me as -an unprejudiced arbiter on the question at issue, the manager of the -advertisement department sent to inquire if any one on the editorial -staff had come upon a photograph of a man and a collie. An advertisement -for a lost collie had, he said, been appearing in the paper, and a -postcard had just been received from the owner stating that he had -forwarded a photograph of the animal, in order that, should any one -bring a collie to the office and claim the reward, the advertising -department would be in a position to see that the animal was the right -one. - -The young lady got her five pounds, and, having a considerable interest -in the stocking of a farm, purchased with it an active young boar which, -in an impulse of flattery, she named after me, and which, so far as I -have been able to gather, is doing very well, and has already seen his -children's children. - -When I asked the young lady why she had called the animal after me, she -said it was because he was a bore. She had a graceful wit. - -In a weak moment this editor confided to me that he was engaged in -writing a book--"A History of the Orange" was to be the title, he told -me; and he added that I could have no idea of the trouble it was causing -him; but there he was wrong. After this he was in the habit of writing -a note to me about once a week, asking me if I would oblige him by doing -his work for him, as all his time was engrossed by his "History." -It appears to me rather melancholy that the lack of enterprise among -publishers is so great that this work has not yet been given a chance -of appearing. I looked forward to it to clear up many doubtful points of -great interest. Up to the present, for instance, no intelligent effort -has been made to determine if it was the introduction of the orange -into Great Britain that brought about the Sunday-school treat, or if the -orange was imported in order to meet the legitimate requirements of this -entertainment. - -***** - -Human nature---and there is a good deal of it in a large manufacturing -centre--could not be restrained in the neighbourhood of such a relic of -a past generation, and, consequently, that form of pleasantry known -as the hoax was constantly attempted upon him. One morning the -correspondence columns, which he was supposed to edit with scrupulous -care, appeared headed with an account of the discovery of some ancient -pottery bearing a Latin inscription--the most venerable and certainly -the most transparent of newspaper hoaxes. - -It need scarcely be said that there was an extraordinary demand for -copies of the issue of that day; but luckily the thing was discovered -in time to disappoint a large number of those persons who came to the -office to mock at the simplicity of the good old soul, who fancied he -had found a congenial topic when he received the letter headed with an -appeal to archologists. - -Is there a more contemptible creature in the world than the newspaper -hoaxer? The wretch who can see fun in obtaining the publication of some -filthy phrase in a newspaper that is certain to be read by numbers of -women, should, in my mind, be treated as the flinger of a dynamite bomb -among a crowd of innocent people. The sender of a false notice of a -marriage, a birth, or a death, is usually difficult to bring to justice, -but when found, he--or she--should be treated as a social leper. The -pain caused by such heartless hoaxes is incalculable. - -***** - -Sometimes a careless reporter, or foreman printer, is unwittingly the -means of causing much annoyance, and even consternation, by allowing an -obituary notice to appear prematurely. On every well-managed paper there -is a set of pigeon-holed obituaries of eminent persons, local as well as -national. When it is almost certain that one of them is at the point of -death, the sketch is written up to the latest date, and frequently put -in type, to be ready in case the news of the death should arrive when -the paper is going to press. Now, I have known of several cases in which -the "set-up" obituary notice contrived to appear before the person -to whom it referred had breathed his last. This is undoubtedly a very -painful occurrence, and in some cases it may actually precipitate the -incident which it purports to record. Personally, I should not consider -myself called on to die because a newspaper happened to publish an -account of my death; but I know of at least one case in which a -man actually succumbed out of compliment to a newspaper that had -accidentally recorded his death. - -That person was not made of the same fibre as a certain eminent surgeon -with whom I was well acquainted. He was thoughtful enough to send for -a reporter on one Monday evening, and said that as he did not wish -the pangs of death to be increased by the reflection that a ridiculous -sketch of his career would be published in the newspapers, he thought -he would just dictate three-quarters of a column of such a character -as would allow of his dying without anything on his mind. Of course the -reporter was delighted, and commenced as usual:-- - -"It is with the deepest regret that we have to announce this morning the -decease of one of our most eminent physicians, and best-known citizens. -Dr. Theobald Smith, M.Sc., F.R.C.S.E., passed peacefully away at o'clock -{last night/this morning} at his residence, Pharmakon House, surrounded -by the members of the family to whom he was so deeply attached, and to -whom, though a father, he was still a friend." - -"Now, sir," said the reporter, "I've left a space for the hour, and I -can strike out either 'last night,' or 'this morning,' when I hear of -your death." - -"That's right," said the doctor. "Now, I'll give you some particulars of -my life." - -"Thanks," said the reporter. "You will not exceed three-quarters of a -column, for we're greatly crushed for space just now. If you could put -it off till Sunday, I could give you a column with leads, as Parliament -doesn't sit on Saturday." - -It seemed a tempting offer; but the doctor, after pondering for a few -moments, as if trying to recollect his engagements, shook his head, and -said he would be glad to oblige, but the matter had really passed beyond -his control. - -"But there'll surely be time for you to see a proof?" cried the -reporter, with some degree of anxiety in his voice. - -"I'll take good care of that," said the doctor. "You can send it to me -in the morning. I think I'll die between eleven and twelve at night." - -"That would suit us exactly," said the reporter genially. "We could then -send the obituary away in the first page at one o'clock. The foreman -grumbles if he has to put obituaries on page 5, which goes down to the -machine at half-past three." - -The doctor said that of course business was business, and he should do -his best to accommodate the foreman. - -He died that night at twenty minutes past eleven. - -***** - -I have suggested the possibility of the record of a death in a public -print having a disastrous effect upon a sick man, and the certainty -of its causing pain to his relatives. This view was not taken by the -eccentric proprietor to whom I have already alluded. Upon one occasion -he heard casually that a man named Robinson had just died. He hastened -to his office, found a reporter, and told him to write a paragraph -regretting the death of Mr. Richard Robinson. He assumed that it was -Richard Robinson who was dead, but it so happened that it was Mr. Thomas -Robinson, although Mr. Richard Robinson had been in feeble health for -some time. Now, when the son of the living Mr. Robinson called upon the -proprietor the next day to state that his father had read the paragraph -recording his death, and that the shock had completely prostrated him, -the proprietor turned round upon him, and said that Mr. Robinson and -his family should rather feel extremely grateful for the appearance of -a paragraph of so complimentary a character. Young Mr. Robinson, fearing -that the next move on the part of the proprietor would be to demand -payment for the paragraph at scale rates, begged that his intrusion -might be pardoned; and hurried away congratulating himself at having -escaped very easily. - -***** - -Editors are always supposed to know nearly everything, and they -nearly always do. In this respect they differ materially from the -representatives of other professions. If you were to ask the average -clergyman--if there is such a thing as an average clergyman--what he -thought of the dramatic construction of a French vaudeville, he would -probably feel hurt; but if an editor failed to give an intelligent -opinion on this subject, as well as upon the tendencies to Socinianism -displayed in the sermon of an eminent Churchman, he would be regarded -as unfit for his business. You can get an intelligent opinion from -an editor on almost any subject; but you are lucky if you can get an -intelligent opinion on any one subject from the average professional -man--a lawyer, of course, excepted. - -But undoubtedly curious specimens of editors might occasionally have -been found in the smaller newspaper offices in the provinces long ago. -More than twenty years have passed since the sub-editor of a rather -important paper in a town in the Midlands interviewed, on a matter of -professional etiquette, the editor--he was an Irishman--of a struggling -organ in the same town. - -It appeared that the chief reporter of the sub-editor's paper had given -some paragraph of news to a brother on the second paper, and yet when -the latter was respectfully asked for an equivalent, he refused it; -hence the need for diplomatic representations. - -"I say that our reporters must have a _quid pro quo_ in every case where -they have given a par. to yours," said the sub-editor, who was entrusted -with the negotiations. - -"Must have a what?" asked the Irish editor. "A _quid pro quo_," said the -sub-editor. "Now I've come here for the _quid_ and I don't mean to go -until I get it." - -The editor looked at him, then felt for something in his waistcoat -pocket. Producing a piece of that sort of tobacco known as Limerick -twist, he bit it in two, and offered one portion to the sub-editor, -saying, "There's your quid for you; but, so help me Gad, I've only got -what you see in my mouth to last me till morning." - - - - -CHAPTER IV.--THE UNATTACHED EDITOR. - - -_The "casual" word--The mighty hunter--The retort discourteous--How the -editor's chair was broken--An explanation on a clove--The master of -a system--A hitch in the system--The two Alhambras--A parallel--The -unattached parson--Another system--A father's legacy--The sermon--The -imagination and its claims--The evening service--Saying a few -words--Antique carved oak--How the chaplain's doubts were dispersed--A -literary tinker--A tinker's triumph--The two Joneses._ - - -THE "scratch" editor also may now and again be found to possess -some eccentricities. He is the man who is taken on a newspaper in an -emergency to fill the place of an editor who may perhaps be suffering -from a serious illness, or who may, in an unguarded moment, have died. -There is a class of journalists with whom being out of employment -amounts almost to a profession in itself. But the "unattached" editor is -usually no more brilliant a man than the unattached gentleman "in holy -orders"--the clergyman who appears suddenly at the vestry door carrying -a black bag, and probably with his nose a little red (the result of a -cold railway journey), and who introduces himself to the sexton as ready -to do duty for the legitimate, but temporarily incapacitated, incumbent, -whose telegram he had received only the previous day. - -As the congregation are glad to get any one who can read the prayers -with an air of authority in the absence of their pastor, so the -proprietors of a newspaper are sometimes pleased to welcome the -"scratch," or casual, editor. - -I have met with a few of the class, but never with one whose chronic -unattached condition I could not easily account for, before we had been -together long. Most of them hated journalism---and everything else -(with one important exception). All of them boasted of their feats as -journalists. A fine crusted specimen was accustomed to declare nightly -that he had once kept hunters; another that he had not always been -connected with such a miserable rag as the journal on which he was -temporarily employed. - -"I've been on the best papers in the three kingdoms," he shouted one -night. - -"That's only another way of saying that you've been kicked off the most -influential organs in the country," remarked a bystander. - -"If you don't look out you'll soon be kicked off another." - -No verbal retort is possible to such brutality of language. None was -attempted. - -When I was explaining, the next day, to the proprietor how the chair in -the editor's room came to be broken, and also how the silhouette of an -octopus came to be executed so boldly in ink upon the wall of the -same apartment, the "scratch" editor (his appellation had a double -significance this day) entered suddenly. He said he had come to explain -something. - -Now when a literary gentleman appears with long strips of sticking -plaster loosely adhering to one side of his face, as white caterpillars -adhere to a garden wall, and when, moreover, the perfume that floats on -the air at his approach is that of a peppermint lozenge that has been -preserved from decay in alcohol, any explanation that he may offer -in regard to a preceding occurrence is likely to be received with -suspicion, if not with absolute distrust. In this case, however, no -opportunity was given the man for justifying any claim that he might -advance to be credited. - -The proprietor assured him that he had already received an account of -the deplorable occurrence of the night before, and that he hoped mutual -apologies would be made in the course of the day, so that, in diplomatic -language, the incident might be considered closed before night. - -The "scratch" man breathed again--heavily, alcoholically, -peppermintally. And before night I managed to sticking-plaster up a -peace between the belligerents. - -At the end of a month some busybody outside the paper had the bad taste -to point out to the proprietor that one of the leading articles--the one -contributed by the "scratch" man--in a recent issue of the paper, was -to a word identical with one which had appeared a fortnight before in a -Scotch paper of some importance. The "scratch" man explained--on alcohol -and a clove--that the Scotch paper had copied his article. But the -proprietor expressed his grave doubts on this point, his chief reason -for adopting this course being that the Scotch paper with the article -had appeared ten days previously. Then the "scratch" man said the matter -was a singular, but by no means unprecedented, coincidence. - -The proprietor opened the office door. - -***** - -One of the most interesting of these "casuals" had been a clergyman (he -said). I never was quite successful in finding out with what Church he -had been connected, nor, although pressed for a reply, would he ever -reveal to me how he came to find himself outside the pale of his -Church--whatever it was. He had undoubtedly some of the mannerisms of a -clergyman who is anxious that every one should know his profession, and -he could certainly look out of the corners of his eyes with the best of -them. Like the parson who is so very "low" that he steadily refuses to -cross his t's lest he should be accused of adopting Romish emblems, he -declined to turn his head without moving his whole body. - -He wore rusty cloth gloves. - -He was also the most adroit thief whom I ever met; and I have lived -among some adroit ones in my time. - -I never read such brilliant articles as he wrote nightly--never, until I -came upon the same articles in old files of the London newspapers, where -they had originally appeared. The original articles from which his were -copied _verbatim_ were, I admit, quite as brilliant as his. - -His _modus operandi_ was simplicity itself. He kept in his desk a -series of large books for newspaper cuttings, and these were packed with -articles on all manner of subjects, clipped from the best newspapers. -Every day he spent an hour making these extracts, by the aid of a pot of -paste, and indexing them on the most perfect system of double entry that -could be conceived. - -At night I frequently came down to my office and found that he had -written two columns of the most delightful essays. One might, perhaps, -be on the subject of Moresco-Gothic Architecture and its influence -on the genius of Velasquez, another on Battueshooting and the -Acclimatisation of the Bird of Paradise in English coverts; but both -were treated with equal grace. That such erudition and originality -should be associated with cloth gloves astonished me. One day, however, -the man wrote a column upon the decoration of one of the courts of the -Alhambra, and a more picturesque article I never read--up to a certain -point; and this point was reached when he commenced a new paragraph as -follows:-- - -"Alas! that so lovely a piece of work should have fallen a prey to the -devastating element that laid the whole structure in ruins, and eclipsed -the gaiety, if not of nations, at any rate of the people of London, who -were wont to resort nightly to this Thespian temple of Leicester Square, -feeling certain that under the liberal management of its enterprising -_entrepreneur_ some brilliant stage spectacle would be brought before -their eyes. Now, however, that the company for the restoration of the -building has been successfully floated, we may hope for a revival of the -ancient glories of the Alhambra." - -I inquired casually of the perpetrator of the article if he had ever -heard of the Alhambra? - -"Why, I wrote of it yesterday," he said. - -"I've been in it; it's in Leicester Square." - -"Did you ever hear of another Alhambra?" - -I asked blandly. - -"Yes; there's one in Glasgow." - -"Did you ever hear of one that wasn't a music-hall?" - -"Never. Maybe the temperance people give one of their new-fashioned -coffee places the name to attract sinners on false pretences." - -"Did you ever hear of an Alhambra in Spain?" - -"You don't mean to say that they have music-halls in Spain? But why -shouldn't they? Spaniards are fond of dancing, I believe." - -"Why not indeed?" said I. - -The next day he had an explanation to offer to the chief of the staff. -In the evening he told me that he was going to leave the paper. - -"How is that?" I inquired. - -"I don't like it," he replied. "My ideas are cribbed, cabined, and -confined here." - -"They are certainly cribbed," said I. "Did you never hear of the Alhambra -at Grenada?" - -"Never; that's what played the mischief with the article. You'll see how -the mistake arose. There was a capital article in the _Telegraph_ about -the Alhambra--I see now that it must have referred to the one in -Spain--about four years ago; well, I cut it out and indexed it. A year -ago, when the Alhambra in Leicester Square was about to re-open, there -was an article in the _Daily News_. I found it in my index also, and -incorporated the two articles in mine. How the mischief was I to know -that one referred to Grenada and the other to London? These writer chaps -should be more explicit. What do they get their salaries for, anyway?" - -***** - -I have referred to a certain resemblance existing between the unattached -parson and the unattached editor. This resemblance is the more impressed -on me now that, after recalling a memory of an appropriator of another -man's literary work by the "casual" editor, I can recollect how I lived -for some years next door to a "casual" parson, who had annexed a bagful -of sermons left by his father, one of which he preached whenever he -obtained an engagement. It was said that on receiving the usual telegram -from a disabled rector on Saturday evening, he was accustomed to go to -the sermon-sack, and, putting his hand down the mouth, take out a sermon -with the same ease and confidence as are displayed by the professional -rat-catcher in extracting from his bag one of its lively contents for -the gratification of a terrier. It so happened, however, that upon -a fine Sunday morning, he set out to do duty for a clergyman at a -distance, having previously felt about the sermon-sack until he found -a good fat roll of manuscript, which he stuffed into his pocket. He -reached the church--in which, it should be mentioned, he had never -before preached--and, bustling through the service with his accustomed -celerity, ascended the pulpit and flattened out with a slap or two -the sermon on the cushion in front of him. The sermon proved to be the -valedictory one preached by his father in the church of which he had -been rector for half a century. It was unquestionably a very fine -effort, but it might seem to some people to lack local colour. Delivered -in a church to which the preacher was a complete stranger, it had a -certain amount of inappropriateness about it which might reasonably be -expected to diminish from its effect. - -"It is a solemn moment for us all, my dear, dear friends. It is a solemn -moment for you, but ah! how much more solemn for me! Sunday after Sunday -for the past fifty years I have stood in the pulpit where I stand to-day -to preach the Gospel of Truth. I see before me now the well-known faces -of my flock. Those who were young when I first came among you are now -well stricken in years. Some whom I baptised as infants, have brought -their infants to me to be baptised; these in turn have been spared to -bring their infants to be admitted into the membership of the Church -Militant. For fifty years have I not taken part in your joys and your -sorrows, and now who shall say that the hour of parting should not be -bitter? I see tears on the faces before me----" - -And the funny part of the matter was that he did. No one present -seemed to see anything inappropriate in the sermon; and at the pathetic -references to the hour of parting, there was not a dry eye in the -church--except the remarkably bright pair possessed by a female scoffer, -who told the story to me. It was not to be expected that the clergyman -would become aware of the mistake--if it was a mistake--that he had -made: he had for years been a preaching machine, and had become as -devoid of feeling as a barrel organ; but it seemed to me incredible that -only one person in the church should discover the ludicrous aspect of -the situation. - -So I remarked to my informant, and she said that it was all the same a -fact that the people were weeping copiously on all sides. - -"I asked the doctor's wife the next day what she thought of the sermon," -added my informant, "and she replied with a sigh that it was beautifully -touching; and when I put it straight to her if she did not think it was -queer for a clergyman who was a total stranger to us to say that he had -occupied the pulpit for fifty years, she replied, 'Ah, my dear, you're -too matter of fact: sermons should not be taken too literally. _You -should make allowance for the parsons imagination_.'" - -It is told of the same "casual" that an attempt was made to get the -better of him by a parsimonious set of churchwardens upon the occasion -of his being engaged to do duty for the regular parson of the parish. -The contract made with the "casual" was to perform the service and -preach the sermon in the morning for the sum of two guineas. He turned -up in good time on the Sunday morning and performed his part of the -contract in a business-like way. In the vestry, after he had preached -the sermon, he was waited on by the senior churchwarden, who handed him -his fee and expressed the great satisfaction felt by the churchwardens -at the manner in which the work had been executed. He added that as the -clergyman's train would not leave the village until half-past eight at -night, perhaps the reverend gentleman would not mind dining with him, -the senior churchwarden, and performing a short evening service at six -o'clock. - -"That will suit me very well indeed," said the reverend gentleman. "I -thank you very much for your hospitable offer. I charge thirty shillings -for an evening service with sermon." - -The hospitable churchwarden replied that he feared the resources of the -church would not be equal to such a strain upon them. He thought that -the clergyman might not object under the circumstances to give his -services gratis. - -"Do you dispose of your excellent cheeses gratis?" asked the clergyman -courteously. The churchwarden was in the cheese business. - -"Well, no, of course not," laughed the churchwarden. "But still--well, -suppose we say a guinea for the evening service?" - -"That's my charge for the service, leaving out the sermon," said the -clergyman. - -He explained that it was the cheapest thing in the market at the time. -It was done with only the smallest margin of profit. Allowing for the -wear and tear, it left hardly anything for himself. - -The churchwarden shook his head. He feared that they would not be able -to trade on the terms, he said. Suddenly, however, he brightened up. -Could the reverend gentleman not give them a good, sound, second quality -sermon? he inquired. They did not expect an A-1, copper-fastened, -platinum-tipped, bevelled-edged, full-calf sermon for the money; but -hadn't the reverend gentleman a sound, clump-soled, celluloid-faced, -nickel-plated sermon--something evangelical that would do very well for -one evening? - -The clergyman replied that he had nothing of the sort in stock. - -"Well, at any rate, you will say a few words to the congregation--not -a sermon, you know--after the service, for the guinea?" suggested the -churchwarden. - -"Oh, yes, I'll say a few words, if that's all," said the clergyman. - -And he did. - -When he had got to that grand old Amen which closes the Evening Service, -he stood up and said,-- - -"Dear brethren, there will be no sermon preached here this evening." - -***** - -Having entered upon the perilous path that is strewn with stories of -clergymen, I cannot leave it without recalling certain negotiations -which a prelate once opened with me for the purchase of an article -of furniture that remained at the palace when he was translated (with -footnotes in the vernacular by local tradesmen) to a new episcopate. I -have always had a weakness for collecting antique carved oak, and the -prelate, being aware of this, called my attention to what he termed an -"antique carved oak cabinet," which occupied an alcove in the hall. He -said he thought that I might be glad to have a chance of purchasing it, -for he himself did not wish to be put to the trouble of conveying it to -his new home--if a palace can be called a home. Now, there had been a -three days' auction at the palace where the antiquity remained, and, -apparently, all the dealers had managed to resist the temptation that -was offered them of acquiring a rare specimen of old oak; but, assuming -that the dignitary had placed a high reserve price upon it from which -he might now be disposed to abate, I replied that it would please me -greatly to buy the cabinet if it was not too large. By appointment -I accompanied a seemingly meek domestic chaplain to the dis-.mantled -palace; and there, sure enough, in a dark alcove of the long and narrow -hall--for the palace was not palatial--I saw (dimly) a huge thing like -a wardrobe with pillars, or it might have been a loose box, or perhaps a -bedstead gone wrong, or a dismantled hearse. - -"That's a dreadful thing," I remarked to the meek chaplain. - -"Dreadful, indeed," he replied. "But it's antique carved oak, so I -suppose it's a treasure." - -"Have you a match about you?" I asked, for the place was very dark. - -The meek chaplain looked scandalised--it was light enough to allow of -my seeing that--at the suggestion that he carried matches. He said he -thought he knew where some might be had. He walked to the end of the -passage, and I saw him take out a box of matches from a pocket. He came -back, saying he recollected having seen the box on a ledge "down there." -I struck a match and held the light close to the fabric. I gave a -portion of it a little scrape with my knife, and then tested the carving -by the same implement. - -"How did his lordship describe this?" I inquired. - -"He said it was antique carved oak," said the meek chaplain. - -"Did you ever hear of Cuvier and the lobster?" I inquired further. - -He said he never had. - -"That being so, I may venture to say that his lordship's description -of this thing is an excellent one," I remarked; "only that it is not -antique, it is not carved, and it is not oak." - -"What do you mean?" asked the meek chaplain.. - -I struck another match, and showed him the white patch that I had -scraped with my knife, and he admitted that old oak was not usually -white beneath the surface. I showed him also where the carving had -sprung up before the point of my knife, making plain the 'fact that the -carving had been glued to the fabric. - -"His lordship got that made by a local carpenter twenty-five years ago," -said I; "and yet he tries to sell it to me for antique carved oak. It -strikes me that in Wardour Street he would find a congenial episcopate." - -The meek chaplain stroked his chin reflectively; then, putting his -umbrella under one arm, he joined the tips of his fingers, saying,-- - -"Whatever unworthy doubts I may once have entertained on the difficult -subject of Apostolic succession are now, thank God, set at rest." - -"What do you mean?" I inquired. - -"Is it possible," he asked, "that you do not perceive how strong an -argument this incident furnishes in favour of our Church's claim to the -Apostolic succession of her bishops?" - -I shook my head. - -"St. Peter was a Jew," said the meek chaplain. - -***** - -Another of the casual ward of editors who appears on the tablets of my -memory was a gentleman who came from Wales--and a large number of other -places. He had a rooted objection to write anything new; but he was the -best literary tinker I ever met. In Spitzhagen's story, "Sturmfluth," -there is a most amusing account of the sculptor who made the statues of -distinguished Abstractions, which he had carved in his young days, do -duty for memorial commissions of lately-departed heroes. A bust of Homer -he had no difficulty in transforming into one of Germania weeping for -her sons killed in the war, and so forth. The sculptor's talent was the -same as that of the editor. He had the draft of about fifty articles, -and three obituary notices. These he managed to tinker up, chipping a -bit off here and there, and giving prominence to other portions, until -his purpose of the moment was served. I have seen him turn an article -that purported to show the absurdity of free trade, into an attack upon -the Irish policy of the Government; and in the twinkling of an eye upon -another occasion he made one on the Panama swindle do duty for one on -the compulsory rescue of Emin by Stanley. With only a change of a line -or, two, the obituary notice of Gambetta was that which he had used for -Garibaldi; and yet when the Emperor Frederick died, it was the same -article that was furbished up for the occasion. Every local medical man -who died was dealt with in the appreciative article which he had written -some years before on the death of Sir William Gull; and the influence of -the career of every just deceased local philanthropist was described in -the words (slightly altered to suit topography) that had been written -for the Earl of Shaftesbury. - -It was really little short of marvellous how this system worked. It was -a tinker's triumph. - -I must supplement my recollections of these worthies by a few lines -regarding a man of the same type who, I believe, never put pen to paper -without being guilty of some extraordinary error. A high compliment was -paid to me, I felt, when I had assigned to me, as part of my duties, -the reading of his proof sheets nightly. In everyone that I ever read -I found some monstrous mistake; and as he was old enough to be my -grandfather, and extremely sensitive besides, I was completely exhausted -by my expenditure of tact in pointing out to him what I called his -"little inaccuracies." One night he laid his proof sheet before me, -saying triumphantly, "You'll not find any of the usual slips in that, -I'm thinking. I've managed to write one leader correct at last." - -I read the thing he had written. It referred to a letter which Mr. Bence -Jones had contributed to _The Times_ on the subject of the Irish Land -League Agitation. After commenting on this letter, he wound up by -saying that Mr. Bence Jones had proved himself to be as practical an -agriculturalist as he was an expert painter. - -"Are you certain that Bence Jones is a painter?" I asked. - -"As certain as I can be of anything," was the reply. "I've seen his work -referred to dozens of times. I believe there's a picture of his in -the Grosvenor Gallery this very year. I thought you knew all about -contemporary art," he added, with a sneer. - -"Art is long," said I, searching for a Grosvenor Gallery catalogue, -which I knew I had thrown among my books. "Now, will you just turn up -the picture you say you saw noticed, and I'll admit that you know more -than I do?" - -I handed him the catalogue. He adjusted his spectacles, looked at the -index, gave a triumphant "Ha! I have you now," and forthwith turned up -"The Golden Stair," by E. _Burne_ Jones. - - - - -CHAPTER V.--THE SUB-EDITORS. - -_The old and the new--The scissors and paste auxiliaries--A night's -work--"A dorg's life"--How to communicate with the third floor--A modern -man in the old days--His migration--Other migrants--Some provincial -correspondents--Forgetful of a Town Councillor--The Plymouth Brother -as a sub-editor--A vocal effort--"Summary" justice--Place aux Dames--A -ghost story--Suggestions of the Crystal Palace--The presentation._ - -IT would give me no difficulty to write a book about sub-editors -with illustrations from those whom I have met. It is, perhaps, in this -department of a newspaper office that the change from the old _regime_ -is most apparent. The young sub-editors are frequently graduates of -universities; but, in spite of this, most of them are well abreast -of French and German as well as English literature. They bear out my -contention, that journalism is beginning to be taken seriously. The new -men have chosen journalism as their profession; they have not, as was -the case with the men of a past age, merely drifted into journalism -because they were failures in banks, in tailors' shops, in the drapery -line, and even in the tobacco business--one in which failure is almost -impossible. - -I have met in the old days with specimens of such men--men who fancied, -and who got their employers to fancy also, that because they had failed -in occupations that demanded the exercise of no intellectual powers for -success, they were bound to succeed in something that they termed "a -literary calling." They did not succeed as a rule. They glanced over -their column or two of telegraphic news,--in those days few provincial -papers contained more than a double column of telegrams,--they glanced -through the country correspondence and corrected such mistakes in -grammar as they were able to detect: it was with the scissors and paste, -however, that their most striking intellectual work was done. In this -department the brilliancy of the old sub-editor's genius had a chance -of being displayed. It coruscated, so to speak, on the rim of the paste -pot, and played upon the business angle of the scissors, as the St. -Elmo's light gleams on the yard-arms. - -"Ah!" said one of them to me, with a glow of proper pride upon his face, -as he ran the closed scissors between the pages of the _Globe_. "Ah, -it's only when it comes to a question of cutting out that your true -sub-editor reveals himself." - -And he forthwith annexed the "turn-over," without so much as acquainting -himself with the nature of the column. - -"Do you never read the thing before you cut it out?" I inquired timidly. - -He smiled the smile of the professor at the innocent question of a tyro. - -"Not likely, young fellow," he replied. "It's bad enough to have to read -all the cuttings when they appear in our next issue, without reading -them beforehand." - -"Then how do you know whether or not the thing that you cut out is -suitable for the paper?" I asked. - -"That's where the instinct of your true subeditor comes in," said he. -"I put in the point of the scissors mechanically and the right thing is -sure to come between the blades." - -In a few minutes he had about thirty columns of cuttings ready for the -foreman printer. - -I began to feel that I had never done full justice to the sub-editor or -the truffle hunter. - -***** - -I have said that in those old days not more than two columns of wired -news ever came to any provincial paper--_The Scotsman_, the _Glasgow -Herald_, and a Liverpool and Manchester organ excepted. The private wire -had not yet been heard of. In the present day, however, I have seen -as many as sixteen columns of telegraphic news in a very ordinary -provincial paper. I myself have come into my office at ten o'clock to -find a speech in "flimsy," of four columns in length, on some burning -question of the moment. I have read through all this matter, and placing -it in the printers' hands by eleven, I have written a column of comment -(about one thousand eight hundred words), read a proof of this column -and started for home at half-past one. I may mention that while waiting -for the last slips of my proof, I also made myself aware of the contents -of the _Times_, the _Telegraph_, the _Standard_, and the _Morning Post_, -which had arrived by the midnight train. - -I suppose there are hundreds of editors throughout the provinces to whom -such a programme is habitually no more a thing to shrink from than it -was to me for several years of my life. But I am sure that if any one -of the sub-editors of the old days had been required to read even five -columns of a political speech, and eight of parliament, he would have -talked about slave-driving and a "dorg's life" until he had fallen -asleep--as he frequently did--with his arms on his desk and the -"flimsies" on the floor. - -Some time ago I was in London, and had written an article at my rooms, -with a view of putting it on the special wire at the Fleet Street end -for transmission to the newspaper on which I was then employed. It so -happened, however, that I was engaged at other matters much longer than -I expected to be that night, so that it was past one o'clock in the -morning when I drove to the office in Fleet Street. The lower door was -shut, and no response was given to my ring. I knew that the editor had -gone home, but of course the telegraph operator was still in his room--I -could see his light in the topmost window--and I made up my mind to -rouse him, for I assumed that he was taking his usual sleep. After -ringing the bell twice without result, it suddenly occurred to me that -I might place myself in connection with him by some other means than the -bell-wire. I drove to the Central Telegraph Office, and sent a telegram -to the operator at the Irish end of the special wire, asking him to -arouse the Fleet Street operator and tell him to open the street door -for me. - -When I returned to Fleet Street I found the operator waiting for me -at the open door. In other words, I found that my easiest plan of -communicating with the third floor from the street was by means of an -office in Ireland. - -I do not think that any of the old-time subeditors would have been -likely to anticipate the arrival of a day when such an incident would be -possible. - -***** - -The only modern man of the old school, so to speak, with whom I came in -contact at the outset of my journalistic life, now occupies one of the -highest places on the London Press. I have never met so able a man since -I worked by his side, nor have I ever met with one who was so accurate -an observer, or so unerring a judge of men. He was everything that -a subeditor should be, and if he erred at all it was on the side of -courtesy. I have known of men coming down to the office with an action -for libel in their hearts, and bitterness surpassing the bitterness of -a Thomson whose name has appeared with a p, in the account of the -attendance at a funeral, and yet going back to their wives and families -quite genial, owing to the attitude adopted toward them by this -subeditor; yes, and without any offer being made by him to have the -mistake, of which they usually complained, altered in the next issue. - -He was one of the few men whom I have known to go to London from the -provinces with a doubt on his mind as to his future success. Most of -those to whom I have said a farewell that, unfortunately, proved to -be only temporary, had made up their minds to seek the metropolis on -account of the congenial extent of the working area of that city. A -provincial town of three hundred thousand inhabitants had a cramping -effect upon them, they carefully assured me; the fact being that any -place except London was little better than a kennel--usually a good deal -worse.. - -I have come to the conclusion, from thinking over this matter, that, -although self-confidence may be a valuable quality on the part of a -pressman, it should not be cultivated to the exclusion of all other -virtues. - -The gentleman to whom I refer is now managing editor of his paper, and -spends a large portion of his hardly-purchased leisure hours answering -letters that have been written to him by literary aspirants in his -native town. One of them writes a pamphlet to prove that there never has -been and never shall be a hell, and he sends it to be dealt with on the -following morning in a leader in the leading London newspaper. He, -it seems, has to be written to--kindly, but firmly. Another wishes a -poem--not on a death in the Royal Family--to be printed, if possible, -between the summary and the first leader; a third reminds the managing -editor that when sub-editor of the provincial paper eleven years before, -he inserted a letter on the disgraceful state of the footpath on one of -the local thoroughfares, and hopes that, now that the same gentleman -is at the head of a great metropolitan organ, he will assist him, his -correspondent, in the good work which has been inaugurated. The footpath -is as bad as ever, he explains. But it is over courteously repressive -letters to such young men--and old men too--as hope he may see his way -to give them immediate and lucrative employment on his staff, that most -of his spare time and all his spare stamps are spent. - -Ladies write to him by the hundred--for it seems that any one may become -a lady journalist--making valuable suggestions to him by means of which -he may, if he chooses, obtain daily a chatty column with local social -sketches, every one guaranteed to be taken from life. - -He doesn't choose. - -The consequence is that the ladies write to him again without the loss -of a post, and assure him that if he fancies his miserable paper is -anything but the laughing-stock of humanity, he takes an absurdly -optimistic view of the result of his labours in connection with it. - -***** - -About five years after he had left the town where we had been located -together, I met a man who had come upon him in London, and who had -accepted his invitation to dinner. - -"We had a long talk together," said the man, recording the transaction, -"and I was surprised to find how completely he has severed all his -former connections and old associations. I mentioned casually the names -of some of the most prominent of the people here, but he had difficulty -in recalling them. Why, actually--you'll scarcely believe it--when I -spoke of Sir Alexander Henderson, he asked who was he! It's a positive -fact!" - -Now Sir Alexander Henderson was a Town Councillor. - -***** - -The provincial successor to the sub-editor just referred to was -undoubtedly a remarkable man. He was a Plymouth Brother, and without -guile. He was, for some reason or other, very anxious that I should -join "The Church" also. I might have done so if I had succeeded in -discovering what were the precise doctrines held by the body. But it -would seem that the theology of the Plymouth Brethren is not an exact -science. A Plymouth Brother is one who accepts the doctrines of the -Plymouth Brethren. So much I learned, and no more. - -He possessed a certain amount of confidence in the correctness of his -views--whatever they may have been, and he never allowed any pressman to -enter his room without writing a summary on some subject; for which, it -may be mentioned, he himself got credit in the eyes of the proprietor. -He had no singing voice whatsoever, but his views on the Second Advent -were so deep as to force him to give vocal expression to them thus:-- - -"Parlando. The Lord shall come. Will you write me a bit of a summary?" - -[Illustration: 0092] - -The request to anyone who chanced to be in the room with him, following -so hard upon the vocal assertion of the most solemn of his theological -tenets, had a shocking effect; more especially as the newspaper offices -in those old days were constantly filled with shallow scoffers and -sceptics; and, of course, persons were not wanting who endeavoured to -evade their task by assuring him that the Sacred Event was not one that -could be legitimately treated within a lesser space than a full column. - -He usually offered to discuss with me at 2 a.m. such subjects as the -Immortality of the Soul or the Inspiration of Holy Writ. When he would -signify his intention of proving both questions, if I would only wait -for four hours. - -I was accustomed to adopt the attitude of the schoolboy who, when the -schoolmaster, after drawing sundry lines on the blackboard, asserted -that the square described upon the diagonal of a double rectangular -parallelogram was equal to double the rectangle described upon the other -two sides, and offered to prove it, said, "Pray don't trouble yourself, -sir; I don't doubt it in the least." - -I assured the sub-editor that there was nothing in the somewhat -extensive range of theological belief that I wouldn't admit at 2 a.m. -after a long night's work. - -***** - -The most amusing experience was that which I had with the same gentleman -at the time of the Eastern crises of the spring of 1878. During the -previous year he had accustomed himself to close his nightly summary of -the progress of the war between Russia and Turkey and the possibility of -complications arising with England, with these words:--"Fortunate -indeed it is that at the present moment we have at our Foreign Office so -sagacious and far-seeing a statesman as Earl Derby. Every confidence may -be reposed in his judgment to avert the crisis which in all probability -is impending." - -Certainly once a week did this summary appear in the paper, until I -fancy the readers began to tire of it. As events developed early in the -spring, the paragraph was inserted with feverish frequency. He was at it -again one night--I could hear him murmur the words to himself as he went -over the thing--but the moment he had given out the copy I threw down in -front of him a telegram which I had just opened. - -"That will make a good summary," I said. "The Reserves are called out -and Lord Derby has resigned." - -He sprang to his feet, exclaiming, like the blameless George, -"What--what--what?" - -"There's the flimsy," said I. "It's a good riddance. He never was worth -much. The idea of a conscientious Minister at the Foreign Office! Now -Beaconsfield will have a free hand. You'd better write that summary." - -"I will--I will," he said. "But I think I'll ask you to dictate it to -me." - -"All right," said I. "Heave ahead. 'The news of the resignation of Earl -Derby will be received by the public of Great Britain with feelings akin -to those of relief.... The truth is that for several months past it was -but too plain to even the least sagacious persons that Lord Derby at the -Foreign Office was the one weakness in the _personnel_ of the Ministry. -In colloquial, parlance he was the square peg in the round hole. Now -that his resignation has been accepted we may say farewell, a long -farewell, to a feeble and vacillating Minister of whose capacity at such -a serious crisis we have frequently thought it our duty to express our -grave doubts.'" - -He took a shorthand note of this stuff, which he transcribed, and -ordered to be set up in place of the first summary. For the next three -months that original metaphor of the square peg and the round hole -appeared in relation to Lord Derby once a week in the political summary. - -***** - -Among the minor peculiarities of this subeditor of the old time was -an apparently irresistible desire for the companionship of his wife at -nights. Perhaps, however, I am doing him an injustice, and the evidence -available on this point should only be accepted as indicating the desire -of his wife for the companionship of her husband. At any rate, for some -reason or other, the lady occupied an honoured place in her husband's -room certainly three nights every week. - -The pair never exchanged a word for the six or seven hours that -they remained together. Perhaps here again I am doing one of them an -injustice, for I now remember that during at least two hours out of -every night the door of the room was locked on the inside, so they -may have been making up their arrears of silence by discussing the -immortality of the soul, or other delicate theological points, during -this "close" season. - -The foreman printer was the only one in the office who was in the habit -of complaining about the presence of the lady in the sub-editor's room. -He was the rudest-voiced man and the most untiring user of oaths ever -known even among foremen printers, and this is saying a great deal. He -explained to me in language that was by no means deficient in force, -that the presence of the lady had a cramping and enervating effect upon -him when he went to tell the sub-editor that he needn't send out any -more "copy," as the paper was overset. How could any conscientious -foreman do himself justice under such circumstances? he asked me. - -***** - -The same sub-editor had a ghost story. He was the only man whom I ever -met who believed in his own ghost story. I have come in contact with -several men who had ghost stories in their _rpertoire_, but I never met -any but this one who was idiot enough to believe in the story that he -had to tell. I am sorry that I cannot remember its many details. But -the truth is that it made no more impression on me than the usual ghost -story makes upon a man with a sound digestion. As a means of earning a -livelihood the journalistic "spook" occupies a legitimate place among -the other devices of modern enterprise to effect the same praiseworthy -object; but a personal and unprofessional belief in the possibility of -the existence in visible form of a "ghost" is the evidence either of -a mind constitutionally adapted to the practice of imposture, or of a -remarkable capacity for being imposed upon. My friend the sub-editor had -not a heart for falsehood framed, so I believed that he believed that -he had seen the spirit of his father make an effective exit from -the apartment where the father had died. This was, I recollect, the -foundation of his story. I remember also that the spirit took the form -of a small but compact ball of fire, and that it rolled up the spout--on -the outside--and then broke into a thousand stars. - -The description of the incident suggested a lesser triumph of Messrs. -Brock at the Crystal Palace rather than the account of the solution of -the greatest mystery that man ever has faced or ever can face. When I -had heard the story to the end--up to the moment that the old nurse came -out of the house crying, "He's gone, he's gone!" preparatory to throwing -her apron over her head--I merely asked,-- - -"How many nights did you say you had been watching by your father?" - -"Three," he replied. "But I don't think that I said anything to you -about watching." Neither had he. Like the witness at the mysterious -murder trial who didn't think it worth while mentioning to the police -that he had seen a man, who had a grudge against the deceased, leaving -the room where the body was found, and carrying in one hand a long knife -dripping with blood, my friend did not think that the circumstance -of his having had no sleep for three nights had any bearing upon the -question of the accuracy of his eyesight. - -Of course I merely said that the story was an extraordinary one. - -I have noticed that Plymouth Brotherhood, vegetarianism, soft hats, bad -art, and a belief in at least one ghost usually are found associated. - -This sub-editor emigrated several years ago to the South Sea Islands -with evangelistic intentions. On his departure his colleagues made him -a graceful and appropriate gift which could not fail to cause him to -recall in after years the many pleasant hours they had spent together. - -It took the form of an immense marble chimney-piece clock, weighing -about a hundredweight and a half, and looking uncomfortably like an -eighteenth-century mural tomb. It was such a nice present to make to an -evangelist in the neophyte stage, every one thought; for what the gig -was in the forties as a guarantee of all that was genteel, the massive -marble clock was in the eyes of the past generation of journalists. I -happen to know something about the sunny islands of the South Pacific -and their inhabitants, and it has often occurred to me that the -guarantees of gentility which find universal acceptance where the -hibiscus blooms, may not be wholly identical with those that were in -vogue among journalists long ago. Should these unworthy doubts which now -and again occur to me when I am alone, be well founded, I fear that the -presentation to my friend may repose elsewhere than on a chimney-piece -of Upolu or Tahiti. - -As a matter of fact, I read a short time ago an account of a remarkable -head-dress worn by a native chief, which struck me as having many points -in common with a massive dining-room marble clock. - - - -CHAPTER VI--THE SUB-EDITORS (continued). - - -_The opium eater--A babbler o' green fields--The "Brither Scots"--A -South Sea idyl--St. Andrew Lang Syne--An intelligent community--The -arrival of the "Bonnie Doon," Mackellar, master--Captain Mackellar "says -a 'sweer'"--A border raid on a Newspaper--It pays--A raid of the wild -Irish--Naugay Doola as a Newspaper editor--An epic--How the editor -came to buy my emulsion--The constitutionially quarlsome sub-editor--The -melancholy man--Not without a cause--The use of the razor._ - - -ANOTHER remarkable type of the subeditor of the past was a middle-aged -man whom it was my privilege to study for some months. No one could -account for a curious _distrait_ air which he frequently wore; but I had -only to look at his eyes to become aware of the secret of his life. I -had seen enough of opium smokers in the East to enable me to pronounce -decisively on this "case." He was a most intelligent and widely-read -man; but he had wrecked his life over opium. He could not live without -it, and with it he was utterly unfit for any work. Night after night -I did the wretched man's work while he lay in a corner of the room -wandering through the opium eater's paradise. After some months he -vanished, utterly from the town, and I never found a trace of him -elsewhere. - -***** - -He was much to be preferred to a curious Scotsman who succeeded him. It -was not the effects of opium that caused this person to lie in a -corner and babble o' green fields upon certain occasions, such as the -anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns, the anniversary of the death -of the same poet, the celebration of the Annual Festival of St. Andrew, -the Annual Dinner of the Caledonian Society, the Anniversary Supper -of the Royal Scottish Association, the Banquet and Ball of the Sons -of Scotia, the "Nicht wi' Our Ain Kin," the Ancient Golf Dinner, the -Curlers' Reunion, the "Rink and Drink" of the "Free Bowlers"--a local -festival--the Pipe and Bagpipe of the Clans Awa' Frae Harne--another -local club of Caledonians. Each of these celebrations of the -representatives of his nation, which took place in the town to which he -came--I need scarcely say it was not in Scotland--was attended by him; -hence the babbling o' green fields between the hours of one and three -a.m. He babbled once too often, and was sent forth to fresh fields by -his employer, who was not a "brither Scot." I daresay he is babbling up -to the present hour. - -In spite of the well-known and deeply-rooted prejudices of the Scottish -nation against the spirit of what may be termed racial cohesion, it -cannot be denied that they have been known now and again to display a -tendency--when outside Scotland--to localise certain of their national -institutions. They do so at considerable self-sacrifice, and the result -is never otherwise than beneficial to the locality operated on. No more -adequately attested narrative has been recorded than that of the -two Shanghai merchants--Messrs. Andrew Gareloch and Alexander -MacClackan--who were unfortunate enough to be wrecked on the voyage to -England. They were the sole survivors of the ship's company, and -the island upon which they found themselves was in the middle of the -Pacific, and about six miles long by four across. In the lagoon were -plenty of fish, and on the ridge of the slope cocoanuts, loquats, -plantains, and sweet potatoes were growing, so that there was no -question as to their supplies holding out. After a good meal they -determined that their first duty was to name the island. They called it -St. Andrew Lang Syne Island, and became as festive and brotherly--they -pronounced it "britherly"--as was possible over cocoanut milk: it was -a long time since either of them had tasted milk. The second day they -founded a local Benevolent Society of St. Andrew, and held the inaugural -dinner; the third day they founded a Burns Club, and inaugurated the -undertaking with a supper; the fourth day they started a Scottish -Association, and with it a series of monthly reunions for the discussion -of Scotch ballad literature; the fifth day they laid out a golf links -with the finest bunkers in the world, and instituted a club lunch -(strictly non-alcoholic); the sixth day they formed a Curling Club--the -lagoon would make a braw rink, they said, if it only froze; if it didn't -freeze, well, they could still have the annual Curlers' supper--and they -had it; the Seventh Day they _kept_. On the evening of the same day a -vessel was sighted bearing up for the island; but, of course, neither -of the men would hoist a signal on the Seventh Day, and they watched the -craft run past the island, though they were amazed to find that she -had only her courses and a foresail set, in spite of the fact that -the breeze was a light one. The next morning, when they were sitting -together at breakfast discussing whether they should lay the foundation -stone--with a commemorative lunch--of a free kirk, a U.P. meeting-house, -or an Auld Licht meeting-house--they had been fiercely discussing the -merits of each at every spare moment during the previous twenty years at -Shanghai--they saw the vessel returning with all sail set and a signal -flying. To run up one of their shirts to a pole at the entrance to the -lagoon was a matter of a moment, and they saw that their signal was -responded to. Sail was taken off the ship, she was steered by signals -from the shore through the entrance to the lagoons and dropped anchor. - -She turned out to be the _Bonnie Doon_, of Dundee, Douglas Mackellar, -master. He had found portions of wreckage floating at sea, and had -thought it possible that some of the survivors of the wreck might want -passages "hame." - -"Nae, nae," said both the men, "we're no in need o' passages hame just -the noo. But what for did ye no mak' for the passage yestere'en in the -gloaming?" - -"Ay," said Captain Mackellar, "I ran by aboot the mirk; but hoot -awa'--hoot awa', ye wouldn't hae me come ashore on the Sawbath Day." - -"Ye shortened sail, tho'," remarked Mr. MacClackan. - -"Ay, on Saturday nicht. I never let her do more than just sail on the -Sawbath. Why the eevil didn't ye run up a bit signal, ye loons, if ye -spied me sae weel?" - -"Hoot awa'--hoot awa', ye wouldn't hae us mak' a signal on the Sawbath -day." - -"Na', na', no regular signal; but ye might hae run up a wee bittie--just -eneugh tae catch my e'en. Ay, an' will ye nae come aboard?" - -"We'll hae to talk owre it, Captain." - -Well; they did talk over the matter, cautiously and discreetly, for a -few hours, for Captain Mackellar was a hard man at a bargain, and he -would not agree to give them a passage at anything less than two pound -a head. At last negotiations were concluded, the men got aboard the -_Bonnie Doon_ and piloted her out of the lagoon. They reached the Clyde -in safety, having on the voyage found that Captain Mackellar was a -religious man and never used any but the most God-fearing of oaths at -his crew. - -"Weel, ma freends," said he, as they approached Greenock--"Weel, I'm in -hopes that ye'll be paying me the siller this e'en." - -"Ay, mon, that we will, certes," said the passengers. "In the meantime, -we'd tak' the liberty o' calling your attention to a wee bit claim we -hae japped doon on a bit slip o' paper. It's three poon nine for -harbour dues that ye owe us, Captain Mackellar, and twa poon ten -for pilotage--it's compulsory at yon island, so maybe ye'll mak' -it convenient to hand us owre the differs when we land. Ay, Douglas -Mackellar, ye shouldn'a try to get the better o' brither Scots." - -Captain Douglas Mackellar was a God-fearing man, but he said "Dom!" - -I once had some traffic with a newspaper office that had suffered from -a border raid. In the month of June a managing editor had been imported -from the Clyde, and although previously no "hand" from north of the -Tweed had ever been located within its walls, yet before December had -come, to take a stroll through any department of that office was like -taking a walk down Sauchiehall Street, or the Broomielaw. The foreman -printer used weird Scotch oaths, and his son was the "devil"--pronounced -_deevil_. His brother-in-law was the day foreman, and his -brother-in-law's son was a junior clerk. The stereotyper was the -stepson of the night foreman's mother, and he had a nephew who was -the machinist, with a brother for his assistant. The managing editor's -brother was sub-editor, and the man to whom his wife had been engaged -before she married him, was assistant-editor. The assistant-editor's -uncle became the head of the advertising department, and he had three -sons; two of them became clerks with progressive salaries, and the third -became the chief reporter, also with a progressive salary. In fact, the -paper became a one-family show--it was like a "nicht wi' Burns,"--and no -paper was ever worked better. It never paid less than fifteen per cent. - -A rather more amusing experience was of the overrunning of a newspaper -office by the wild Irishry. The organ in question had a somewhat -chequered career during the ten months that it existed. At one -period--for even as long as a month--it was understood to pay its -expenses; but when it failed to pay its expenses, no one else paid them; -hence in time it came to be looked upon as a rather unsound property. -The original editor, a man of ability and culture, declined to be -dictated to in some delicate political question by the proprietor, and -took his departure without going through the empty formality--it was, -after all, only a point of etiquette--of asking for the salary that was -due to him. For some weeks the paper was run--if something that scarcely -crawled could be said to be run--without an editor; then a red-headed -Irishman of the Namgay Doola type appeared--like a meteor surrounded -by a nimbus of brogue--in the editor's room. His name was O'Keegan, but -lest this name might be puzzling to the English nation, he weakly gave -in to their prejudices and simplified it into O'Geogheghoiran. He was a -Master of Arts of the Royal University in Ireland, and a winner of gold -medals for Greek composition, as well as philosophy. He said he had -passed at one time at the head of the list of Indian Civil Service -candidates, but was rejected by the doctor on account of his weak lungs. -When I met him his lungs had apparently overcome whatever weakness they -may once have had. He had a colloquial acquaintance with Sanscrit, and -he had also been one of the best billiard markers in all Limerick. - -I fancy he knew something about every science and art, except the -art and science of editing a daily newspaper on which the payment of -salaries was intermittent. In the course of a week a man from Galway -had taken the vacant and slightly injured chair of the sub-editor, a man -from Waterford said he had been appointed chief of the reporting staff, -a man from Tipperary said he was the new art editor and musical critic, -and a man from Kilkenny said he had been invited by his friend Mr. -O'Geogheghoiran to "do the reviews." I have the best of reasons for -knowing that he fancied "doing the reviews" meant going into the park -upon military field-days, and reporting thereupon. - -In short, the newspaper _staff_ was an Irish blackthorn. - -It began to "behave as sich." - -The office was situated down a court on my line of route homeward; and -one morning about three o'clock I was passing the entrance to the court -when I fancied I heard the sound of singing. I paused, and then, out of -sheer curiosity, moved in the direction of the newspaper premises. -By the time I had reached them the singing had broadened into -recrimination. I have noticed that singing is usually the first step -in that direction. The members of the literary staff had apparently -assembled in the reporters' room, and, stealing past the flaring gas jet -on the very rickety stairs, I reached that window of the apartment which -looked upon the lobby. When I rubbed as much dust and grime off one of -the panes as admitted of my seeing into the room, I learned more -about fighting in five minutes than I had done during a South African -campaign. - -A dozen or so bottles of various breeds lay about the floor, and a -variety of drinking vessels lay about the long table at the moment of my -glancing through the window. Only for a moment, however, for in another -second the editor had leapt upon the table, and with one dexterous -kick--a kick that no amount of Association play could cause one to -acquire; a kick that must have been handed down, so to speak, from -father to son, unto the third and fourth generations of backs--had -sent every drinking vessel into the air. One--it was a jug--struck -the ceiling, and brought down a piece of plaster about the size of a -cart-wheel; but before the mist that followed this transaction had risen -to obscure everything, I saw that a tumbler had shot out through the -window that looked upon the court. I heard the crash below a moment -afterwards. A mug had caught the corresponding portion of the anatomy of -the gentleman from Waterford, and it irritated him; a cup crashed at the -open mouth of the reviewer from Kilkenny, and, so far as I could see, -he swallowed it; a tin pannikin carried away a portion of the ear of -the musical critic from Tipperary--it was so large that he could easily -spare a chip or so of it, though some sort of an ear is essential to the -conscientious discharge of the duties of musical critic. - -For some time after, I could not see very distinctly what was going on -in the room, for the dust from the dislodged plaster began to rise, -and "friend and foe were shadows in the mist." Now and again I caught -a glimpse of the red-head of the Master of Arts and Gold Medallist -permeating the mist, as the western sun permeates the smoke that hangs -over a battle-field; and wherever that beacon-fire appeared devastation -was wrought. The subeditor had gone down before him--so much I could -see; and then all was dimness and yells again--yells that brought down -more of the plaster and a portion of the stucco cornice; yells that -chipped flakes off the marble mantelpiece and sent them quivering -through the room; yells that you might have driven tenpenny nails home -with. - -Then the dust-cloud drifted away, and I was able to form a pretty good -idea of what was going on. The meeting in mid-air of the ten-light -gasalier, which the dramatic critic had pulled down, and the iron -fender, which the chief of the reporting staff had picked up when he saw -that his safety was imperilled, was epic. The legs of chairs and stools -flying through the air suggested a blackboard illustration of a shower -of meteors; every now and again one crashed upon a head and cannoned off -against the wall, where it sometimes lodged and became a bracket -that you might have hung a coat on, or else knocked a brick into the -adjoining apartment. - -The room began to assume an untidy appearance after a while; but I -noticed that the editor was making praiseworthy efforts to speak. I -sympathised with the difficulty he seemed to have in that direction. -It was not until he had folded in two the musical critic and the chief -reporter, and had seated himself upon them without straightening them -out, that his voice was heard. - -"Boys," he cried, "if this work goes on much longer I fear there'll be -a breach of the peace. Anyhow, I'm thirsty. I've a dozen of porter in my -room." - -The only serious accident of the evening occurred at this point. The -reviewer got badly hurt through being jammed in with the other six in -the door leading to the editor's room. - -The next morning the paper came out as usual, and the fact that the -leaders were those that had appeared on the previous day, and that -the Parliamentary report had been omitted, was not noticed. I met the -red-haired editor as he came out of a chemist's shop that afternoon. I -asked, as delicately as possible, after his health. - -"I'd be well enough if it wasn't for the sense of responsibility that -sometimes oppresses me," said he. "It's a terrible weight on a single -man's shoulders that a daily paper is, so it is." - -"No doubt," said I. "Do you feel it on your shoulders now?" - -"Don't I just?" said he. "I've been buying some emulsion inside to see -if that will give me any ease." - -He then told me a painfully circumstantial story of how, when walking -home early in the morning, he was set upon by some desperate miscreant, -who had struck him twice upon his left eye, which might account, he -said, for any slight discolouration I might notice in the region of that -particular organ if I looked closely at it. - -"But what's the matter with your hair?" - -I inquired. "It looks as if it had been powdered." - -"Blast it!" said he, taking off his hat, and disclosing several -hillocks of red heather with a patch of white sticking-plaster on their -summits--like the illustration of the snow line on a geological model -of the earth's surface. "Blast it! It must have been the ceiling. It's a -dog's life an editor's is, anyhow." - -I never saw him again. - -***** - -Of course, the foregoing narrative is only illustrative of the -exuberance of the Irish nature under depressing circumstances; but I -have also come in contact with sub-editors who were constitutionally -quarrelsome. They were nearly as disagreeable to work with as those who -were perpetually standing on their dignity--men who were never without a -complaint of being insulted. I bore with one of this latter class longer -than any one else would have done. He was the most incompetent man whom -I ever met, so that one night when he growled out that he had never been -so badly treated by his inferiors as he was just at that instant, I had -no compunction in saying,-- - -"By whom?" - -"By my inferiors in this office," he replied. - -"I'd like to know where your inferiors are," said I. "They're not in -this office--so much I can swear. I doubt if they are in any other." - -He asked me if I meant to insult him, and I assured him that I -invariably made my meaning so plain when I had occasion to say anything, -there was no excuse for asking what I meant. - -He never talked to me again about being insulted. - -***** - -Another curious specimen of an extinct animal was subject to remarkable -fits of depression and moroseness. He offered to make me a bet one night -that he would not be alive on that day week. I took him up promptly, and -offered to stake a five-pound note on the issue, provided that he did -the same. He said he hadn't a five-pound note in the world, though he -had been toiling like a galley slave for twenty years. I pitied the poor -fellow, though it was not until I saw his wife--a mass of black -beads and pomatum--that I recognised his right to the consolation -of pessimism. I believe that he was only deterred from suicide by an -irresistible belief in a future state. He had heard a well-meant but -injudicious sermon in which the statement was made that husband and -wife, though parted by death, would one day be reunited. Believing this -he lived on. What was the use of doing anything else? - -***** - -I met with another sub-editor on whom for a period I looked with some -measure of awe, being _in statu pupillari_ at the time. - -Every night he used to take a razor out of his press and lay it beside -his desk, having opened it with great deliberation and a hard look upon -his haggard face. I believed that he was possessed of strong suicidal -impulses, and that he was placing the razor where it would be handy in -case he should find it necessary to make away with himself some night or -in the early hours of the morning. - -I held him in respect for just one month. At the end of that time I saw -him sharpening his pencil with the razor, and I ventured to inquire if -he usually employed the instrument for that purpose. - -"I do," he replied. "I lost six penknives in this room within a -fortnight; those blue-pencilled reporters use up a lot of knives, and -they never buy any, so I brought down this old razor. They'll not steal -that." - -And they didn't. - -But I lost all respect for that sub-editor. - - - - -CHAPTER VII.--SOME EXTINCT TYPES. - - -_A perturbed spirit--The loss of a fortune--A broken bank--A study -in bimetallism--Auri sacra fames--A rough diamond--A friend of the -peerage--And of Dublin stout--His weaknesses--The Quarterly Review--The -dilemma--An amateur hospital nurse--A terrible night--Benvenuto -Cellini--A subtle jest--The disappearance of the jester--An appropriated -leaderette--An appropriated anecdote--An appropriated quatrain._ - - -ONCE I saw a sub-editor actually within easy reach of suicide. It was -not the duplicating of a five-column speech in flimsy, nor was it that -the foreman printer had broken his heart. It was that he had been the -victim of a heartless theft. His savings of years had been carried off -in the course of a single night. So he explained to me with "tears in -his eyes, distraction in's aspect," when I came down to the office one -evening. He was walking up and down his room, with three hours' arrears -of unopened telegrams on his desk and a _p.p.c._ note from the foreman -beneath a leaden "rule," used as a paper weight; for the foreman, being, -as usual, a conscientious man, invariably promised to hand in his notice -at sundown if kept waiting for copy. - -"What on earth is the matter?" I inquired. - -"Is it neuralgia or----" - -"It's worse--worse!" he moaned. "I've lost all my money--all--all! -there's the tin I kept it in--see for yourself if there's a penny left -in it." He threw himself into his chair and bowed down his head upon his -hands. - -Far off a solitary (speaking) trumpet blew. - -"If the hands are to go home you've only got to say so and I release -them," was the message that was delivered into my ear when I went to the -end of the tube communicating with the foreman. - -"Three columns will be out inside half an hour," I replied. Then I -turned to the sobbing sub-editor. "Come," said I, "bear it like a man. -It's a terrible thing, of course, but still it must be faced. Tell me -how many pounds you've lost, and I'll put the matter into the hands of -the police." - -He looked up with a vacant white face. - -"How many--there were a hundred and forty pence in the tin when I went -home last night. See if there's a penny left." - -A cursory glance at the chocolate tin that lay on the table was quite -sufficient to convince me that it was empty. - -"Cheer up," I said. "A hundred and forty pence. It sounds large in -pence, to be sure, but when you think of it from the standard of the -silver currency it doesn't seem so formidable. Eleven and eightpence. Of -course it's a shocking thing. Was it all in pence?" - -"All--all--every penny of it." - -"Keep up your heart. We may be able to trace the money. I suppose you -are prepared to identify the coins?" - -He ran his fingers through his hair, and I could see that he was -striving manfully to collect his thoughts. - -"Identify? I could swear to them if I saw them in the lump--one hundred -and forty--one--hundred--and--forty--pence! Yes, I'll swear that I could -swear to them in the lump. But singly--oh, I'll never see them again!" - -"Tell me how it came about that you had so much money in this room," -said I, beginning to open the telegrams. "Man, did you not think of the -terrible temptation that you were placing in the way of the less opulent -members of the staff? Eleven and eight in a disused chocolate tin! It's -a temptation like this that turns honest men into thieves." - -Then it was that he informed me on the point upon which I confess I was -curious--namely, how he came to have this fortune in copper. - -His wife, he said, was in the habit of giving him a penny every rainy -night, this being his tramcar fare from his house to his office. But--he -emphasised this detail--she was usually weak enough not to watch to see -whether he got into the tramcar or not, and the consequence was that, -unless the night was very wet indeed, he was accustomed to walk the -whole way and thus save the penny, which he nightly deposited in the -chocolate tin: he could not carry it home with him, he said, for his -wife would be certain to find it when she searched his waistcoat pockets -before he arose in the morning. - -"For a hundred and forty times you persevered in this course of -duplicity for the sake of the temporary gain!" said I. "It is this -craving to become quickly rich that is the curse of the nineteenth -century. I thought that journalists were free from it; I find that they -are as bad as Stock Exchange gamblers or magazine proprietors. Oh, -gold! gold! Go on with your work or there'll be a blue-pencilled row -to-morrow. Don't fancy you'll obtain the sympathy of any human being in -your well-earned misfortune. You don't deserve to have so good a wife. -A penny every rainy night--a penny! Oh, I lose all patience when I think -of your complaining. Go on with your work." - -He went on with his work. - -Some months after this incident he thought it necessary to tell me that -he was a Scotchman. - -It was not necessary; but I asked him if his wife was one too. - -"Not exactly," said he argumentatively. "But she's a native of -Scotland--I'll say that much for her." - -I afterwards heard that he had become the proprietor of that very -journal upon which he had been sub-editor. - -I was not surprised. - -***** - -My memories of the sub-editor's room include a three months' experience -of a remarkable man. He imposed upon me for nearly a week, telling me -anecdotes of the distinguished persons whom he had met in the course of -his career. It seemed to me--for a week--that he was the darling of the -most exclusive society in Europe. He talked about noble lords by their -Christian names, and of noble ladies with equal breezy freedom. Many -of his anecdotes necessitated a verbatim report of the replies made by -marquises and countesses to his playful sallies; and I noticed that, -so far as his recollection served him, they had always addressed him as -George; sometimes--but only in the case of over-familiar daughters of -peers--Georgie. I felt--for a week--that journalism had made a sensible -advance socially when such things were possible. Perhaps, I thought, -some day the daughter of a peer may distort my name, so that I may not -die undistinguished. - -I have seen a good many padded peeresses and dowdy duchesses since those -days, and my ambition has somehow drifted into other channels; but while -the man talked of his intimacies with peers, and his friendship--he -assured me on his sacred word of honour (whatever that meant) that it -was perfectly Platonic--with peeresses. - -I was carried away--for a week. - -He was an undersized man, with a rooted prejudice against soap and the -comb. He spoke like a common man, and wore clothes that were clearly -second-hand. He posed as the rough diamond, the untamed literary lion, -the genius who refuses to be trammelled by the usages--most of them -purely artificial--of society, and on whom society consequently dotes. - -What he doted on was Dublin stout. If he had acquired during his -intercourse with the aristocracy their effete taste in the way of -drinking, he certainly managed to chasten it. He drank six bottles of -stout in the course of a single night, and regretted that there was not -a seventh handy. - -For a month he did his work moderately well, but at the end of that time -he began to put it upon other people. He made excuse after excuse to -shirk his legitimate duties. One night he came down with a swollen face. -He was suffering inexpressible agony from toothache, he said, and if -he were to sit down to his desk he really would not guarantee that some -shocking mistake would not occur. He would, he declared, be serving the -best interests of the paper if he were to go home to his bed. He only -waited to drink a bottle of stout before going. - -A few days after his return to work he entered the office enveloped in -an odoriferous muffler, and speaking hoarsely. He had, he said, caught -so severe a cold that the doctor was not going to allow him to leave his -house; but so soon as he got his back turned, he had run down to tell -us that it was impossible for him to do anything for a night or two. He -wanted to bind us down in the most solemn way not to let the doctor know -that he came out, and we promised to let no one know except the manager. -This assurance somehow did not seem to satisfy him. But he drank a -bottle of porter and went away. - -The very next week he came to me in confidence, telling me that he had -just received the proofs of his usual political article in the -_Quarterly_, and that the editor had taken the trouble to telegraph to -him to return the proofs for press without fail the next day. Now, the -only question with him was, should he chuck up the _Quarterly_, for -which he had written for many years, or the humble daily paper in the -office of which he was standing. - -I did not venture to suggest a solution of the problem. - -He did. - -"Maybe you wouldn't mind taking a squint"--his phraseology was that -of the rough genius--"through the telegrams for to-night," said he. "I -don't like to impose on a good-natured sonny like you, but you see how -I'm situated. Confound that _Quarterly!_" - -"Do you do the political article for the _Quarterly?_" I asked. - -"Man, I've done it for the past eleven years," said he. "I thought every -one knew that. It's editor of the _Quarterly_ that I should be to-day -if William Smith hadn't cut me out of the job. But I bear him no -malice--bless your soul, not I. You'll go over the flimsies?" - -I said I would, and he wiped a bath sponge of porter-froth off his beard -in order to thank me. - -I knew that he was telling me a lie about the _Quarterly_, but I did his -work. - -Less than a week after, he entered my room to express the hope that I -would be able to make arrangements to have his work done for him once -again, the fact being that he had just received a message from Mrs. -Thompson--the wife of young Thompson, the manager for Messrs. Gibson, -the shippers--to ask him for heaven's sake to help her to look after her -husband that night. Young Thompson had been behaving rather wildly of -late, it appeared, and was suffering from an attack of that form of -heredity known as _delirium tremens_. He had been held down in the bed -by three men and Mrs. Thompson the previous night, my informant said, -and added that he himself would probably be one of a fresh batch on whom -a similar duty would devolve inside an hour or so. - -He had scarcely left the office--after refreshing himself by the -artificial aid of Guinness--before a knock came to my door, and the next -moment Mr. Thompson himself quietly entered. I saw that the poker was -within easy reach, and then asked him how he was. - -"I'm all right," he replied. "I merely dropped in to borrow the _Glasgow -Herald_ for a few minutes. I heard to-day that a ship of ours was -reported as spoken, but I can't find it in any paper that has come to -us." - -"You can have the _Herald_ with pleasure," said I. "You didn't go to the -concert last night?" - -"No," said he. "You see it was the night of our choir practice, and I -had to attend it to keep the others up to their work." - -The next night I asked the sub-editor how his friend Mr. Thompson was, -and if he had experienced much difficulty in keeping him from making an -onslaught upon the snakes. - -He shook his head solemnly, as if his experiences of the previous night -were too terrible to be expressed in ordinary colloquialisms. - -"Sonny," said he, "pray that you may never see all that I saw last -night." - -"Or all that Thompson saw," said I. "Was he very bad?" - -"As bad as they make them," he replied. "I sat on his head for hours at -a stretch." - -"When he was off his head you were on it?" - -"Ay; but every now and again he would, by an almost superhuman effort, -toss me half way up to the ceiling. Man, it was an awful night! It's -heartless of me not being with the poor woman now; but I said I'd do a -couple of hours' work before going." - -"All right," said I. "Maybe Thompson will call here and you can walk up -with him." - -"Thompson call? What the blue pencil do you mean?" - -"Just what I say. If you had waited for five minutes last night you -might have had his company up to that pleasant little _sance_ in which -you turned his head into a chair. He called to see the _Glasgow Herald_ -before you could have reached the end of the street." - -He gave a little gasp. - -"I didn't say Thompson, did I?" he asked, after a pause. - -"You certainly did," said I. - -"I'll be forgetting my own name next," said he. "The man's name is -Johnston--he lives in the corner house of the row I lodge in." - -"Anyhow, you'll not see him to-night," said I. - -***** - -The fellow failed to exasperate me even then. But he succeeded early the -next month. He came to me one night with a magazine in his hand. - -"I wonder if the boss"--I think I mentioned that he was a rough -diamond--"would mind my inserting a column or so of extracts from this -paper of mine in the _Drawing Room_ on Benvenuto Cellini?" He pronounced -the name "Selliny." - -"On whom is the paper?" I inquired. - -"Selliny--Benvenuto Selliny. I've made Selliny my own--no man living can -touch me there. I knocked off the thing in a hurry, but it reads very -well, though I say it who shouldn't." - -"Why shouldn't you say it?" I inquired. - -"Well when you've written as much as me,"--he was a rough -diamond--"maybe you'll be as modest," he cried, gaily. "When you can -knock off a paper----" - -"There's one paper that you'll not knock off, but that you'll be pretty -soon knocked off," said I; "and that paper is the one that you are -connected with just now. If lies were landed property you'd be one of -the largest holders of real estate in the world. I never met such a liar -as you are. You never wrote that article on Benvenuto Cellini--you don't -even know how to pronounce the man's name." - -"The boy's mad--mad!" he cried, with a laugh that was not a laugh. "Mr. -Barton,"--the managing editor had entered the room,--"this fair-haired -young gentleman is a bit off his head, I'm thinking." - -"I'm not off my head in the least," said I. "Do you mean to say, in the -presence of Mr. Barton, that you wrote that paper in the _Drawing Room_ -on Benvenuto Cellini?" - -"Do you want me to take my oath that I wrote it?" said he. "What makes -you think that I didn't write it?" - -"Nothing beyond the fact that I wrote it myself, and that this slip -of paper which I hold in my hand is the cheque that was sent to me -in payment for it, and that this other slip is the usual form of -acknowledgment--you see the title of the article on the side--which I -have to post to-morrow." - -There was a silence in the room. The managing editor had seated himself -in my chair and was scribbling something at the desk. - -"My fair-haired friend," said the sub-editor, "I thought that you would -have seen from the first the joke I was playing on you. Why, man, the -instant I read the paper I knew it was by you. Don't you fancy that I -know your fluent style by this time?" - -"I fancy that there's no greater liar on earth than yourself," said I. - -"Look here," he cried, assuming a menacing attitude. "I can stand a lot, -but----" - -"And so can I," said the managing editor, "but at last the breaking -strain is reached. That paper will allow of your drawing a -month's salary to-morrow,"--he handed him the paper which he had -scribbled,--"and I think that as this office has done without you for -eleven nights during the past month, it will do without you for the -twelfth. Don't let me find you below when I am going away." - -He didn't. - -***** - -I cannot say that I ever met another man connected with a newspaper -quite so unscrupulous as the man with whom I have just dealt. I can -certainly safely say that I never again knew of a journalist laying -claim to the authorship of anything that I wrote, either in a daily -paper, where everything is anonymous, or in a magazine, where I employed -a pseudonym. No one thought it worth his while doing so. A man who -was not a journalist, however, took to himself the honour and glory -associated with the writing of a leaderette of mine on the excellent -management of a local library. The man who was idiot enough to do so was -a theological student in the Presbyterian interest. He began to frequent -the library without previously having paid his fare, and on being -remonstrated with mildly by the young librarian, said that surely it was -not a great concession on the part of the committee to allow him the -run of the building after the article he had written in the leading -newspaper on the manner in which the institution was conducted. It so -happened, however, that the librarian had, at my request, furnished me -with the statistics that formed the basis of the leaderette, and he -had no hesitation in saying of the divinity student at his leisure what -David said of all men in his haste. But after being thrust out of the -library and called an impostor, the divinity student went home and wrote -a letter signed "Theologia," in which he made a furious onslaught upon -the management of the library, and had the effrontery to demand its -insertion in the newspaper the next day. - -He is now a popular and deservedly respected clergyman, and I hear that -his sermon on Acts v., 1-11 is about to be issued in pamphlet form. - -***** - -Curiously enough quite recently a man in whose chambers I was -breakfasting, pointed out to me what he called a good story that had -appeared in a paper on the previous evening. - -The paragraph in which it was included was as follows:-- - -"A rather amusing story is told by the _Avilion Gazettes_ Special -Commissioner in his latest article on 'Ireland as it is and as it would -be.' It is to the effect that some of the Irish members recently wished -to cross the Channel for half-a-crown each, and to that end called on a -boat agent, a Tory, who knew them, when the following conversation took -place:-- - -"'Can we go across for half-a-crown each?' - -"'No, ye can't, thin.' - -"'An' why not?' - -"'Because'tis a cattle boat.' - -"'Nevermind that, sure we're not particular.' - -"'No, but the cattle are.'" - -That was the entire paragraph.. - -"It's a bit rough on your compatriots," said my host. "You look as if -you feel it." - -"I do," said I; "I feel it to be rather sad that a story that a fellow -takes the trouble to invent and to print in a pamphlet, should be picked -up by an English correspondent in Dublin, printed in one of his letters -from Ireland, and afterwards published in a London evening paper without -any acknowledgment being made of the source whence it was derived." - -And that is my opinion still. The story was a pure invention of my own, -and it was printed in an anonymous skit, only without the brogue. It -was left for the English Special Commissioner to make a feature of the -brogue, of which, of course, he had become a master, having been close -upon two days in Dublin. - -But the most amusing thing to me was to find that the sub-editor of the -newspaper with which I was connected had actually cut the paragraph out -of the London paper and inserted it in our columns. He pointed it out to -me on my return, and asked me if I didn't think it a good story. - -I said it was first rate, and inquired if he had ever heard the story -before. He replied that he never had. - -That was, I repeat, the point of the whole incident which amused me -most; for I had made the sub-editor a present of the original pamphlet, -and he said he had enjoyed it immensely. - -He also hopes to be one day an ordained clergyman. - -***** - -When in Ireland during the General Election of 1892, I got a telegram -one night informing me that Mr. Justin M'Carthy had been defeated in -Derry that day by Mr. Ross, Q.C. - -It occurred to me that if a quatrain could be made upon the incident it -might be read the next day. The following was the result of the great -mental effort necessary to bring to bear upon the task:-- - - "That the Unionists Derry can win - - Is a matter to-day beyond doubt; - - For Ross the Q.C. is just in, - - And the one that's Justin is just out." - -I put my initials to this masterpiece, and I need scarcely say that I -was dizzy with pride when it appeared at the head of a column the -next morning. Now, that thing kept staring me in the face out of every -newspaper, English as well as Irish, that I picked up during the next -fortnight, only it appeared without my initials, but in compensation -bore as preface, lest the reader might be amazed at coming too suddenly -upon such subtle humour, these words:-- - -"The following epigram by a Dublin wit is being widely circulated in the -Irish metropolis." Some months afterwards, when I chanced to pay a visit -to Dublin, the author of the epigram was pointed out to me. - -"So it was he who wrote that thing about just in and just out?" I -remarked. - -"It was," said my friend. "I'd introduce you to him only, between -ourselves, though a nice enough fellow before he wrote that, _he hasn't -been very approachable since_." - -I felt extremely obliged to the gentleman. I thought of Mary Barton, -the heroic lady represented by Miss Bateman long ago, who had accused -herself of the crime committed by another. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII.--MEN, MENUS, AND MANNERS. - - -_A humble suggestion--The reviewer from Texas--His treatment of the -story of Joseph and his Brethren--A few flare-up headings--The -Swiss pastor--Some musical critics--"Il Don Giovanni"--A subtle -point--Newspaper suppers--Another suggestion--The bitter cry of the -journalist--The plurality of porridge--An object lesson superior to -grammatical rules--The bloater as a supper dish--Scarcely an unequivocal -success._ - - -I HOPE I may not be going too far when I express the hope in this place -that any critic who finds out that some of my jottings are ancient will -do me the favour to state where the originals are to be found. I have -sufficient curiosity to wish to see how far the jottings deviate from -the originals. - -In the preparation of stories for the Press it is, I feel more impressed -every day, absolutely necessary to bear in mind the authentic case of -the young sailor's mother who abused him for telling her so palpably -impossible a yarn about his having seen fish rise from the water and fly -along like birds, but who was quite ready to accept his account of the -crimson expanse of the Red Sea. Some of the most interesting incidents -that have actually come under my notice could not possibly be published -if accuracy were strictly observed as to the details. They are "owre -true" to obtain credence.. - -In this category, however, I do not include the story about the -gentleman from Texas who, after trying various employments in Boston to -gain a dishonest livelihood, represented himself at a newspaper office -as a journalist, and only asked for a trial job. The editor, believing -he saw an excellent way of getting rid of a parcel of books that had -come for review, flung him the lot and told him to write three-quarters -of a column of flare-up head-lines, and a quarter of reviews, and maybe -some fool might be attracted to the book column. Now, at the top of the -batch there chanced to be the first instalment of a new Polyglot Bible, -after the plan so successfully adopted by Messrs. Bagster, about to -be issued in parts, and the reviewer failed to recognise the Book of -Genesis, which he accordingly read for fetching head-lines. The result -of his labours by some oversight appeared in the next issue of the -paper, and attracted a considerable amount of interest in religious -circles in Boston. - -[Illustration: 0136] - -The remaining quarter of a column was occupied by a circumstantial -and highly colloquial account of the incidents recorded in the Book of -Genesis, and it very plainly suggested that the work had been published -by Messrs. Hoskins as a satire upon the success of the Hebrew race in -the New England States. The reviewer even made an attempt to identify -Joseph with a prominent Republican politician, and Potiphar's wife with -the Democratic party, who were alleged to be making overtures to the -same gentleman. - -But I really did once meet with a sub-editor who had reviewed "The Swiss -Family Robinson" as a new work. He commenced by telling the readers -of the newspaper that the book was a wholesome story of a worthy Swiss -pastor, and so forth. - -I also knew a musical critic who, on being entrusted with the duty of -writing a notice of _Il Don Giovanni_, as performed by the Carl Rosa -Company, began as follows: "Don Giovanni, the gentleman from whom the -opera takes its name, was a licentious Spanish nobleman of the past -century." The notice gave some account of the _affaires_ of this -newly-discovered reprobate, glossing over the Zerlina business rather -more than Mozart thought necessary to do, but being very bitter against -Leporello, "his valet and confidant," and finally expressing the opinion -somewhat dogmatically that "few of the public would be disposed to say -that the fate which overtook this callous scoundrel was not well earned -by his persistence in a course of unjustifiable vice. The music is -tuneful and was much encored." - -Upon the occasion of this particular representation I recollect that I -wrote, "An Italian version of a Spanish story, set to music by a German, -conducted by a Frenchman, and interpreted by a Belgian, a Swiss, an -Irishman and a Canadian--this is what is meant by English Opera." - -My notice gave great offence; but the other was considered excellent. - -The moral tone that pervaded it was most praiseworthy, the people said. - -And so it was. - -I have got about five hundred musical jottings which, if provoked, I -may one day publish; but, meantime, I cannot refrain from giving one -illustration of the way in which musical notices were managed long ago. - -Madame Adelina Patti had made her first (and farewell) appearance in the -town where I was located. I was engaged about two o'clock in the morning -putting what I considered to be the finishing touches to the column -which I had written about the diva's concert, when the reporter of the -leading paper burst into the room in which I was writing. He was in -rather a dishevelled condition, and he approached me and whispered that -he wanted to ask me a question outside--there were others in the room. I -went through the door with him and inquired what I could do for him. - -"I was marked for that blessed concert, and I went too, and now I'm -writing the notice," said he. "But what I want to know is this--_Is -Patti a soprano or a contralto?_" - -***** - -I have just now discovered that it would be unwise for me to continue -very much farther these reminiscences of editors and sub-editors, the -fact being that I have some jottings about every one of the race whom -I have ever met, and when one gets into a desultory vein of anecdotage -like that in which I now find myself for the first time in my life, -one is liable to exhaust a reader's forbearance before one's legitimate -subject has become exhausted. I think it may be prudent to make a -diversion at this period from the sub-editors of the past to the suppers -of the newspaper office. Gastronomy as a science is not drawn out to its -finest point within these precincts. There is still something left to be -desired by such persons as are fastidious. I have for long thought that -it would be by no means extravagant to expect every newspaper office to -be supplied with a kitchen, properly furnished, and with the "good plain -cook," who so constantly figures in the columns (advertising), at hand -to turn out the suppers for all departments engaged in the production of -the paper. - -It is inconvenient for an editor to be compelled to cook his own supper -at his gas stove, while the flimsies of the speech upon which he is -writing are being laid on his desk by the sub-editor, and the foreman's -messenger is asking for them almost before they have ceased to flutter -in the cooling draught created by opening the door. Equally inconvenient -is it for the sub-editor and the reporters to get something to prevent -them from succumbing to starvation. The compositors in some offices -have lately instituted a rule by which they "knock off" for supper at -half-past ten; but what sort of a meal do they get to sustain them until -four in the morning? I have no hesitation in pronouncing it to be almost -as indifferent as that upon which the editor is forced to subsist for, -perhaps, the same period. I have seen the compositors--some of them -earning 5 a week--crouching under their cases, munching hunches -(the onomatopia is Homeric) of bread, while their cans of tea--that -abomination of cold tea warmed up--were stewing over their gas burners. - -In the sub-editors' room, and the reporters' room, tea was also being -cooked, or bottles of stout drunk, the accompanying, comestibles being -bread or biscuits. After swallowing tea that has been stewing on its -leaves for half-an-hour, and eating a slab of office bread out of one -hand while the other holds the pen, the editor writes an article on -the grievances of shopmen who are only allowed an hour for dinner and -half-an-hour for tea; or, upon the slavery of a barmaid; or, perhaps, -composes a nice chatty half-column on the progress of dyspepsia and the -necessity for attending carefully to one's diet. - -Now, I affirm that no newspaper office should be without a kitchen. The -compositors should be given a chance of obtaining all the comforts of -home at a lesser cost than they could be provided at home; and later on -in the night the reporters, sub-editors, and editor should be able to -send up messages as to the hour they mean to take supper, and the dish -which they would like to have. Here is an opportunity for the Institute -of Journalists. Let them take sweet counsel together on the great -kitchen question, and pass a resolution "that in the opinion of the -Institute a kitchen in complete working order should form part of every -morning newspaper office; and that a cook, holding a certificate from -South Kensington, or, better still, Mrs. Marshall, should be regarded as -essential to the working staff as the editor." - -I do not say that a box of Partagas, or Carolinas, should be provided -by the management for every room occupied by the literary staff; though -undoubtedly a move in the right direction, yet I fear that public -feeling has not yet been sufficiently aroused by the bitter cry of the -journalist, to make the cigar-box and the club chair probable; but I do -say that since journalism has become a profession, those who practise it -should be treated as if they were as deserving of consideration as the -salesmen in drapers' shops. Surely, as we have sent the bitter cry into -all the ends of the earth on behalf of others, we might be permitted the -luxury of a little bitter cry on our own account. - -***** - -This brings me down to the recollections I retain of the strange ideas -that some of the staff of journals with which I have been connected, -possessed as to the most appropriate menu for supper. One of these -gentlemen, for instance, was accustomed to make oatmeal porridge in a -saucepan for himself about two o'clock in the morning. When accused of -being a Scotchman, he indignantly denied that he was one. He admitted, -however, that he was an Ulsterman, and this was considered even worse -by his accusers. He invariably alluded to the porridge in the plural, -calling it "them." I asked him one night why the thing was entitled to -a plural, and he said it was because no one but a blue-pencilled fool -would allude to it as otherwise. I had the curiosity to inquire farther -how much porridge was necessary to be in the saucepan before it became -entitled to a plural; if, for instance, there was only a spoonful, -surely it would be rather absurd to still speak of it as "them." He -replied, after some thought, that though he had never considered the -matter in all its bearings, yet his impression was that even a spoonful -was entitled to a plural. - -"Did you ever hear any one allude to brose as 'it'?" he asked. - -I admitted that I never had. - -"Then if you call brose 'them,' why shouldn't you call stirabout -'them'?" he asked, triumphantly. - -"I must confess that I never had the matter brought so forcibly before -me," said I. - -As he was going to "sup them," as he termed the operation of ladling the -contents of the saucepan into his mouth, I hastily left the room. I have -eaten tiffin within easy reach of a dozen lepers on Robben Island in -Table Bay, I have taken a hearty supper in a tent through which a camel -every now and again thrust its nose, I have enjoyed a biltong sandwich -on the seat of an African bullock waggon with a Kaffir beside me, I have -even eaten a sausage snatched by the proprietor from the seething panful -in the window of a shop in the Euston Road--I did so to celebrate the -success of a play of mine at the Grand Theatre--but I could not remain -in the room while that literary gentleman partook of that simple supper -of his. - -On my return when he had finished I never failed to allow in the most -cordial way the right of the preparation to a plural. It was to be -found in every part of the room; the table, the chairs, the floor, the -fireplace, the walls, the ceiling--all bore token to the fact that it -was not one but many. - -In the hands of a true Ulsterman stirabout "are" a terrible weapon. - -As a mural decorative medium "they" leave much to be desired. - -***** - -Only one man connected with the Press did - -I ever know addicted to the bloater as a supper dish. The man came among -us like a shadow and disappeared as such, after a week of incompetence; -but he left a memory behind him that not all the perfumes of Arabia can -neutralise. It was about one o'clock in the morning--he had come on duty -that night--that there floated through the newspaper office a dense blue -smoke and a smell--such a smell! It was of about the same density as -an ironclad. One felt oneself struggling through it as though it were a -mass of chilled steel plates, backed with soft iron. On the upper floor -we were built in by it, so to speak. It arose on every side of us like -the wall of a prison, and we kept groping around it for a hole large -enough to allow of our crawling through. Two of us, after battering at -that smell for a quarter of an hour, at last discovered a narrow passage -in it made by a current of air from an open window, and having squeezed -ourselves through, we ran downstairs to the sub-editors' room. - -Through the crawling blue smoke we could just make out the figure of -a man standing in his shirt sleeves in front of the fire using a large -two-pronged iron fork as a toothpick. On a plate on the table lay the -dislocated backbone of a red herring (_harengus rufus_). - -The man was perfectly self-possessed. We questioned him closely about -the origin of the smoke and the smell, and he replied that, without -going so far as to pronounce a dogmatic opinion on the subject, and -while he was quite ready to accept any reasonable suggestion on -the matter from either of us, he, for his part, would not be at all -surprised if it were found on investigation that both smoke and smell -were due to his having openly cooked a rather bloated specimen of the -Yarmouth bloater. He always had one for his supper, he said; critically, -when not too pungent--he disliked them too pungent--he considered that -a full-grown bloater, well preserved for its years and considering the -knocking about that it must have had, was fully equal to a beefsteak. -There was much more practical eating in it, he should say, speaking as -man to man. And it was so very simple--that was its great charm. - -For himself, he never could bear made-up dishes; they were, he thought, -usually rich, and he had a poor-enough digestion, so that he could not -afford to trifle with it. - -Just then the foreman loomed through the dense smoke, and, being -confronted with the hydra-headed smell, he boldly grappled with it, and -after a fierce contest, he succeeded in strangling one of the heads and -then set his foot on it. He hurriedly explained to the subeditor that -all the hands who had lifted the copy that had been sent out were -setting it up with bowls of water beside them to save themselves the -trouble of going to the water-tap for a drink. - -The next day the clerks in the mercantile department were working with -bottles of carbolic under their noses, and every now and again a note -would be brought in from a subscriber ordering his paper to be stopped -until a new consignment of printers' ink should arrive, in which the -chief ingredient was not so pungent. - -At the end of a week the sub-editor was given a month's salary and an -excellent testimonial, and was dismissed. The proprietor of the journal -had the sub-editors' room freshly painted and papered, and made the -assistant-editor a present of two pounds to buy a new coat to replace -the one which, having hung in the room for an entire night, had to be -burnt, no cleaner being found who would accept the risk of purifying it. -The cleaners all said that they would not run the chance of having all -the contents of their vats left on their hands. They weren't as a rule -squeamish in the matter of smells; they only drew the line at creosote, -and the coat was a long way on the other side. - -Seven years have passed since that sub-editor partook of that simple -supper, and yet I hear that every night drag-hounds howl at the door of -the room, and strangers on entering sniff, saying,-- - -"Whew! there's a barrel of red herrings somewhere about." - - - - -CHAPTER IX.--ON THE HUMAN IMAGINATION. - - -_Mr. Henry Irving and the Stag's Head--The sense of smell--A personal -recollection--Caught "tripping"--The German band--In the pre-Wagnerian -days--Another illustration of a too-sensitive imagination--The doctor's -letter--Its effects--A sudden recovery--The burial service is postponed -indefinitely_. - - -IT might be as well, I fancy, to accept with caution the statement made -in the last lines of the foregoing chapter. At any rate, I may frankly -confess that I have always done so, knowing how apt one is to be carried -away by one's imagination in some matters. Mr. Henry Irving told me -several years ago a curious story on this very point, and in regard also -to the way in which the imagination may be affected through the sense of -smell. - -When he was very young he was living at a town in the west of England, -and in one of the streets there was a hostelry which bore a swinging -sign with a stag's head painted upon it, with a sufficient degree of -legibility to enable casual passers-by to know what it was meant to -simulate. But every time he saw this sign, he had a feeling of nausea -that he could overcome only by hurrying on down the street. Mr. Irving -explained to me that it did not appear to him that this nausea was -the result of an offended artistic perception owing to any indifferent -draughtsmanship or defective _technique_ in the production of the sign. -It actually seemed to him that the painted stag possesses some influence -akin to the evil eye, and it was altogether very distressing to him. -After a short time he left the town, and did not revisit it until he had -attained maturity; and then, remembering the stag's head and the curious -way in which it had affected him long before, he thought he would look -up the old place, if it still existed, and try if the evil charm of -the sign had ceased to retain its potency upon him. He walked down the -street; there the sign was swinging as of old, and the moment he saw it -he had a feeling of nausea. Now, however, he had become so impregnated -with the investigating spirit of the time, that he determined to search -out the origin of the malign influence of the neighbourhood; and then he -discovered that the second house from the hostelry was a soap and candle -factory, on a sufficiently extensive scale to make a daily "boiling" -necessary. It was the odour arising from this enterprise that induced -the disagreeable sensation which he had experienced years before, and -from which few persons are free when in the neighbourhood of tallow in a -molten state. - -I do not think that this story has been published. But even if it has -appeared elsewhere it scarcely requires an apology. - -***** - -Though wandering even more widely than usual from my text--after all, -my texts are only pretexts for unlimited ramblings--I will give another -curious but perfectly authentic case of the force of imagination. In -this case the imagination was reached through the sense of hearing. - -At one time I lived in a town at the extremity of a very fine bay, at -the entrance to which there was a small village with a little bay of -its own and a long stretch of sand, the joy of the "tripper." I was -a "tripper" of six in those days, and during the summer months -an excursion by steamer on the bay was one of the most joyous of -experiences. But the steamer was a very small one, and apt to yield -rather more than is consistent with modern ideas of marine stability -to the pressure of the waves, which in a north-easterly wind--the -prevailing one--were pretty high in our bay. The effect of this -instability was invariably disastrous to a maiden aunt who was supposed -to share with me the enjoyment of being caught "tripping." With the -pertinacity of a man of six carrying a model of a cutter close to his -bosom, I refused to "go below" under the circumstances, with my groaning -but otherwise august relative, and she was usually extremely unwell. -It so happened, however, that the proprietors of the steamboat were -sufficiently enterprising to engage--perhaps I should say, to permit--a -German band to drown the groans of the sufferers in the strains of the -beautiful "Blue Danube," or whatever the waltz of the period may have -been--the "Blue Danube" is the oldest that I can remember. Now, when -the "season" was over, and the steamer was laid up for the winter, the -Germans were accustomed to give open-air performances in the town; so -that during the winter months we usually had a repetition on land of -the summer's _rpertoire_ at sea. The first bray that was given by the -trombone in the region of the square where we lived was, however, quite -enough to make my aunt give distinct evidence of feeling "a little -squeamish"; by the time the oboe had joined hands, so to speak, with the -parent of all evil, the trombone, she had taken out her handkerchief and -was making wry faces beneath her palpably false scalpet. But when the -wry-necked fife, and the serpent--the sea-serpent it was to her--were -doing their worst in league with, but slightly indifferent to, the -cornet and the Saxe-horn, my aunt retired from the apartment amid the -derisive yells of the young demons in the schoolroom, and we saw her no -more until the master of the music had pulled the bell of the hall-door, -and we had insulted him in his own language by shouting through the -blinds "schlechte musik!--sehr schlechte musik!" We were ready enough to -learn a language for insulting purposes, just as a parrot which declines -to acquire the few refined words of its mistress, will, if left within -the hearing of a groom, repeat quite glibly and joyously, phrases -which make it utterly useless as a drawing-room bird in a house where a -clergyman makes an occasional call. For years my aunt could never hear -a German band without emotion, since the crazy little steamer had danced -to their strains. In this case, it must also be remarked, the feeling -was not the result of a highly-developed artistic temperament. The -blemishes of the musical performances were in no way accountable for -my relative's emotions, though I believe that the average German band -frequenting what theatrical-touring companies call "B. towns," might -reasonably be regarded as sufficient to precipitate an incipient -disorder. No, it was the force of imagination that brought about my -aunt's disaster, which, I regret to say, I occasionally purchased, when -I felt that I owed myself a treat, for a penny, for this was the lowest -sum that the _impresario_ would take to come round our square and make -my aunt sick. The sum was so absurdly low, considering the extent of the -results produced, I am now aware that no really cultured musician, no -_impresario_ with any self-respect, would have accepted it to bring -his band round the corner; but when one reflects that the sum on the -original _scrittura_ was invariably doubled--for my aunt sent a penny -out when her sufferings became intense, to induce the band to go -away--the transaction assumes another aspect. - -We hear of the enormous increase in the salaries paid to musical artists -nowadays, and as an instance of this I may mention that a friend of mine -a few months ago, having occasion for the services of a German band--not -for medicinal purposes but for a philological reason--was forced to pay -two shillings before he could effect his object! Truly the conditions -under which art is pursued have undergone a marvellous change within a -quarter of a century. I could have made my aunt sick twenty-four times -for the sum demanded for a single performance nowadays. And in the -sixties, it must also be remembered, Wagner had not become a power. - -***** - -Strong-minded persons, such as the first Lord Brougham, may take a -sardonic delight in reading their own obituary notices, and such persons -would probably scoff at the suggestion made in an earlier chapter, that -the shock of reading the record of his death in a newspaper might have a -disastrous effect upon a man, but there is surely no lack of evidence to -prove the converse of "_mentem mortalia tangunt_." - -I heard when in India a story which seemed to me to be, as an -illustration of the effects of imagination, quite as curious as the -well-known case of the sailor who became cured of scurvy through -fancying that the clinical thermometer with which the surgeon took his -temperature was a drastic remedy. A young civil servant at Colombo felt -rather fagged after an unusually long stretch of work, and made up his -mind to consult the best doctor in the place. He did so, and the doctor -went through the usual probings and stethoscopings, and then looked -grave and went over half the surface again. He said he thought that -on the whole he had better write his opinion of the "case" in all its -particulars and send it to the patient. - -The next morning the patient received the following letter:-- - -"My dear Sir,--I think it only due to the confidence which you have -placed in me to let you know in the plainest words what is the result of -my diagnosis of your condition. Your left lung is almost gone, but -with care you might survive its disappearance. Unhappily, however, -the cardiac complications which I suspected are such as preclude the -possibility of your recovery. In brief, I consider it to be my duty to -advise you to lose no time in carrying out any business arrangements -that demand your personal attention. You may of course live for some -weeks; but I think you would do wisely to count only on days. - -"Meantime, I would suggest no material change in your diet, except the -reduction of your brandy pegs to seven per diem." - -This letter was put into the hands of the unfortunate man when he -returned from his early ride the next morning. Its effect was to -diminish to an appreciable degree his appetite for breakfast. He sat -motionless on his chair out on the verandah and stared at the letter--it -was his death-warrant. After an hour he felt a difficulty in breathing. -He remembered now that he had always been uneasy about his lungs--his -left in particular. He put his hand over the place where he supposed -his heart to lie concealed. How could he have lived so many years in the -world without becoming aware of the fact that as an every-day sort of an -organ--leaving the higher emotions out of the question altogether--his -heart was a miserable failure? Sympathy, friendship, love, emotion,--he -would not have minded if his heart were incapable of these, if it only -did its business as a blood pump; but it was perfectly plain from the -manner in which it throbbed beneath his hand, that it was deserving of -all the reprobation the doctor had heaped upon it. - -His difficulty of respiration increased, and with this difficulty he -became conscious of an acute pain under his ribs. He found when he -attempted to rise that he could only do so with an effort. He managed -to totter into his bedroom, and when he threw himself on his bed, it was -with the feeling that he should never rise from it again. - -His faithful Khnsmah more than once inquired respectfully if the -Preserver of the Poor would like to have the Doctor Sahib sent for, and -if the Joy of the Whole World would in the meantime drink a peg. But the -Preserver of the Poor had barely strength to express the hope that the -disappearance of the Doctor Sahib might be effected by a supernatural -agency, and the Joy of the Whole World could only groan at the -suggestion of a peg. The pain under his ribs was increasing, and he -had a general nightmare feeling upon him. Toward evening he sank into a -lethargy, and at this point the Khnsmah made up his mind that the time -for action had come; he went for the doctor himself, and was fortunate -enough to meet him going out in his buggy to dine. - -"What on earth have you been doing with yourself?" he inquired, when he -had felt the pulse of the patient. "Why, you've no pulse to speak of, -and your skin--What the mischief have you been doing since yesterday?" - -"How can you expect a chap's pulse to be anything particular when he has -no heart worth speaking of?" gasped the patient. - -"Who has no heart worth speaking of?" - -The patient looked piteously up at him. - -"That's kicking a man when he's down," he murmured. - -"What's the matter with you anyway?" said the doctor. "Your heart's all -right, I know--at least, it was all right yesterday. Is it your liver? -Let me have a look at your eyes." - -He certainly did let the doctor have a look at his eyes. He lay staring -at the good physician for some minutes. - -"No, your liver is no worse than it was yesterday," said the doctor, - -"Do you mean to say that your letter was only a joke?" said the patient, -still staring. - -"A joke? Don't be a fool. Do you fancy that I play jokes upon my -patients? I wrote to you what was the exact truth. I flatter myself I -always tell the truth even to my patients." - -"Oh," groaned the patient. "And after telling me that I hadn't more than -a few days to live you now say my heart's all right." - -"You're mad, my good fellow, mad! I said that you must go without the -delay of a day for a change--a sea voyage if possible--and that in a -week you'd be as well as you ever were. Where's the letter?" - -It was lying on the side of the bed. The patient had read it again after -he had thrown himself down. - -"My God!" cried the doctor, when he had brought it over to the lamp. "An -awful thing has happened. This is the letter that I wrote to Lois Perez, -the diamond merchant, who visited me yesterday just before you came. -My assistant must have put the letter that was meant for Perez into the -envelope addressed to you, and your letter into the other cover. Great -heavens!" - -The patient was sitting up in the bed. - -"You mean to say that--that--I'm all right?" he gasped. - -"Of course you're all right. You told me you wanted a sea voyage, and -naturally I prescribed one for you to give you a chance of getting your -leave without any trouble." - -The patient stared at the doctor for another minute and then fell back -upon his pillow, turned his face to the wall, and wept. - -Only for a few minutes, however; then he suddenly sprang from the bed, -caught the doctor by the collar of his coat, looked around for a weapon -of percussion, picked up the pillow and forthwith began to belabour the -physician with such vehemence that the Khnsmah, who hurried into the -room hearing the noise of the scuffle, fled from the compound, being -certain that the Joy of the Whole World had become a maniac. - -After the lapse of about a minute the doctor was lying on the floor with -the tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks and on to his disordered -shirt-front, while the patient sat limp on a chair yelling with -laughter--a trifle hysterically, perhaps. At the end of five minutes -both were sitting over a bottle of champagne--not too dry--discussing -the extraordinary effect of the imagination upon the human frame. - -"But, by Jingo! I mustn't forget poor Lois Perez," cried the doctor, -starting up. "You may guess what a condition he is in when you know that -the letter you read was meant for him." - -"By heavens, I can make a good guess as to his condition," said the -patient. "I was within measurable distance of that condition half an -hour ago. But I'm hanged if you are going to make any other poor devil -as miserable as you made me. Let the chap die in peace." - -"There's something in what you say," said the doctor. "I believe that -I'll take your advice; only I must rescue your letter from him. If it -were found among his effects after his death next week, I'd be set down -as little better than a fool for writing that he was generally sound but -in need of a long sea voyage." - -He drove off to the house of the Portuguese dealer in precious stones, -and on inquiring for him, learned that he had left in the afternoon by -the mail steamer to take the voyage that the doctor had recommended. -He meant to call at the Andamans, and then go on to Rangoon, the man in -charge of the house said. - -"There'll be an impressive burial service aboard that steamer before it -arrives at the Andaman Islands," said the doctor to his wife as he told -her what had occurred. The doctor was in a very anxious state lest -the letter which the Portuguese had received should be found among his -papers. His wife, however, took a more optimistic view of the situation. -And she was right; for Lois Perez returned in due course from Rangoon -with a very fine collection of rubies; and five years afterwards he had -still sufficient strength left to get the better of me in the sale of a -cat's-eye to which he perceived I had taken a fancy that was not to be -controlled. - - - - -CHAPTER X--THE VEGETARIAN AND OTHERS. - - -_"Benjamin's mess"--An alluring name--Scarcely accurate--A frugal -supper--Why the sub-editor felt rather unwell--"A man should stick -to plain homely fare"--Two Sybarites--The stewed lemon as a -comestible--The midnight apple--The roasted crabs--The Zenana -mission--The pibroch as a musical instrument--A curious blunder--The -river Deccan--Frankenstein as the monster--The outside critics--A -critical position--The curate as critic--A liberal-minded -clergyman--Bound to be a bishop--The joy-bells._ - - -TO return to the sub-editors and their suppers, I may say that I never -met but one vegetarian pressman. He was particularly fond of a supper -dish to which the alluring name of Benjamin's Mess was given by the -artful inventor. I do not know if the editor of this compilation had any -authority--Biblical or secular--for assuming that its ingredients were -identical with those with which Joseph, with the best of intentions, no -doubt, but with very questionable prudence, heaped upon the dish of -his youngest brother. I am not a profound Egyptologist, but I have a -distinct recollection of hearing something about the fleshpots of Egypt, -and the longing that the mere remembrance of these receptacles created -in the hearts of the descendants of Joseph and his Brethren, when -undergoing a course of enforced vegetarianism, though somewhat different -in character from that to which, at a later period, Nebuchadnezzar--the -most distinguished vegetarian that the world has ever known--was -subjected. Therefore, I think it is only scriptural to assume that the -original mess of Benjamin was something like a glorified Irish stew, or -perhaps what yachtsmen call "lobscouce," and that it contained at least -a neck of mutton and a knuckle of ham--the prohibition did not exist in -those days, and if the stew did not contain either ham or corned beef -it would not be worth eating. But the compilation of which my friend was -accustomed to partake nightly, and to which the vegetarian cookery book -arrogates the patriarchal title, was wholly devoid of flesh-meat. It -consisted, I believe, of some lentils, parsnips, a turnip, a head of -cabbage or so, a dozen of leeks, a quart of split peas, a few vegetable -marrows, a cucumber, a handful of green gooseberries, and a diseased -potato to give the whole a piquancy that could not be derived from the -other simple ingredients. - -I was frequently invited by the sub-editor to join him in his frugal -supper, but invariably declined. I told him that I had no desire to -convert my frame into a costermonger's barrow. - -Upon one occasion the man failed to come down to the office when he -was due. He appeared an hour later, looking very pale. His features -suggested those of an overboiled cauliflower that has not been -sufficiently strained after being removed from the saucepan. He -explained to me the reason of his delay and of his overboiled -appearance. - -"The fact is," said he, "that I did not feel at all well this morning. -For my breakfast I could only eat one covered dishful of peasepudding, -a head or two of celery and a few carrots, with a tureen of lentil soup -and a raw potato salad; so my wife thought she would tempt me with -a delicacy for my dinner. She made me a bran pie all for -myself--thirty-two Spanish onions and four Swedish turnips, with -a beetroot or two for colouring, and a thick paste of oatmeal and -bran--that's why it's called a bran pie. Confound the thing! It's too -fascinating. I can never resist eating it all, and scraping the stable -bucket in which it is cooked. I did so to-day, and that's why I'm late. -Well, well, perhaps I'll gain sense late in life. I don't feel quite -myself even yet. Oh, confound all those dainty dishes! A man should -stick to plain homely fare when he has work to do." - -But on reflection I think that the most peculiar supper menus of the -sub-editorial staff were those partaken of by two journalists who -occupied the same room for close upon a year--a room to which I had -access occasionally. One of these gentlemen was accustomed to place in -a saucepan on the fire a number of unpeeled lemons with as much water -as just covered them. After four hours' stewing, this dainty midnight -supper was supposed to be cooked. It certainly was eaten, and with very -few indications, all things considered, of abhorrence, by the senior -occupant of the sub-editor's room. He told me once in confidence that -he really did not dislike the stewed lemons very much. He had heard -that they were conducive to longevity, and in order to live long he was -prepared to make many sacrifices. There could be little doubt, he said, -that the virtue attributed to them was real, for he had been partaking -of them for supper for over three years, and he had never suffered from -anything worse than acute dyspepsia. I congratulated him. Nothing worse -than acute dyspepsia! - -His stable companion, so to speak, did not believe in heavy hot suppers -such as his colleague indulged in. He said it was his impression that -no more light and salutary supper could be imagined than a single apple, -not quite ripe. - -He acted manfully up to his belief, for every night I used to see him -eating his apple shortly after midnight, and without offering the fruit -the indignity of a paring. The spectacle was no more stimulating than -that of the lemon-eater. My mouth invariably became so puckered up -through watching the midnight banquets of these Sybarites, it was only -with difficulty that I could utter a word or two of weak acquiescence in -their views on a question of recognised difficulty. - -It is somewhat remarkable that the apple-eating sub-editor should be -the one who was guilty of the most remarkable error I ever knew in -connection with an attempted display of erudition. He had set out to -write a lively little quarter-of-a-column leaderette on a topic which -was convulsing society in those days--namely, the cruelty of boiling -lobsters alive. I am not quite certain that the question has even yet -been decided to the satisfaction either of the humanitarian who likes -lobster salad, or of the lobster that finds itself potted. Perhaps the -latter may some day come out of its shell and give us its views on the -question. - -At any rate, in the year of which I write, the topic was almost a -burning one: the month was September, Parliament had risen, and as -yet the sea-serpent had not appeared on the horizon. The apple-eating -sub-editor was doing duty for the assistant-editor, who was on his -holidays; and as evidence of his light and graceful erudition, he -asserted in his article that, however inhuman modern cooks might be -in their preparation of Crustacea for the fastidious palates of their -patrons, quite as great cruelty--assuming that it was cruelty--was in -the habit of being perpetrated in cookery in the days of Shakespeare. -"Readers of the immortal bard of Avon," he wrote, "will recollect how, -in one of the charming lyrics to 'Love's Labour's Lost,' among the -homely pleasures of winter it is stated that 'roasted crabs hiss in the -bowl.' - -"This reference to the preparation of crabs for the table makes it -perfectly plain that it was quite common to cook them alive, for were it -otherwise, how could they hiss? That listening to the expression of the -suffering of the crabs should be regarded by Shakespeare as one of the -joys of a household, casts a somewhat lurid light upon the condition of -English Society in the sixteenth century." - -***** - -It was the lemon-eating sub-editor who, on being requested by the editor -to write something about the Zenana Mission, pointing out the great good -that it was achieving, and the necessity there was for maintaining it in -an efficient condition, produced a neat little article on the subject. -He assured the readers of the paper that, among the many scenes of -missionary labour, none had of late attracted more attention than the -Zenana mission, and assuredly none was more deserving of this attention. -Comparatively few years had passed since Zenana had been opened up to -British trade, but already, owing to the devotion of a handful of men -and women, the nature of the inhabitants had been almost entirely -changed. The Zenanese, from being a savage people, had become, in a -wonderfully short space of time, practically civilised; and recent -travellers to Zenana had returned with the most glowing accounts of the -continued progress of the good work in that country. The writer of the -article then branched off into the "labourer-worthy-of-his-hire" side of -this great evangelisation question--in most questions of missionary -enterprise this side has a special interest attached to it--and the -question was aptly asked if the devoted labourers in that remote -vineyard were not deserving of support. Were civilisation and -Christianity to be snatched from the Zenanese just when both were within -their grasp? So on for nearly half a column the writer meandered in the -most orthodox style, just as he had done scores of times before when -advocating certain missions. - -I found him the next day running his finger down the letter Z, in the -index to the Handy Atlas, with a puzzled look upon his face. I knew then -that he had received a letter from the editor, advising him to look out -Zenana in the Atlas before writing anything further about so ticklish a -region. - -***** - -I also knew a sub-editor who fancied that the pibroch was a musical -instrument widely circulated in the Highlands. - -But who can blame a humble provincial journalist for making an odd -blunder occasionally, when a leading London newspaper, in announcing the -death, some years ago, of Captain Wallace, son of Sir Richard Wallace, -stated that the sad event had occurred while he was "playing at -bagatelle in the Bois de Boulogne"? It might reasonably have been -expected, I think, that the sub-editor of the foreign news should know -of the existence of the historic mansion Bagatelle, which the Marquis -of Hertford left to Sir Richard Wallace with the store of art treasures -that it contained. - -What excuse, one may also ask, can be made for the Dublin Professor who -referred in print "to those populous districts of Hindostan, watered by -the Ganges and the Deccan"? - -***** - -In alluding to Frankenstein as the monster, and not merely the maker -of the monster, the mistakes made by provincial journalists of the old -school may certainly also be condoned, when we find the same ridiculous -hallucination maintained by one of the most highly representative of -modern journalists, as-well as by the editor of a weekly paper of large -circulation, who enshrined it in the preface to a book for which he was -responsible. In this case the writer could not have been pressed -for time. But the marvel is, not that so many errors are run into by -provincial journalists, but that so few can be laid to their charge. -With telegrams pouring in by private wire, as well as by the P.A. and -C.N., to say nothing of Baron Reuter's and Messrs, Dalziel's special -services; with the foreman printer, too, appearing like a silent spectre -and departing like one that is not silent, leaving the impression -behind him that no newspaper, except that composed by a hated rival, can -possibly be produced the next morning;--with all these drags upon the -chariot wheels of composition, how can it be reasonably expected that -an editor or a sub-editor will become Academic in his erudition? When, -however, it is discovered the next day by some tenth-rate curate, who -probably gets a free copy of the paper, that the quotation "_O tempora! -O mores!_" is attributed to Virgil instead of Cicero, in a leading -article a column in length, written upon a speech of seven columns, the -writer is at once referred to as an ignorant boor, and an invitation is -given to all that curate's friends to point the finger of scorn at the -journalist. - -A long experience has convinced me that the curate who gets a free copy -of the paper, and who is most velvet-gloved in approaching any member -of the staff when he wants a favour, such as a leaderette on the Zenana -Mission, in which several of his lady friends are deeply interested, or -a paragraph regarding a forthcoming bazaar, or the insertion of a letter -signed "Churchman," calling attention to some imaginary reform which -he himself has instituted--this very curate is the person who sends -the marked copies of the paper to the proprietor with a gigantic _Sic_ -opposite every mistake, even though it be only a turned letter. - -I put a stop to the tricks of one of the race who had annoyed me -excessively. I simply inserted verbatim a long letter that he wrote on -some subject. It was full of mistakes, and to these the next day, in a -letter which he meant to be humorous, he referred as "printer's errors." -I took the liberty of appending an editorial note to this communication, -mentioning that the mistakes existed in the original letter, and adding -that I trusted the writer would not think it necessary to attribute -to the printer the further blunders which appeared in the humorous -communication to which my note was appended. - -The fellow sought an interview with me the next day, and found it. He -was furiously indignant at the course which I had adopted, and said I -had taken advantage of the haste in which he had written both letters. I -brought out of my desk forthwith a paper which he had taken the trouble -to re-edit with red ink for the benefit of the proprietor, who had, -naturally, handed it to me. I recognised the handwriting of the red-ink -editor the moment I received the first of his letters. - -"Did you make any allowance for the haste of the writers of these -passages that you took the trouble to mark and send to the proprietor?" -I inquired blandly. - -He said he did not know what it was that I referred to; and added that -it was a gratuitous assumption on my part to say that he had marked and -sent the paper. - -"Very well," said I. "I'll assume that you deny having done so. May I do -so?" - -"Certainly you may," he replied. "I have something else to do beside -pointing out the blunders of your staff." - -"Then I ask your pardon for having assumed that you marked the paper," -said I. "I was too hasty." - -"You were--quite too hasty," said he, going to the door. - -"I've acknowledged it," said I. "And therefore I'll not go to your -rector until to-morrow evening to prove to him that his curate is a -sneak and a liar as well as an extremely ignorant person." - -He returned as I sat down. - -"What paper is it that you allude to?" he asked. - -"I showed it to you," said I. "It was the paper that you re-edited in -red ink and posted anonymously to the proprietor." - -"Oh, that?" said he. "Why on earth didn't you say so at once? Of course -I sent that paper. My dear fellow, it was only my little joke. I meant -to have a little chaff with you about the mistakes." - -"Go away--go away," said I. "Go away, _Stiggins_." - -And he went away. - -***** - -I need scarcely say that such clergymen are not to be interviewed every -day. Equally exceptional, I think, was the clergyman who was good enough -to pay me a visit a few months after I had joined the editorial staff -of a daily paper. Although I had never exactly been the leader of the -coughers in church, yet on the other hand I had never been a leader of -the scoffers outside it; and somehow the parson had come to miss me. -I had an uneasy feeling when he entered my room that he had come on -business--that he might possibly have fancied I was afflicted with -doubts on, say, the right of unbaptised infants to burial in consecrated -ground, and that he had come prepared to lift the burden from my soul; -but he never so much as spoke of business until he had picked up his hat -and gloves, and had said a cheerful farewell. Only then he remarked, as -if the thing had occurred to him quite suddenly,-- - -"Oh, by the way, I don't think I noticed you in church during the past -few Sundays. I was afraid that you were indisposed." - -"Oh, no," said I. "I was all right; but the fact is, you see, that I've -become a sort of editor, and as I can never get to bed before three -or four in the morning, it would be impossible for me to rise before -eleven. To be sure I'm not on duty on Saturday nights, but the force of -habit is so great that, though I may go to bed in decent time on that -night, I cannot sleep until my usual hour." - -"Oh, I see, I see," said he, beginning to draw on his gloves. "Well, -perhaps on the whole--all things considered--the--ah--" here he was -seized with a fit of coughing, and when he recovered he said he had -always been an admirer of old Worcester, and he rather thought that some -cups which I had on a shelf were, on the whole, the most characteristic -as regards shape that he had ever seen. - -Then he went away, and I perceived from the appearance that his back -presented to me, that he would one day become a bishop. A clergyman with -such tact as he exhibited can no more avoid being made a bishop than the -young seal can avoid taking to the water. - -Before five years had passed he was, sure enough, raised to the Bench, -and every one is delighted with him. The celery from the Palace garden -invariably takes the first prize at the local shows; his lordship smiles -when you congratulate him on his repeated successes with celery, but -when you talk about chrysanthemums he becomes grave and shakes his head. - -This is his tact. - -***** - -The church of which he was rector was situated in a fashionable suburb -of the town, and it possessed one of the noisiest peals of bells -possible to imagine. They were the terror of the neighbourhood. - -Upon one occasion an elderly gentleman living close to the church -contracted some malady which necessitated, the doctor said, the -observance of the strictest quiet, even on Sundays. A message was sent -to the chief of the bellringers to this effect, the invalid's wife -expressing the hope that for a Sunday or two the bells might be -permitted to remain silent. Of course her very reasonable wish was -granted. The chief of the ringers thoughtfully called every Sunday -morning to inquire after the sufferer's condition, and for three weeks -he learned that it was unchanged, and the bells consequently remained -silent. On the fourth Sunday, he was told that the man had died during -the night. He immediately hastened off to the other seven bellringers, -worse than the first, and telling them that their prohibition was -removed, they climbed the belfry and rang forth the most joyous peal -that had ever annoyed the neighbourhood. - -"Ah," said the lady with whom I lodged, "there are the joy bells once -more. Poor Mr. Jenkins must be dead at last." - - - - -CHAPTER XI.--ON SOME FORMS OF SPORT. - - -_An invitation to shoot rooks--The sub-editors gun--A quotation -from "The Rivals"--The rook in repose--How the gun came to be -smashed--Recollections of the Spanish Main--A greatly overrated -sport--The story of Jack Burnaby's dogs--A fastidious man--His keeper's -remonstrance--The Australian visitor---A kind offer--Over-willing -dogs--The story of a muzzle-loader--How Mr. Egan came to be alive--Why -Patsy Muldoon smiled--The moral--Degrees of dampness--Below the -surface--The chameleon blackberry--A superlative degree of thirst._ - - -A FRIEND of mine once came to my office to invite me to an afternoon's -rook-shooting. I was not in my room and he found me in the sub-editor's. -I inquired about the trains to the place where the slaughter was to be -done, and finding that they were satisfactory, agreed to join him on the -following afternoon. - -Then he turned to the sub-editor--a pleasant young fellow who had ideas -of going to the bar--and asked him if he would care to come also. At -first the sub-editor said he did not think he would be able to come, -though he would like very much to do so. A little persuasion was -sufficient to make him agree to be one of our party. He had not a gun of -his own, he said, but a friend had frequently offered to lend him -one, so that there would be no difficulty so far as that matter was -concerned. - -The next day I managed, as usual, just to catch the train as it began to -move-away from the platform. My colleague on the newspaper had the -door of the compartment open for me, and I could see the leather of his -gun-case under the seat. I put my rook rifle--it was not in a case--in -the network, and we had a delightful run through the autumn landscape -to the station--it seemed miles from any village--where my friend was -awaiting us in his dogcart, driving tandem. The drive of three miles -to the rook-wood was exhilarating, and as we skirted some lines of -old gnarled oaks, I perceived in a moment that we could easily fill a -railway truck with birds, they were so plentiful. I made a remark to -this effect to my friend, who was driving, and he said that when we -arrived at the shooting ground and gave the birds the chance to which -they were entitled we mightn't get more than a couple of hundred all -told. - -The shooting ground was under a straggling tree about fifty yards from -the ruin of an old castle, said to have been built by the Knights -Templar. Here we dismounted from the dogcart, sending it a mile or two -farther along the road in charge of the man, and got ready our rifles. - -"What on earth have you got there?" my friend inquired of the -sub-editor, who was working at the gun-case. - -"It's the gun and cartridges," replied the young man; "but I'm not quite -certain how to make fast the barrels to the stock." - -"Great heavens!" cried my friend. "You've brought a double-barrelled -sporting gun to shoot rooks!" - -And so he had. - -We tried to explain to him that for any human being to point such a -weapon at a rook would be little short of murder, but he utterly failed -to see the force of our arguments. He very good-humouredly said that, -as we had come out to shoot rooks, he couldn't see how it -mattered--especially to the rooks--whether they were shot with his gun -or with our rook rifles. He added that he thought the majority of the -birds were like Bob Acres, and would as lief be shot in an ungentlemanly -as a gentlemanly attitude. - -Of course it is impossible to argue with such a man. We only said that -he must accept the responsibility for the butchery, and in this he -cheerfully acquiesced, slipping cartridges into both barrels--the friend -from whom he had borrowed the weapon had taught him how to do this. - -We soon found that at this point the breaking-strain of his information -was reached. He had no more idea of sport than a butcher, or the -_Sonttag jager_ of the _Oberlander Blatter._ - -As the rooks flew from the ruins to the belt of trees my friend and I -brought down one each, and by the time we had reloaded, we were ready -for two more, but I fired too soon, so that only one bird dropped. I -saw the eyes of the man with the shot-gun gleam, "his heart with lust -of slaying strong," and he forthwith fired first one barrel and then the -other at an old rook that cursed us by his gods, sitting on a branch of -a tree ten yards off. - -The bird flapped heavily away, becoming more vituperative every moment. - -"Look here," I shouted, "you mustn't shoot at a bird that's sitting on a -branch." - -"Oh. yes," said my friend, with a grim smile. "Oh, yes, he may. It'll do -him no more harm than the birds." - -Not a bird did that young sportsman fire at except such as had assumed -a sitting posture, and, incredible though it may seem, he only succeeded -in killing one. But from the moment that his skill was rewarded by -witnessing the downward flap of this one, the lust for blood seemed -to take possession of him, as it does the young soldiers when their -officers have succeeded in preventing them from blazing away at the -enemy while still a mile off. He continued to load and fire at birds -that were swaying on the trees beside us. - -"There's a chance for you," said my friend, "sarkastik-like," pointing -to a rook that had flapped into a branch just above our heads. - -The young man, his face pale and his teeth set, was in no mood for -distinguishing between one tone of voice and another. He simply took -half a dozen steps into the open and, aiming steadily at the bird, -fired both barrels simultaneously. Down came the rook in the usual way, -clawing from branch to branch. It remained, however, for several seconds -on a bough about eight feet from the ground; then we had a vision of the -sportsman clubbing his gun, and making a wild rush at his prey--and -then came a crash and a cheer. The sportsman held aloft in one hand -the tattered rook and in the other a double-barrelled gun with a broken -stock. - -He had never fired a shot in his life before this day, and all his ideas -of musketry were derived from the stories of pirates and buccaneers -of the Spanish Main--wherever that may be--which had come to him for -review. He thought that the clubbing of his weapon, in order to prevent -the escape of the rook, quite a brilliant thing to do. - -He had, however, completely smashed the gun, and that, my friend said, -was a step in the right direction. He could not do any more butchery -with it that day. - -It cost him four pounds getting that gun repaired, and he confessed to -me that, according to his experience, fowling was a greatly overrated -sport. - -***** - -It was while we were driving to the train that my friend told me the -story of Jack Burnaby's dogs--a story which he frankly confessed he had -never yet got any human being to believe, but which was accurate in -all its details, and could be fully verified by affidavit. He did -not succeed in obtaining my credence for it. There are other forms of -falsehood besides those verified by an affidavit, and I could not have -given more implicit disbelief than I did to the story, even if it had -formed the subject of this legal method of embodying a fiction. - -It appeared that never was there a more fastidious man in the matter -of his sporting dogs than one Algy Grafton. Pointers that called -for outbursts of enthusiasm on the part of other men--quite as good -sportsmen as Algy--failed to obtain more than a complimentary word from -him, and even this word of praise was grudgingly given and invariably -tempered by many words which were certainly not susceptible of a -eulogistic meaning. - -Among his friends--such as declined to resent the insults which he put -upon their dogs--there was a consensus of opinion that the animal which -would satisfy him would not be born--allowing a reasonable time for the -various processes of evolution--for at least a thousand years, and then, -taking into consideration the growth of radical ideas, and the decay of -the English sport, there would be little or no demand for a first-class -dog in the British Islands. - -Algy Grafton had just acquired the Puttick-Foozler moor, and almost -every post brought him a letter from his head-keeper describing the -condition of the birds and the prospects of the Twelfth. Though the -letters were written on a phonetic principle, the correctness of which -was, of course, proportionate to the accuracy of a Scotchman's ear, -and though the head-keeper was scarcely an optimist, still there was -no mistaking the general tone of the information which Algy received -through this source from the north: he gathered that he might reasonably -look forward to the finest shoot on record. - -Every letter which he got from the moor, however, contained the -expression of the keeper's hope that his master would succeed in his -search for a couple of good dogs. The keeper's hope was shared by Algy; -and he did little else during the month of July except interview dogs -that had been recommended to him. He travelled north and south, east and -west, to interview dogs; but so ridiculously fastidious was he that at -the close of the first week in August he was still without a dog. He was -naturally at his wit's end by this time, for as the Twelfth approached -there was not a dog in the market. He telegraphed in all directions in -the endeavour to secure some of the animals which he had rejected during -the previous month, but, as might have been expected, the dogs were no -longer to be disposed of: they had all been sold within a day or two -after their rejection by Mr. Grafton. It was on the seventh of August -that he got a letter from his correspondent on the moor, and in this -letter the tone of mild remonstrance which the keeper had hitherto -adopted in referring to his master's extravagant ideas on the dog -question, was abandoned in favour of one of stern reprimand; in fact, -some sentences were almost abusive. Mr. Donald MacKilloch professed to -be anxious to know what was the good of his wearing out his life on the -moor if his master did not mean to shoot on it. He hoped he would not -be thought wanting in respect if he doubted the sanity of the policy of -waiting without a dog until it pleased Providence--Mr. MacKilloch was -a very religious man--to turn angels into pointers and saints into -setters, a period which, it seemed to Mr. MacKilloch, his master was -rather oversanguine in anticipating. - -It was not surprising that, after receiving this letter from the -Highlands, Algy Grafton was somewhat moody as he strolled about his -grounds on the morning of the eighth, nor was it remarkable that, -when the rectory boy appeared with a letter stating that the Reverend -Septimus Burnaby was anxious for him to run across in time to lunch at -the rectory, to meet Jack Burnaby, who had just returned from Australia, -Algy said that the rector and his brother Jack and all the squatters in -the Australian colonies might be hanged together. Mrs. Grafton, however, -whose life had not been worth a month's purchase since the dog problem -had presented itself for solution, insisted on his going to the rectory -to lunch, and he went. It was while smoking a cigar in the rectory -garden with Jack Burnaby, who had spent all his life squatting, but with -no apparent inconvenience to himself, that Algy mentioned that he was -broken-hearted on account of his dogs. He gave a brief summary of his -travels through England in search of trustworthy animals, and lamented -his failure to obtain anything that could be depended on to do a day's -work. - -"By George! you don't mean to say there's not a good dog in the market -now?" said Mr. Burnaby, the squatter. - -"But that's just what I do mean to say," cried Algy, so plaintively that -even the stern and unbending MacKilloch might have pitied him. "That's -just what I do mean to say. I'd give fifty pounds to-day for a pair -of dogs that I wouldn't have given ten pounds for a month ago. I'm -heart-broken--that's what I am!" - -"Cheer up!" said Mr. Burnaby. "I have a couple of sporting dogs that -I'll lend to you until I return to the Colony in February next--the best -dogs I ever worked with, and I've had some experience." - -"It was Providence that caused you to come across to me to-day, -Grafton," said the rector piously, as Algy stood speechless among the -trim rosebeds. - -"You're sure they're good?" said Algy, his old suspicions returning. - -"Good?--am I sure?--oh, you needn't have them if you don't like," said -the Australian. - -"I beg your pardon a thousand times," cried Algy. "Don't fancy that I -suggest that the dogs are not first rate. Oh, my dear fellow, I don't -know how to thank you. I am--well, my heart is too full for words." - -"There's not a man in England except yourself that I'd lend them to," -said Mr. Burnaby. "I give you my word that I've been offered forty -pounds for each of them. Oh, there isn't a fault between them. They're -just perfect." - -Algy was delighted, and for the remainder of the evening he kept -assuring his poor wife that he was not quite such a fool as some people, -including the Scotch keeper, seemed to fancy that he was. - -He had felt all along, he said, that just such a piece of luck as -had occurred was in store for him, and it was on this account he had -steadily refused to be gulled into buying any of the inferior animals -that had been offered to him. - -Oh, yes, he assured her, he knew what he was about, and he'd let -MacKilloch know who it was that he had to deal with. - -The Australian's dogs were in the custody of a man at Southampton, but -he promised to have them sent northward in good time. It was the evening -of the eleventh when they arrived at the lodge. They were strange wiry -brutes, and like no breed that Algy had ever seen. The head-keeper -looked at them critically, and made some observations regarding -them that did not seem grossly flattering. It was plain that if Mr. -MacKilloch had conceived any sudden admiration for the dogs he contrived -to conceal it. Algy said all that he could say, which was that Mr. -Burnaby knew perfectly well what a dog was, and that a dog should be -proved before it was condemned. Mr. MacKilloch, hearing this excellent -sentiment, grunted. - -The next day was a splendid Twelfth so far as the weather was concerned. -Algy and his two friends were on the moor at dawn. At a signal from the -head-keeper the dogs were put to their work. They seemed willing enough -to work. Under their noses rose an old cock. To the horror of every one -they made a snap for him, and missing him they rushed full speed through -the heather in the direction he had taken, setting up birds right and -left, and driving them by the score into the next moor. Algy stood -aghast and speechless. It would be inaccurate to describe the attitude -of Donald MacKilloch as passive. He was not silent. But in spite of his -shouts--in spite of a fusi-lade of the strongest "sweers" that ever came -from a God-fearing Scotchman with well-defined views of his own on the -Free Kirk question, the two dogs romped over the moor, and the air was -thick with grouse of all sorts and conditions, from the wary cocks to -the incipient cheepers. - -To the credit of Algy Grafton it must be stated that he resolutely -refused to allow a gun to be put into the hands of Donald MacKilloch. -There was a blood-thirsty look in the keeper's eyes as now and again one -of the dogs appeared among the clumps of purple heather. When they were -tired out toward evening they were captured by one of the keepers, and -led off the moor, Algy following them, for he feared that they might -meet with an accident. He sent a telegram that night to their owner, and -the next morning received the following reply:-- - -"The infernal idiot at Southampton sent you the wrong dogs. The right -ones will reach you to-morrow. You have got a pair of the best -kangaroo hounds in the world--worth five hundred guineas. Take care of -them.--Burnaby." - -"_Kangaroo hounds! kangaroo hounds!_" murmured Algy with a far-away look -in his eyes. - -It seems that he is not quite so fastidious about dogs as he used to be. - -***** - -When in the west of Ireland some years ago, pretending to be on the -look-out for "local colour" for a novel, I heard, with about ten -thousand others, a very amusing story regarding a gun. It was told to -me by a man who was engaged in grazing a cow along the side of a ditch -where I sat while partaking of a sandwich, fondly hoping that at sundown -I might be able to look a duck or two straight in the face as the "fly" -came over the smooth surface of the glorious lake along which the road -skirted. - -"Your honour," said the narrator--he pronounced the words something -like "yer'an'r," but the best attempts to reproduce a brogue are -ineffective--"Your honour will mind how Mr. Egan was near having an -accident just as he drew by the bit of stone wall beyond the entrance to -his own gates?" - -"Yes," I replied, "I remember hearing that he was fired at by some -ruffian, and that his horse ran away with him." - -"It's likely that that's the same story only told different. Maybe you -never heard tell that it was Patsy Muldoon that was bid to do the job -for Mr. Egan, God save him!" - -"I never heard that." - -"Maybe not, sir. Ay, Patsy has repented for that shot, for it knocked -the eye of him that far into the inside of his head that the doctors had -no machine long enough to drag for it in the depths of his ould skull. -Patsy wasn't a well-favoured boy before that night, and with the loss of -his ear and the misplacement of his eye--it's not lost that it is, for -it's somewhere in the inside of his head--he's not a beauty just now. -You see, sir, Patsy Muldoon, Conn Moriarty, Jim Tuohy, and Tim Gleeson -was all consarned in the business. They got the lend of a loan of ould -Gleeson's gun, and the powder was in a half-pint whisky-bottle with a -roll of paper for a cork, and every boy was supposed to bring his own -bullets. Well, sir, ould Gleeson, before going quiet to his bed, had put -a full charge of powder and a bullet down the throat of the gun, and had -left her handy for Tim in the turf stack. But when Tim got a hoult of -the wippon, he didn't know that the ould man had loaded her, and so -he put another charge in her, and rammed it home to make sure. Then -he slipped the bottle with the rest of the powder into his pocket and -strolled down to the bit of dead wall--I suppose they call them dead -walls, sir, because they're so convanient for such-like jobs. Anyhow, he -laid down herself and the powder-bottle handy among the grass, and went -back to the cabin, so as not to be suspected by the polis of interferin' -with the job that was Patsy's by right. Well, sir, my brave Conn was the -next to come to the place, just to see that Tim hadn't played a thrick -on him. He knew that it was all right when he saw herself lying among -the grass, and as he didn't know that Tim had loaded her, he gave her a -mouthful of powder himself and rammed down the lead. After him came my -bould Tuohy, and, by the Powers, if he didn't load herself in proper -style too. Last of all came Patsy that was to do the job--he'd been -consalin' himself in the plantation, and it was barely time he had -to put another charge into the ould gun, when Mr. Egan came up on his -horse. Patsy slipped a cap on the nipple, and took a good aim from the -side of the wall. When he pulled the trigger it's a dead corp that the -gentleman would ha' been only for the accident that occurred just -then, for by some reason or other that nobody can account for, herself -burst--a thing she'd never done before--and Patsy's eye was druv into -his head, and he was left searching by the aid of the other for the half -of his ear, while Mr. Egan was a mile away on a mad horse. That's the -story, your honour, only nobody can account to this day for the quare -way that Patsy smiles when he sees a single barr'l gun with the barr'l a -bit rusty." - -***** - -It was, I recollect, on the day following the rehearsal of this pretty -little tale--the moral of which is that no man should shoot at a fellow -man from the shelter of a crumbling wall, without having ascertained the -exact numerical strength of the charges already within the barrel of -the gun--that I was caught on the mountain in a shower of rain which -penetrated my two coats within half-an-hour, leaving me in the condition -of a bath sponge that awaits squeezing. While I was trickling down to -the plains I met with the narrator of the story just recorded, and to -him I explained that I was wet to the skin. - -"And if your honour's wet to the skin, and you with an overcoat on, how -much worse amn't I that was out through all the shower with only a rag -on my back?" - -It is said that it was in this neighbourhood that the driver of one -of the "long cars," on being asked by a tourist what was the name of a -berry growing among the hedges, replied, "Oh, them's blackberries, your -honour." - -"Blackberries?" said the tourist. "But these are not black, but pink." - -"Oh, yes, sir; but blackberries is always pink when they're green," was -the ready explanation. - -I cannot guarantee the novelty of this story; but I can certainly affirm -that it is far more reasonable than the palpable invention regarding the -nervous curate who is said to have announced that, "next Tuesday, -being Easter Monday, an open air meeting will be held in the vestry, -to determine what colour the interior of the schoolhouse shall be -whitewashed outside." - -***** - -"Am I dhry? Is it am I dhry, that you're afther askin' me?" said a car -driver to a couple of country solicitors, whom he was "conveying" to a -court-house at a distant town on a summer's day. "Dhry? By the Powers! -I'm that dhry that if you was to jog up against me suddint-like, the -dust would fly out of my mouth." - - - - -CHAPTER XII.--SOME REPORTERS. - - -_An important person--The mayor-maker--Two systems--The puff and -the huff--"Oh that mine enemy were reported verbatim!"--Errors of -omission--Summary justice--An example--The abatement of a nuisance--The -testimony of the warm-hearted--The fixed rate--A possible placard--A -gross insult--Not so bad as it might have been--The subdivision of an -insult--An inadequate assessment--The Town Councillor's bribe--Birds -of a feather--A handbook needed--An outburst of hospitality--Never -again--The reporters "gloom"--The March lion--The popularity of the -coroner._ - - -THE chief of the reporting staff is usually the most important person -connected with a provincial newspaper. It is not too much to say that -it is in his power to make or to annihilate the reputation of a Town -Councillor, or even a Poor Law Guardian. He may do so by the adoption of -either of two systems: the first is persistent attention, the second is -persistent neglect. He may either puff a man into a reputation, or -puff him out of it. There are some men who become universally abhorred -through being constantly alluded to as "our respected townsman"; such a -distinction seems an invidious one to the twenty thousand townsmen who -have never been so referred to. If a reporter persists in alluding to a -certain person as "our respected townsman," he will eventually succeed -in making him the most highly disrespected burgess in the municipality, -if he was not so before.' On the other hand a reporter may, by judicious -neglect of a burgess who burns for distinction, destroy his chances of -becoming a Town Councillor; and, perhaps, before he dies, Mayor. But my -experience leads me to believe that if a reporter has a grudge against a -Town Councillor, a Poor Law Guardian, or a Borough Magistrate, and if he -is really vindictive, the most effective course of vengeance that he can -adopt is to record verbatim all that his enemy utters in public. The man -who exclaimed, at a period of the world's history when the publishing -business had not attained its present proportions, "Oh that mine enemy -had written a book!" knew what he was talking about. "Oh that mine enemy -were reported verbatim!" would assuredly be the modern equivalent of the -bitter cry of the patriarch. The stutterings, the vain repetitions, and -the impossible grammar which accompany the public utterances--imbecile -only when they are not commonplace--of the average Town Councillor or -Poor Law Guardian, would require the aid of the phonograph to admit of -their being anly when they are not commonplace--of the average Town -Councillor or Poor Law Guardian, would require the aid of the phonograph -to admit of their being adequately depreciated by the public. - -The worst offenders are those men who are loudest in their complaints -against the reporters, and who are constantly writing to correct what -they call "errors" in the summary of their speeches. A reporter puts in -a grammatical and a moderately reasonable sentence or two the ridiculous -maunderings and wanderings of one of these "public men," and the only -recognition he obtains assumes the form of a letter to the editor, -pointing out the "omissions" made in the summary. Omissions! I should -rather think there were omissions. - -I have no hesitation in affirming that the verbatim reporting of their -speeches would mean the annihilation of ninety-nine out of every hundred -of these municipal orators. - -Only once, on a paper with which I was connected, had a reporter the -courage to try the effect of a literal report of the speech of a man -who was greatly given to complaining of the injustice done to him in -the published accounts of his deliverances. Every "haw," "hum," "ah," -"eh--eh;" every repetition, every reduplication of a repetition, every -unfinished sentence, every singular nominative to a plural verb, every -artificial cough to cover a retreat from an imbecile statement, was -reported. The result was the complete abatement of this nuisance. A -considerable time elapsed before another complaint as to omissions in -municipal speeches was made. - -***** - -To my mind, the ability and the judgment shown by the members of the -reporting staff cannot be too warmly commended. It is not surprising -that occasionally attempts should be made by warm-hearted persons to -express in a substantial way their recognition of the talents of this -department of a newspaper. I have several times known of sums of money -being offered to reporters in the country, with a view of obtaining the -insertion of certain paragraphs or the omission of others. Half-a-crown -was invariably the figure at which the value of such services was -assessed. I am still of the opinion that this was not an extravagant sum -to offer a presumably educated man for running the risk of losing his -situation. Curiously enough, the majority of these offers of money came -from competitors at ploughing matches, at exhibitions of oxen and swine, -and at flower shows. Why agriculturalists should be more zealous to show -their appreciation of literary work than the rest of the population it -would be difficult to say; but at one time--a good many years ago--I -heard so much about the attempted distribution of half-crowns in -agricultural districts, I began to fear that at the various shows -it would be necessary to have a placard posted, bearing the words: -"GRATUITIES TO REPORTERS STRICTLY PROHIBITED." - -Many years ago I was somewhat tired of hearing about the numerous -insults offered to reporters in this way. A head-reporter once told me -that a junior member of his staff had come to him after a day in the -country, complaining bitterly that he had been grossly insulted by an -offer of money. - -"And what did you say to him?" I inquired. - -"I asked him how much he had been offered," replied the head-reporter, -"and when he said, 'Half-a-crown,' I said, 'Pooh! half-a-crown! that -wasn't much of an insult. How would you like to be offered a sovereign, -as I was one day in the same neighbourhood? You might talk of your -insults then.' That shut him up." - -I did not doubt it. - -"You think the juniors protest too much?" said I. - -The reporter laughed shrewdly. - -"You remember _Punch's_ picture of the man lying drunk on the pavement, -and the compassionate lady in the crowd who asked if the poor fellow -was ill, at which a man says, 'Ill? 'im ill? I only wish I'd alf his -complaint'?" - -I admitted that I had a vivid recollection of the picture; but I -added that I could not see what it had to say to the subject we were -discussing. - -Again the reporter smiled. - -"If you had seen the chap's face to-day when I talked of the sovereign -you would know what I meant; his face said quite plainly, 'I wish I had -half of that insult.'" - -That view was quite intelligible to me some time after, when a reporter, -whose failings were notorious, came to me with the old story. He had -been offered half-a-crown by a man in a good social position who had -been fined at the police court that day for being drunk and assaulting a -constable, and who was anxious that no record of the transaction should -appear in the newspaper. - -"Great heavens!" said I, "he had the face to offer you half-a-crown?" - -"He had," said the reporter, indignantly. "Half-a-crown! The low hound! -He knew that if I included his case in to-morrow's police news he would -lose his situation, and yet he had the face to offer me half-a-crown. -What hounds there are in the world! Two pounds would have been little -enough." - -***** - -I never heard of a Town Councillor offering a bribe to a reporter; but -I have heard of something more phenomenal--a Town Councillor indignantly -rejecting what he conceived to be a bribe. He took good care to boast of -it afterwards to his constituents. It happened that this Councillor -was the leader of a select faction of three on the Corporation, whose -_mtier_ consisted in opposing every scheme that was brought forward by -the Town Clerk, and supported by the other members of the Corporation. -Now the Town Clerk had hired a shooting one autumn, and as the birds -were plentiful, he thought that it would be a graceful act on his part -to send a brace of grouse to every Alderman and every Councillor. He did -so, and all the members of the Board accepted the transaction in a right -spirit--all, except the leader of the opposition faction. He explained -his attitude to his constituents as follows: - -"Gentlemen, you'll all be glad to hear that I've made myself formidable -to our enemies. I've brought the so-called Town Clerk down on his knees -to me. An attempt was made to bribe me last week, which I am determined -to expose. One night when I came home from my work, I found waiting for -me a queer pasteboard box with holes in it. I opened it, and inside I -found a couple of fat _brown pigeons_, and on their legs a card printed -'With Mr. Samuel White's compliments.' 'Mr. Samuel White! That's the -Town Clerk,' says I, 'and if Mr. Samuel White thinks to buy my -silence by sending me a pair of brown pigeons with Mr. Samuel White's -compliments, Mr. Samuel White is a bit mistaken;' so I just put the -pigeons back into their box, and redirected them to Mr. Samuel White, -and wrote him a polite note to let him know that if I wanted a pair of -pigeons I could buy them for myself. That's what I did." (Loud cheers.) - -When it was explained to him some time after that the birds were grouse, -and not pigeons, he asked where was the difference. The principle -would be precisely the same, he declared, if the birds were eagles or -ostriches. - -***** - -It has often occurred to me that for the benefit of such men, a complete -list should be made out of such presents as may be legitimately received -from one's friends, and of those that should be regarded as insultive in -their tendency. It must puzzle a good many people to know where the line -should be drawn. Why should a brace of grouse be looked on as a graceful -gift, while a pair of fowl--a "yoke," they are called in the West of -Ireland--can only be construed as an affront? Why should a haunch of -venison (when not over "ripe") constitute an acceptable gift, while a -sirloin of prime beef could only be regarded as having an eleemosynary -signification? Why may a lover be permitted to offer the object of his -attachment a fan, but not a hat? a dozen of gloves, but not a pair of -boots? These problems would tax a much higher intelligence--if it would -be possible to imagine such--than that at the command of the average -Town Councillor. - -***** - -It was the same member of the Corporation who, one day, having -succeeded--greatly to his astonishment--in carrying a resolution -which he had proposed at a meeting, found that custom and courtesy -necessitated his providing refreshment for the dozen of gentlemen -who had supported him. His ideas of refreshment revolved round a -public-house as a centre; but when it was explained to him that the -occasion was one that demanded a demonstration on a higher level, and -with a wider horizon, he declared, in the excitement of the moment, that -he was as ready as any of his colleagues to discharge the duties of host -in the best style. He took his friends to a first-class restaurant, -and at a hint from one of them, promptly ordered a couple of bottles -of champagne. When these had been emptied, the host gave the waiter a -shilling, telling him in a lordly way to keep the change. The waiter -was, of course, a German, and, with a smile and a bow, he put the -coin into his pocket, and hastened to help the gentlemen on with their -overcoats. When they were trooping out, he ventured to enquire whom the -champagne was to be charged to. - -The hospitable Councillor stared at the man, and then expressed the -opinion that all Frenchmen, and perhaps Italians, were the greatest -rogues unhung. - -"You savey!" he shouted at the waiter--for like many persons on the -social level of Town Councillors, he assumed that all foreigners are a -little deaf,--"You savey, I give you one shilling--one bob--you savey!" - -The waiter said he was "much oblige," but who was to pay for the -champagne? - -The gentlemen who had partaken of the champagne nudged one another, but -one of them was compassionate, and explained to the Councillor that the -two bottles involved the expenditure of twenty-four shillings. - -"Twenty-eight shillings," the waiter murmured in a submissive, -subject-to-the-correction-of-the-Court tone. The wine was Heidsieck of -'74, he explained. - -The Councillor gasped, and then smiled weakly. He had been made the -subject of a jest more than once before, and he fancied he saw in the -winks of the men around him, a loophole of escape from an untenable -position. - -"Come, come," said he, "I've no more time to waste. Don't you flatter -yourselves that I can't see this is a put-up job between you all and the -waiter." - -"Pay the man the money and be hanged to you!" said an impetuous member -of the party. - -Just then the manager of the restaurant strolled up, and received with a -polite smile the statement of the hospitable. Councillor regarding what -he termed the barefaced attempt to swindle on the part of the German -waiter. - -"Sir," said the manager, "the price of the wine is on the card. Here it -is,"--he whipped a card out of his pocket. "'Heidsieck--1874--14s.'" - -The generous host fell back on a chair speechless. - -Had any of his friends ever read Hamlet they would certainly not have -missed quoting the lines: - - "Indeed this (Town) Councillor - - Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, - - Who was in life--" - -Well--otherwise. However, _Hamlet_ remained unquoted. - -After a long pause he recovered his powers of speech. - -"And that's champagne--that's champagne!" he said in a weak voice, -"Champagne! By the Lord Harry, I've tasted better ginger-beer!" - -He has lately been very cautious in bringing forward any resolutions -at the Corporation. He is afraid that another of them may chance to be -carried. - -***** - -The reporter who told me the story which I have just recorded, was an -excellent specimen of the class--shrewd, a capital judge of character, -and a good organiser. He had, however, never got beyond the stereotyped -phrases which appear in every newspaper--indeed, there was no need for -him to get beyond them. Every death "cast a gloom" over the locality -where it occurred; and a chronicle of the weather at any time during -the month of March caused him to let loose the journalist's lion upon an -unsuspecting public. - -Once it occurred to me that he went a little too far with the gloom that -he kept, as Captain Mayne Reid's Mexicans kept their lassoes, ready to -cast at a moment's notice. - -He wrote an account of a fire which had caused the death of two persons, -and concluded as follows:-- - -"The conflagration, which was visible at a distance of four miles, and -was not completely subjugated until a late hour, cast a gloom over the -entire quarter of the town, that will be felt for long, more especially -as the premises were wholly uninsured." - -Yes, I thought that this was carrying the gloom a little too far. - -I will say this for him, however: it was not he who wrote: "A tall but -well-dressed man was yesterday arrested on suspicion of being concerned -in a recent robbery." - -Nor was it he who headed a paragraph, "Fatal Death by Drowning." - -***** - -In a town in which I once resided the coroner died, and there was quite -a brisk competition for the vacant office. The successful candidate was -a gentleman whose claims had been supported by a newspaper with which I -was connected. Three months afterwards the proofreader brought under the -notice of the sub-editor in my presence a paragraph which had come from -the reporter's room, and which had already been "set up." So nearly as -I can remember, it was something like this:--"Yesterday, no fewer than -three inquests were held in various parts of this town by our highly -respected coroner. Indeed, any doubts that may possibly have existed as -to the qualification of this gentleman for the coronership, among those -narrowminded persons who opposed his selection, must surely be dispelled -by reference to the statistics of inquests held during the three months -that he has been in office. The increase upon the corresponding quarter -last year is thirteen, or no less than 9.46 per cent. Compared with -the immediately preceding quarter the figures are no less significant, -showing, as they do, an increase of seventeen, or 12.18 per cent. -In other words, the business of the coroner has been augmented by -one-eighth since he came into office. This fact speaks volumes for the -enterprise and ability of the gentleman whose candidature it was our -privilege to support." - -Of course this paragraph was suppressed. The sub-editor told me the next -day that it had been written by a junior reporter, who had misunderstood -the instructions of his chief. The fact was that the coroner wanted an -increase of remuneration,--he was paid by a fixed salary, not by "piece -work," so to speak,--and he had suggested to the chief reporter that -a paragraph calling attention to the increase of inquests in the town -might have a good effect. The chief reporter had given the figures to -a junior, with a few hasty instructions, which he had somehow -misinterpreted. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII--THE SUBJECT OF REPORTS. - - -_The lecture society--"Early Architecture"--The professional -consultation--Its result--"Un verre d'eau"--Its story--Lyrics as -an auxiliary to the lecture--The lecture in print--A well-earned -commendation--The preservation of ancient ruins--The best -preservative--"Stone walls do not a prison make"--The Parnell -Commission--A remarkable visitor--A false prophet--Sir Charles -Russell--A humble suggestion--The bashful young man--Somewhat -changed--"Ireland a Nation"--Some kindly hints--The "Invincibles" in -court--The strange advertisement--How it was answered--Earl Spencer as a -patron--"No kindly act was ever done in vain!"_ - - -A REPORTER is now and again compelled to exercise other powers than -those which are generally supposed to be at the command of the writer -of shorthand and the paragraphist. I knew a very clever youth who in a -crisis showed of what he was capable. There was, in the town where we -lived, a society of very learned men and equally learned women. Once -a fortnight a paper was read, usually on some point of surpassing -dulness--this was in the good old days, when lectures were solemn and -theatres merry. Just at present, I need scarcely say, the position of -the two is reversed: the theatres are solemn (the managers, becoming -pessimistic by reason of their losses, endeavour to impress their -philosophy upon the public), but the lecture-room rings with laughter -as some _savant_ treats of the "Loves of Coleoptera" with limelight -illustrations, or "The Infant Bacillus." The society which I have -mentioned had engaged as lecturer for a certain evening a local -architect, who had largely augmented his professional standing by a -reputation for conviviality; and the subject with which he was to deal -was "Early Architecture." A brother professional man, whose sympathies -were said to extend in many directions, had promised to take the chair -upon this occasion. It so happened, however, that, owing to his pressing -but unspecified engagements, the lecturer found himself, on the day for -which the lecture was announced, still in doubt as to the sequence that -his views should assume when committed to paper. About noon on this day -he strolled into the office of the gentleman who was advertised to take -the chair in the evening, and explained that he should like to discuss -with him the various aspects of the question of Early Architecture, so -that his mind might be at ease on appearing before the audience. - -They accordingly went down the street, and made an earnest inspection of -the interior of a cave-dwelling in the neighbourhood--it was styled -"The Cool Grot," and tradition was respected by the presence therein of -shell-fish, oat-cake, and other elementary foods, with various samples -of alcohol in a rudimentary form. In this place the brother architects -discussed the subject of Early Architecture until, as a reporter would -say, "a late hour." The result was not such as would have a tendency to -cause an unprejudiced person to accept without some reserve the theory -that on a purely sthetic question, a just conclusion can most readily -be arrived at by a friendly discussion amid congenial surroundings. - -A small and very solemn audience had assembled some twenty minutes or so -before the lecturer and chairman put in an appearance, and then no time -was lost in commencing the business of the meeting. The one architect -was moved to the chair, and seconded, and he solemnly took it. Having -explained that he occupied his position with the most pleasurable -feelings, he poured himself out a glass of water with a most -unreasonable amount of steadiness, and laid the carafe exactly on the -spot--he was most scrupulous on this point--it had previously occupied. -He drank a mouthful of the water, and then looked into the tumbler -with the shrewd eye of the naturalist searching for infusoria. Then he -laughed, and told a story that amused himself greatly about a friend of -his who had attended a temperance lecture, and declared that it -would have been a great success if the lecturer had not automatically -attempted to blow the froth off the glass of water with which he -refreshed himself. Then he sat down and fell asleep, before the lecturer -had been awakened by the secretary to the committee, and had opened his -notes upon the desk. For about ten minutes the lecturer made himself -quite as unintelligible as the most erudite of the audience could have -desired; but then he suddenly lapsed into intelligibility--he had -reached that section of his subject which necessitated the recitation of -a poem said to be in a Scotch dialect, every stanza of which terminated -with the words, "A man's a man for a' that!" He then bowed, and, -recovering himself by a grasp of the desk, which he shook as though it -were the hand of an old schoolfellow whom he had not met for years, he -retired with an almost supernatural erectness to his chair. - -In a moment the chairman was on his feet--the sudden silence had -awakened him. In a few well-chosen phrases he thanked the audience for -the very hearty manner in which they had drunk his health. He then told -them a humorous story of his boyhood, and concluded by a reference to -one "Mr. Vice," whom he trusted frequently to see at the other end -of the table, preparatory to going beneath it. He hoped there was no -objection to his stating that he was a jolly good fellow. No absolute -objection being made, he ventured on the statement--in the key of B -flat; the lecturer joined in most heartily, and the solemn audience -went to their homes, followed by the apologies of the secretary to the -committee. - -The chairman and the lecturer were then shaken up by the old man who -came to turn out the lights. He turned them out as well. - -Now, the reporter who had been "marked" for that lecture found that he -had some much more important business to attend to. He did not reach -the newspaper office until late, and then he seated himself, and -thoughtfully wrote out the remarks which nine out of every ten chairmen -would have made, attributing them to the gentleman who presided at -the lecture; and then gave a general summary of the lecture on "Early -Architecture" which ninety-nine out of every hundred working architects -would deliver if called on. He concluded by stating that the usual vote -of thanks was conveyed to the lecturer, and suitably acknowledged -by him, and that the audience was "large, representative, and -enthusiastic." - -The secretary called upon the proprietor of the paper the next day, -and expressed his high appreciation of the tact and judgment of the -reporter; and the proprietor, who was more accustomed to hear comments -on the display of very different attainments on the part of his staff, -actually wrote a letter of commendation to the reporter, which I think -was well earned. - -The most remarkable point in connection with this occurrence was the -implicit belief placed in the statements of the newspaper, not only -by the public--for the public will believe anything--but also by the -architect-lecturer and the architect-chairman. The professional standing -of the former was certainly increased by the transaction, and till the -day of his death he was accustomed to allude to his lecture on "Early -Architecture." The secretary to the committee, for his own credit's -sake, said nothing about the fiasco, and the solemn members of the -audience were so accustomed to listen to incomprehensible lectures in -the same room that they began to think that the performance at which -they had "assisted" was only another of the usual type, so they also -held their peace on the matter. - -***** - -Having introduced this society, I cannot refrain from telling the story -of another transaction in which it was concerned. The ramifications of -the society extended in many directions, and a more useful organisation -could scarcely be imagined. It was like an elephant's trunk, which can -uproot a tree--if the elephant is in a good humour--but which does not -disdain to pick up a pin--like the boy who afterwards became Lord Mayor -of London. The society did not shrink from discussing the question "Is a -Monarchy or a Republic the right form of Government?" on the same -night that it dealt with a new stopper for soda-water bottles. The -Carboniferous Future of England was treated of upon the same evening as -the Immortality of the Soul; perhaps there is a closer connection -than at first meets the eye between the two subjects. It took ancient -buildings under its protection, as well as the most recently fabricated -pre-historic axe-head; and it was the discharge of its functions -in regard to ancient buildings that caused the committee to pass a -resolution one day, calling on their secretary to communicate with the -owner of a neighbouring property, in the midst of which a really fine -ruin of an ancient castle, with many interesting associations, was -situated, begging him to order a wall to be built around the ruins, so -as to prevent them from continuing to be the resort of cows with a fine -taste in archaeology, when the summer days were warm and they wanted -their backs scratched. - -The property was in Ireland, consequently the landlord lived in England, -and had never so much as seen the ruins. It was news to him that -anything of interest was to be found on his Irish estates; but as his -son was contemplating the possibility of entering Parliament as the -representative of an Irish borough, he at once crossed the Channel, -had an interview with the society's secretary, and, with the president, -visited the old castle, and was delighted with it. He sent for his -bailiff, and told him that he wanted a wall four feet high to be built -round the field in the centre of which the ruins lay--he even went so -far as to "peg out," so to speak, the course that he wished the wall to -take. - -The Irish bailiff stared at his master, but expressed the delight it -would give him to carry out his wishes. - -The owner crossed to England, promising to return in three months to see -how the work had been done. - -He kept his word. He returned in three months, and found, sure enough, -that an excellent wall had been built on the exact lines he had -laid down, but every stone of the ruins of the ancient castle had -disappeared. - -The bailiff stood by with a beaming face as he explained how the ruins -had gone. - -_He had caused the wall to be built out of the stones of the ancient -castle, to save expense._ - -***** - -If reporters were only afforded a little leisure, any one of them who -has lived in a large town could compile an interesting volume of his -experiences. I have often regretted that I could never master the art -of shorthand. I worked at it for months when a boy, and made sufficient -progress to be able to write it pretty fairly; but writing is not -everything. The capacity for transcribing one's notes is something to be -taken into account; and it was at this point that I broke down, and was -forced to become a novelist--a sort of novelist. The first time that I -went up country in Africa, my stock of paper being limited, I carried -only two pocket-books, and economised my space by taking my notes in -shorthand. I had no occasion to refer to these notes until I was writing -my novel "Daireen," and then I found myself face to face with a hundred -pages of hieroglyphs which were utterly unintelligible to me. In despair -I brought them to a reporter, and he read them off for me much more -rapidly than he or anyone else could read my ordinary handwriting -to-day. In fact, he read just a little too fast,--I was forced to beg -him to stop. There are some occurrences of which one takes a note in -shorthand in one's youth in a strange country, but which one does not -wish particularly to offer to the perusal of strangers years afterwards. - -But although I could never be a reporter, I now and again availed myself -of a reporter's privileges, when I wished to be present at a trial that -promised some interesting features to a student of good and evil. It -seemed to me that the Parnell Commission was an epitome of the world's -history from the earliest date. No writer has yet done justice to that -extraordinary incident. I have asked some reporters, who were -present day after day, if they intended writing a real history of the -Commission; not the foolish political history of the thing, but the -story of all that was laid bare to their eyes hour after hour,--the -passions of patriotism, of power, of hate, of revenge; the devotion to -duty, the dogged heroism, the religious fervour; every day brought to -light such examples of these varied attributes of the Irish nature as -the world had never previously known. - -The reporters said they had no time to devote to such thankless work; -and, besides, every one was sick of the Commission. - -Often as I went into the court and faced the scene, it never lost its -glamour for me. Every day I seemed to be wandering through a world of -romance. I could not sleep at night, so deeply impressed was I with the -way certain witnesses returned the scrutiny of Sir Charles Russell; with -the way Mr. Parnell hypnotised others; with the stories of the awful -struggle of which Ireland was the centre. - -Going out of the courts one evening, I came upon an old man standing -with his hat off and with one arm uplifted in an attitude of -denunciation that was tragic beyond description. He was a handsome old -man, very tall, but slightly stooped, and he clearly occupied a good -position in the world. - -We were alone just outside the courts. I pretended that I had suddenly -missed something. I stood thrusting my hands into my pockets and feeling -between the buttons of my coat, for I meant to watch him. At last I -pulled out my cigarette-case and strolled on. - -"You were in that court?" the old man said, in a tone that assured me I -had not underestimated his social position. - -He did not wait for me to reply. - -"You saw that man sitting with his cold impassive face while the tears -were on the cheeks of every one else? Listen to me, sir! I called upon -the Most High to strike him down--to strike him down--and my prayer was -heard. I saw him lying, disgraced, deserted, dead, before my eyes; and -so I shall see him before a year has passed. 'Mene, mene, tekel, -upharsin.'" - -Again he raised his arm in the direction of the court, and when I saw -the light in his eyes I knew that I was looking at a prophet. - -Suddenly he seemed to recover himself. He put on his hat and turned -round upon me with something like angry surprise. I raised my hat. He -did the same. He went in one direction and I went in the opposite. - -He was a false prophet. Mr. Parnell was not dead within the year. In -fact, he was not dead until two years and two months had passed. In -accordance with the thoughtful provisions of the Mosaic code, that old -gentleman deserved to be stoned for prophesying falsely. But his manner -would almost have deceived a reporter. - -***** - -Having introduced the subject of the Parnell Commission, I may perhaps -be permitted to express the hope that Sir Charles Russell will one day -find sufficient leisure to give us a few chapters of his early history. -I happen to know something of it. I am fully acquainted with the nature -of some of its incidents, which certainly would be found by the public -to possess many interesting and romantic elements; though, unlike the -romantic episodes in the career of most persons, those associated with -the early life of Sir Charles Russell reflect only credit upon himself. -Every one should know by this time that the question of what is -Patriotism and what is not is altogether dependent upon the nature of -the Government of the country. In order to prolong its own existence for -six months, a Ministry will take pains to alter the definition of the -word Patriotism, and to prosecute every one who does not accept the -new definition. Forty years ago the political lexicon was being daily -revised. I need say no more on this point; only, if Sir Charles Russell -means to give us some of the earlier chapters of his life he should -lose no time in setting about the task. A Lord Chief Justice of England -cannot reasonably be expected to deal with any romantic episodes in his -own career, however important may be the part which he feels himself -called on now and again to take in the delimitation of the romantic -elements (of a different type) in the careers of others of Her Majesty's -subjects. - -***** - -It may surprise some of those persons who have been unfortunate enough -to find themselves witnesses for the prosecution in cases where Sir -Charles Russell has appeared for the defence, to learn that in his -young days he was exceedingly shy. He has lost a good deal of his early -diffidence, or, at any rate, he manages to prevent its betraying itself -in such a way as might tend to embarrass a hostile witness. As a -rule, the witnesses do not find that bashfulness is the most prominent -characteristic of his cross-examination. But I learned from an early -associate of Sir Charles's, that when his name appeared on the list to -propose or to respond to a toast at one of the dinners of a patriotic -society of which my informant as well as Sir Charles was a member, he -would spend the day nervously walking about the streets, and apparently -quite unable to collect his thoughts. Upon one occasion the proud duty -devolved upon him of responding to the toast, "Ireland a Nation!" -Late in the afternoon my informant, who at that time was a small -shopkeeper--he is nothing very considerable to-day--found him in a -condition of disorderly perturbation, and declaring that he had no -single idea of what he should say, and he felt certain that unless -he got the help of the man who afterwards became my informant he must -inevitably break down. - -"I laughed at him," said the gentleman who had the courage to tell the -story which I have the courage to repeat, "and did my best to give him -confidence. 'Sure any fool could respond to "Ireland a Nation!"' said I; -'and you'll do it as well as any other.' But even this didn't give him -courage," continued my informant, "and I had to sit down and give him -the chief points to touch on in his speech. He wrung my hand, and in the -evening he made a fine speech, sir. Man, but it was a pity that there -weren't more of the party sober enough to appreciate it!" - -I tell this tale as it was told to me, by a respectable tradesman whose -integrity has never been questioned. - -It occurred to me that that quality in which, according to his -interesting reminiscence of forty years ago, his friend Russell was -deficient, is not one that could with any likelihood of success be -attributed to the narrator. - -***** - -If any student of good and evil--the two fruits, alas! grow upon the -same tree--would wish for a more startling example of the effect of a -strong emotion upon certain temperaments than was afforded the people -present in the Dublin Police Court on the day that Carey left the dock -and the men he was about to betray to the gallows, that student would -indeed be exacting. - -I had been told by a constabulary officer what was coming, so that, -unlike most persons in the court, I was not too startled to be able -to observe every detail of the scene. Carey was talking to a brother -ruffian named Brady quite unconcernedly, and Brady was actually smiling, -when an officer of constabulary raised his finger and the informer -stepped out of the dock, and two policemen in plain clothes moved to his -side. Carey glanced back at his doomed accomplices, and muttered some -words to Brady. I did not quite catch them, but I thought the words -were, "It's half an hour ahead of you that I am, Joe." - -Brady simply looked at his betrayer, whom it seems he had been anxious -to betray. There was absolutely no expression upon his face. Some of the -others of the same murderous gang seemed equally unaffected. One of them -turned and spat on the floor. But upon the faces of at least two of the -men there was a look of malignity that transformed them into fiends. It -was the look that accompanies the stab of the assassin. Another of them -gave a laugh, and said something to the man nearest to him; but the -laugh was not responded to. - -The youngest of the gang stared at one of the windows of the court-house -in a way that showed me he had not been able to grasp the meaning of -Carey's removal from the dock. - -In half-an-hour every expression worn by the faces of the men had -changed. They all had a look that might almost have been regarded as -jocular. There can be no doubt that when a man realises that he has been -sentenced to death, his first feeling is one of relief. His suspense is -over--so much is certain. He feels that--and that only--for an hour or -so. I could see no change on the faces of these poor wretches whom the -Mephistophelian fun of Fate had induced to call themselves Invincible, -in order that no devilish element might be wanting in the tragedy of the -Phoenix Park. - -***** - -I do not suppose that many persons are acquainted with the secret -history of the detection of the "Invincibles." I think I am right in -stating that it has never yet been made public. I am not at liberty -to mention the source whence I derived my knowledge of some of the -circumstances that led to the arrest of Carey, but there is no doubt in -my mind as to the accuracy of my "information received" on this matter. - -It may, perhaps, be remembered that, some months after the date of the -murders, a strange advertisement appeared in almost every newspaper in -Great Britain. It stated that if the man who had told another, on the -afternoon of May 6th, 1882, that he had once enjoyed a day's skating on -the pond at the Viceregal Lodge, would communicate with the Chief of the -Detective Department at Dublin Castle, he would be thanked. Now beyond -the fact that May 6th was the date of the murders, and that they had -taken place in the Phoenix Park, there was nothing in this advertisement -to suggest that it had any bearing upon the shocking incident; still -there was a general feeling that it had a very intimate connection with -the efforts that the police were making to unravel the mystery of the -outrage; and this impression was well founded. - -I learned that the strangely-worded advertisement had been inserted in -the newspapers at the instigation of a constabulary officer, who had, in -many disguises, been endeavouring to find some clue to the assassins -in Dublin. One evening he slouched into a public-house bespattered as -a bricklayer, and took a seat in a box, facing a pint of stout. He had -been in public-house after public-house every Saturday night for several -weeks without obtaining the slightest suggestion as to the identity of -the murderers, and he was becoming discouraged; but on this particular -evening he had his reward, for he overheard a man in the next box -telling some others, who were drinking with him, that Lord Spencer was -not such a bad sort of man as might be supposed from the mere fact of -his being Lord-Lieutenant. He (the narrator) had been told by a man in -the Phoenix Park on the very evening of the murders that he (the man) -had not been ashamed to cheer Lord Spencer on his arrival at Dublin that -day, for when he had last been in Dublin he had allowed him to skate -upon the pond in the Viceregal grounds. - -The officer dared not stir from his place: he knew that if he were at -all suspected of being a detective, his life would not be worth five -minutes' purchase. He could only hope to catch a glimpse of some of the -party when they were leaving the place. He failed to do so, for some -cause--I cannot remember what it was--nor could the barmaid give any -satisfactory reply to his cautiously casual enquiries as to the names of -any of the men who had occupied the box. - -It was then that the advertisement was inserted in the various -newspapers; and, after the lapse of some weeks, a man presented himself -to the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department, saying that he -believed the advertisement referred to him. The man seemed a respectable -artisan, and his story was that one day during the last winter that Earl -Spencer had been in Ireland, he (the man) had left his work in order -to have a few hours' skating on the ponds attached to the Zoological -Gardens in the Phoenix Park, but on arriving at the ponds he found that -the ice had been broken. "I was just going away," the man said, "when -a gentleman with a long beard spoke to me, and enquired if I had had a -good skate. I told him that I was greatly disappointed, as the ice had -all been broken, and I would lose my day's pay. He took a card out of -his pocket, and wrote something on it," continued the man, "and then -handed it to me, saying, 'Give that to the porter at the Viceregal -Lodge, and you'll have the best day's skating you have had in all your -life.' He said what was true: I handed in the card and told the porter -that a tall gentleman with a beard had given it to me. 'That was His -Excellency himself,' said the porter, as he brought me down to the pond, -where, sure enough, I had such a day's skating as I've never had before -or since." - -"And you were in the Phoenix Park on the evening of the murders?" said -the Chief of the Department. - -"I must have been there within half-an-hour of the time they were -committed," replied the man. "But I know nothing of them." - -"I'm convinced of it," said the officer. "But I should like to hear if -you met any one you knew in the Park as you were coming away." - -"I only met one man whose name I knew," said the other, "and that was a -builder that I have done some jobs for: James Carey is his name." - -This was precisely the one bit of evidence that was required for the -committal of Carey. - -An hour afterwards he offered to turn Queen's Evidence. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV.--IRELAND AS A FIELD FOR REPORTERS. - - -_The humour of the Irish Bench--A circus at Bombay--Mr. Justice -Lawson--The theft of a pig--"Reasonably suspected"--A prima facie case -for the prosecution--The defence--The judge's charge--The scope of a -judge's duties in Ireland--Collaring a prisoner--A gross contempt of -court--How the contempt was purged--The riotous city--The reporter as -a war correspondent--"Good mixed shooting"--The tram-car driver -cautioned--The "loot" mistaken for a violin--The arrest in the -cemetery--Pommelling a policeman--A treat not to be shared--A case of -discipline--The German infantry--A real grievance--"Palmam qui meruit -ferat."_ - - -THERE is plenty of light as well as gloom to be found in the law -courts, especially in Ireland. Until recently, the Irish Bench included -many humorists. Perhaps the last of the race was Mr. Baron Dowse. -Reporters were constantly giving me accounts of the brilliant sallies of -this judge; but I must confess it seemed to me that most of the examples -which I heard were susceptible of being regarded as evidence of the -judge's good memory rather than of his original powers. - -Upon one occasion, he complained of the misprints in newspapers, and -stated that some time before, he had made the quotation in court, -"Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay," but the report of -the case in the newspaper attributed to him the statement, "Better fifty -years of Europe than a circus at Bombay." - -He omitted giving the name of the paper that had so ill-treated him -and Lord Tennyson. He had not been a judge for fifteen years without -becoming acquainted with the rudiments of story-telling. - -***** - -Mr. Justice Lawson was another Irish judge with a strong vein of humour -which he sometimes repressed, for I do not think that he took any great -pleasure in listening to that hearty, spontaneous, and genial outburst -of laughter that greets every attempt at humour on the part of a judge. -It is a nasty thing to say, but I do believe that he now and again -doubted the sincerity of the appreciation of even the junior counsel. -A reporter who was present at one Cork Assizes when Lawson was at his -best, told me a story of his charge to a jury which conveys a very good -idea of what his style of humour was. - -A man was indicted for stealing a pig--an animal common in some parts -of Ireland. He was found driving it along, with no more than the normal -amount of difficulty which such an operation involves; and on being -spoken to by the sergeant of constabulary, he stated that he had bought -the pig in a neighbouring town, and that he had paid a certain specified -sum for it. On the same evening, however, a report reached the police -barrack that a pig, the description of which corresponded with the -recollection which the sergeant retained of the one which he had seen -some hours before, had been stolen from its home in the neighbourhood. -The owner was brought face to face with the animal that the sergeant had -met, and it was identified as the one that had been stolen. The man in -whose possession the pig was found was again very frank in stating where -he had bought it; but his second account of the transaction was not -on all fours with his first, and the person from whom he said he had -purchased it, denied all knowledge of the sale--in fact, he was able to -show that he was at Waterford at the time he was alleged to be disposing -of it. - -All these facts were clearly proved; and no attempt was made to -controvert them in the defence. The counsel for the prisoner admitted -that the police had a good _prima facie_ case for the arrest of his -client; there were, undoubtedly, some grounds for suspecting that -the animal had disappeared from the custody of its owner through the -instrumentality of the prisoner; but he felt sure that when the jury -had heard the witnesses for the defence, they would admit that it was -utterly impossible to conceive the notion that he had had anything -whatever to do with the matter. - -The parish priest was the first witness called, and he stated that he -had known the prisoner for several years, and had always regarded him as -a thrifty, sober, hard-working man, adding that he was most regular in -his attendance to his religious duties. Then the episcopal clergyman -was examined, and stated that the prisoner was an excellent father and -a capital gardener; he also knew something about the care of poultry. -Several of the prisoner's neighbours testified to his respectability -and his readiness to oblige them, even at considerable personal -inconvenience. - -After the usual speeches, the judge summed up as follows:-- - -"Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the evidence in the case, and -it's not for me to say that any of it is false. The police sergeant met -the prisoner driving the stolen pig, and the prisoner gave two different -accounts as to how it had come into his possession, but neither of these -accounts could be said to have a particle of truth in it. On the other -hand, however, you have heard the evidence of the two clergymen, to whom -the prisoner was well known. Nothing could be more satisfactory than -the character they gave him. Then you heard the evidence given by the -neighbours of the prisoner, and I'm sure you'll agree with me that -nothing could be more gratifying than the way they all spoke of his -neighbourly qualities. Now, gentlemen, although no attempt whatever has -been made by the defence to meet the evidence given for the prosecution, -yet I feel it necessary to say that it is utterly impossible that you -should ignore the testimony given as to the character of the prisoner -by so many witnesses of unimpeachable integrity; therefore, gentlemen, -I think that the only conclusion you can come to is that the pig was -stolen by the prisoner and that he is the most amiable man in the County -Cork." - -***** - -Mr. Justice Lawson used to boast that he was the only judge on the -Bench who had ever arrested a man with his own hand. The circumstances -connected with this remarkable incident were related to me by a reporter -who was present in the court when the judge made the arrest. - -The _locale_ was the court-house of an assize town in the South of -Ireland. For several days the Crown had failed to obtain a conviction, -although in the majority of the cases the evidence was practically -conclusive; and as each prisoner was either sent back or set free, the -crowds of sympathisers made an uproar that all the ushers in attendance -were powerless to suppress. On the fourth day the judge, at the opening -of the court, called for the County Inspector of Constabulary, and, when -the officer was brought from the billiard-room of the club, and bustled -in, all sabre and salute, the judge, in his quiet way, remarked to him, -"I'm sorry for troubling you, sir, but I just wished to say that as the -court has been turned into a bear-garden for some hours during the past -three days, I intend to hold you responsible for the maintenance of -perfect order to-day. Your duty is to arrest every man, woman, or child -that makes any demonstration of satisfaction or dissatisfaction at the -result of the hearing of a case, and to put them in the dock, and give -evidence as to their contempt of court. I'll deal with them after that." -The officer went down, and orders were given to his men, of whom -there were about fifty in the court, to arrest any one expressing his -feelings. The first prisoner to be tried was a man named O'Halloran, and -his case excited a great deal of interest. The court was crowded to a -point of suffocation while the judge was summing up, which he did with a -directness that left nothing to be desired. In five minutes the jury -had returned a verdict of "Not Guilty." At that instant a wild "Hurroo!" -rang through the court. It came from a youth who had climbed a pillar at -a distance of about a yard from the Bench. In a moment the judge had put -out his hand and grasped the fellow by the collar; and then, of course, -the policemen crushed through the crowd, and about a dozen of them -seized the prehensible legs of the prisoner Stylites. - -"One of you will be ample," said the judge. "Don't pull the boy to -pieces; let him down gently." - -This operation was carried out, and the excitable youth was placed in -the dock, whence the prisoner just tried had stepped. - -"Now," said the judge, "I'm going to make an example of you. You heard -what I said to the Inspector of Constabulary, and yet I arrested you -with my own hand in the very act of committing a gross contempt of -court. I'll make an example of you for the benefit of others. What's -your name?" - -"O'Halloran, yer honour," said the trembling youth. - -"Isn't that the name of the prisoner who has just been tried?" said the -judge. - -"It is, my lord," replied the registrar. - -"Is the last prisoner any relation of yours?" the judge asked of the -youth in the dock. - -"He's me brother, yer honour," was the reply. - -"Release the boy, and go on with the business of the court," said the -judge. - -***** - -I chanced to be in Belfast at the time of the riots in 1886, and my -experience of the incidents of every day and every night led me to -believe that British troops have been engaged in some campaigns that -were a good deal less risky to war correspondents than the riots were -to the local newspaper reporters. Six of them were more or less severely -wounded in the course of a week. I found it necessary, more than once, -to go through the localities of the disturbances, and I must confess -that I was always glad when I found myself out of the line of fire. I am -strongly of the opinion that the reporters should have been paid at the -ratio of war correspondents at that time. When they engaged themselves -they could not have contemplated the possibility of being forced daily -for several weeks to stand up before a fusilade of stones weighing a -pound or so each, and Martini-Henry bullets, with an occasional iron -"nut" thrown in to make up weight, as it were. In the words of the -estate agents' advertisements, there was a great deal of "good mixed -shooting" in the streets almost nightly for a month. - -Several ludicrous incidents took place while the town was crowded with -constabulary who had been brought hastily from the country districts. A -reporter told me that he was the witness of an earnest remonstrance on -the part of a young policeman with a tram-car driver, whom he advised to -take his "waggon" down some of the side streets, in order to escape -the angry crowd that had assembled farther up the road. Upon another -occasion, a grocer's shop had been looted by the mob at night, and a -man had been fortunate enough to secure a fine ham which he was -endeavouring, but with very partial success, to secrete beneath his -coat. A whole ham takes a good deal of secreting. The police had orders -to clear the street, and they were endeavouring to obey these orders. -The man with the ham received a push on his shoulder, and the policeman -by whom it was dealt, shouted out in a fine, rich Southern brogue -(abhorred in Belfast), "Git along wid ye, now thin, you and yer violin. -Is this any toime for ye to be after lookin' to foind an awjence? Ye'll -get that violin broke, so ye will." - -The man was only too glad to hurry on with his "Strad." of fifteen -pounds' weight, mild-cured. He did not wait to explain that there is a -difference between the viol and "loot." - -***** - -One of the country policemen made an arrest of a man whom he saw in the -act of throwing a stone, and the next day he gave his evidence at the -Police Court very clearly. He had ascertained that the scene of the -arrest was York Street, and he said so; but the street is about a mile -long, and the magistrate wished to know at what part of it the incident -had occurred. - -"It was just outside the cimitery, yer wash'p," replied the man. - -"The cemetery?" said the magistrate. "But there's no cemetery in York -Street." - -"Oh, yes, yer wash'p--there's a foine cimitery there," said the -policeman. "It was was just outside the cimitery I arrested the -prisoner." - -"It's the first I've heard of a cemetery in that neighbourhood," said -the Bench. "Don't you think the constable is mistaken, sergeant?" - -The sergeant put a few questions to the witness, and asked him how he -knew that the place was a cemetery. - -"Why, how would anybody know a cimitery except by the tombstones?" said -the witness. "I didn't go for to dig up a corp or two, but there was the -foinest array of tombstones I ever clapt oyes on." - -"It's the stonecutter's yard the man means," came a voice from the body -of the court; and in another moment there was a roar of laughter from -all present. - -The arrest had been made outside a stonecutter's railed yard, and the -strange policeman had taken the numerous specimens of the proprietor's -craft, which were standing around in various stages of progress, for the -_bona fide_ furnishing of a graveyard. - -He was scarcely to be blamed for his error. - -***** - -I believe that it was during these riots the story originated--it is now -pretty well known, I think--of the man who had caught a policeman, and -was holding his head down while he battered him, when a brother rowdy -rushed up, crying,-- - -"Who have you there, Bill?" - -"A policeman." - -"Hold on, and let me have a thump at him." - -"Git along out of this, and find a policeman for yourself!" - -***** - -Having referred to the Royal Irish Constabulary, I may not perhaps -be regarded as more than usually discursive if I add my expression of -admiration for this splendid Force to the many pages of commendation -which it has received from time to time from those whose opinion carries -weight with it--which mine does not. The men are the flower of the -people of Ireland. They have a _sense_ of discipline--it has not to -be impressed upon them by an occasional "fortnight's C.B." Upon one -occasion, I was the witness of the extent to which this innate sense of -discipline will stretch without the breaking strain being reached. One -of the most distinguished officers in the Force was parading about one -hundred men armed with the usual carbine--the handiest of weapons--and -with swords fixed. He was mounted on a charger with some blood in -it--you would not find the same man astride of anything else--and for -several days it had been looking down the muzzles of the rifles of a -couple of regiments of autumn manoeuvrers who had been engaged in a sham -fight in the Park; but it had never shown the least uneasiness, even -when the Field Artillery set about the congenial task of annihilating a -skeleton enemy. It stood patiently while the constabulary "ported," -"carried," and "shouldered"; but so soon as the order to "present" was -given, a gleam of sunlight glanced down the long line of fixed swords, -and that twinkle was just what an Irish charger, born and bred among the -fogs of the Atlantic seaboard, could not stand. It whirled round, and -went at full gallop across the springy turf, then suddenly stopped, -sending its rider about twenty yards ahead upon his hands and knees. -After this feat, it allowed itself to be quietly captured by the mounted -orderly who had galloped after it. The orderly dismounted from his -horse, and passed it on to the officer, who galloped back to the long -line of men standing at the "present" just as they had been before -he had left them so hurriedly. They received the order to "shoulder" -without emotion, and then the parade went on as if nothing had happened. -Subsequently, the officer remounted his own charger--which had been led -up, and had offered an ample apology--and in course of time he again -gave the order to "present." The horse's ears went back, but it did not -move a hoof. After the "shoulder" and "port" the officer made the men -"charge swords," and did not halt them until they were within a yard of -the horse's head. The manouvre had no effect upon the animal. - -I could not help contrasting the discipline shown by the Irish -Constabulary upon this occasion with the bearing of a company of a -regiment of German Infantry, who were being paraded in the Thiergarten -at Berlin, when I was riding there one day. The captain and lieutenant -had strolled away from the men, leaving them standing, not "at ease," -but at "attention"--I think the officers were making sure that the -carriage of the Crown Prince was not coming in their direction. But -before two minutes had passed the men were standing as easy as could -well be, chatting together, and suggesting that the officers were -awaiting the approach of certain young ladies, about whose personal -traits and whose profession they were by no means reticent. Of course, -when the officers turned, the men stood at "attention"; but I trotted on -to where I lived In Den Zelten, feeling that there was but little sense -of discipline in the German Army--so readily does a young man arrive -at a grossly erroneous conclusion through generalising from a single -instance. - -***** - -It is difficult to understand how it comes that the splendid services -of the Royal Irish Constabulary have not been recognised by the State. -I have known officers who served on the staff during the Egyptian -campaign, but who confessed to me that they never heard a shot fired -except for saluting purposes, and yet they wore three decorations -for this campaign. Surely those Irish Constabulary officers, who have -discharged the most perilous duties from time to time, as well as -daily duties requiring the exercise of tact, discretion, judgment, and -patience, are at least as deserving of a medal as those soldiers who -obtained the maximum of reward at the minimum of risk in Egypt, South -Africa, or Ashantee. The decoration of the Volunteers was a graceful -recognition of the spirit that binds together these citizen soldiers. -Surely the services of some members of the Irish Constabulary should be -similarly recognised. This is a genuine Irish grievance, and it is one -that could be redressed much more easily than the majority of the ills -that the Irish people are heir to. A vote for a thousand pounds would -purchase the requisite number of medals or stars or crosses--perhaps -all three might be provided out of such a fund--for those members of the -Force who have distinguished themselves. The right adjudication of -the rewards presents no difficulty, owing to the "record" system which -prevails in the Force. - - - - -CHAPTER XV.--IRISH TROTTINGS AND JOTTINGS. - - -_Some Irish hotels--When comfort comes in at the door, humour flies -out by the window--A culinary experience--Plenty of new sensations--A -kitchen blizzard--How to cook corned beef--A thoriser--Hare soup--A -word of encouragement--The result--An avenue forty-two miles long--Nuda -veritas--An uncanny request--A diabolic lunch--A club dinner--The pice -de resistance--Not a going concern--A minor prophecy--An easy drainage -system--Not to be worked by an amateur--Aprs moi, le deluge--Hot water -and its accompaniments--The boots as Atropos--A story of Thackeray--A -young shaver._ - - -WHEN writing for an Irish newspaper, I took some pains to point out -how easily the country might be made attractive to tourists if only the -hotels were improved. I have had frequent "innings," and my experiences -of Irish hotels in various districts where I have shot, or fished, or -yachted, or boated, would make a pretty thick volume, if recorded. But -while most of these experiences have some grain of humour in them, that -humour is of a type that looks best when viewed from a distance. When it -is first sprung upon him, this Irish fun is not invariably relished by -the traveller. - -Mr. Max O'Rell told me that he liked the Irish hotels at which he had -sojourned, because he was acknowledged by the _matres_ to possess an -identity that could not be adequately expressed by numerals. But on the -whole it is my impression that the numerical system is quite tolerable -if one gets good food and a clean sleeping-place. To be sure there is no -humour in a comfortable dinner, or a bed that does not require a layer -of Keating to be spread as a sedative to the army of occupation; still, -though the story of tough chickens and midnight hunts can be made -genuinely entertaining, I have never found that these actual incidents -were in themselves very inspiriting. - -A friend of mine who has a capital shooting in a picturesque district, -was compelled to lodge, and to ask his guests to lodge, at the little -inn during his first shooting season. Knowing that the appetite of men -who have been walking over mountains of heather is not usually very -fastidious, he fancied that the inn cook would be quite equal to the -moderate demands made upon her skill. The experiment was a disastrous -one. The more explicit the instructions the woman was given regarding -the preparation of the game, the more mortifying to the flesh were -her achievements. There was, it is true, a certain amount of interest -aroused among us every day as to the form that the culinary whim of the -cook would assume. The monarch that offered a reward for the discovery -of a new sensation would have had a good time with us. We had new -sensations at the dinner hour every day. "Lord, we know what we are, -but know not what we may be," was an apothegm that found constant -illustration when applied to that woman's methods: we knew that we gave -her salmon, and grouse, and hare, and snipe; but what was served to us, -Heaven and that cook only knew--on second thoughts I will leave Heaven -out of the question altogether. The monstrous originalities, the -appalling novelties, the confounding of substances, the unnatural daring -manifested in every day's dinner, filled us with amazement, but, -alas! with nothing else. We were living in a sort of perpetual kitchen -blizzard--in the centre of a culinary chaos. The whirl was too much for -us. - -Our host took upon him to allay the fiend. He sent to the nearest town -for butcher's supplies. The first joint that arrived was a fine piece of -corned beef. - -"There, my good woman," cried our host, putting it into the cook's -hands, "I suppose you can cook that, if you can't cook game." - -"Oh, yes, your honour, it's misself that can cook it tubbe sure," she -cried in her lighthearted way. - -She did cook it. - -_She roasted it for five hours on a spit in front of the kitchen fire._ - -As she laid it on the table, she apologised for the unavoidable absence -of gravy. - -It was the driest joint she had ever roasted, she said; and I do believe -that it was. - -***** - -One of the party, who had theories on the higher education of women, and -other methods of increasing the percentage of unmarriageable females, -said that the cook had never been properly approached. She could not -be expected to know by intuition that the flavour of salmon trout was -impaired by being stewed in a cauldron with a hare and many friends, or -that the prejudices of an effete civilisation did not extend so far -as to make the boiling of grouse in a pot with bacon a necessity of -existence. The woman only needed a hint or two and she would be all -right. - -He said he would give her a hint or two. He made soup the basis of his -first hints. - -It was so simple, he said. - -He picked up a couple of hares, an old cock grouse and a few snipe, and -told the woman to put them in a pot, cover them with water, and leave -them to simmer--"Not to boil, mind; you understand?"--"Oh, tubbe sure, -sorr,"--for the six hours that we would be on the mountain. He showed -her how to cut up onions, and they cut up some between them; he then -taught her how to fry an onion in the most delicate of ribbon-like -slices for "browning." All were added to the pot, and our friend joined -us with a very red face, and carrying about him a flavour of fried -onions as well defined as a saint's halo by Fra Angelico. The dogs -sniffed at him for a while, and so did the keeper. - -He declared that the woman was a most intelligent specimen, and quite -ready to learn. We smiled grimly. - -All that day our friend shot nothing. We could see that, like Eugene -Aram, his thought was otherwhere. We knew that he was thinking over the -coming soup. - -On returning to the inn after a seven hours' tramp, he hastened to the -kitchen. A couple of us loitered outside the door, for we felt certain -that a surprise was awaiting our friend--the pot would have leaked, -perhaps; but the savoury smell that filled the kitchen and overflowed -into the lobby and the room where we dined made us aware that everything -was right. - -Our friend turned a stork's eye into the pot, and then, with a word -of kind commendation to the cook--"A man's word of encouragement is -everything to a woman, my lad, with a wink to me--he called for a pint -of port wine and placed it handy. - -"Now," said he to the woman, "strain off that soup in a quarter of an -hour, add that wine, and we'll show these gentlemen that between us we -can cook." - -In a quarter of an hour we were sitting round the table. Our friend -tried to look modest and devoid of all self-consciousness as the woman -entered with a glow of crimson triumph on her face, and bearing in her -hands an immense dish with the well-known battered zinc cover concealing -the contents. - -Down went the dish, and up went the cover, disclosing a rugged, -mountainous heap of the bones of hare, with threads of flesh still -adhering to them, and the skeletons of some birds. - -"Good Lord!" cried our host. "What's this anyway? The rags of what was -stewed down for the soup?" - -Our theorising friend leapt up. - -"Woman," he shouted, "where the devil is the soup?" - -"Sure, didn't ye bid me strain it off, sorr?" said the woman. - -"And where the blazes did you strain it off?" he asked, in an awful -whisper. - -"Why, where should I be after straining it, sorr, but into the bog?" she -replied. - -The bog was an incident of the landscape at the back of the inn. - -***** - -I recollect that upon the occasion of this shooting party, a new -under-keeper arrived from Connaught, and I overheard him telling a -colleague who came from the county Clare, that the avenue leading to his -last employer's residence was forty-two miles long. - -"By me sowl," said the Clare man, "it's not me that would like to be -set down at the lodge gates on an empty stomach within half-an-hour of -dinner-time." - -After some further conversation, the Connaught man began to dilate upon -the splendour of his late master's family. He reached a truly dramatic -climax by saying,-- - -"And every night of their lives at home the ladies strip for dinner." - -"Holy Moses!" was the comment. - -"Do your master's people at home strip for dinner?" enquired the -Connaught man. - -"No; but they link in," was the thoughtful reply. - -Sometimes, it must be acknowledged, an unreasonable strain is put upon -the resources of an Irish inn by an inconsiderate tourist. Some years -ago, my brother-in-law, Bram Stoker, was spending his holiday in a -picturesque district of the south-west. He put up at the usual inn, and -before leaving for a ramble, oh the morning of his arrival, the cook -(and waitress) asked him what he would like for lunch. The day was a -trifle chilly, and, forgetting for the moment that he was not within the -precincts of the Green-room or the Garrick, he said, "Oh, I think that -it's just the day for a devil--yes, I'll cat a devil at two." - -"Holy Saints!" cried the woman, as he walked off. "What sort of a man is -that at all, at all? He wants to lunch off the Ould Gentleman." - -The landlord scratched his chin and said that this was the most -unreasonable demand that had ever been made upon his house. He -expressed the opinion that the gastronome whose palate was equal to this -particular _plat_ should seek it elsewhere--he even ventured to specify -the _locale_ at which the search might appropriately begin with the best -chances of being realised. His wife, however, took a less despondent -view of the situation, and suggested that as the powers of exorcising -the Foul Fiend were delegated to the priest, it might be only reasonable -to assume that the reverend gentleman would be equal to the much less -difficult feat involved in the execution of the tourist's order. - -But before the priest had been sent for, the constabulary officer drove -up, and was consulted on the question that was agitating the household. -With a roar of laughter, the officer called for a couple of chops and -the mustard and cayenne pots--he had been there before--and showed the -cook the way out of her difficulty. - -But up to the present hour I hear that that landlord says,-- - -"By the powers, it's misself that never knew what a divil was till Mr. -Stoker came to my house." - -***** - -However piquant a comestible the Foul Fiend might be, I believe that -in point of toughness he would compare favourably with a fully-matured -swan. Among the delicacies of the table I fear that the swan will not -obtain great honour, if any dependence may be placed upon a story which -was told to me at a fishing inn in Connemara, regarding an experiment -accidentally tried upon such a bird. I repeat the story in this place, -lest any literary man may be led to pamper a weak digestion by indulging -in a swan supper. The specimen in question was sent by a gentleman, who -lived in a stately home in Lincolnshire, as a gift to the Athenum club, -of which he was a member. The bird was addressed to the secretary, and -that gentleman without delay handed it over to the cook to be prepared -for the table. There was to be a special dinner at the end of the week, -and the committee thought that a distinctive feature might be made of -the swan. They were not mistaken. As a _coup d'oil_ the swan, resting -on a great silver dish, carried to the table by two servitors, could -scarcely have been surpassed even by the classical peacock or the -mediaeval boar's head. The croupier plunged a fork with a steady hand -into the right part--wherever that was situated--and then attacked the -breast with his knife. Not the slightest impression could he make upon -that portion of the mighty structure that faced him. The breast turned -the edge of the knife; and when the breast did that the people at the -table began to wonder what the drum-sticks would be like. A stronger -blade was sent for, and an athlete--he was not a member of the -Athenum--essayed to penetrate the skin, and succeeded too, after a -vigorous struggle. When he had wiped the drops from his brow he went -at the flesh with confidence in his own powers. By some brilliant -wrist-practice he contrived to chip a few flakes off, but it soon became -plain that eating any one of them was out of the question. One might as -well submit as a _plat_ a drawer of a collector's geological cabinet. -The club cook was sent for, and he explained that he had had no previous -experience of swans, but he considered that the thirteen hours' boiling -to which he had submitted the first specimen that had come under his -notice, all that could reasonably be required by any bird, whether swan -or cassowary. He thought that perhaps with a circular saw, after a -steam roller had been passed a few times over the carcass, it might be -possible.... - -"Well, I hope you got my swan all right," said the donor a few days -after, addressing the secretary. - -"That was a nice joke you played on us," said the secretary. - -"Joke? What do you mean?" - -"As if you didn't know! We had the thing boiled for thirteen hours, and -yet when it was brought to the table we might as well have tried to cut -through the Rock of Gibraltar with a pocket-knife." - -"What do you mean? You don't mean to say that you had it cooked?" - -"Didn't you send it to be cooked?" - -"Cooked! cooked! Great heavens, man! I sent it to be stuffed and -preserved as a curiosity in the club. That swan has been in my family -for two hundred and eighty years. It was one of the identical birds -fed by the children of Charles I.--you've seen the picture of it. My -ancestor held the post of 'master of the swans and keeper of the king's -cygnets sure.' It is said that a swan will live for three hundred years -or thereabouts. And you plucked it, and cooked it! Great heavens! It was -a bit tough, I suppose?" - -"Tough?" - -"Yes; I daresay you'd be tough, too, about a.d. 2200. And I thought it -would look so well in the hall!" - -***** - -At the same time that the tale just recorded was told to me, I heard -another Lincolnshire story. I do not suppose that it is new. A certain -church was situated at a place that was within the sphere of influence -of some fens when in flood. The consequence was that during a severe -winter, divine service was held only every second Sunday. Once, however, -the weather was so bad that the parson did not think it worth his while -going near the church for five Sundays. This fact came to the ears of -the Bishop, and he wrote for an explanation. The clergyman replied as -follows:-- - -"Your lordship has been quite correctly informed regarding the length of -the interval that has elapsed since my church was open; but the fact is -that the devil himself couldn't get at my parishioners in the winter, -and I promise your lordship to be before him in the spring." - -***** - -That parson took a humbler view of his position and privileges in the -world than did a Presbyterian minister in Ulster whose pompous way of -moving and of speaking drew toward him many admirers and imitators. He -paid a visit to Palestine at one time of his life, and on his return, -he preached a sermon introducing some of his experiences. Now, the only -inhabitants of the Holy Land that the majority of travellers can talk -about are the fleas; but this Presbyterian minister had much to tell -about all that he had seen. It was, however, only when he began to show -his flock how strictly the inspiriting prophecies of Jeremiah and Joel -and the rest had been fulfilled that he proved that he had not visited -the country in vain. - -"My dear friends," said he, "I read in the Sacred Book the prophecy -that the land should be in heaps: I looked up from the page, and there, -before my eyes, were the heaps. I read that the bittern should cry -there: I looked up; lo! close at hand stood a bittern. I read that the -Minister of the Lord should mourn there: _I was that minister._" - -***** - -Upon one occasion, when sojourning at a picturesquely situated Connemara -inn, hot water was left outside my bedroom door in a handy soup tureen, -in which there was also a ladle reposing. One morning in the same -"hotel" I called the attention of the official, who discharged -(indifferently) the duties of boots and landlord, to the circumstance -that my bath (recollecting the advertisement of the entertainment which -it was possible to obtain under certain conditions at the Norwegian inn, -I had brought the bath with me) had not been emptied since the previous -day. The man said, "It's right that you are, sorr," and forthwith -remedied the omission by throwing the contents of the bath out of the -window. - -I was so struck by the convenience of this system of main drainage, and -it seemed so simple, that the next morning, finding that the bath was -in the same condition as before, I thought to save trouble by performing -the landlord's operation for myself. I opened the window and tilted over -the bath. In a moment there was a yell from below, and the air became -sulphurous with Celtic maledictions. These were followed by roars of -laughter in the vernacular, so that I thought it prudent to lower both -the window and the blind without delay. - -"Holy Biddy!" remarked the landlord when I had descended to -breakfast--not failing to observe that a portly figure was standing in a -_semi-nude_ condition in front of the kitchen fire, while on the back of -a chair beside him a black coat was spread-eagled, sending forth a cloud -of steam--"Holy Biddy, sorr, what was that ye did this morning, anyway?" - -"What do you mean, Dennis?" I asked innocently. "I shaved and dressed as -usual." - -"Ye emptied the tin tub [_i.e_., my zinc bath] out of the windy over -Father Conn," replied the landlord. "It's himself that's being dried -this minute before the kitchen fire." - -"I'm very sorry," said I. "You see, I fancied from the way you emptied -the bath yesterday that that was the usual way of doing the business." - -"So it is, sorr," said he. "But you should always be after looking out -first to see that all's clear below." - -"Why don't you have those directions printed and hung up in the -bedroom?" said I, assuming--as I have always found it safe to do upon -such occasions--the aggressive tone of the injured party. - -"We don't have so many gentlemen coming here that's so dirty that they -need to be washed down every blessed marnin'," he replied; and I -thought it better to draw upon my newspaper experience, and quote the -three-starred admonition, "All communications on this subject must now -cease." - -However, the trout which were laid on the table in front of me were -so numerous, and looked so tempting, that I went into the kitchen, and -after making an elaborate apology to Father Conn, the amiable parish -priest, for the mishap he had sustained through my ignorance of the -natural precautions necessary to be taken when preparing my bath, -insisted on the reverend gentleman's joining me at breakfast while his -coat was being dried. - -With only a superficial reluctance, he accepted my invitation, -remarking,-- - -"I had my own breakfast a couple of hours ago, sir, but in troth I feel -quite hungry again. Faith, it's true enough that there's nothing like a -morning swim for giving a man an appetite." - -***** - -Two lady relatives of mine were on their way to a country house in the -county Galway, and were compelled to stay for a night at the inn, which -was a sort of half-way house between the railway station and their -destination. On being shown to their bedroom while their dinner was -being made ready, they naturally wished to remove from their faces the -traces of their dusty drive of sixteen miles, so one of them bent over -the banisters--there was no bell in the room, of course--and inquired if -the servant would be good enough to carry upstairs some hot water. - -"Surely, miss," the servant responded from below. - -In a few minutes, the door of the bedroom was knocked at, and the woman -entered, bearing in her hand a tray with two glasses, a saucer of loaf -sugar, a lemon, a ladle, and a small jug of hot water. - -It appeared that in this district the use of hot water is unknown -except as an accompaniment to whisky, a lemon, and a lump of sugar. The -combination of the four is said to be both palatable and popular. - -***** - -It was at a much larger and more pretentious establishment in the -south-west that I was staying when a box of books arrived for me from -the library of Messrs. Eason & Son. It was tied with stout, tough cord, -about as thick as one's little finger. I was in the act of dressing when -the boots brought up the box, so I asked him to open it for me. The man -fumbled for some time at the knot, and at last he said he would have to -cut the cord. - -When I had rubbed the soap out of my eyes, - -I noticed him in the act of sawing through the tough cord with one of my -razors which I had laid on the dressing-table after shaving. - -"Stop, stop," I shouted. "Man, do you know that that's a razor?" - -"Oh, it'll do well enough for this, sir. I've forgot my knife -downstairs," said the man complacently. - -If the razor did for the operation, the operation certainly did for the -razor. - -***** - -And here I am led to recall a story told to me by the late Dr. George -Crowe, the husband of Miss Bateman, the distinguished actress, and -brother to Mr. Eyre Crowe, A.R.A. It will be remembered by all who are -familiar with the chief incidents in the life of Thackeray, that in 1853 -he adopted Miss Amy Crowe (her father, an historian and journalist of -eminence in his day, had been one of the novelist's closest friends), -and she became one of the Thackeray household. Her brother George was -at school, but he had "the run of the house," so to speak, in Onslow -Square. Next to the desire to become an expert smoker, the desire to -become an accomplished shaver is, I think, the legitimate aspiration -of boyhood; and George Crowe had his longings in this direction, -when examining Thackeray's razors with the other contents of his -dressing-room one day. The means of gratifying such an aspiration are -(fortunately) not invariably within the reach of most boys, and young -Crowe was not exceptionally situated in this matter. The same spirit -of earnest investigation, however, which had led him to discover -the razors, caused him to find in one of the garrets an old but -well-preserved travelling trunk, bound with ox-hide, and studded with -brass nails. To spread a copious lather over a considerable part of the -lid, and to set about the removal, by the aid of a razor, of the hair of -the ox-hide, occupied the boy the greater part of an afternoon. -Though not exactly so good as the real operation, this shave was, he -considered, a move in the right direction; and it was certainly better -than nothing at all. By a singular coincidence, it was about this time -that Thackeray began to complain of the difficulty of putting an edge -upon his razors, and to inquire if any one had been at the case where -they were kept. Of course, no one except the boy knew anything about the -business, and he, for prudential reasons, preserved silence. The area -of the ox-hide that still remained hirsute was pretty extensive, and he -foresaw many an hour of fearful joy, such as he had already tasted in -the garret. Twice again he lathered and shaved at the ox-hide; but the -third attempt was not a success, owing to the sudden appearance of the -housekeeper, who led the boy to the novelist's study and gave evidence -against him, submitting as proofs the razor, the shaving-brush, and a -portion of George Crowe's thumb which he had inadvertently sliced off. -Thackeray rose from his desk and mounted the stairs to the garret; -and when the housekeeper followed, insisting on the boy's accompanying -her--probably on the French principle of confronting a murderer with the -body of his victim--Thackeray was found seated on an unshaved portion of -the trunk, and roaring with laughter. - -So soon as he had recovered, he shook his finger at the delinquent (who, -twenty-five years afterwards, told me the story), and merely said: - -"George, I see clearly that in future I'll have to buy my trunks bald." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI.--IRISH TOURISTS AND TRAINS. - - -_The late Emperor of Brazil--An incredulous hotel manager--The surprised -A.R.A.--The Emperor as an early riser--The habits of the English -actor--A new reputation--Signor Ciro Pinsuti--The Prince of -Bohemia--Treatment au prince--The bill--An Oriental prince--An ideal -costume for a Scotch winter--Its subsequent modification--The -royal sleeping-place--Trains and Irish humour--The courteous -station-master--The sarcasm of the travellers--"Punctually seven minutes -late"--Not originally an Irishman--The time of departure of the 7.45 -train--Brahke, brake, brake--The card-players--Possibility of their -deterioration--The dissatisfied passenger--Being in a hurry he threatens -to walk--He didn't--He wishes he had._ - - -ONCE I was treated very uncivilly at an hotel in the North of Ireland, -and as the occasion was one upon which I was, I believed, entitled to be -dealt with on terms of exceptional courtesy, I felt the slight all the -more deeply. The late Emperor of Brazil, in yielding to his desire to -see everything in the world that was worth seeing, had appeared suddenly -in Ireland. I had had the privilege of taking tiffin with His Majesty -aboard a man-of-war at Rio Janeiro some years previously, and on calling -upon him in London upon the occasion of his visit to England, I found to -my surprise that he remembered the incident. He asked me to go with him -to the Giant's Causeway, and I promised to do so if he did not insist on -starting before sunrise,--he was the earliest riser I ever met. His -idea was that we could leave Belfast in the morning, travel by rail -to Portrush (sixty-seven miles distant), drive along the coast to the -Giant's Causeway (eight miles), and return to Belfast in time to catch -the train which left for Dublin at three o'clock. - -This programme was actually carried out. On entering the hotel at -Portrush--we arrived about eight in the morning--I hurried to the -manager. - -"I have brought the Emperor of Brazil to breakfast," said I, "so that -if you could let us have the dining-room to ourselves I should be much -obliged to you." - -"Who is it that you say you've brought?" asked the manager sleepily. - -"The Emperor of Brazil," I replied promptly. - -"Come now, clear off out of this, you and your jokes," said the manager. -"I've been taken in before to-day. You'll need to get up earlier in the -morning if you want to do it again. The Emperor of Brazil indeed! It'll -be the King of the Cannibal Islands next!" - -I felt mortified, and so, I fancy, did the manager shortly afterwards. - -Happily the hotel is now managed by the railway company, and is one of -the best in all Ireland. - -***** - -I fared better in this matter than the messenger who hurried to the -residence of a painter, who is now a member of the Royal Academy, to -announce his election as Associate in the days of Sir Francis Grant. It -is said that the painter felt himself to be so unworthy of the honour -which was being thrust upon him, that believing that he perceived an -attempt on the part of some of his brother-artists to make him the -victim of a practical joke, he promptly kicked the messenger downstairs. - -The manager of the hotel did not quite kick me out when I explained to -him that his house was to be honoured by the presence of an Emperor, but -he looked as if he would have liked to do so. - -Regarding the early rising of the Emperor Dom Pedro II., several amusing -anecdotes were in circulation in London upon the occasion of his first -visit. One morning he had risen, as usual, about four o'clock, and was -taking a stroll through Covent Garden market, when he came face to face -with three well-known actors, who were returning to their rooms after -a quiet little supper at the Garrick Club. The Emperor inquired who -the gentlemen were, and he was told. For years afterwards he was, it -is said, accustomed to declare that the only men he met in England who -seemed to believe with him that the early morning was the best part -of the day, were the actors. The most distinguished members of the -profession were, he said, in the habit of rising between the hours of -three and four every morning during the summer. - -***** - -A story which tends to show that in some directions, at any rate, -in Ireland the hotel proprietors are by no means wanting in -courtesy towards distinguished strangers, even when travelling in -an unostentatious way, was told to me by the late Ciro Pinsuti, the -well-known song writer, at his house in Mortimer Street. (When he -required any changes in the verses of mine which he was setting, he -invariably anticipated my objections by a story, told with admirable -effect.) It seems that Pinsuti was induced some years before to take a -tour to the Killarney Lakes. On arriving at the hotel where he had been -advised to put up, he found that the house was so crowded he had to -be content with a sort of china closet, into which a sofa-bed had been -thrust. The landlord was almost brusque when he ventured to protest -against the lack of accommodation, but subsequently a compromise was -effected, and Pinsuti strolled away along the lakes. - -On returning he found in the hall of the hotel the genial nobleman who -was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and an old London friend of Pinsuti's. -He was on a visit to the Herberts of Muckross, and attended only by his -son and one aide-de-camp. - -Now, at one time the same nobleman had been in the habit of contracting -Pinsuti's name, when addressing him, into "Pince"; in the course of time -this became improved into "Prince"; and for years he was never addressed -except in this way; so that when he entered the hall of the hotel, His -Excellency lifted up his hands and cried,-- - -"Why, Prince, who on earth would have fancied meeting you here of all -places in the world?" - -Pinsuti explained that he had merely crossed the Channel for a day or -two, and that he was staying at the hotel. - -"Come along then, and we'll have lunch together," said the Lord -Lieutenant; and Pinsuti forthwith joined the Viceregal party. - -But when luncheon was over, and the Viceroy was strolling through the -grounds for a smoke by the side of the musician, the landlord approached -His Excellency's son, saying,-- - -"I beg your lordship's pardon, but may I ask who the Prince is that -lunched with you and His Excellency?" - -"What Prince?" said Lord Ernest, somewhat puzzled. - -"Yes, my lord; I heard His Excellency address him as Prince more than -once," said the landlord. - -Then Lord Ernest, perceiving the ground for a capital joke, said,-- - -"Oh, the Prince--yes, to be sure; I fancied you knew him. Prince! yes, -that's the Prince of Bohemia." - -"The Prince of Bohemia! and I've sent him to sleep on an iron chair-bed -in a china closet!" cried the landlord. - -Lord Ernest looked grave. - -"I wouldn't have done that if I had been you," he said, shaking his -head. "You must try and do better for him than that, my man." Shortly -afterwards the Viceregal party drove off, and then the landlord -approached Pinsuti, and bowing to the ground, said,-- - -"I must humbly apologise to your Royal Highness for not having a -suitable room for your Royal Highness in the morning; but now I'm proud -to say that I have had prepared an apartment which will, I trust, give -satisfaction." - -"What do you mean by Highnessing me, my good man?" asked Pinsuti. - -"Ah," said the landlord, smiling and bowing, "though it may please your -Royal Highness to travel _incognito_, I trust I know what is due to your -exalted station, sir." - -For the next two days Pinsuti was, he told me, treated with an amount of -respect such as he had never before experienced. A waiter was specially -told off to attend to him, and every time he passed the landlord the -latter bowed in his best style. - -It was, however, an American lady tourist who held an informal meeting -in the drawingroom of the hotel, at which it was agreed that no one -should be seated at the _table d'hote_ until the Prince of Bohemia had -entered and taken his place. - -On the morning of his departure he found, waiting to take him to the -railway station, a carriage drawn by four horses. Out to this he passed -through lines of bowing tourists--especially Americans. - -"It was all very nice, to be sure," said Pinsuti, in concluding his -narrative; "but the bill I had to pay was not so gratifying. However, -one cannot be a Prince, even of Bohemia, without paying for it." - -This story more than neutralises, I think, the impression likely to be -produced by the account of the insolence of the official at the northern -hotel. Universal civility may be expected even at the largest and -best-appointed hotels in Ireland. - -***** - -As I have somehow drifted into these anecdotes about royal personages, -at the risk of being considered digressive--an accusation which I -spurn--I must add one curious experience which some relations of mine -had of a genuine prince. My cousin, Major Wyllie, of the Madras Staff -Corps, had been attached to the prince's father, who was a certain -rajah, and had been the instrument employed by the Government for giving -him some excellent advice as to the course he should adopt if he were -desirous of getting the Star which it was understood he was coveting. -The rajah was anxious to have his heir, a boy of twelve, educated in -England, and he wished to find for him a place in a family where his -morals--the rajah was great on morals--would be properly looked after; -so he sought the advice of Major Wyllie on this important subject. After -some correspondence and much persuasion on the part of the potentate, my -cousin consented to send the youth to his father's house near Edinburgh. -The rajah was delighted, and promised to have an outfit prepared for his -son without delay. The result of the consultation which he had with some -learned members of his _entourage_ on the subject of the costume daily -worn in Edinburgh by gentlemen, was peculiar. I am of the opinion that -some of its distinctive features must have been exaggerated, while the -full value of others cannot have been assigned to them; for the young -prince submitted himself for the approval of Major Wyllie, and some -other officers of the Staff, wearing a truly remarkable dress. His boots -were of the old Hessian pattern, with coloured silk tassels all round -the uppers. His knees were bare, but just above them the skirt of a kilt -flowed, in true Scotch fashion, only that the material was not cloth but -silk, and the colours were not those of any known tartan, but simply a -brilliant yellow. The coat was of blue velvet, crusted with jewels, and -instead of the flowing shoulder-pieces, there hung down a rich mantle -of gold brocade. The crowning incident of this ideal costume of an -unobtrusive Scotch gentleman whose aim is to pass through the streets -without attracting attention, was a crimson velvet glengarry cap worn -over a white turban, and containing three very fine ostrich feathers of -different, colours, fastened by a diamond aigrette. - -Yes, the consensus of opinion among the officers was that the rajah had -succeeded wonderfully in giving prominence to the chief elements of the -traditional Scottish national dress, without absolutely extinguishing -every spark of that orientalism to which the prince had been accustomed. -It was just the sort of costume that a simple body would like to wear -daily, walking down Prince's Street, during an inclement winter, they -said. There was no attempt at ostentation about it; its beauty consisted -in its almost Puritan simplicity; and there pervaded it a note of that -sternness which marks the character of the rugged North Briton. - -The rajah was delighted with this essay of his advisers at making a -consistent blend of Calicut and Caledonia in _modes_; but somehow the -prince arrived in Scotland in a tweed suit. - -***** - -I afterwards heard that on the first morning after the arrival of the -prince at his temporary home, he was missing. His bed showed no signs of -having been slept in during the night; but the eiderdown quilt was not -to be seen. It was only about the breakfast hour that the butler found -His Highness, wrapped in the eiderdown quilt, _under the bed._ - -He had occupied a lower bunk in a cabin aboard the P. & O. steamer on -the voyage to England, and he had taken it for granted that the sleeping -accommodation in the house where he was an honoured guest was of the -same restricted type. He had thus naturally crept under the bed, so -that some one else might enjoy repose in the upper and rather roomier -compartment. - -***** - -The transition from Irish inns to Irish railways is not a violent one. -On the great trunk lines the management is sufficiently good to present -no opportunities for humorous reminiscences. It is with railways as with -hotels: the more perfectly appointed they are, the less humorous are the -incidents associated with them in the recollection of a traveller. It is -safe to assume that, as a general rule, native wit keeps clear of a line -of rails. Mr. Baring Gould is good enough to explain, in his "Strange -Survivals and Superstitions," that the fairy legend is but a shadowy -tradition of the inhabitants during the Stone Age; and he also explains -how it came about that iron was accepted as a potent agent for driving -away these humorous folk. The iron road has certainly driven the witty -aborigines into the remote districts of Ireland. A railway guard has -never been known to convulse the passengers with his dry wit as he snips -their tickets, nor do the clerks at the pigeon-holes take any particular -trouble to Hash out a _bon mot_ as one counts one's change. The man who, -after pouring out the thanks of the West for the relief meal given to -the people during the last failure of the potato and every other -crop, said, "Troth, if it wasn't for the famine we'd all be starving -entirely," lived far from the sound of the whistle of an engine. - -Still, I have now and again come upon something on an Irish railway that -was droll by reason of its incongruity. There was a station-master at a -small town on an important line, who seemed a survival of the leisurely -days of our grandfathers. He invariably strolled round the carriages -to ask the passengers if they were quite comfortable, just as the -conscientious head waiter at the "_Trois Frres_" used to do in respect -of his patrons. He would suggest here and there that a window might -be closed, as the morning air was sometimes very treacherous. He even -pressed foot-warmers upon the occupants of the second-class carriages. -He was the friend of all the matrons who were in the habit of travelling -by the line, and he inquired after their numerous ailments (including -babies), and listened with dignified attention while they told him -all that should be told in public--sometimes a trifle more. A medical -student would learn as much about a very interesting branch of the -profession through paying attention to the exchange of confidences -at that station, as he would by walking the hospitals for a year. The -station-master was greatly looked up to by agriculturists, and it was -commonly reported that there was no better judge of the weather to be -found in the immediate neighbourhood of the station. - -It was really quite absurd to hear English commercial travellers -and other persons in the train, who had not become aware of the good -qualities of this most estimable man, grumbling because the train -usually remained at this platform for ten minutes instead of the two -minutes allotted to it in the "A B C." The engine-drivers, it was said, -also growled at being forced to run the twenty miles on either side of -this station at as fast a rate as forty miles an hour, instead of the -thirty to which they had accustomed themselves, to save their time. The -cutting remarks of the impatient passengers made no impression upon him. - -"Look here, station-master," cried a commercial gentleman one day when -the official had come across quite an unusual number of acquaintances, -"is there a breakdown on the line?" - -"I don't know indeed, sir, but I'll try and find out for you," said the -station-master blandly. He went off hurriedly (for him), and did not -return for five minutes. - -"I've telegraphed up the line, sir," said he to the gentleman, who only -meant to be delicately sarcastic, "and I'm happy to assure you that -no information regarding a breakdown has reached any of the principal -stations. It has been raining at Ballynamuck, but I don't think it will -continue long. Can I do anything more for you, sir?" - -"No, thank you," said the commercial gentleman meekly. - -"I can find out for you if the Holyhead steamer has had a good passage, -if you don't mind waiting for a few minutes," suggested the official. -"What! you are anxious to get on? Certainly, sir; I'll tell the guard. -Good morning, sir." - -When the train was at last in motion a wiry old man in a corner pulled -out his watch, and then turned to the commercial traveller. - -"Are you aware, sir," he said tartly, "that your confounded inquiries -kept us back just seven minutes? You should have some consideration for -your fellow-passengers, let me tell you, sir." - -A murmur of assent went round the compartment. - -***** - -Upon another occasion a passenger, on arriving at the station over whose -destinies this courteous official presided, put his head out of the -carriage window, and inquired if the train had arrived punctually. - -"Yes, sir," replied the station-master, "very punctually: seven minutes -late to a second." - -Upon another occasion I heard him say to an inquirer,-- - -"Oh no, sir; I wasn't originally an Irishman. I am one now, however." - -***** - -"By heavens!" said some one at the further end of the compartment, "that -reply removes all doubt on the subject." - -Several years ago I was staying at Lord Avonmore's picturesque lodge at -the head of Lough Dearg. A fellow-guest received a telegram one Sunday -afternoon which compelled his immediate departure, and seeing by the -railway time-table that a train left the nearest station at 7.45, we -drove in shortly before that hour. There was, however, no sign of life -on the little platform up to 7.50. Thereupon my friend became anxious, -and we hunted in every direction for even the humblest official. After -some trouble we found a porter asleep on a pile of cushions in the -lamp-room. We roused him and said,-- - -"There's a train marked on the time-table to leave here at 7.45, but -it's now 7.50, and there's no sign of a train. What time may we expect -it?" - -"I don't know, sir, for myself." said the porter, "but I'll ask the -station-master." - -We followed him down the platform, and then a man, in his shirt sleeves, -came out of an office. - -"Mr. O'Flaherty," cried the porter, "here's two gentlemen that wants to -know, if you please, at what o'clock the 7.45 train leaves." - -"It leaves at eight on weekdays and a quarter past eight on Sundays," -was the thoughtful reply. - -***** - -It is reported that on the same branch, an engine-driver, on reaching -the station more than usually behind his time, declared that he had -never known "herself"--meaning the engine--to be so sluggish before. She -needed a deal of rousing before he could get any work whatever out of -her, he said; and she had pulled up at the platform without a hand being -put to the brake. When he tried to start the engine again he failed -utterly in his attempt. She had "rusted," he said, and when an engine -rusted she was more stubborn than any horse. - -It was a passenger who eventually suggested that perhaps if the brakes -were turned off, the engine might have a better chance of doing its -work. - -This suggestion led to an examination of the brake wheels of the engine. - -"By me sowl, that's a joke!" said the engine-driver. "If I haven't been -driving her through the county Tipperary with the brakes on!" - -And so he had. - -***** - -On a branch line farther north the official staff were said to be so -extremely fond of the Irish National game of cards--it is called "Spoil -Five"--that the guard, engine-driver, and stoker invariably took a hand -at it on the tool-box on the tender--a poor substitute for a table, the -guard explained to an interested passenger who made inquiries on the -subject, but it served well enough at a pinch, and it was not for him to -complain. He was right: it was for the passengers to complain, and -some of them did so; and a remonstrance was sent to the staff which -practically amounted to a prohibition of any game of cards on the engine -when the train was in motion. It was very reasonably pointed out by -the manager that, unless the greatest watchfulness were observed by the -guard, he might, when engaged at the game, allow the train to run past -some station at which it was advertised to stop--as a matter of fact -this had frequently occurred. Besides, the manager said, persistence in -the practice under the conditions just described could not but tend to -the deterioration of the staff as card-players; so he trusted that they -would see that it was advisable to give their undivided attention to -their official duties. - -The staff cheerfully acquiesced, admitting that now and again it was a -great strain upon them to recollect what cards were out, and at the same -time what was the name of the station just passed. The fact that the -guard had been remiss enough, on throwing down the hand that had just -been dealt to him on the arrival of the train at Ballycruiskeen, to walk -down the platform crying out "Hearts is thrumps!" instead of the name of -the station, helped to make him at least see the wisdom of the manager's -remonstrance; and no more "Spoil Five" was played while the engine was -in motion. - -But every time the train made a stoppage, the cards were shuffled on the -engine, and the station-master for the time being took a hand, as well -as any passenger who had a mind to contribute to the pool. Now and -again, however, a passenger turned up who was in a hurry to get to his -journey's end, and made something of a scene--greatly to the annoyance -of the players, and the couple of policemen, and the porter or two, -who had the _entre_ to the "table." Upon one occasion such a passenger -appeared, and, in considerable excitement, pointed out that the train -had taken seventy-five minutes to do eight miles. He declared that this -was insufferable, and that, sooner than stand it any longer, he would -walk the remainder of the distance to his destination. - -He was actually showing signs of carrying out his threat, when the guard -threw down his hand, dismounted from the engine and came behind him. - -"Ah, sir, you'll get into the train again, won't you?" said he. - -"No, I'll be hanged if I will," shouted the passenger. "I've no time to -waste, I'll walk." - -"Ah, no, sir; you'll get into the train. Do, sir; and you'll be at -the end of the journey every bit as soon as if you walked," urged the -official. - -His assurance on this point prevailed, and the passenger returned to -his carriage. But unless the speed upon that occasion was a good -deal greater than it was when I travelled over the same line, it is -questionable if he would not have been on the safe side in walking. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII--HONORARY EDITORS AND OTHERS. - - -_Our esteemed correspondent--The great imprinted--Lord Tennyson's -death--"Crossing the Bar"--Why was it never printed in its -entirety?--The comments on the poem--Who could the Pilot have -been?--Pilot or pilot engine?--A vexed and vexing question--Erroneous -navigation--Tennyson's voyage with Mr. Gladstone--Its far-reaching -results--Tennyson's interest in every form of literary work--"My -Official Wife"--Amateur critics--The Royal Dane--Edwin Booth and -his critic--A really comic play--An Irving enthusiast--"Gemini and -Virgo"--"Our sincerest laughter"--The drollest of soliloquies--"Eugene -Aram" for the hilarious--The proof of a sincere devotion._ - - -THE people who spend their time writing letters to newspapers pointing -out mistakes, or what they imagine to be mistakes, and making many -suggestions as to how the newspaper should be conducted in all its -departments, constitute a branch of the profession of philanthropy, to -which sufficient attention has never been given. - -I do not, of course, allude to the type whom Mr. George Du Maurier -derided when he put the phrase _J'crirai le Times_ into his mouth on -being compelled to pay an extravagant bill at a French hotel; there are -people who have just grievances to expose, and there are newspapers -that exist for the dissemination of those grievances; but it is an -awful thought that at this very moment there are some hundreds--perhaps -thousands--of presumably sane men and women sitting down and writing -letters to their local newspapers to point out to the management that -the jeu d'esprit attributed in yesterday's issue to Sydney Smith, -was one of which Douglas Jerrold was really the author; or that the -quotation about the wind being tempered to the shorn lamb is not to -be found in the Bible, but in "the works of the late Mr. Sterne"; or -perhaps suggesting that no country could rightly be regarded as exempted -from the list of lands forming a legitimate sphere for missionary -labour, whose newspapers give up four columns daily to an account of the -horse-racing of the day before. A book might easily be written by -any one who had some experience, not of the letters that appear in a -newspaper, but of those that are sent to the editor by enthusiasts on -the subject of finance, morality, religion, and the correct text of some -of Burns dialect poems. - -When Lord Tennyson died, I printed five columns of a biographical and -critical sketch of the great poet. I thought it necessary to quote only -a single stanza of "Crossing the Bar." During the next clay I received -quite a number of letters asking in what volume of Tennyson's works the -poem was to be found. In the succeeding issue of the paper I gave -the poem in full. From that day on during the next fortnight, no post -arrived without bringing me a letter containing the same poem, with a -request to have it published in the following issue; and every writer -seemed to be under the impression that he (or she) had just discovered -"Crossing the Bar." Then the clergymen who forwarded in manuscript the -sermons which they had preached on Tennyson, pointing out the "lessons" -of his poems, presented their compliments and requested the insertion of -"Crossing the Bar," _in its entirety_, in the place in the sermons where -they had quoted it. All this time "poems" on the death of Tennyson kept -pouring in by the hundred, and I can safely say that not one came under -my notice that did not begin, - - "Yes, thou hast cross'd the Bar, and face to face - - Thy Pilot seen," - -or with words to that effect. - -After this had been going on for some weeks a member of the -proprietorial household came to me with a letter open in his hand. - -"I wonder how it was that we missed that poem of Tennyson's." said -he. "It would have done well, I think, if it had been published in our -columns at his death." - -"What poem is that?" I inquired. - -"This is it," he replied, offering me the letter which he held. "A -personal friend of my own sends it to me for insertion. It is called -'Crossing the Bar.' Have you ever seen it before?" - -The aggregate thickness of skull of the proprietorial household was -phenomenal. - -***** - -When writing on the subject of this poem I may perhaps be permitted to -express the opinion, that the remarks made about it in some directions -were the most astounding that ever appeared in print respecting a -composition of the character of "Crossing the Bar." - -One writer, it may be remembered, took occasion to point out that the -"Pilot" was, of course, the poet's son, by whom he had been predeceased. -The "thought" was, we were assured, that his son had gone before him to -show him the direction to take, so to speak. Now whatever the "thought" -of the poet was, the thought of this commentator converged not upon a -pilot but a pilot-engine. - -Then another writer was found anxious to point out that Tennyson's -navigation was defective. "What would be the use of a pilot when the bar -was already crossed?" was the question asked by this earnest inquirer. -This gentleman's idea clearly was that Tennyson should have subjected -himself to a course of Mr. Clark Russell before attempting to write such -a poem as "Crossing the Bar." - -***** - -The fact was that Tennyson knew enough navigation for a poet, just as -Mr. Gladstone knows enough for a premier. When the two most picturesque -of Englishmen (assuming that Mr. Gladstone is an Englishman) took their -cruise together in a steam yacht they kept their eyes open, I have -good reason to know. I question very much if the most ideal salt in the -mercantile marine could make a better attempt to describe some incidents -of the sea than Tennyson did in "Enoch Arden"; and as the Boston -gentleman was doubtful if more than six men in his city could write -"Hamlet," so I doubt if the same number of able-bodied seamen, whose -command of emphatic language is noted, could bring before our eyes the -sight, and send rushing through our ears the sound, of a breaking wave, -with greater emphasis than Tennyson did when he wrote,-- - - "As the crest of some slow-arching wave - - Heard in dead night along that table-shore - - Drops flat; and after the great waters break, - - Whitening for half a league, and thin themselves - - Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud - - From less and less to nothing.'' - -It was after he had returned from his last voyage with Mr. Gladstone -that Tennyson wrote "Crossing the Bar." - -It was after Mr. Gladstone had returned from the same voyage that he -consolidated his reputation as a statesman by a translation of "Rock of -Ages" into Italian. He then made Tennyson a peer. - -Perhaps it may not be considered an impertinence on my part if I give, -in this place, an instance, which came under my notice, of the eclectic -nature of Lord Tennyson's interest in even the least artistic branches -of literary work. A relative of mine went to Aldworth to lunch with the -family of the poet only a few weeks before his death saddened every home -in England. Lord Tennyson received his guest in his favourite room; -he was seated on a sofa at a window overlooking the autumn russet -landscape, and he wore a black velvet coat, which made his long delicate -fingers seem doubly pathetic in their worn whiteness. He had been -reading, and laid down the book to greet his visitor. This book was "My -Official Wife." - -Now the author of the story so entitled is not the man to talk of his -"Art," as so many inferior writers do, in season and out of season. -He knows that his stories are no more deserving of being regarded as -high-class literature than is the scrappy volume at which I am now -engaged. He knows, however, that he is an excellent exponent of a form -of art that interests thousands of people on both sides of the Atlantic; -and the fact that Tennyson was able to read such a story as "My Official -Wife" seems to me to show how much the poet was interested in a very -significant phase of the constantly varying taste of the great mass of -English readers. - -It is the possession of such a sympathetic nature as this that prevents -a man from ever growing old. Mr. Gladstone also seems to read everything -that comes in his way, and he is never so busy as to be unable to snatch -a moment to write a word of kindly commendation upon an excessively dull -book. - -***** - -It is not only upon the occasion of the death of a great man or a prince -that some people are obliging enough to give an editor a valuable hint -or two as to the standpoint from which the character of the deceased -should be judged. They now and again express themselves with great -freedom on the subject of living men, and are especially frank in -their references to the private lives of the best-known and most highly -respected gentlemen. It is, however, the performances of actors that -form the most fruitful subject of irresponsible comment for "outsiders." -It has often seemed to me that every man has his own idea of the way -"Hamlet" should be represented. When I was engaged in newspaper work -I found that every new representation of the play was received by some -people as the noblest effort to realise the character, while others were -of the opinion that the actor might have found a more legitimate subject -than this particular play for burlesque treatment. Mr. Edwin Booth once -told me a story--I dare say it may be known in the United States--that -would tend to convey the impression that the study of Hamlet has made -its way among the coloured population as well as the colourless--if -there are any--of America. - -Mr. Booth said that he was acting in New Orleans, and when at the hotel, -his wants were enthusiastically attended to by a negro waiter. At every -meal the man showed his zeal in a very marked way, particularly by never -allowing another waiter to come within hailing distance of his chair. -Such attention, the actor thought, should be rewarded, so he asked -Caractacus if he would care to have an order for the theatre. The waiter -declared that if he only had the chance of seeing Mr. Booth on the -stage, he (the waiter) would die happy when his time came. The actor at -once gave him an order for the same night, and the next morning he found -the man all teeth and eyes behind his chair. - -"Well, Caractacus, did you manage to go to the theatre last night?" -asked Booth. - -"Didn't I jus', Massa Boove," cried the waiter beaming. - -"And how did you enjoy the piece?" - -"Jus' lubly, sah; nebber onjoyed moself so well--it kep' me in a roar o' -larfta de whole ebening, sah. Oh, Massa Boove, you was too funny." - -The play that had been performed was _Hamlet._ - -***** - -I chanced to be residing for a time in a large manufacturing town which -Mr. Irving visited when "touring" some twelve years ago. In that town an -enthusiastic admirer of Mr. Irving's lived, and he was, with Mr. Irving -and myself, a guest of the mayor's at a dinner party on one Sunday -night. In the drawing-room of the mayoress the great actor repeated -his favourite poem--"Gemini and Virgo," from Calverley's "Verses and -Translations," dealing with inimitable grace with the dainty humour of -this exquisite trifle; and naturally, every one present was delighted. -For myself I may say that, frequently though I had heard Mr. Irving -repeat the verses. - -I felt that he had never before brought to bear upon them the consummate -art of that high comedy of which he is the greatest living exponent. -But I could not help noticing that the gentleman who had protested so -enthusiastic an admiration for the actor, was greatly puzzled as the -recitation went on, and I came to the conclusion that he had not the -remotest idea what it was all about. When some ladies laughed outright -at the delivery of the lines, with matchless adroitness, - - "I did not love as others do-- - - None ever did that I've heard tell of," - -the man looked angrily round and cried "Hsh!" but even this did not -overawe the young women, and they all laughed again at, - - "One night I saw him squeeze her hand-- - - There was no doubt about the matter. - - I said he must resign, or stand - - My vengeance--and he chose the latter." - -But by this time it had dawned upon the jealous guardian of Mr. Irving's -professional reputation that the poem was meant to be a trifle humorous, -and so soon as he became convinced of this, he almost interrupted the -reciter with his uproarious hilarity, especially at places where the -humour was far too subtle for laughter; and at the close he wiped his -eyes and declared that the fun was too much for him. - -I asked a relative of his if he thought that the man had the slightest -notion of what the poem was about, and his relative said,-- - -"It might be in Sanskrit for all he understands of it. He loves Mr. -Irving for himself alone. He has got no idea of art." - -Later in the night the conversation turned upon the difference between -the elocutionary modes of expression of the past and the present day. -In illustration of a point associated with the question of effect, Mr. -Irving gave me at least a thrill such as I had never before experienced -through the medium of his art, by repeating,-- - - "To be or not to be: that is the question." - -Before he had reached the words,-- - - "To die: to sleep: - - No more," - -I felt that I had suddenly had a revelation made to me of the utmost -limits of art; that I had been permitted a glimpse behind the veil, if -I may be allowed the expression; that I had been permitted to take a -single glance into a world whose very name is a mystery to the sons of -men. - -Every one present seemed spellbound. A commonplace man who sat next to -me, drew a long breath--it was almost a gasp--and said,-- - -"That is too much altogether for such people us we are. My God! I don't -know what I saw--I don't know how I come to be here." - -He could not have expressed better what my feeling was; and yet I had -seen Mr. Irving's Hamlet seventeen times, so that I might have been -looked upon as unsusceptible to any further revelation on a point in -connection with the soliloquy. - -When I glanced round I saw Mr. Irving's enthusiastic admirer once more -wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. It was not, however, until -Mr. Irving was in the act of reciting "The Dream of Eugene Aram," that -the same gentleman yielded to what he conceived to be the greatest comic -treat of the evening. - -Happily he occupied a back seat, and smothered his laughter behind a -huge red handkerchief, which was guffaw-proof. - -He was a little lower than the negro waiter in his appreciation of the -actor's art. - -A year afterwards I met the same gentleman at an hotel in Scotland, and -he reminded me of the dinner-party at the mayor's. His admiration for -Mr. Irving had in no degree diminished. He was partaking of a simple -lunch of cold beef and pickled onions; and when he began to speak of the -talents of the actor, he was helping himself to an onion, but so excited -did he become that instead of dropping the dainty on his plate, he put -it into his mouth, and after a crunch or two, swallowed it. Then he -helped himself to a second, and crunched and talked away, while my -cheeks became wrinkled merely through watching him. He continued -automatically ladling the onions into his mouth until the jar was nearly -empty, and the roof of my mouth felt crinkly. Fortunately a waiter came -up--he had clearly been watching the man, and perceived that the hotel -halfcrown lunch in this particular case would result in a loss to the -establishment--and politely inquired if he had quite done with the -pickle bottle, as another gentleman was asking for it. - -I wondered how the man felt after the lapse of an hour or so. I could -not but believe in the sincerity of a devotion that manifested itself in -so striking a manner. - -***** - -I have mentioned "The Dream of Eugene Aram." Has any one ever attempted -to identify the "little boy" who was the recipient of the harrowing tale -of the usher? In my mind there is no doubt that the "gentle lad" whom -Hood had in his eye was none other than James Burney, son of Dr. Burney, -and brother of the writer of "Evelina." He was a pupil at the school -near Lynn which was fortunate enough to obtain the services of Eugene -Aram as usher; and I have no doubt that, when he settled down in London, -after joining in the explorations of Captain Cook, he excited the -imagination of his friend Hood by his reminiscences of his immortal -usher. - -Gessner's "Death of Abel" was published in England before the edition, -illustrated by Stothard, appeared in 1797. Perhaps, however, young -Master Burney carried his Bible about with him. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII.--OUTSIDE THE LYCEUM BILL. - - -_Mr. Edwin Booth--Othello and Iago at supper--The guest--Mr. Irving's -little speech--Mr. Booth's graceful reply--A striking tableau--A -more memorable gathering--The hundredth night of "The Merchant of -Venice"--The guests--Lord Houghton's speech--Mr. Irving's reply--Mr. -J: L. Toole supplies an omission--Mr. Dion Boncicault at the -Lyceum--English as she is spoke--"Trippingly on the tongue"--The man -who was born to teach the pronunciation of English--A Trinity College -student--The coveted acorn--A good word for the English._ - - -I DID not mean to enter upon a course of theatrical anecdotage in these -pages, but having mentioned the name of a great actor recently dead, I -cannot refrain from making a brief reference to what was certainly one -of the most interesting episodes in his career. I allude to Mr. Edwin -Booth's professional visit to London in 1881. It may truthfully be said -that if Mr. Booth was not wholly responsible for the financial failure -of his abbreviated "season" at the Princess's Theatre, neither was he -wholly responsible for his subsequent success at the Lyceum. I should -like, however, to have an opportunity of bearing testimony to his frank -and generous appreciation of the courtesy shown to him by Mr. Henry -Irving, in inviting him to play in _Othello_. when it became plain that -the performances of the American actor at the Princess's were not likely -to make his reputation in England. It would be impossible for me to -forget the genuine emotion shown by Mr. Booth when, on the Saturday -night that brought to a close the notable representations of _Othello_ -at the Lyceum, he referred to the kindness which he had received at that -theatre. Although the occasion to which I refer was the most private of -private suppers, I do not feel that I can be accused of transgressing -the accepted _codex_ of the Beefsteak Room in touching upon a matter -which is now of public interest. Early in the week Mr. Irving had been -good enough to invite me to meet Mr. Booth at supper on the Saturday. -After the performance, in which Mr. Irving was Othello and Mr. Booth -Iago, I found in the supper-room, in addition to the host and the guest -of the evening, Mr. John McCullough, who, it will be remembered, paid -a visit to England at the same time as Mr. Booth; and a member of -Parliament who subsequently became the Leader of the House of -Commons. Mr. J. L. Toole and Mr. Bram Stoker subsequently arrived. We -found a good deal to talk about, and it was rather late--too late for -the one guest who was unconnected with theatrical matters (at least, -those outside St. Stephen's)--when Mr. Irving, in a few of those -graceful, informal sentences which he seems always to have at his -command, and only rising to his feet for a moment, asked us to drink to -the health of Mr. Booth. Mr. Irving, I recollect, referred to the fact -that the representations of _Othello_ had filled the theatre nightly, -and that the instant the American actor appeared, the English actor had -to "take a back seat." - -The playful tone assumed by him was certainly not sustained by Mr. -Booth. It would be impossible to doubt that he made his reply under the -influence of the deepest feeling. He could scarcely speak at first, and -when at last he found words, they were the words of a man whose eyes are -full of tears. "You all know how I came here," he said. "You all know -that I went to another theatre in London, and that I was a big failure, -although some newspaper writers on my side of the water had said that -I would make Henry Irving and the other English actors sit up. Well, -I didn't make them sit up. Yes, I was a big failure. But what happened -then? Henry Irving invites me to act with him at his theatre, and makes -me share the success which he has so well earned. He changes my big -failure into a big success. What can I say about such generosity? Was -the like of it ever seen before? I am left without words. Friend Irving, -I have no words to thank you." The two actors got upon their feet, and -as they clasped hands, both of them overcome, I could not help feeling -that I was looking upon an emblematic tableau of the artistic union of -the Old World and the New. So I was. - -***** - -I could not help contrasting this graceful little incident with the more -memorable episode which had taken place in the same building some years -previously. On the evening of February 14th, 1880, Mr. Irving gave -a supper on the stage of the Lyceum, to celebrate the hundredth -representation of _The Merchant of Venice_. I do not suppose that upon -any occasion within the memory of a middle-aged man so remarkable a -gathering had assembled at the bidding of an actor. Every notable man -in every department of literature, art, and science seemed to me to -be present. The most highly representative painters, poets, novelists, -play-writers, actors of plays, composers of operas, singers of operas, -composers of laws, exponents of the meaning of these laws, journalists, -financiers,--all this goodly company attended on that moist Saturday -night to congratulate the actor upon one of the most signal triumphs of -the latter half of the century. Of course it was well understood by Mr. -Irving's personal friends that an omission of their names from the list -of invitations to this marvellous function was inevitable. Capacious -though the stage of the Lyceum is, it would not meet the strain that -would be put on it if all the personal friends of Mr. Irving were to be -invited to the supper. So soon as I heard, however, that every living -author who had written a play that had been produced at the Lyceum -Theatre would be invited, I knew that, in spite of the fact that I only -escaped by the skin of my teeth being an absolute nonentity--I had only -published nine volumes in those days--I would not be an "outsider" upon -this occasion. Two years previously a comedietta of mine had been played -at this theatre for some hundred nights, while the audience were being -shown to their places and were chatting genially with the friends whom -they recognised three or four seats away. That was my play. No human -being could deprive me of the consciousness of having written a play -that was produced at the Lyceum Theatre. It was not a great feat, but it -constituted a privilege of which I was not slow to avail myself. - -The invitations were all in the handwriting of Mr. Irving, and -the _menu_ was, in the words of Joseph in "Divorons," _dlicat, -distingu--trs distingu_. While we were smoking some cigars the merits -of which have never been adequately sung, though they would constitute a -theme at least equal to that of the majority of epics, our host strolled -round the tables, shaking hands and talking with every one in that -natural way of his, which proves conclusively that at least one trait of -Garrick's has never been shared by him. - - "Twas only that when he was off he was acting," - -wrote Garrick's--and everybody else's--friend, Goldsmith. No; Mr. Irving -cannot claim to be the inheritor of all the arts of Garrick. - -More than an hour had passed before Lord Houghton rose to propose the -toast of the evening. He did so very fluently. He had evidently prepared -his speech with great care; and as the _doyen_ of literature--the true -patron of art and letters during two generations--his right to speak -as one having authority could not be questioned. No one expected a -commonplace speech from Lord Houghton, but few of Mr. Irving's guests -could have looked for precisely such a speech as he delivered. It struck -a note of far-reaching criticism, and was full of that friendly counsel -which the varied experiences of the speaker made doubly valuable. Its -commendation of the great actor was wholly free from that meaningless -adulation, which is as distasteful to any artist who knows the -limitations of his art, as it is prejudicial to the realisation of his -aims. In his masterly biography of the late Lord Houghton, Mr. Wemyss -Reid refers to the great admiration which Lord Houghton had for Mr. -Irving; and this admiration was quite consistent with the tone of the -speech in which he proposed the health of our host. It was probably Lord -Houghton's sincere appreciation of the aims of Mr. Irving that caused -him to make some delicate allusion to the dangers of long runs. -Considering that we had assembled on the stage of the Lyceum to -celebrate a phenomenal run on that stage, the difficulty of the course -which Lord Houghton had to steer in order to avoid giving the least -offence to even the most susceptible of his audience, will be easily -recognised. There were present several playwriters who, by the exercise -of great dexterity, had succeeded in avoiding all their lives the -pitfall of the long run; and these gentlemen listened, with mournful -acquiescence, while Lord Houghton showed, as he did quite conclusively, -that, on the whole, the interests of dramatic art are best advanced by -adopting the principles which form the basis of the Thtre Franais. -But there were also present some managers who had been weak enough to -allow certain plays which they had produced, to linger on the stage, -evening after evening, so long as the public chose to pay their money -to see them. I glanced at one of these gentlemen while Lord Houghton was -delivering his tactful address, and I cannot say that the result of my -glance was to assure me that the remarks of his lordship were convincing -to that manager. Contrition for those past misdeeds that took the form -of five-hundred-night runs was not the most noticeable expression upon -his features. But then the manager was an actor as well, so that he may -only have been concealing his remorse behind a smiling face. - -Mr. Irving's reply was excellent. With amazing good-humour he touched -upon almost every point brought forward by Lord Houghton, referring to -his own position somewhat apologetically. Lord Houghton had, however, -made the apologetic tone inevitable; but after a short time Mr. Irving -struck the note for which his friends had been waiting, and spoke -strongly, earnestly, and eloquently on behalf of the art of which he -hoped to be the exponent. - -We who knew how splendid were the aims of the hero of a hundred nights, -with what sincerity and at how great self-sacrifice he had endeavoured -to realize them; we who had watched his career in the past, and were -hopefully looking forward to a future for the English drama in a -legitimate home; we who were enthusiastic almost to a point of passion -in our love and reverence for the art of which we believed Irving to -be the greatest interpreter of our generation,--we, I say, felt that -we should not separate before one more word at least was spoken to our -friend whose triumph we regarded as our own. - -It was Mr. J. L. Toole, our host's oldest and closest friend, who, in -the Beefsteak Room some hours after midnight, expressed, in a few -words that came from his heart and were echoed by ours, how deeply Mr. -Irving's triumph was felt by all who enjoyed his friendship--by all who -appreciated the difficulties which he had surmounted, and who, having at -heart the best interests of the drama, stretched forth to him hands of -sympathy and encouragement, and wished him God-speed. - -Thus closed a memorable gathering, the chief incidents in which I have -ventured to chronicle exactly as they appeared to me. - -***** - -Only to one more Lyceum performance may I refer in this place. It may be -remembered that ten or eleven years ago the late Mr. Dion Boucicault -was obliging enough to offer to give a lecture to English actors on the -correct pronunciation of their mother-tongue. The offer was, I suppose, -thought too valuable to be neglected, and it was arranged that the -lecture should be delivered from the stage of the Lyceum Theatre. A more -interesting and amusing function I have never attended. It was clear -that the lecturer had formed some very definite ideas as to the way -the English language should be spoken; and his attempts to convey these -ideas to his audience were most praiseworthy. His illustrations of -the curiosities of some methods of pronouncing words were certainly -extremely curious. For instance, he complained bitterly of the way the -majority of English actors pronounced the word "war." - -"Ye prenounce the ward as if it wuz spelt w-a-u-g-h," said the lecturer -gravely. "Ye don't prenounce it at all as ye shud. The ward rhymes with -'par, 'are,' and 'kyar,' and yet ye will prenounce it as if it rhymed -with 'saw' and 'Paw-' Don't ye see the diffurnce?" - -"We do, we do!" cried the audience; and, thus encouraged by the ready -acquiescence in his pet theories, the lecturer went on to deal with -the gross absurdity of pronouncing the word "grass," not to rhyme with -"lass," which of course was the correct way, but almost--not quite--as -if it rhymed with "laws." - -"The ward is 'grass,' not 'graws,'" said our lecturer. "It grates on a -sinsitive ear like mine to hear it misprenounced. Then ye will never be -injuced to give the ward 'Chrischin' its thrue value as a ward of -three syllables; ye'll insist on calling it 'Christyen,' in place of -'Chrischin.' D'ye persave the diffurnce?" - -"We do, we do!" cried the audience. - -"Ay, and ye talk about 'soots' of gyar-ments, when everybody knows -that ye shud say 'shoots'; ye must give the full valye to the letter -'u'--there's no double o in a shoot of clothes. Moreover, ye talk of the -mimbers of the polis force as 'cunstables,' but there's no 'u' in the -first syllable--it's an 'o,' and it shud be prenounced to rhyme with -'gone,' not with 'gun.' Then I've heard an actor who shud know better -say, in the part of Hamlet, 'wurds, wurds, wurds'; instead of giving -that fine letter 'o' its full value. How much finer it sounds to -prenounce it as I do, 'wards, wards, wards'! But when I say that I've -heard the ward 'pull' prenounced not to rhyme with 'dull,' as ye'll all -admit it shud be, but actually as if it was within an ace of being spelt -'p double o l,' I think yell agree with me that it's about time that -actors learnt something of the rudiments of the art of ellycution." - -I do not pretend that these are the exact instances given by Mr. -Boucicault of the appalling incorrectness of English pronunciation, -but I know that he began with the word "war," and that the impression -produced upon my mind by the discourse was precisely as I have recorded -it. - -***** - -There is a tradition at Trinity College, Dublin, that a student who -spoke with a lovely brogue used every art to conceal it, but with -indifferent success; for however perfect the "English accent" which -he flattered himself he had grafted upon the parent stem indigenous to -Kerry may have been when he was cool and collected, yet in moments of -excitement--chiefly after supper--the old brogue surrounded him like -a fog. This was a great grief to him; but his own weakness in this way -caused him to feel a deep respect for the natives of England. - -After a visit to London he gave the result of his observations in a few -words to his friends at the College. - -"Boys," he cried, the "English chaps are a poor lot, no matter how you -look at them. But I will say this for them,--no matter how drunk any one -of them may be, he never forgets his English accent." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX.--SOME IMPERFECT STUDIES. - - -_A charming theme--The new tints--An almost perfect descriptive -system--An unassailable position--The silver mounting of the newspaper -staff--An unfair correspondcnt--A lady journalist face to face--The -play-hawkers Only in two acts--An earnest correspondent--A haven -at last--Well-earned repose--The "health columns"--Answers to -correspondents--Other medical advisers--The annual meeting--The largest -consultation on record over one patient--He recovers!--A garden-party--A -congenial locale--The distinguished Teuton--The local medico--Brain -"sells"--A great physician--Advice to a special correspondent--Change -of air--The advantages of travel--The divergence of opinion among -medical men--It is due to their conscientiousness._ - - -AS this rambling volume does not profess to be a guide to the -newspaper press, I have not felt bound to follow any beaten track in its -compilation. But I must confess that at the outset it was my intention -to deal with that agreeable phase known as the Lady Journalist. -Unhappily (or perhaps I should say, happily), "the extreme pressure on -our space" will not permit of my giving more than a line or two to a -theme which could only be adequately treated in a large volume. It has -been my privilege to meet with three lady journalists, and I am bound to -say that every one of the three seemed to me to combine in herself all -the judgment of the trained journalist (male) with the lightness of -touch which one associates with the doings of the opposite sex. All were -able to describe garments in picturesque phrases, frequently producing -by the employment of a single word an effect that a "gentleman -journalist"--this is, I suppose, the male equivalent to a lady -journalist--could not achieve at any price. They wrote of ladies being -"gowned," and they described the exact tint of the gowns by an admirable -process of comparison with the hue of certain familiar things. They -rightly considered that the mere statement that somebody came to -somebody else's "At Home" in brown, conveys an inadequate idea of the -colour of a costume: "postman's bag brown," however, brings the dress -before one's eye in a moment. To say that somebody's daughter appeared -in a grey wrap would sound weak-kneed, but a wrap of _eau de Tamise_ is -something stimulating. A scarlet tea-jacket merely suggests the Book of -Revelation, but a Clark-Russell-sunset jacket is altogether different. - -They also wrote of "picture hats," and "smart frocks," and many other -matters which they understood thoroughly. I do not think that any -newspaper staff that does not include a lady journalist can hope for -popularity, or for the respect of those who read what is written by the -lady journalist, which is much better than popularity. I have got good -reason to know that in every newspaper with which I was associated, the -weekly column contributed by the lady journalist was much more earnestly -read than any that came from another source. - -Yes, I feel that the position of the lady in modern journalism is -unassailable; and the lady journalists always speak pleasantly about one -another, and occasionally describe each other's "picture hats." - -In brief, the lady journalist is the silver mounting of the newspaper -_staff_. - -***** - -I once, however, received an application from a lady, offering a weekly -letter on a topic already, I considered, ably dealt with by another -lady in the columns of the newspaper with which I was connected. I wrote -explaining this to my correspondent, and by the next post I got a -letter from her telling me that of course she was aware that a letter -purporting to be on this topic was in the habit of appearing in the -paper, but expressing the hope that I did not fancy that she would -contribute "stuff of that character." - -I did not have the faintest hope on the subject. - -Now it so happened that the lady who wrote to me had some months before -gone to the lady whose weekly letters she had derided, and had begged -from her some suggestions as to the topics most suitable to be dealt -with by a lady journalist, and whatever further hints she might be -pleased to offer on the general subject of lady journalism. In short, -all that she had learned of the profession--it may be acquired in three -lessons, most young women think--she had learned from the lady at whom -she pointed a finger of scorn. - -This I did not consider either ladylike or journalist-like, so that I -can hardly consider it lady-journalist-like. - -Lady journalists have recently taken to photographing each other and -publishing the results. - -This is another step in the right direction. - -***** - -Once I had an opportunity of talking face to face with a lady -journalist. It happened at the house of a distinguished actress in -London. By the merest chance I had a play which I felt certain would -suit the actress, and I went to make her acquainted with the joyful -news. To my great chagrin I found that I had arrived on a day when she -was "receiving." Several literary men were present, and on some of their -faces. - -I thought I detected the hang-dog look of the man who carries a play -about with him without a muzzle. I regret to say that they nearly all -looked at me with distrust. - -I came by chance upon one of them speaking to our charming hostess -behind a _portiere_. - -"I think the part would suit you down to the ground." he was saying. -"Yes, six changes of dress in the four acts, and one of them a ballroom -scene." - -I walked on. - -Ten minutes afterwards I overheard a second, who was having a romp with -our hostess's little girl, say to that lady,-- - -"Oh, yes, I am very fond of children, when they are as pretty as Pansy -here. By the way, that reminds me that I have in my overcoat pocket a -comedy that I think will give you a chance at last. If you will allow me -when those people go...." - -I passed on. - -"The piece I brought with me is very strong. You were always best at -tragedy, and I have frequently said that you are the only woman in -London who can speak blank verse," were the words that I heard spoken by -the third literary gentleman at the further side of a group of palms on -a pedestal. - -I thought it better not to say anything about my having a play concealed -about my person. It occurred to me that it might be well to withhold my -good news for a day or two. Meantime I had a delightful chat with the -lady journalist, and confided in her my belief that some of the -literary men present had not come for the sake of the intellectual treat -available at every reception of our hostess's, but solely to try and -palm off on her some rubbish in the way of a play. - -She replied that she could scarcely believe that any man could be so -base, and that she feared I was something of a cynic. - -When she was bidding good-bye to our hostess I distinctly heard the -latter say,-- - -"I am sorry that you have only made it in two acts; however, you may -depend on my reading it carefully, and doing what I can with it for -you." - -The above story might be looked on as telling against myself in some -measure, so I hasten to obviate its effect by mentioning that the play -which I had in my pocket was acted by the accomplished lady for whom I -designed it, and that it occupied a dignified place among the failures -of the year. - -***** - -There was a lady journalist--at least a lady so describing herself--who -sent me long accounts of the picture shows three days after I had -received the telegraphed accounts from the art correspondent employed by -the newspaper. She wanted to get a start, she said; and it was in vain -that I tried to point out to her that it was the other writers who got -the start of her, and that so long as she allowed this to happen she -could not expect anything that she wrote to be inserted. - -It so happened, however, that her art criticisms were about on a level -with those that a child might pass upon a procession of animals to or -from a Noah's Ark. Then the lady forwarded me criticisms of books that -had not been sent to me for review, and afterwards an interview or two -with unknown poets. Nothing that she wrote was worth the space it would -have occupied. - -Only last year I learned with sincere pleasure that this energetic lady -had obtained a permanent place on the staff of a lady's halfpenny weekly -paper. I could not help wondering on what department she could have been -allowed to work, and made some inquiry on the subject. Then it was -I learned that she had been appointed superintendent of the health -columns. It seems that the readers of this paper are sanguine enough to -expect to get medical advice of the highest order in respect of their -ailments for the comparatively trilling expenditure of one halfpenny -weekly. By forwarding a coupon to show that they have not been mean -enough to try and shirk payment of the legitimate fee, they are entitled -to obtain in the health columns a complete reply as to the treatment of -whatever symptoms they may describe. As this reply is seldom printed in -the health columns until more than a month or six weeks after the coupon -has been sent in to the newspaper, addressed "M.D.," the extent of the -boon that it confers upon the suffering--the long-suffering--subscribers -can easily be estimated. - -As the superintendent of the column signed "M.D.," the lady who had -failed as an art critic, as a reviewer, and as an interviewer, had at -last found a haven of rest. Of course, when she undertook the duties -incidental to the post she knew nothing whatever of medicine. But since -then, my informant assured me that she had been gradually "feeling her -way," and now, by the aid of a half-crown handbook, she can give the -best medical advice that can be secured in all London for a halfpenny -fee. - -I had the curiosity to glance down one of her columns the other day. It -ran something like this:-- - -"Gladys.--Delighted to hear that you like your new mistress, and that -the cook is not the tyrant that your last was. As scullery-maid I -believe you are entitled to every second evening out. But better apply -(enclosing coupon) to the Superintendent of the Domestic Department. -Regarding the eruptions on the forehead, they may have been caused by -the use of too hot curling tongs on your fringe. Why not try the new -magnetic curlers? (see advertisement, p. 9). It would be hard to be -compelled to abandon so luxurious a fringe for the sake of a pimple or -two. Thanks for your kind wishes. Your handwriting is striking, but -I must have an impression of your palm in wax, or on a piece of paper -rubbed with lamp-black, before I can predict anything certain regarding -your chances of a brilliant marriage." - -"Airy Fairy Lilian.--What a pretty pseudonym! Where did you contrive to -find it? Yes, I think that perhaps the doctor who visited you was right -after all. The symptoms were certainly those of typhoid. Have you tried -the new Omniherbal Typhoid Tablets (see advertisement, p. 8). If not too -late they might be of real service to you." - -"Harebell.--I should say that if your waist is now forty-two inches, it -would be extremely imprudent for you to try and reduce it by more than -ten or eleven inches. Besides, there is no beauty in a wasp-like waist. -The slight redness on the outside tegument of the nose probably proceeds -from cold, or most likely heat. Try a little _poudre des fes_ (see -advertisement, p. 9)." - -"Shy Susy.--It is impossible to answer inquiries in this column in less -than a month. (1) If your tooth continues to ache, why not go to Mr. -Hiram P. Prosser, American Dental Surgeon (see advertisement, p. 8), and -have it out. (2) The best volume on Etiquette is by the Countess of D. -It is entitled 'How to Behave' (see advertisement outside cover). -(3) No; to change hats in the train does not imply a promise to marry. -It would, however, tell against the defendant in the witness-box. -(4) Decidedly not; you should not allow a complete stranger to see you -to your door, unless he is exceptionally good-looking. (5) Patchouli is -the most fashionable scent." - -***** - -I do not suppose that this enterprising young woman is an honoured guest -at the annual meeting of the British Medical Association. Certainly no -lady superintendent of the health columns of a halfpenny weekly paper -was pointed out to me at the one meeting of this body which I had the -privilege of attending, and at which, by the way, some rather amusing -incidents occurred. - -An annual, meeting of the British Medical Association seemed to me to -be a delightful function. For some days there were _ftes_ (with -fireworks), receptions (with military bands playing), dances (with that -exhilarating champagne that comes from the Saumur districts), -excursions to neighbouring ruins of historic interest, and the common -or garden-party in abundance. In addition to all these, a rumour was -circulated that papers were being read in some out-of-the-way hall--no -one seemed to know where it was situated, and the report was generally -regarded as a hoax--on modern therapeutics, for the entertainment of -such visitors as might be interested in the progress of medical science. - -No one seemed interested in that particular line. - -A concert took place one evening, and was largely attended, every seat -in the building being occupied. The local amateur tenor--the microbe -of this malady has not yet been discovered--sang with his accustomed -throaty incorrectness, and immediately afterwards there was a -considerable interval. Then the conductor appeared upon the platform and -said that an unfortunate accident had happened to the gentleman who had -just sung, and he should feel greatly obliged if any medical gentleman -who might chance to be present would kindly come round to the retiring -room. - -It seemed to me that the audience rose _en masse_ and trooped round -to the retiring room. I was one of the few persons who remained in the -hall. - -"Say, why didn't some strong man throw himself between the audience -and the door?" a stranger shouted across the hall to me in an American -accent. - -"With what object?" I shouted back. - -"Wal," said the stranger, "I opine that if this community is subject to -such visitations as we have just had from that gentleman who sang last, -his destruction should be made a municipal affair." - -"We know what we're about," said I. "How would you like to look up and -find two hundred and forty-seven fully qualified medical men standing by -your bed-side." - -"Not much," said he. - -"I wonder if the story of the opossum that was up a gum tree, and begged -a military man beneath not to fire, as he would come down, had reached -the States before you left," said I. - -He said he hadn't heard tell of it. - -"Well," said I, "there was an opossum----" - -But here the hall began to refill, and the concert was proceeded with. -The sufferer had recovered, we heard, in spite of all that was against -him. A humorist said that he had merely slipped from a ladder in -endeavouring to reach down his high C. - -When he was told that he had to pay two hundred and forty-seven guineas -for medical attendance he nearly had a relapse. - -***** - -It was at the same meeting of the Medical Association that a -garden-party was given by the Superintendent of the District Lunatic -Asylum. This was a very pleasant affair, and was attended by about five -hundred persons. A detestable man who was present, however, thought -fit to make an effort to give additional spirit to the entertainment -by pointing out to some of his friends the short, ungainly figure of a -German _savant_, who was wandering about the grounds in a condition -of loneliness, and by telling a story of a homicide of a bloodcurdling -type, to account for the gentleman's presence at the institution. - -The jester gave free expression to his doubts as to the wisdom of the -course adopted by the medical superintendent in permitting such -freedom to a man who was supposed to be confined during Her Majesty's -pleasure,--this was, he said, because of the merciful view taken by the -jury before whom he had been tried. He added, however, that he supposed -the superintendent knew his own business. - -As this story circulated freely, the German doctor, whose appearance and -dress undoubtedly lent it a certain plausibility, became easily the most -attractive person in view. Young men and maidens paused in the act of -"service" over the lawn tennis nets, to watch the little man whose large -eyes stared at them from beneath a pair of shaggy eyebrows, and whose -ill-cut grey frieze coat suggested the uniform of the Hospital for -the Insane. Strong men grasped their walking sticks more firmly as he -passed, and women, well gowned, and wearing picture hats--I trust I -am not infringing the copyright of the lady journalist--drew back, but -still gazed at him with all the interest that attaches itself to a great -criminal in the eyes of women. - -The little man could not but feel that he was attracting a great deal of -attention; but being probably well aware of his own attainments, he did -not shrink from any gaze, but smiled complacently on every side. Then -a local medical man, whose self-confidence had never been known to fail -him in an emergency, thought that the moment was an auspicious one for -exhibiting the extent of his researches in cerebral phenomena, beckoned -the German to his side, and, removing the man's hat, began to prove -to the bystanders that the shape of his head was such as precluded the -possibility of his playing any other part in the world but that of a -distinguished homicide. But the German, who understood English very -well, as he did everything else, turned at this point upon the local -practitioner and asked him what the teuffil he meant. - -"Don't be alarmed, ladies," said the practitioner assuringly, as there -was a movement among his audience. "I know how to treat this form of -aberration. Now then, my good man----" - -But at this moment a late arrival in the form of a great London surgeon -strolled up accompanied by the medical superintendent of the Asylum, -and with an exclamation of pleasure, pounced upon the subject of the -discourse and shook him warmly by the hand. The Teuton was, however, by -no means disposed to overlook the insult offered to him. He explained -in the expressive German tongue what had occurred, and any one could see -that he was greatly excited. - -But Sir Gregory, the English surgeon, had probably some experience of -cases like this. He put his hand through the arm of the German, and then -giving a laugh that in an emergency might obviate the use of a lancet, -he said loudly enough to be heard over a considerable area,-- - -"Come along, my dear friend; there is no visiting an hospital for the -insane without coming across a lunatic,--a medical practitioner without -discretion is worse." - -The local physician was left standing alone on the lawn. - -He shortly afterwards went home. - -If you wish to anger him now you need only talk about brain "sells." - -***** - -At the same meeting it was my privilege to be presented to a really -great London physician. He was the medical gentleman who was consulted -by a special correspondent on his return from making a tour with the -Marquis of Lome, when the latter became Viceroy of Canada. The special -correspondent had left for Canada on the very day that he arrived in -England from the Cape, having gone through the Zulu campaign, and he had -reached the Cape direct from the Afghan war. After about two years of -these experiences he felt run down, and acting on the suggestion of a -friend, lost no time in consulting the great physician. - -On learning that the man was suffering from a curious impression of -weariness for which he could not account, but which he had tried in vain -to shake off, the great physician asked him what was his profession. He -replied that he was a literary man--that he wrote for a newspaper. - -"Ah, I thought so," cried the great physician. "Your complaint is easily -accounted for. I perceived in a moment that you had been leading a -sedentary life. That is what plays havoc with literary men. What you -need just now is a complete change--no half measures, mind you--a -complete change--a sea voyage would brace you up, or,--let me see--ah, -yes, Margate might do. Try a fortnight at Margate." - -***** - -I am bound to say that it was another doctor who, when a naval captain -who had been in charge of a corvette on the South Pacific station for -five years, went to him for advice, gravely remarked,-- - -"I wonder, sir, if at any time of your life you got a severe wetting?" - -The modern physician is most earnest in recommending changes of air and -scene and employment. He is an enemy to the drug system. But the last -enemy that shall be destroyed is the drug system. The "masses" believe -in it as they believe no other system, whether in medicine, religion, or -even gambling. - -I shall never forget the ring of contempt that there was in the voice of -a servant of mine at the Cape, when, on the army surgeon's giving him -a prescription to be made up, he found that the whole thing only cost -fourpence, and he said,-- - -"That there coor can't be much of a coor, sir; only corst fourpence, and -me ready to pay 'arf-a-crown." - -In the smoking-room of an hotel in Liverpool some years ago a rather -self-assertive gentleman was dilating to a group in a cosy corner on the -advantages of travel, not merely as a physical, but as an intellectual -stimulant. - -"Am I right, sir?" he cried, turning to me. "Have you ever travelled?" - -I mentioned that I had done a little in that way. - -"Where do you come from now, sir?" he asked. - -"South America," said I meekly. - -"And you, sir," he cried, turning to another stranger; "have you -travelled?" - -"Well, a bit," replied the man. "I was in 'Frisco this day fortnight, -and I'll be in Egypt on this day week." - -"I knew by the look of those gentlemen that they had travelled," said -the loud man, turning to his group. "I believe in the value of travel. -I travel myself--just like those gentlemen. Yes; a week ago I was at -Bradford. Here I am at Liverpool to-day, and Heaven knows where I may be -next week--at Manchester, may be." - -***** - -So far as I can gather, the impression seems to be pretty general that -some divergence of opinion is by no means impossible among physicians -in their diagnosis of a case. Doctors themselves seem to have at last -become aware of the fact that the possibility of a difference being -manifested in their views on some cases is now and again commented on -by the irresponsible layman. An eminent member of that profession which -makes a larger demand than any other upon the patience, the judgment, -and the self-sacrifice of those who practise it, defended, a short time -ago, in the course of a very witty speech, the apparent want of harmony -between the views of physicians on some technical points. He said that -perhaps he might not be going too far if he remarked that occasionally -in a court of law the technical evidence given by two doctors seemed -at first sight not to agree. This point was readily conceded by the -audience; and the professor then went on to say that surely the absence -of this mechanical agreement on all points should be accepted as -powerful testimony to the conscientiousness of the profession. One of -the rarest of charges brought against physicians was that of collusion. -In fact, while he believed that, if put to it, his memory would be -quite equal to recall some instances of a divergence of opinion between -doctors in a witness-box, he did not think that he could remember a -single case in which a charge of collusion against two members of the -profession had been brought home to them. - -Most sensible people will, I am persuaded, take this view of a matter -which has called for comment in all ages. It is because doctors are so -singularly sensitive that, sooner than run the chance of being accused -of acting in collusion in any case, they now and again have been known -to express views that were--well, not absolutely in harmony the one with -the other. - -The distinguished physician who made so reasonable a defence of the -profession which he adorns, told me that it was one of his early -instructors who made that excellent summary of the relative values of -medical attendance:-- - -"I have no hesitation in saying that it's not better to be attended by a -good doctor than a bad doctor; but I won't go the length of saying that -it's not better to be attended by no doctor at all than by either." - - - - -CHAPTER XX.--ON SOME FORMS OF CLEVERNESS. - - -_The British Association--The late Professor Tyndall--His Belfast -address--The centre of strict orthodoxy--The indignation of the -pulpits--Worse than atheism--Biology and blasphemy allied sciences--The -champion of orthodoxy--The town is saved--After many days--The second -visit of Professor Tyndall to Belfast--The honoured guest of the -Presbyterians--Public opinion--Colour blindness--Another meeting of the -British Association--A clever young man--The secret of the ruin--The -revelation of the secret--The great-grandfather of Queen Boadicea--The -story of Antonio Giuseppe--Accepted as primo tenore--The birthday -books--A movable feast--A box at the opera--Transferable--The discovery -of the transfers--An al fresco operatic entertainment--No harm done._ - - -THE annual meetings of the British Association for the Advancement -of Science can be made quite as delightful functions as those of the -British Medical Association, if they are not taken too seriously; and I -don't think that there is much likelihood of that happening. I have -had the privilege of taking part in several of the dances, the garden -parties, and the concerts which have taken place under the grateful -protection of science. I have also availed myself of the courtesy of -the railway companies that issued cheap tickets to the various places of -interest in the locality where the annual festivities took place under -the patronage of the British Association. The only President's address -which I ever heard delivered was, however, that of Professor Tyndall at -Belfast. - -I was little more than a boy at the time, and that is probably why I was -more deeply interested in Biology and Evolution than I have been in more -recent years. It is scarcely necessary to say that Professor Tyndall's -utterance would take a very humble place in the heterodoxy of the -present day, for the exponents of theology have found it necessary to -enlarge their borders as the century draws to a close, and I suppose -that if poor Tyndall had offered to lecture in St. Paul's Cathedral his -appearance under the dome would have been welcomed by the authorities, -as it certainly would have been by the public. But Belfast had for -long been the centre of strict orthodoxy, and so soon as the address of -Professor Tyndall was printed a great cry arose from every pulpit. The -excellent Presbyterians of Ulster were astounded at the audacity of the -man in coming into the midst of such a community as theirs in order to -deliver an address that breathed of something worse than the ancient -atheists had ever dreamed of in their most heterodox moments. If the man -had wanted to blaspheme--and a good _prim facie_ case was made out in -favour of the assumption that he had--could he not have taken himself -off to some congenial locality for the purpose? Why should he come to -Belfast with such an object? Would the town ever get rid of the stigma -that would certainly be attached to it as the centre from which the -blasphemies of Biology had radiated upon this occasion? - -These were the questions that afflicted the good people for many days, -and the consensus of opinion seemed to be in favour of the theory that -unless the town should undergo a sort of moral fumigation, it would not -be restored to the position it had previously occupied in the eyes of -Christendom. The general idea is that to slaughter a pig in a Mohammedan -mosque is an act the consequences of which are so far-reaching as to be -practically irreparable; the act of Professor Tyndall at Belfast was of -precisely this nature in the estimation of the inhabitants. - -Fortunately, however, a champion of orthodoxy appeared in the form of a -Professor at the Presbyterian College who wrote a book--I believe some -copies may still be purchased--to make it impossible for Tyndall or any -other exponent of Evolution to face an audience of intelligent people. -This book was the saving of the town. Belfast was rehabilitated, and the -people breathed again. - -But the years went by; Darwin's funeral service was held in Westminster -Abbey, and Professor Tyndall's voice was now and again heard like an -Alpine echo of his master. In Belfast a University Extension Scheme was -set on foot and promised to be a brilliant success--it collapsed after -a time, but that is not to the point. What is to the point, however, is -the fact that the inaugural lecture of the University Extension series -was on the subject of Biology, and the chosen exponent of the science -was Professor Tyndall. He came to Belfast as the honoured guest of the -city--it had become a city since his memorable visit--and he passed -some days at the official residence of the Presbyterian President of -the Queen's College, who had been a pupil at the divinity school of -the clergyman who had written the book that was supposed to have -re-consecrated, as it were, the locality defiled by the British -Association address of 1874. - -This incident appears to me to be noteworthy--almost as noteworthy as -the reception given in honour of Monsieur Emile Zola in the Guildhall -a few years after Mr. Vizetelly had been sent to gaol for issuing a -purified translation of a work of Zola's. - -I think it was Mr. Forster who, in the spring of 1882, when Mr. Parnell -and his friends were languishing in Kilmainham, said that the Irish -Channel was like the water described by Byron: a palace at one side, -a prison on the other. The Irish members left Kilmainham, and in a few -hours found themselves in Westminster Palace--at least, Westminster -Palace Hotel. - -Public opinion knows but the two places of residence--a palace and a -prison. When a man leaves the one he is considered fit for the other. -Public opinion knows but black and white, and vacillates from one to the -other with the utmost regularity. - -The only constant thing in the world is change. - -***** - -At another meeting of the British Association I was a witness of a -remarkable piece of cleverness on the part of a young man who has -since proved his claim to be regarded as one of the most adroit men in -England. Among the excursions the chief was to the locality of a ruin, -the origin of which was, like the origin of the De la Pluche family, -lost in the mists of obscurity. The ruin had been frequently visited -by distinguished archologists, but none had ventured to do more than -guess--if one could imagine guesswork and archaeology associated--what -period should be assigned to the dilapidated towers. It so happened, -however, that an elderly professor at the local college had, by living -laborious days, and mastering the elements of a new language, succeeded -in wresting their secret from the lichened stones, and he made up his -mind that when the British Association had its excursion to the ruin, he -would reveal all that he had discovered regarding it, and by this _coup -de thtre_ become famous. - -But the clever young man had an interesting young brother who had gained -a reputation as a poet, and who dressed perhaps a trifle in excess -of this reputation; and when the old professor was about to make his -revelation regarding the ruin, the clever young man put up his brother -in another part of the enclosure to recite one of his own poems on -the locality. In a few moments the professor, who had commenced -his discourse, was practically deserted. Only half a dozen of the -excursionists rallied round him, and permitted themselves to be -mystified; the cream of the visitors, to the number of perhaps a -hundred, were around the reciter on an historic hillock fifty yards -away, and his mellow cadences sounded very alluring to the few people -who listened to the jerky delivery of the lecturer in the ruin. - -But the clever young man did not yield to the alluring voice of his -brother. He had heard that voice before, and was well acquainted with -its cadences. He was also well acquainted with the poem that was -being recited--he had heard it more than once before. What he was not -acquainted with was the marvellous discovery made by the professor who -was in the act of revealing it to ten ears--that is allowing that -only one person of those around him was deaf. The clever young man sat -concealed behind a wall covered with ivy and listened to every word of -the revelation. When it was over he unostentatiously joined the crowd -around his brother, and heard with pleasure that the delivery of the -poem had been very striking. - -"But we must not waste our time," said the clever young man, with -the air of authority of a personal conductor. "We have several other -interesting points to dwell upon"--he spoke as if he and his brother -owned the ruins and the natural landscape into the bargain. "Oh, yes, we -must hurry on. I do not suppose there is any lady or gentleman present -who is aware of the fact that we are within a few yards of the place -where the great-grandfather of Queen Boadicea lies buried." - -A murmur of negation passed round the crowd. - -"Follow me," said the clever young man; and they followed him. - -He led them to the very place where the professor had made his -revelation, and then, standing on a portion of the ruined structure, -he gave in choice language, and with many inspiring quotations from -the literature of the Ancient Britons, the substance of the professor's -revelation. - -For half an hour he continued his discourse, and quite delighted every -one who heard him, except, perhaps, the elderly professor. He was among -the audience, and he listened, with staring eyes, to the clever young -man's delightful mingling of the deepest archaeological facts with -fictions that had a semblance of truth, and he was speechless. The -innocent old soul actually believed that the clever young man had -surpassed him, the professor, in the profundity of his researches into -the history of the ruin; he knew that the face of the clever young -man had not been among the faces of the few people who had heard his -revelation, but he did not know that the clever young man was hidden -among the ivy a few yards away. - -When the people were applauding the delightful discourse, he pressed -forward to the impromptu lecturer and shook him warmly by the hand. - -"Sir!" he cried, "you have in you the stuff that goes to make a great -archologist. I have worked at nothing else but this ruin for the last -eight years, and yet I admit that you know more about it than I do." - -"Oh, my dear sir," said the clever young man, "the world knows that in -your own path you are without a rival. I am content to sit at your feet. -It is an honourable position. Any time you want to know something of -this locality and its archology do not hesitate to command me." - -***** - -The only rival in adroitness to the young man whose feats I have just -recorded was one Antonio Giuseppe. I came upon this person in London, -but only when I was in Milan did I become acquainted with the extent of -his capacity. One of the stories I heard about him is, I think, worth -repeating, illustrating, as it does, the difference between the English -and the Italian systems of imposture. - -Antonio Giuseppe certainly was attached to the State Opera Company, but -it would be difficult to define with any degree of exactness his duties -in connection with that Institution. He had got not a single note in his -voice, and yet--nay, on this account--he had passed during a season at -Homburg as a distinguished tenor--for Signor Giuseppe was careful to -see that his portmanteau was inscribed in white letters of considerable -size, "Signor Antonio Giuseppe, State Opera Company." He gave himself as -many airs as a professional--nay, as an amateur, tenor, and he was thus -assigned the most select apartment in the hotel during his sojourn, and -a large folding screen was placed between his seat at the _table d'hote_ -and the window. There was, indeed, every excuse for taking Signor -Giuseppe for a distinguished operatic tenor. He spoke all European -languages with equal impurity, he went about in a waistcoat that -resembled, in combination of colours, the drop scene of a theatre, he -wore a blue velvet tie, made up in a knot to display a carbuncle pin -about the size of a tram-car light, and his generosity in wristband -was equalled only by his prodigality of cigarette paper. These -characteristics, coupled with the fact that he had never been known to -indulge in the luxury of a bath, gave rise to the rumour that he was the -greatest tenor in Europe; consequently he was looked upon with envy by -the Dukes with incomes of a thousand pounds a day, who were accustomed -to resort for some months out of the year to Homburg; while Countesses -in their own right sent him daily missives expressive of their -admiration for his talents, and entreating the favour of his autograph -in their birthday books. Poor Signor Giuseppe was greatly perplexed by -the arrival of a birthday book at his apartment every morning; but so -soon as its import was explained to him, he never failed to respond to -the request of the fair owners of the volumes. His caligraphy did not -extend beyond the limits of his autograph, and his birthday seemed to be -with him a movable feast, for in no two of the books did his name appear -on the pages assigned to the same month. As a matter of fact, it is -almost impossible for a man who has never been acquainted with his -father or mother, to know with any degree of accuracy the exact day -on which he was born, so that Signor Giuseppe, who was discovered by a -priest in a shed at the quay at Leghorn on St. Joseph's day, was not to -blame for his ignorance in respect of his nativity. - -Of course, when Mr. Fitzgauntlet, the enterprising impresario of the -State Opera, turned up at Homburg in the course of a week or two, it -became known that whatever position Signor Giuseppe might occupy in the -State Opera Company, it was not that of _primo tenore_, for the most -exacting impresario has never been known to include among the duties of -a _primo tenore_ the unpacking of a portmanteau and the arrangement of -its contents around the dressing room of the impresario. The folding -screen was removed from behind Signor Giuseppe on the day following -the arrival of Mr. Fitzgauntlet at Homburg, and from being _feted_ as -Giuseppe the tenor, he was scorned as Giuseppe the valet. - -But in regarding Signor Giuseppe as nothing beyond the valet to the -impresario the sojourners at the hotel were as greatly in error as in -accepting him as the tenor. To be sure Signor Giuseppe now and again -discharged the duties that usually devolve upon the valet, but the -scope of his duties extended far beyond these limits. It was his task -to arrange the _claque_ for a new _prima donna_, and to purchase the -bouquets to be showered upon the stage when the impresario was anxious -to impress upon the public the admirable qualities possessed by a -_dbutante_ whose services he had secured for a trifle. It was also -Giuseppe's privilege to receive the bouquets left at the stage door by -the young gentlemen--or the old gentlemen--who had become struck with -the graceful figure of the _premiere danseuse_ or perhaps _cinquantime -danseuse_, and the emoluments arising from this portion of his duties -were said to be equal to a liberal income, exclusive of what he made -by the disposal of the bouquets to the florist from whom they had been -originally purchased. This invaluable official also made a little money -for himself by his ingenuity in obtaining the photographs and autographs -of the chief artists of the company, which he distributed for sale every -evening in the stalls; but not quite so profitable was that part of his -business which consisted in inventing stories to account for the absence -of the impresario when tradesmen called at the State theatre with their -bills; still, the thoughtfulness and ingenuity of Signor Giuseppe were -quite equal to the strain put upon them in this direction, and Mr. -Fitzgauntlet had no reason to be otherwise than satisfied. When it is -understood that Giuseppe transacted nearly all their business for the -chief artists in the company, engaged their apartments, and looked after -their luggage when on tour in the provinces, it will readily be believed -that he had, as a rule, more money at his banker's than any official -connected with the State Opera. - -The confidence which had always been placed in Signor Giuseppe's -integrity by the artists of the company was upon one occasion rudely -shaken, and the story of how this disaster occurred is about to be -related. Signor Giuseppe did a little business in wine and cigars, -principally of British manufacture, and he had, with his accustomed -dexterity, hitherto escaped a criminal prosecution under the Sale -of Drugs Act for the consequences of his success in disposing of his -commodities in this line of business. He also did a little in a medical -way, a certain bottle containing a bright crimson liquid with a horrible -taste being extremely popular among the members of the extensive -chorus of the State Opera. When a "cyclus" of modern German opera was -contemplated by Mr. Fitzgauntlet, Giuseppe increased his medical stock, -feeling sure that the result of the performances would occasion a run -upon his drugs; but the negotiations fell through, and it was only by -the force of his perseverance and persuasiveness he contrived to get rid -of his surplus to the gentlemen who played the brass instruments in the -orchestra. It was not, however, on account of his transactions in the -medical way that he almost forfeited the respect in which he was held -by the artists, but because of the part he played with regard to the -disposal of a certain box of cigars. After the production of the opera -_Le Diamant Noir_, Signor Boccalione, the great basso, went to Giuseppe, -saying,-- - -"Giuseppe, I want your advice: you know I have made the success of the -opera, but I do not read music very quickly, and Monsieur Lejeune has -had a good deal of trouble with me. I should like to make him some -little return; what would you suggest?" - -Giuseppe was lost in thought. He wondered, could he suggest the -propriety of the basso's offering the _maestro di piano_ a case of -Burgundy--Giuseppe had just received three cases of the finest Burgundy -that had ever been made in the Minories. - -"A present to the value of how much?" he asked of Signor Boccalione. - -"Oh," said the basso airily, and with a gesture of indifference, "about -sixty francs. Monsieur Lejeune had not really so much trouble with -me--no one else in the company would think of acknowledging his -services, but with me it is different--I cannot live without being -generous." - -Giuseppe mused. - -"If the signor would only go so far as seventy francs, I could get him a -box of the choicest cigars," he said after a pause; and then he went -on to explain that the cigars were in the possession of a friend of his -own, whom he had passed into the opera one night, and who consequently -owed him some compliment, so that the box, which in the ordinary way of -business was really worth eighty francs, might be obtained for seventy. -The generosity of the basso, however, was not without its limits; it -would, sustain the tension put upon it by the expenditure of sixty -francs, but it was not sufficiently strong to face the outlay suggested -by Giuseppe.. - -"Sixty francs!" he cried, "sixty francs is a small fortune, and I myself -smoke excellent cigars at thirty. I will give no more than sixty." - -Giuseppe did not think the box could be purchased for the money, but he -said he would try and induce his friend to be liberal. The next day he -came to Signor Boccalione with the box containing the hundred cigars of -the choicest brand--the quality of the cigars will be fully appreciated -when it is understood that the hundred cost Giuseppe originally close -upon thirteen shillings. - -"Per Bacco!" cried the basso, "Monsieur Lejeune should be a happy -man--he had hardly any trouble with me, now that I come to reflect. Oh, -I am the only man in the company who would be so foolish as to think of -a present--and such a present--for him." - -"Oh, Signor!" said Giuseppe, "such a present! The perfume, signor, -wonderful! delicious! celestial!" He then explained how he had persuaded -his friend, by soft words and promises, to part with the box for sixty -francs, and Signor Boccalione listened and laughed; then, on a sheet of -pink notepaper, the basso wrote a dedication, occupying twelve lines, -of the box of cigars to the use of the supremely illustrious _maestro di -piano_, Lejeune, in token of the invaluable assistance he had afforded -to the most humble and grateful of his friends and servants, Alessandro -Boccalione. - -When Giuseppe promised to send the box to the maestro on the following -day he meant to keep his word, and he did keep it. On the same evening -he was met by Maestro Lejeune. The maestro looked very pale in the face. - -"Giuseppe, my friend," he said with a smile, "you were very good to me -upon our last tour, looking after my luggage with commendable zeal; I -have often thought of making you some little return. You will find a box -of cigars--one hundred all but one--on my dressing table; you may have -them for your own use." - -Giuseppe was profuse in his thanks, and, on going to the dressing-room -of the maestro, obtained possession once more of the box of cigars -he had sold to the basso. On the mat was the half-smoked sample which -Monsieur Lejeune had attempted to get through. - -Not more than a week had passed after this transaction when Signor -Giuseppe was sent for by Madame Speranza, the celebrated soprano. - -"Giuseppe," said the lady, "as you have had twenty-seven of my -photographs within the past month, I think you may be able to help me -out of a difficulty in which I find myself." - -Giuseppe thought it rather ungenerous for a soprano earning--or at least -getting paid--two hundred pounds a week, to make any reference to such a -paltry matter as photographs; he, however, said nothing on this subject, -but only expressed his willingness to serve the lady. She then explained -to him what he knew already, namely, that she had had a serious -difference with Herr Groschen, the conductor, as to the _tempo_ of a -certain air in _Le Diamant Noir_, and that the conductor and she had not -been on speaking terms for more than a fortnight. - -"But now," said Madame Speranza in conclusion, "now that I have made the -opera so brilliant a success, I should like to make my peace with the -poor old man, who must be miserable in consequence of my treatment of -him,--especially as I got the best of the dispute. I mean to write -to him this evening, and send him some present--something small, you -know--not extravagant." - -"What would Madame think of the appropriateness of a box of cigars?" -asked Giuseppe after an interval of thought. "I heard Herr Groschen say -that he had just smoked the last of a box, and meant to purchase another -when he had the money," he added. - -"How much would a box of cigars cost?" asked the _prima donna_. - -"Madame can have cigars at all prices--even as low as sixty-five -francs," replied her confidential adviser. - -"Mon Dieu! what extravagant creatures men are!" cried the lady. -"Sixty-five francs' worth of cigars would probably not last him more -than a few months. Never mind; I do not want a cheap box,--my soul is -a generous one: procure me a box at sixty-six francs, and we will say -nothing more about the photographs." - -Signor Giuseppe said he would try what could be done. A man whom he had -once obliged had a sister married to one of the most intelligent cigar -merchants in the city; but he did not think he had any cigars under -seventy francs. - -"Not a sou more than sixty-six will I pay," cried the soprano with -emphasis. Giuseppe gave a shrug and said he would see what could be -done. - -What he saw could be done was to expend the sum of twopence English in -the purchase of a cigar, to put in the centre of the package from which -the maestro had taken his sample, and to bring the box sealed to Madame -Speranza, whom he congratulated on being able to present her late enemy -with a box of cigars of a quality not to be surpassed in the island of -Cuba. The lady put her face down to the box and made a little grimace, -and Giuseppe left her apartment with three guineas English in his -pocket. - -Two days afterwards he encountered Herr Groschen. - -"Giuseppe," said the conductor, "you may remember that when you so -cleverly contrived to have my luggage with the fifteen pounds of tobacco -amongst it passed at the Custom House I said I would make you a present. -Forgive me for my negligence all this time, and accept a box of choice -cigars, which you will find on my table. May you be happy, Giuseppe--you -are a worthy fellow." - -It is needless to say that Signor Giuseppe recovered his box. On the -hearth-rug lay a half-smoked specimen, and by its side the portion of -Madame Speranza's letter to the conductor which he had used to light the -one cigar out of the hundred. - -Before another week had passed, the same box had been sold to the tenor, -to present to Mr. Fitzgauntlet, who, on receiving it, put his nose down -to the package, and threw the lot into a corner among waste papers, and -went on with his writing. The box was rescued by Giuseppe, and presented -by him to the husband of Madame Galatini-Purissi, the contralto, in -exchange for three dozen copies of the fair _artiste's_ portrait. Then -Signor Purissi sent the box to the flautist in the orchestra, who played -the obbligato to some of the contralto's arias, and as this gentleman -did not smoke he made it over once more to Signor Giuseppe. As the box -had by this time been in the hands of every one in the company likely to -possess a box of cigars, Giuseppe thought it would show a grasping -spirit on his part were he to attempt to dispose of it again; so he -merely made up the ninety-nine cigars in packages of three, which he -sold to thirty-three members of the chorus at a shilling a head. - -It so happened, however, that Herr Groschen, Signor Boccalione, and -Signor Purissi met in a tobacconist's shop about a week after the final -distribution of the cigars, and their conversation turned upon the -comparative ease with which bad cigars could be procured. Herr Groschen -boasted how he had repaid his obligations to Giuseppe with a box of -cigars, which he was certain satisfied the poor devil. - -"Corpo di Bacco!" cried the basso, "I bought a box from Giuseppe to -present to Maestro Lejeune." - -"And I," said the husband of the contralto, "bought another from him. -Can it have been the same box?" - -Suspicion being thus aroused, Boccalione sought out Monsieur Lejeune, -who confessed that he had given the box to Giuseppe; and Signor Purissi -learned from the flautist that his gift had been disposed of in the -same direction. The story went round the company, and poor Giuseppe -was pounced upon by his indignant and demonstrative countrymen, and an -explanation demanded of him on the subject of his repeated disposal of -the same box. Giuseppe was quite as demonstrative as the most earnest of -his interrogators in declaring that he had not disposed of the same box. -His friend had obliged him with several boxes, and he had himself been -greatly put about to oblige the ungrateful people who now turned upon -him. He swore by the tomb of his parents that the obligations he had -already discharged towards the ingrates would never be repeated; they -might in future go elsewhere (Signor Giuseppe made a suggestion as to -the exact locality) for their cigars; but for his part he washed his -hands clean of them and their cigars. For three-quarters of an hour -the basso-profundo, the soprano, and the husband of the contralto -gesticulated before Giuseppe in the portico of the Opera House, until -a crowd collected, the impression being general that an animated scene -from a new opera was being rehearsed by the artists of the State Opera. -A policeman who arrived on the scene could not be persuaded to take this -view of the matter, and he politely requested the distinguished members -of the State Opera Company either to move on or to go within the -precincts of the building. The basso attempted to explain to the -policeman in very choice Italian what Giuseppe had done, but he was so -demonstrative the officer thought he was threatening the police force -generally, and took his name and address with a view to issuing a -summons for this offence. In the meantime Giuseppe got into a hansom -and drove off, craning his neck round the side of the vehicle to make -a parting allusion to the maternity of the husband of the contralto, to -which the soprano promptly replied by a suggestion which, if true, would -tend to remove the mystery surrounding the origin of Giuseppe. A week -afterwards of course all were once again on the most friendly terms; -but Giuseppe now and again feels that his want of ingenuousness in the -cigar-box transaction well-nigh jeopardised the reputation for integrity -he had previously enjoyed among the principals of the State Opera -Company. He has been much more careful ever since, and flatters himself -that not even the _tenore robusto_, who is the most suspicious of -men, can discover the points on which he gets the better of him. As -a practical financier Signor Antonio Giuseppe thinks of himself as a -success; and there can hardly be a doubt that he is fully justified in -taking such a view of his career. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI.--"SO CAREFUL OF THE TYPE." - - -_Why the chapter is a short one--Straw essential to brick-making--A -suggestion regarding the king in "Hamlet"--The Irish attendant--The -overland route--"Susanna and the editors"--"The violets of his -wrath"--The clergyman's favourite poem--A horticultural feat--A -tulip transformed--The entertainment of an interment--The autotype -of Russia--A remarkable conflagration and a still more remarkable -dance--Paradise and the other place--Why the concert was a success--The -land of Goschcn--A sporting item--A detective story--The flora and -fauna--The Moors dictum--Absit omen!_ - - -IF this chapter is a short one, it is so for the best of reasons: it -is meant to record some blunders of printers and others which impressed -themselves upon me. It would obviously be impossible to make a chapter -of the average length out of such a record. The really humorous faults -in the setting up of anything I have ever written have been very few. -In the printing of the original edition of my novel _Daireen_ one of the -most notable occurred in a first proof. Every chapter of this book is -headed with a few lines from _Hamlet_, and one of these headings is from -the well-known scene with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, - - _Gull_.--The King, sir---- - - _Hamlet_.--Ay, sir, what of him? - - _Gull_.--Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. - - _Hamlet_.--With drink, sir? - - _Gull_.--No, my lord, rather with choler. - -This was the dialogue as I had written it. The humorous printer added a -letter that somewhat changed the sense. He made the line,-- - - "No, my lord, rather with _cholera_." - -This was probably an honest attempt on the compositor's part to work -out a "new reading," and it certainly did not appear to me to be more -extravagant than the scores of attempts made in the same direction. -If this reading were accepted, the perturbation of Claudius during the -players' scene, and his hasty Bight before its conclusion, would be -accounted for. - -Another daring new reading in _Hamlet_ was suggested by a compositor, -through the medium of a comma and a capital. In the course of a magazine -article, he set up a line in the third scene of the third act, in this -way,-- - - _Hamlet_.--Now might I do it, Pat! - -It is somewhat curious that some attempt has not been made before now -to justify such a reading. Could it not be suggested that Hamlet had an -Irish servant who was in his confidence? About the time of Hamlet, the -Danes had an important settlement in Ireland, and why might not Hamlet's -father have brought one of the natives of that island, named Patrick, to -be the personal attendant of the young prince? The whole thing appears -so feasible, it almost approaches the dimensions of an Irish grievance -that no actor has yet had the courage to bring on the Irish servant who -was clearly addressed by Hamlet in the words just quoted. - -So "readings" are made. - -Either of those which the compositors suggested is much more worthy of -respect than the late Mr. Barry Sullivan's,-- - - "I know a hawk from a heron. Pshaw!" - -But if compositors are sometimes earnest and enterprising students of -Shakespeare, I have sometimes found them deficient on the subject of -geography. Upon one occasion, for instance, I accompanied a number of -them on an excursion to the Isle of Man. The day was one of a mighty -rushing wind, and the steamer being a small one, the disasters among the -passengers were numerous. There was not a printer aboard who was not in -a condition the technical equivalent to which is "pie." I administered -brandy to some of them, telling them to introduce a "turned rule," which -means, in newspaper instructions, "more to follow." But all was of no -avail. We reached the island in safety, however, and then one of the -compositors who had been very much discomposed, seeing the train about -to start for Douglas, told me in a confidential whisper that he had -suffered so much on the voyage, he had made up his mind to return to -Ireland by train. - -***** - -Quite a new reading, not to _Hamlet_, but to one of the lyrics in _The -Princess_, was suggested by another compositor. The introduction of a -comma in the first line of the last stanza of "Home they brought her -warrior dead" produced a quaint effect. - - "Rose a nurse of ninety years, - - Set his child upon her knee," - -appears in every edition of _The Princess_. But my friend, by his timely -insertion of a comma, made it read thus: - - "Rose, a nurse of ninety years." - -Perhaps the nurse's name was Rose, but Tennyson kept this a secret. - -One of the loveliest of Irish national melodies is that for which Moore -wrote the stanzas beginning:-- - - "Silent, O Moyle, be the roar of thy waters!" - -The title of this song appeared in the programme of a St. Patrick's Day -Concert, which was published in a leading London newspaper, as though -the poem were addressed to one Mr. O'Moyle,--"Silent, O'Moyle." - -***** - -Another humorist set up a reference to "Susanna and the Elders," - -"Susanna and the Editors," which was not just the same thing. Possibly -the printer had another and equally apocryphal episode in his mind's -eye. - -I felt a warm personal regard for the man who made a lecturer state -that a critic had "poured out the violets of his wrath upon him." The -criticism did not, under these circumstances, seem particularly severe. - -I must frankly confess, however, that I had nothing but reprobation -for the one who made a clergyman state in a lecture to a class of young -ladies, that his favourite poem of Wordsworth's was "Invitations to -Immorality." Nor had I the least feeling except of indignation for the -one who set up the title of a picture in which I was interested, "a rare -turnip," instead of "a rare tulip." The printer who at the conclusion of -an obituary notice was expected to announce to the readers of the paper -that "the interment will take place on Saturday," but who, instead, gave -them to understand that "the entertainment will take place on Saturday," -did not, I think, cause any awkward mishap. He knew that the idea was -that of entertainment, whatever the word employed might be. - -The compositor who caused an editor to refer to "the autotype of the -Russian people," when the word _autocrat_ was in the "copy" before him, -was less to be blamed than the reader who allowed such a mistake to pass -without correction. - -When I read on a proof one night that the most striking scene in _The -Dead Heart_ at the Lyceum was "the burning of the Pastille and the dance -of the Rigmarole," I asked for the "copy" that had been telegraphed; -and I found that the printer was not responsible for this marvellous -blunder. - -***** - -It will be remembered that at one of his lectures in the United States, -Mr. Richard A. Proctor remarked that in the course of a few million -years something remarkable would happen, but that its occurrence would -not inconvenience his audience, as he supposed they would all be in -Paradise at that time. - -In one paper the reporter made him say that he supposed his audience -would all be in Paris at that time. - -The next evening Mr. Proctor turned the mistake to a good "scoring" -account, by stating that he fancied at first an error had been made; but -that shortly afterwards, he remembered that the tradition was, that all -good Americans go to Paris when they die, so that the reporter clearly -understood his business. - -***** - -The enterprising correspondent who sows his telegrams broadcast is a -frequent cause of the appearance of mistakes. I recollect that one sent -a hundred words over the wire regarding some village concert, the great -success of which was due to the zeal of the Reverend John Jones, "the -_locus standi_ of the parish." He had probably heard something at one -time of a _pastor loci,_ and made a brave but unsuccessful attempt to -reproduce the phrase. - -Another correspondent telegraphed regarding the arrival of two American -cyclists at Queenstown, that their itinerary would be as follows: "They -will travel on their bicycles through Ireland and England, and then -crossing from Dover to Calais they will proceed through Europe, and from -Turkey they will pass through Asia Minor into Xenophon and the Anabasis, -leaving which they will travel to Egypt and the Land of _Goschen_." - -The reference to Xenophon was funny enough, but the spelling of the -last word, identifying the country with the statesman, seemed to me to -represent the highwater mark of the flood-tide of modernism. A few years -before, when the correspondent was doubtless more in touch with the -vicissitudes of the Children of Israel than with the feats of cyclists -from the United States, he would probably have assimilated Mr. Goschen's -name with the Land of Goshen; but soon the fame of the ex-Chancellor of -the Exchequer had become of more immediate importance to him, and it was -the land that changed its name in his mind to the name of the ex-Finance -Minister. - -It was probably the influence of the same spirit of modernism that -caused a foreman, in making up the paper for the press, to insert under -the title of "Sporting," half a column of a report of a lecture by a -clergyman on "The Races of Palestine." - -***** - -It was, however, the telegraph office that I found to be responsible -for a singular error in the report of the arrest of a certain notorious -criminal. The report should have stated that "a photograph of the -prisoner had been taken by the detective camera," but the result of the -filtration of the message through a network of telegraph wires was the -statement that the photograph "had been taken by Detective Cameron." - -***** - -Some years ago a too earnest naturalist was drowned when canoeing on a -lake in the west of Ireland. An enterprising correspondent who clearly -resided near the scene of the accident, forwarded to the newspaper with -which I was connected, a circumstantial account of the finding of the -capsized canoe. In the course of his references to the objects of -the naturalist's visit to the west, the reporter made the astounding -statement that "he had already succeeded in getting together a -practically complete collection of the _flora_ and _fauna_ of -Ireland,"--truly a "large order." - -I feel that I cannot do better than bring to a close with this story my -desultory jottings, which may bear to be regarded as a far from -complete collection of the _flora_ and _fauna_ of journalism. Perhaps my -researches into these highways and byways may induce some more competent -and widely experienced brother to publish his notes on men and matters. - -"Not a jot, not a jot," protested the _Moor_. - -Am I setting the omen at defiance in publishing these Jottings? Perhaps -I am; though I feel easier in my mind on this point when I recall how, -on my quoting in an article the proverb, "_Autres temps, mitres mours"_ -a wag of a printer caused it to appear, "_Autres temps, autres_ Moores!" - - -THE END. - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's A Journalists Note-Book, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK *** - -***** This file should be named 51952-8.txt or 51952-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/5/51952/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/51952-8.zip b/old/51952-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 116e0c1..0000000 --- a/old/51952-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51952-h.zip b/old/51952-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1e25719..0000000 --- a/old/51952-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51952-h/51952-h.htm b/old/51952-h/51952-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 24c99c5..0000000 --- a/old/51952-h/51952-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10490 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title> - A Journalists Note-book, by Frank Frankfort Moore - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's A Journalists Note-Book, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: A Journalists Note-Book - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51952] -Last Updated: November 16, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK - </h1> - <h2> - By Frank Frankfort Moore - </h2> - <h4> - Author of “Forbid the Banns,” “Daireen,’” “A Gray Eye or So,” etc. - </h4> - <h4> - London: Hutchins On And Co., Paternoster Row - </h4> - <h3> - 1894 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I.—PAST AND PRESENT. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II.—THE OLD SCHOOL. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.—THE EDITOR OF THE PAST. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.—THE UNATTACHED EDITOR. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.—THE SUB-EDITORS. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—THE SUB-EDITORS (continued). - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.—SOME EXTINCT TYPES. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.—MEN, MENUS, AND MANNERS. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.—ON THE HUMAN IMAGINATION. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—THE VEGETARIAN AND OTHERS. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.—ON SOME FORMS OF SPORT. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.—SOME REPORTERS. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—THE SUBJECT OF REPORTS. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.—IRELAND AS A FIELD FOR - REPORTERS. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV.—IRISH TROTTINGS AND JOTTINGS. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.—IRISH TOURISTS AND TRAINS. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—HONORARY EDITORS AND OTHERS. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII.—OUTSIDE THE LYCEUM BILL. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX.—SOME IMPERFECT STUDIES. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX.—ON SOME FORMS OF CLEVERNESS. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI.—“SO CAREFUL OF THE TYPE.” </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I.—PAST AND PRESENT. - </h2> - <p> - <i>Odd lots of journalism—Respectability and its relation to - journalism—The abuse of the journal—The laudation of the - journalist—Abuse the consequence of popularity—Popularity the - consequence of abuse—Drain-work and grey hairs—“Don’t neglect - your reading for the sake of reviewing”—Reading for pleasure or to - criticise—Literature—Deterioration—The Civil List - Pension—In exchange for a soul.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OME years ago - there was an auction of wine at a country-house in Scotland, the late - owner of which had taken pains to gain a reputation for judgment in the - matter of wine-selecting. He had all his life been nearly as intemperate - as a temperance orator in his denunciation of whisky as a drink, hoping to - inculcate a taste for vintage clarets upon the Scots; but he that tells - the tale—it is not a new one—says that the man died without - seriously jeopardizing the popularity of the native manufacture. The wines - that he had laid down brought good prices, however; but, at the close of - the sale, several odd lots were “put up,” and all were bought by a local - publican. A gentleman who had been present called upon the publican a few - days afterwards, and found him engaged in mixing into one huge cask all - the “lots” that he had bought—Larose, Johannisberg, Château Coutet. - </p> - <p> - “Hallo,” said the visitor, “what’s this mixture going to be, Rabbie?” - </p> - <p> - “Weel, sir,” said the publican, looking with one eye into the cask and - mechanically giving the contents a stir with a bottle of Sauterne which he - had just uncorked—“Weel, sir, I think it should be port, but I’m no - sure.” - </p> - <p> - These odd lots of journalistic experiences and recollections may be - considered a book, “but I’m no sure.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - After all, “a book’s a book although”—it’s written by a journalist. - Nearly every writer of books nowadays becomes a journalist when he has - written a sufficient number. He is usually encouraged in this direction by - his publishers. - </p> - <p> - “You’re a literary man, are you not?” a stranger said to a friend of mine. - </p> - <p> - “On the contrary, I’m a journalist,” was the reply. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I beg your pardon, I’m sure,” said the inquirer, detecting a certain - indignant note in the disclaimer. “I beg your pardon. What a fool I was to - ask you such a question!” - </p> - <p> - “I hope he wasn’t hurt,” he added in an anxious voice when we were alone. - “It was a foolish question; I might have known that he was a journalist, - <i>he looked so respectable</i>.” - </p> - <p> - We are all respectable nowadays. We belong to a recognised profession. We - may pronounce our opinions on all questions of art, taste, religion, - morals, and even finance, with some degree of diffidence: we are at - present merely practising our scales, so to speak, upon our various - “organs,” but there is every reason to believe that confidence will come - in due time. Are not our ranks being recruited from Oxford? Some years ago - men drifted into journalism; now it is looked on as a vocation. Journalism - is taken seriously. In a word, we are respectable. Have we not been - entertained by the Lord Mayor of London? Have we not entertained Monsieur - Emile Zola? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - People have ceased to abuse us as they once did with great freedom: they - merely abuse the journals which support us. This is a healthy sign; for it - may be taken for granted that people will invariably abuse the paper for - which they subscribe. They do not seem to feel that they get the worth of - their subscription unless they do so. It is the same principle that causes - people to sneer at a dinner at which they have been entertained. If we are - not permitted to abuse our host, whom may we abuse? The one thing that a - man abuses more than to-day’s paper is the negligence of the boy who omits - to deliver it some morning. Only in one town where I lived did I find that - a newspaper was popular. (It was not the one for which I wrote.) The - fathers and mothers taught their children to pray, “God bless papa, mamma, - and the editor of the <i>Clackmannan Standard</i>.” - </p> - <p> - I met that editor some years afterwards. He celebrated a sort of impromptu - Comminution Service against the people amongst whom he had lived. They had - never paid for their subscriptions or their advertisements, and they had - thus lowered the <i>Standard</i> of Clackmannan and of the editor’s - confidence in his fellow-men. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The only newspaper that is in a hopeless condition is the one which is - neither blessed at all nor cursed at all. Such a newspaper appeals to no - section of the public. It has always seemed to me a matter of question - whether a man is better satisfied with a paper that reflects (so far as it - is possible for a paper to do so) his own views, or with one that reflects - the views that he most abhors. I am inclined to believe that a man is in a - better humour with those of his fellow-men whom he has thoroughly abused, - than with the one whom he greets every morning on the top of his omnibus. - </p> - <p> - It is quite a simple matter to abuse a newspaper into popularity. One of - the Georges whose biographies have been so pleasantly and touchingly - written by Thackeray and Mr. Justin M’Carthy, conferred a lasting - popularity upon the man whom he told to get out of his way or he would - kick him out of it. - </p> - <p> - The moral of this is, that to be insulted by a monarch confers a greater - distinction upon a man living in Clapham or even Brixton than to be - treated courteously by a greengrocer. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - But though people continue to abuse the paper for which they subscribe, - and for which they are usually some year or two in arrears in the matter - of payment, still it appears to me that the public are slowly beginning to - comprehend that newspapers are written (mostly) by journalists. Until - recently there was, I think, a notion that journalists sat round a - bar-parlour telling stories and drinking whisky and water while the - newspapers were being produced. The fact is, that most of the surviving - anecdotes of the journalists of a past generation smell of the - bar-parlour. The practical jesters of the fifties and the punsters of the - roaring forties were tap-room journalists. They died hard. The journalists - of to-day do not even smile at those brilliant sallies—bequeathed by - a past generation—about wearing frock-coats and evening dress, about - writing notices of plays without stirring from the taproom, about the - mixing up of criticisms of books with police-court reports. Such were the - humours of journalism thirty or forty years ago. We have formed different - ideas as to the elements of humour in these days. Whatever we may leave - undone it is not our legitimate work. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It was when journalism was in a state of transition that a youth, waiting - on a railway platform, was addressed by a stranger (one of those men who - endeavour to make religious zeal a cloak for impertinence)—“My dear - young friend, are you a Christian?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said the youth, “I’m a reporter on the <i>Camberwell Chronicle</i>.” - </p> - <p> - On the other hand, it was a very modern journalist whose room was invaded - by a number of pretty little girls one day, just to keep him company and - chat with him for an hour or so, as it was the day his paper—a - weekly one—went to press. In order to get rid of them, he presented - each of them with a copy of a little book which he had just published, - writing on the flyleaf, “With the author’s compliments.” Just as the girls - were going away, one of them spied a neatly bound Oxford Bible that was - lying on the desk for editorial notice. - </p> - <p> - “I should so much like that,” she cried, pouncing upon it. - </p> - <p> - “Then you shall have it, my dear, if you clear off immediately,” said the - editor; and, turning up the flyleaf, he wrote hastily on it, “<i>With the - author’s compliments</i>.” - </p> - <p> - Yes, he was a modern journalist, and took a reasonable view of the - authoritative nature of his calling. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Our position is, I affirm, becoming recognised by the world; but now and - again I am made to feel that such recognition does not invariably extend - to all the members of our profession. Some years ago I was getting my hair - cut in Regent Street, and, as usual, the practitioner remarked in a - friendly way that I was getting very grey. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I said, “I’ve been getting a grey hair or so for some time. I don’t - know how it is. I’m not much over thirty.” (I repeat that the incident - occurred some years ago.) - </p> - <p> - “No, sir, you’re not what might be called old,” said he indulgently. - “Maybe you’re doing some brain-work?” he suggested, after a pause. - </p> - <p> - “Brain-work?” said I. “Oh no! I work for a daily paper, and usually write - a column of leading articles every night. I produce a book a year, and a - play every now and again. But brain-work—oh no!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, in that case, sir, it must be due to something else. Maybe you drink - a bit, sir.” - </p> - <p> - I did not buy the bottle which he offered me at four-and-nine. I left the - shop dissatisfied. - </p> - <p> - This is why I hesitate to affirm that modern journalism is wholly - understanded of the people. - </p> - <p> - But for that matter it is not wholly understanded of the people who might - be expected to know something about it. The proprietor of a newspaper on - which I worked some years ago made use of me one day to translate a few - lines of Greek which appeared on the back of an old print in his - possession. My powers amazed him. The lines were from an obscure and - little-known poem called the “Odyssey.” - </p> - <p> - “You must read a great deal, my boy,” said he. - </p> - <p> - I shook my head. - </p> - <p> - “The fact is,” said I, “I’ve lately had so much reviewing to do that I - haven’t been able to read a single book.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s too hard on you,” said he gravely. “Get some of the others of the - staff to help you. You mustn’t neglect your reading for the sake of - reviewing.” - </p> - <p> - I didn’t. - </p> - <p> - Upon another occasion the son of this gentleman left a message for me that - he had taken a three-volume novel, the name of which he had forgotten, - from a parcel of books that had arrived the previous day, but that he - would like a review of it to appear the next morning, as his wife said it - was a capital story. - </p> - <p> - He was quite annoyed when the review did not appear. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - But there are, I have reason to know, many people who have got no more - modern ideas respecting that branch of journalism known as reviewing. - </p> - <p> - “Are you reading that book for pleasure or to criticise it?” I was asked - not so long ago by a young woman who ought to have known better. “Oh, I - forgot,” she added, before I could think of anything sharp to say by way - of reply—“I forgot: if you meant to review it you wouldn’t read it.” - </p> - <p> - I thought of the sharp reply two days later. - </p> - <p> - So it is, I say, that some of the people who read what we write from day - to day, have still got only the vaguest notions of how our work is turned - out. - </p> - <p> - Long ago I used to wish that the reviewers would only read the books I - wrote before criticising them; but now my dearest wish is that they will - review them (favourably) without reading them. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I heard some time ago of a Scot who, full of that brave sturdy spirit of - self-reliance which is the precious endowment of the race of North - Britons, came up to London to fight his way in the ranks of literature. - The grand inflexible independence of the man asserted itself with such - obstinacy that he was granted a Civil List Pension; and while in receipt - of this form of out-door relief for poets who cannot sell their poetry, he - began a series of attacks upon literature as a trade, and gave to the - world an autobiography in a sentence, by declaring that literature and - deterioration go hand in hand. - </p> - <p> - This was surely a very nasty thing for the sturdy Scotchman, who had - attained to the honourable independence of the national almshouse, to say, - just as people were beginning to look on literature as a profession. - </p> - <p> - But then he sat down and forthwith reeled off a string of doggerel verses, - headed “The Dismal Throng.” In this fourth-form satirical jingle he abused - some of the ablest of modern literary men for taking a pessimistic view of - life. Now, who on earth can blame literary men for feeling a trifle dismal - if what the independent pensioner says is true, and success in literature - can only be obtained in exchange for a soul? The man who takes the most - pessimistic view of the profession of literature should be the last to - sneer at a literary man looking sadly on life. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II.—THE OLD SCHOOL. - </h2> - <p> - <i>The frock-coat and muffler journalist—A doomed race—One of - the specimens—A masterpiece—-“Stilt your friend”—A - jaunty emigrant—A thirsty knave—His one rival—Three - crops—His destination—“The New Grub Street”—A courteous - friend—Free lodgings—The foreign guest—Outside the hall - door—The youth who found things—His ring—His watch—The - fruits of modesty—Not to be imitated—A question for Sherlock - Holmes—The liberty of the press—Deadheads.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> HAVE come in - contact with many journalists of the old school—the frock-coat and - muffler type. The first of the class whom I met was for a few months a - reporter on a newspaper in Ireland with which I was connected. He had at - one time been a soldier, and had deserted. I tried, though I was only a - boy, to get some information from him that I might use afterwards, for I - recognised his value as the representative of a race that was, I felt, - certain to become extinct. I talked to him as I talked—with the aid - of an interpreter—to a Botjesman in the South African veldt: I - wanted to learn something about the habits of a doomed type. I succeeded - in some measure. - </p> - <p> - The result of my researches into the nature of both savages was to - convince me that they were born liars. The reporter carried a pair of - stage whiskers and a beard with him when sent to do any work in a country - district; the fact being that the members of the Royal Irish Constabulary - in the country barracks are the most earnest students of the paper known - as <i>Hue and Cry</i>, and the man said that, as his description appeared - in every number of that organ, he should most certainly be identified by a - smart country policeman if he did not wear a disguise. Years afterwards I - got a letter from him from one of her Majesty’s gaols. He wanted the loan - of some money and the gift of a hat. - </p> - <p> - This man wrote shorthand admirably, and an excellent newspaper English. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Another specimen of the race had actually attained to the dizzy eminence - of editor of a fourth-class newspaper in a town of one hundred thousand - inhabitants. In those days Mr. Craven Robertson was the provincial - representative of Captain Hawtree in <i>Caste</i>, and upon the Captain - Hawtree of Craven Robertson this “journalist” founded his style. He wore - an eyeglass, a moustache with waxed ends, and a frock coat very carefully - brushed. His hair was thin on the top—but he made the most of it. He - was the sort of man whom one occasionally meets on the Promenade at Nice, - wearing a number of orders on the breast of his coat—the order of Il - Bacio di St. Judæus, the scarlet riband of Ste. Rahab di Jericho, the - Brazen Lyre of SS. Ananias and Sapphira. He was the sort of man whom one - styles “Chevalier” by instinct. He was the most plausible knave in the - world, though how people allowed him to cheat them was a mystery to me. - His masterpiece of impudence I have always considered to be a letter which - he wrote to a brother-editor, from whom he had borrowed a sum of money, to - be repaid on the first of the next month. When the appointed day came he - chanced to meet this editor-creditor in the street, and asking him, with a - smile as if he had been on the lookout for him, to step into the nearest - shop, he called for a sheet of paper and a pen, and immediately wrote an - order to the cashier of his paper to pay Mr. G. the sum of five pounds. - </p> - <p> - “There you are, my dear sir,” said he. “Just send a clerk round to our - office and hand that to the cashier. Meantime accept my hearty thanks for - the accommodation.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. G. lost no time in presenting the order; but, as might have been - expected, it was dishonoured by the cashier, who declared that the editor - was already eight months in advance in drawing his salary. Mr. G. hastened - back to his own office and forthwith wrote a letter of furious - upbraidings, in which I have good reason to suspect he expressed his views - of the conduct of his debtor, and threatened to “take proceedings,” as the - grammar of the law has it, for the recovery of his money. - </p> - <p> - The next day Mr. G. received back his own letter unopened, but inside the - cover that enclosed it to him was the following:— - </p> - <p> - “My dear Mr. G.,— - </p> - <p> - “You may perhaps be surprised to receive your letter with the seal - unbroken, but when you come to reflect calmly over the unfortunate - incident of your sending it to me, I am sure that you will no longer be - surprised. I am persuaded that you wrote it to me on the impulse of the - moment, otherwise it would not contain the strong language which, I think - I may assume, constitutes the major portion of its contents. Knowing your - natural kindness of disposition, and feeling assured that in after years - the consciousness of having written such a letter to me would cause you - many a pang in your secret moments, I am anxious that you should be spared - much self-reproach, and consequently return your letter unopened. You - will, I am certain, perceive that in adopting this course I am acting for - the best. Do not follow the next impulse of your heart and ask my - forgiveness. I have really nothing to forgive, not having read your - letter. - </p> - <p> - “With kindest regards, I remain - </p> - <p> - “Still your friend - </p> - <p> - “A. Swinne Dell.” - </p> - <p> - If this transaction does not represent the high-water mark of knavery—if - it does not show something akin to genius in an art that has many - exponents, I scarcely know where one should look for evidence in this - direction. - </p> - <p> - Five years after the disappearance of Mr. A. Swinne Dell from the scene of - this <i>coup</i> of his, I caught a glimpse of him among the steerage - passengers aboard a steamer that called at Madeira when I was spending a - holiday at that lovely island. His frock-coat was giving signs (about the - collar) of wear, and also (under the arms) of tear. I could not see his - boots, but I felt sure that they were down at the heel. Still, he held his - head jauntily as he pointed out to a fellow-passenger the natural charms - of the landscape above Funchal. - </p> - <p> - Another of the old school who pursued a career of knavery by the light of - the sacred lamp of journalism was, I regret to say, an Irishman. His - powers of absorbing drink were practically unlimited. I never knew but one - rival to him in this way, and that was when I was in South Africa. We had - left our waggon, and were crouching in most uncomfortable postures behind - a mighty cactus on the bank of a river, waiting for the chance of potting - a gemsbok that might come to drink. Instead of the graceful gemsbok there - came down to the water a huge hippopotamus. He had clearly been having a - good time among the native mealies, and had come for some liquid - refreshment before returning to his feast. He did not plunge into the - water, but simply put his head down to it and began to drink. After five - minutes or so we noticed an appreciable fall in the river. After a quarter - of an hour great rocks in the river-bed began to be disclosed. At the end - of twenty minutes the broad stream had dwindled away to a mere trickle of - water among the stones. At the end of half an hour we began to think that - he had had as much as was good for him—we wanted a kettleful of - water for our tea—so I put an elephant cartridge (‘577) into my - rifle and aimed at the brute’s eye. He lifted up his head out of pure - curiosity, and perceiving that men with rifles were handy, slouched off, - grumbling like a professional agitator on being turned out of a public - house. - </p> - <p> - That hippopotamus was the only rival I ever knew to the old-school - journalist whose ways I can recall—only he was never known to taste - water. Like the man in one of H. J. Byron’s plays, he could absorb any - “given”—I use the word advisedly—any given quantity of liquor. - </p> - <p> - “Are you ever sober, my man?” I asked of him one day. - </p> - <p> - “I’m sober three times a day,” he replied huskily. “I’m sober now. This is - one of the times,” he added mournfully. - </p> - <p> - “You were blind drunk this morning—I can swear to that,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes,” he replied promptly. “But what’se good of raking up the past, - sir? Let the dead past burits dead.” He took a step or two toward the - door, and then returned. He carefully brushed a speck of dust off the rim - of his hat. All such men wear the tallest of silk hats, and seem to feel - that they would be scandalised by the appearance of a speck of dust on the - nap. “D’ye know that I can take three crops out of myself in the day?” he - inquired blandly. - </p> - <p> - “Three crops?” - </p> - <p> - “Three crops—I said so, of drunk. I rise in morn’n,—drunk - before twelve; sleep it off by two, and drunk again by five; sleep it off - by eight—do my work and go to bed drunk at two a.m. You haven’t such - a thing as half-a-crown about you, sir? I left my purse on the grand piano - before I came out.” - </p> - <p> - I was under the impression that this particular man was dead years ago; - and I was thus greatly surprised when, on jumping on a tramcar in a - manufacturing town in Yorkshire quite recently, I recognised my old friend - in a man who had just awakened in a corner, and was endeavouring to - attract the attention of the conductor. When, after much incipient - whistling and waving of his arms, he succeeded in drawing the conductor to - his side, he inquired if the car was anywhere near the Wilfrid Lawson - Temperance Hotel. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll let you down when we come to it,” said the conductor. - </p> - <p> - “Do,” said the other in his old husky tones. - </p> - <p> - “Lemme down at the Wellfed Laws Tenpence Otell.” - </p> - <p> - In another minute he was fast asleep as before. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - At present no penal consequences follow any one who calls himself a - literary man. It is taken for granted, I suppose, that the crime brings - its own punishment. - </p> - <p> - One of the most depressing books that any one straying through the King’s - Highway of literature could read is Mr. George Gissing’s “The New Grub - Street.” What makes it all the more depressing is the fact of its carrying - conviction with it to all readers. Every one must feel that the squalor - described in this book has a real existence. The only consolation that any - one engaged in a branch of literature can have on reading “The New Grub - Street,” comes from the reflection that not one of the poor wretches - described in its pages had the least aptitude for the business. - </p> - <p> - In a town of moderate size in which I lived, there were forty men and - women who described themselves for directory purposes as “novelists.” Not - one of them had ever published a volume; but still they all believed - themselves to be novelists. There are thousands of men who call themselves - journalists even now, but who are utterly incapable of writing a decent - “par.” I have known many such men. The most incompetent invariably become - dissatisfied with life in the provinces, and hurry off to London, having - previously borrowed their train fare. I constantly stumble upon provincial - failures in London. Sometimes on the Embankment I literally stumble upon - them, for I have found them lying in shady nooks there trying to forget - the world’s neglect in sleep. - </p> - <p> - Why on earth such men take to journalism has always been a mystery to me. - If they had the least aptitude for it they would be earning money by - journalism instead of trying to borrow half-crowns as journalists. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I knew of one who, several years ago, migrated to London. For a long time - I heard nothing about him; but one night a friend of mine mentioned his - name, and asked me if I had ever known him. - </p> - <p> - “The fact is,” said he, “I had rather a curious experience of him a few - months ago.” - </p> - <p> - “You were by no means an exception to the general run of people who have - ever come in contact with him,” said I. “What was your experience?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” replied he, “I came across him casually one night, and as he - seemed inclined to walk in my direction, I asked him if he would mind - coming on to my lodgings to have a bottle of beer. He found that his - engagements for the night permitted of his doing so, and we strolled on - together. I found that there was supper enough for two adults in the - locker, and our friend found that his engagements permitted of his taking - a share in the humble repast. He took fully his share of the beer, and - then I offered him a pipe, and stirred up the fire. - </p> - <p> - “We talked until two o’clock in the morning, and, as he told me he lived - about five miles away—he didn’t seem quite sure whether it was at - Hornsey or Clapham—I said he could not do better than occupy a spare - truckle that was in my bedroom. He said he thought that I was right, and - we retired. We breakfasted together in the morning, and then we walked - into Fleet Street, where we parted. That night he overtook me on my way to - my lodgings, and in the friendliest manner possible accompanied me - thither. Here the programme of the night before was repeated. The third - night I quite expected to be overtaken by him; but I was mistaken. I was - not overtaken by him: he was sitting in my lodgings waiting for me. He - gave me a most cordial welcome—I will say that for him. The night - following I had a sort of instinct that I should find him waiting for me - again in my sitting-room. Once more I was mistaken. He was not waiting for - me; he had already eaten his supper—<i>my supper</i>, and had gone - to bed—<i>my bed</i>; but with his usual thoughtfulness, he had left - a short note for me upbraiding me, but in a genial and quite a gentlemanly - way, for staying out so late, and begging me not to awake him, as he was - very tired, and—also genially—inquiring if it was absolutely - necessary for me to make such a row in my bath in the mornings. He was a - light sleeper, he said, and a little noise disturbed him. I did not awake - him; but the next morning I was distinctly cool towards him. I remarked - that I thought it unlikely that I should be at home that night. He begged - of me not to allow him to interfere with my plans. When I returned that - night, I found him sitting at my table playing cards with a bleareyed - foreigner, whom he courteously introduced as his friend Herr Vanderbosch - or something. - </p> - <p> - “‘Draw your chair to the table, old chap, and join in with us. I’ll see - that you get something to drink in a minute,’ said he. - </p> - <p> - “I thanked him, but remarked that I had a conscientious objection to all - games of cards. - </p> - <p> - “‘Soh?’ said the foreigner. ‘Das is yust var yo makes ze mistook. Ze game - of ze gards it is grand—soblime!’ - </p> - <p> - “He added a few well-chosen sentences about sturm und drang or something; - and in about five minutes I found myself getting a complete slanging for - my narrow-minded prejudices, and for my attempt to curtail the innocent - recreation of others. I will say this for our friend, however: he never - for a moment allowed our little difference on what was after all a purely - academic question, to interfere with his display of hospitality to myself - and Herr Vanderbosch. He filled our tumblers, and was lavish with the - tobacco jar. When I rose to go to bed he called me aside, and said he had - made arrangements for me to sleep in the truckle for the night, in order - to admit of his occupying my bed with Herr Vanderbosch—the poor - devil, he explained to me with many deprecating nods, had not, he feared, - any place to sleep that night. But at this point I turned. I assured him - that I was constitutionally unfitted for sleeping in a truckle, or, in - fact, in any bed but my own. - </p> - <p> - “‘All right,’ he cried in a huff, ‘I’ll sleep in the truckle, and I’ll - make up a good fire for him to sleep before on the sofa.’ - </p> - <p> - “Well, we all breakfasted together, and the next night the two gentlemen - appeared once more at the door of the house. They were walking in as - usual, when the landlady asked them where they were going. - </p> - <p> - “‘Why, upstairs, to be sure,’ said our friend. “‘Oh no!’ said the - landlady, ‘you’re not doing that. Mr. Plantagenet has left his rooms and - gone to the country for a month—maybe two—and the rooms is let - to another gent.’ “Well, our friend swore that he had been treated - infernally, and Herr Vanderbosch alluded to me as a schweinhund—I - heard him. I fancy the word must be a term of considerable opprobrium in - the German tongue. Anyhow, they didn’t get past the landlady,—she - takes a large size in doors,—and after a while our friend’s menaces - dwindled down to a request to be permitted to remove his luggage. - </p> - <p> - “‘I’ll bring it down to you,’ said the landlady; and she shut the hall - door very gently, leaving them on the step outside. When she brought down - the luggage—it consisted of three paper collars and one cuff with a - fine carbuncle stud in it—they were gone. - </p> - <p> - “Our friend told some one the other day of the disgraceful way I had - treated him and his foreign associate. But he says he would not have - minded so much if the landlady had not shut the door so gently.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Another remarkable pressman with whom I came in contact several years ago - was a member of the reporting staff of an Irish newspaper. One day I - noticed him wearing what appeared to me to be an extremely fine ring. It - was set with an antique polished intaglio surrounded by diamonds. The ring - was probably unique, and would be worth perhaps £70 to a collector. I have - seen very inferior mediaeval intaglios sold for that sum. I examined the - diamonds with a lens, and then inquired of the youth where he had bought - it, and if he was anything of a collector. - </p> - <p> - “I picked it up going home one wet night,” he replied. “I advertised for - the owner in all the papers for a week—it cost me thirty shillings - in that way,—but no one ever came forward to claim it. I would - gladly have sold the thing for thirty shillings at the end of a month; but - then I found that it was worth close upon a hundred pounds.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re the luckiest chap I ever met,” said I. - </p> - <p> - In the course of a short time another of the reporters asked me if I had - ever seen the watch that the same youth habitually wore. I replied that I - had never seen it, but should like to do so. The same night I was in the - reporters’ room, when the one who had mentioned the watch to me asked the - wearer of the article if ten o’clock had yet struck. The youth forthwith - drew out of his pocket one of the most charming little watches I ever saw. - The back was Italian enamel on gold, both outside and within, and the - outer case was bordered with forty-five rubies. A black pearl about the - size of a pea was at the bow, right round the edge of the case were - diamonds, and in the rim for the glass were twenty-five rubies and four - stones which I fancied at a casual glance were pale sapphires. I examined - these stones with my magnifier, and I thought I should have fainted when I - found that they were blue diamonds. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “Le Temps est pour l’Homme, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - L’Eternité est pour l’Amour” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - was the inscription which I managed to make out on the dial. - </p> - <p> - I handed back the watch to the reporter—his salary was £120 per - annum—and inquired if he had found this article also. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said, with a laugh. “I picked that up, curiously enough, during - a trip that I once made to the Scilly Islands. I advertised it in the - Plymouth papers the next day, for I believed it to have been dropped by - some wealthy tourist; but I got no applicant for it; and then I came to - the conclusion that the watch had been among the treasures of some of the - descendants of the smugglers and wreckers of the old days. It keeps good - enough time now, though a watchmaker valued the works at five shillings.” - </p> - <p> - “Any time you want a hundred pounds—a hundred and fifty pounds,” - said I, “don’t hesitate to bring that watch to me. Have you found many - other articles in the course of your life?” I asked, as I was leaving the - room. - </p> - <p> - “Lots,” he replied. “When I was in Liverpool I lived about two miles from - my office, and through getting into a habit of keeping my eyes on the - ground, I used to come across something almost every week. Unfortunately, - most of my finds were claimed by the owners.” - </p> - <p> - “You have no reason to complain,” said I. - </p> - <p> - I was set thinking if there might not be the potentialities of wealth in - the art of walking with one’s eyes modestly directed to the ground; and - for three nights I was actually idiot enough to walk home from my office - with looks, not “commercing with the skies,” but—it was purely a - question of commerce—with the pavements. The first night I nearly - transfixed a policeman with my umbrella, for the rain was coming down in - torrents; the second, I got my hat knocked into the mud by coming in - contact with the branch of a tree overhanging the railings of a square, - and the third I received the impact of a large-boned tipsy man, who was, - as the idiom of the country has it, trying to walk on both sides of the - road at once. - </p> - <p> - I held up my head in future. - </p> - <p> - The reporter left the newspaper in the course of a few months, and I never - saw him again. But quite recently I was reading Miss Dougall’s novel - “Beggars All,” and when I came upon the account of the reporter who - carries out several adroit schemes of burglary, the recollection of the - remarkable “finds” of the young man whose ring and watch had excited my - envy, flashed across my mind; and I began to wonder if it was possible - that he had pursued a similar course to that which Miss Dougall’s hero - found so profitable. I should like to consult Mr. Sherlock Holmes on this - point when he returns from Switzerland—we expect him every day. - </p> - <p> - At any rate, it is certain that the calling of a reporter would afford - many opportunities to a clever burglar, or even an adroit pickpocket. A - reporter can take his walks abroad at any hour of the night without - exciting the suspicion of a policeman; or, should such suspicion be - aroused, he has only to say “Press,” and he may go anywhere he pleases. - The Press rush in where the public dare not tread; and no one need be - surprised if some day a professional burglar takes to stenography as an - auxiliary to the realisation of his illegitimate aims. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - One of the countless St. Peter stories has this privilege of the Press for - its subject, and a reporter for its hero. This gentleman was walking - jauntily through the gate of him “who keeps the keys,” but was stopped by - the stern janitor, who inquired if he had a ticket. - </p> - <p> - “Press,” said the reporter, trying to pass. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean by that? You know you can’t be admitted anywhere without - a ticket.” - </p> - <p> - “I tell you that I belong to the Press; you don’t expect a reporter to - pay, do you?” - </p> - <p> - “Why not? Why shouldn’t you be treated the same as the rest of the people? - I can’t make flesh of one and fish of another,” added St. Peter, as if a - professional reminiscence had occurred to him. - </p> - <p> - The reporter suddenly brightened up. “I don’t want exceptional treatment,” - said he. “Now that I come to think of it, aren’t they all <i>deadheads</i> - who come here?” - </p> - <p> - I fancy that reporter was admitted. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III.—THE EDITOR OF THE PAST. - </h2> - <p> - <i>Proprietary rights—Proprietary wrongs—Exclusive rights—The - “leaders” of a party—The fossil editor—The man and the dog and - the boar—An unpublished history—The newspaper hoax—A - premature obituary notice—The accommodating surgeon—A matter - of business—The death of Mr. Robinson—The quid pro quo</i>’. - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T is only within - the past few years that the Editor has obtained public recognition as a - personality; previously his personality was merged in the proprietor, and - when his efforts were successful in keeping a Corporation from making - fools of themselves—this is assuming an extreme case of success—or - in exposing some attempted fraud that would have ruined thousands of - people, he was compelled to accept his reward through the person of the - proprietor. The proprietor was made a J.P., and sometimes even became - Mayor or Chairman of the Board of Guardians, when the editor succeeded in - making the paper a power in the county. Latterly, however, the editors of - some provincial journals have been obtaining recognition. - </p> - <p> - They have been granted the dubious honour of knighthood; and the public - have discovered that the brains which have dictated a policy that has - influenced the destinies of a Ministry, may be entrusted with the - consideration of sewage and main drainage questions on a Town Council, or - with the question of the relative degrees of culpability of a man who - jumps upon his wife’s face and is fined ten shillings, and the boy who - steals a raw turnip and is sent to a reformatory for five years—a - period quite insufficient for the adequate digestion of that comestible, - which it would appear boys are ready to sacrifice years of their liberty - to obtain. - </p> - <p> - I must say that, with one exception, the proprietors whom I have met were - highly competent business men—men whose judgment and public spirit - were deserving of that wide recognition which they nearly always obtained - from their fellow-citizens. One, and one only, was not precisely of this - type. He used to write with a blue pencil across an article some very - funny comments. - </p> - <p> - I have before me at this moment a letter in which he asked me to - abbreviate something; and he gave me an example of how to do it by cutting - out a letter of the word—he spelt it <i>abrievate</i>. - </p> - <p> - He had a perfect passion for what he called “exclusives.” The most trivial - incident—the overturning of a costermonger’s barrow, and the number - of the contents sustaining fatal injuries; the blowing off of a - clergyman’s hat in the street, with a professional opinion as to the - damage done; the breaking of a window in a private house—he regarded - as good foundation for an “exclusive”; and indeed it must be said that the - information given to the public by the organ of which he was proprietor - was rarely ever to be found in a rival paper. At the same time, upon no - occasion of his obtaining a really important piece of news did he succeed - in keeping it from the others. This annoyed him extremely He was in great - demand as chairman of amateur reciting classes—a distinction that - was certainly dearly purchased. I never knew of one of these reciting - entertainments being refused a full report in his newspaper upon any - occasion when he presided. He also aspired to the chairmanship of small - political meetings, and once when he found himself in such a position, he - said he would sing the audience a song, and he carried out his threat. His - song was probably more convincing than his speech would have been. He had - a famous story for platform use. It concerned a donkey that he knew when - they were both young. - </p> - <p> - He said it made people laugh, and it surely did. At a public dinner he - formulated the plausible theory that to be a good player of golf was to be - a gentleman. He was a poor golfer himself. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Now, regarding London editors I have not much to say. I am not personally - acquainted with any one of them. But for twelve years I read every - political article that appeared in each of the six principal London daily - papers; I also read a report of every speech made in the House of Commons, - and of every speech made by a statesman of Cabinet rank outside - Parliament; and I am prepared to say that the great majority of these - speeches bore the most unmistakable evidence of being—well, not - exactly inspired by, but certainly influenced by some leading article. In - one word, my experience is that what the newspapers say in the morning the - statesmen say in the evening. - </p> - <p> - Of course Mr. Gladstone must not be included in the statesmen to whom I - refer. His inspiration comes from another direction. That is how he - succeeds in startling so many people. - </p> - <p> - The majority of provincial editors include, I have good reason to know, - some of the best men in the profession. Only here and there does one meet - with a fossil of journalism who is content to write a column of platitudes - over a churchwarden pipe and then to go home to sleep. - </p> - <p> - With only one such did I come in contact recently. He was connected with a - newspaper which should have had unbounded influence in its district, but - which had absolutely none. The “editor” was accustomed to enter his room - about noon, and he left it between seven and eight in the evening, having - turned out a column of matter of which he was an earnest reader the next - morning. And yet this same newspaper received during the night sometimes - twelve columns of telegraphic news and verbatim reports of the chief - speeches in Parliament. - </p> - <p> - The poor old gentleman had never been in London, and never could see why I - should be so constantly going to that city. He was under the impression - that George Eliot was a man, and he one day asked me what the Royal - Academy was. Having learned that it was a place where pictures that richly - deserved exposure were hung, he shortly afterwards assumed that the French - Academy was a gallery in which naughty French pictures—he assumed - that everything French was naughty—were exhibited. He occasionally - referred to the <i>Temps</i> phonetically, and up to the day of his death - he never knew why I laughed when I first heard his pronunciation of the - name of that organ. - </p> - <p> - The one dread of his life was that I might some time inadvertently suggest - that I was the editor of the paper. As if any sane human being would have - such an aspiration! His opportunity came at last. A cabinet photograph of - a man and a dog arrived at the office one day addressed to the editor. He - hastened to the proprietor and “proved” that the photograph represented me - and my dog, and that it had been addressed “to the editor.” The proprietor - was not clever enough to perceive that the features of the portrait in no - way resembled those with which I am obliged to put up, and so I ran a - chance of being branded as a pretender. - </p> - <p> - Fortunately, however, the fascinating little daughter of the proprietary - household contrived to see the photograph, and on being questioned as to - its likeness to a member of the staff, declared that there was no one half - so goodlooking connected with the paper. On being assured that the - original had already been identified, she expressed her willingness to - stake five pounds upon her opinion; and the injured editor accepted her - offer. - </p> - <p> - Now, all this time I had never been applied to by the disputants, though I - might have been expected to know something of the matter,—people - generally remember a visit to their photographer or their stockbroker,—but - just as the young lady was about to appeal to me as an unprejudiced - arbiter on the question at issue, the manager of the advertisement - department sent to inquire if any one on the editorial staff had come upon - a photograph of a man and a collie. An advertisement for a lost collie - had, he said, been appearing in the paper, and a postcard had just been - received from the owner stating that he had forwarded a photograph of the - animal, in order that, should any one bring a collie to the office and - claim the reward, the advertising department would be in a position to see - that the animal was the right one. - </p> - <p> - The young lady got her five pounds, and, having a considerable interest in - the stocking of a farm, purchased with it an active young boar which, in - an impulse of flattery, she named after me, and which, so far as I have - been able to gather, is doing very well, and has already seen his - children’s children. - </p> - <p> - When I asked the young lady why she had called the animal after me, she - said it was because he was a bore. She had a graceful wit. - </p> - <p> - In a weak moment this editor confided to me that he was engaged in writing - a book—“A History of the Orange” was to be the title, he told me; - and he added that I could have no idea of the trouble it was causing him; - but there he was wrong. After this he was in the habit of writing a note - to me about once a week, asking me if I would oblige him by doing his work - for him, as all his time was engrossed by his “History.” It appears to me - rather melancholy that the lack of enterprise among publishers is so great - that this work has not yet been given a chance of appearing. I looked - forward to it to clear up many doubtful points of great interest. Up to - the present, for instance, no intelligent effort has been made to - determine if it was the introduction of the orange into Great Britain that - brought about the Sunday-school treat, or if the orange was imported in - order to meet the legitimate requirements of this entertainment. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Human nature—-and there is a good deal of it in a large - manufacturing centre—could not be restrained in the neighbourhood of - such a relic of a past generation, and, consequently, that form of - pleasantry known as the hoax was constantly attempted upon him. One - morning the correspondence columns, which he was supposed to edit with - scrupulous care, appeared headed with an account of the discovery of some - ancient pottery bearing a Latin inscription—the most venerable and - certainly the most transparent of newspaper hoaxes. - </p> - <p> - It need scarcely be said that there was an extraordinary demand for copies - of the issue of that day; but luckily the thing was discovered in time to - disappoint a large number of those persons who came to the office to mock - at the simplicity of the good old soul, who fancied he had found a - congenial topic when he received the letter headed with an appeal to - archæologists. - </p> - <p> - Is there a more contemptible creature in the world than the newspaper - hoaxer? The wretch who can see fun in obtaining the publication of some - filthy phrase in a newspaper that is certain to be read by numbers of - women, should, in my mind, be treated as the flinger of a dynamite bomb - among a crowd of innocent people. The sender of a false notice of a - marriage, a birth, or a death, is usually difficult to bring to justice, - but when found, he—or she—should be treated as a social leper. - The pain caused by such heartless hoaxes is incalculable. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Sometimes a careless reporter, or foreman printer, is unwittingly the - means of causing much annoyance, and even consternation, by allowing an - obituary notice to appear prematurely. On every well-managed paper there - is a set of pigeon-holed obituaries of eminent persons, local as well as - national. When it is almost certain that one of them is at the point of - death, the sketch is written up to the latest date, and frequently put in - type, to be ready in case the news of the death should arrive when the - paper is going to press. Now, I have known of several cases in which the - “set-up” obituary notice contrived to appear before the person to whom it - referred had breathed his last. This is undoubtedly a very painful - occurrence, and in some cases it may actually precipitate the incident - which it purports to record. Personally, I should not consider myself - called on to die because a newspaper happened to publish an account of my - death; but I know of at least one case in which a man actually succumbed - out of compliment to a newspaper that had accidentally recorded his death. - </p> - <p> - That person was not made of the same fibre as a certain eminent surgeon - with whom I was well acquainted. He was thoughtful enough to send for a - reporter on one Monday evening, and said that as he did not wish the pangs - of death to be increased by the reflection that a ridiculous sketch of his - career would be published in the newspapers, he thought he would just - dictate three-quarters of a column of such a character as would allow of - his dying without anything on his mind. Of course the reporter was - delighted, and commenced as usual:— - </p> - <p> - “It is with the deepest regret that we have to announce this morning the - decease of one of our most eminent physicians, and best-known citizens. - Dr. Theobald Smith, M.Sc., F.R.C.S.E., passed peacefully away at o’clock - {last night/this morning} at his residence, Pharmakon House, surrounded by - the members of the family to whom he was so deeply attached, and to whom, - though a father, he was still a friend.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, sir,” said the reporter, “I’ve left a space for the hour, and I can - strike out either ‘last night,’ or ‘this morning,’ when I hear of your - death.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s right,” said the doctor. “Now, I’ll give you some particulars of - my life.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks,” said the reporter. “You will not exceed three-quarters of a - column, for we’re greatly crushed for space just now. If you could put it - off till Sunday, I could give you a column with leads, as Parliament - doesn’t sit on Saturday.” - </p> - <p> - It seemed a tempting offer; but the doctor, after pondering for a few - moments, as if trying to recollect his engagements, shook his head, and - said he would be glad to oblige, but the matter had really passed beyond - his control. - </p> - <p> - “But there’ll surely be time for you to see a proof?” cried the reporter, - with some degree of anxiety in his voice. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll take good care of that,” said the doctor. “You can send it to me in - the morning. I think I’ll die between eleven and twelve at night.” - </p> - <p> - “That would suit us exactly,” said the reporter genially. “We could then - send the obituary away in the first page at one o’clock. The foreman - grumbles if he has to put obituaries on page 5, which goes down to the - machine at half-past three.” - </p> - <p> - The doctor said that of course business was business, and he should do his - best to accommodate the foreman. - </p> - <p> - He died that night at twenty minutes past eleven. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I have suggested the possibility of the record of a death in a public - print having a disastrous effect upon a sick man, and the certainty of its - causing pain to his relatives. This view was not taken by the eccentric - proprietor to whom I have already alluded. Upon one occasion he heard - casually that a man named Robinson had just died. He hastened to his - office, found a reporter, and told him to write a paragraph regretting the - death of Mr. Richard Robinson. He assumed that it was Richard Robinson who - was dead, but it so happened that it was Mr. Thomas Robinson, although Mr. - Richard Robinson had been in feeble health for some time. Now, when the - son of the living Mr. Robinson called upon the proprietor the next day to - state that his father had read the paragraph recording his death, and that - the shock had completely prostrated him, the proprietor turned round upon - him, and said that Mr. Robinson and his family should rather feel - extremely grateful for the appearance of a paragraph of so complimentary a - character. Young Mr. Robinson, fearing that the next move on the part of - the proprietor would be to demand payment for the paragraph at scale - rates, begged that his intrusion might be pardoned; and hurried away - congratulating himself at having escaped very easily. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Editors are always supposed to know nearly everything, and they nearly - always do. In this respect they differ materially from the representatives - of other professions. If you were to ask the average clergyman—if - there is such a thing as an average clergyman—what he thought of the - dramatic construction of a French vaudeville, he would probably feel hurt; - but if an editor failed to give an intelligent opinion on this subject, as - well as upon the tendencies to Socinianism displayed in the sermon of an - eminent Churchman, he would be regarded as unfit for his business. You can - get an intelligent opinion from an editor on almost any subject; but you - are lucky if you can get an intelligent opinion on any one subject from - the average professional man—a lawyer, of course, excepted. - </p> - <p> - But undoubtedly curious specimens of editors might occasionally have been - found in the smaller newspaper offices in the provinces long ago. More - than twenty years have passed since the sub-editor of a rather important - paper in a town in the Midlands interviewed, on a matter of professional - etiquette, the editor—he was an Irishman—of a struggling organ - in the same town. - </p> - <p> - It appeared that the chief reporter of the sub-editor’s paper had given - some paragraph of news to a brother on the second paper, and yet when the - latter was respectfully asked for an equivalent, he refused it; hence the - need for diplomatic representations. - </p> - <p> - “I say that our reporters must have a <i>quid pro quo</i> in every case - where they have given a par. to yours,” said the sub-editor, who was - entrusted with the negotiations. - </p> - <p> - “Must have a what?” asked the Irish editor. “A <i>quid pro quo</i>,” said - the sub-editor. “Now I’ve come here for the <i>quid</i> and I don’t mean - to go until I get it.” - </p> - <p> - The editor looked at him, then felt for something in his waistcoat pocket. - Producing a piece of that sort of tobacco known as Limerick twist, he bit - it in two, and offered one portion to the sub-editor, saying, “There’s - your quid for you; but, so help me Gad, I’ve only got what you see in my - mouth to last me till morning.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV.—THE UNATTACHED EDITOR. - </h2> - <p> - <i>The “casual” word—The mighty hunter—The retort discourteous—How - the editor’s chair was broken—An explanation on a clove—The - master of a system—A hitch in the system—The two Alhambras—A - parallel—The unattached parson—Another system—A father’s - legacy—The sermon—The imagination and its claims—The - evening service—Saying a few words—Antique carved oak—How - the chaplain’s doubts were dispersed—A literary tinker—A - tinker’s triumph—The two Joneses.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE “scratch” - editor also may now and again be found to possess some eccentricities. He - is the man who is taken on a newspaper in an emergency to fill the place - of an editor who may perhaps be suffering from a serious illness, or who - may, in an unguarded moment, have died. There is a class of journalists - with whom being out of employment amounts almost to a profession in - itself. But the “unattached” editor is usually no more brilliant a man - than the unattached gentleman “in holy orders”—the clergyman who - appears suddenly at the vestry door carrying a black bag, and probably - with his nose a little red (the result of a cold railway journey), and who - introduces himself to the sexton as ready to do duty for the legitimate, - but temporarily incapacitated, incumbent, whose telegram he had received - only the previous day. - </p> - <p> - As the congregation are glad to get any one who can read the prayers with - an air of authority in the absence of their pastor, so the proprietors of - a newspaper are sometimes pleased to welcome the “scratch,” or casual, - editor. - </p> - <p> - I have met with a few of the class, but never with one whose chronic - unattached condition I could not easily account for, before we had been - together long. Most of them hated journalism—-and everything else - (with one important exception). All of them boasted of their feats as - journalists. A fine crusted specimen was accustomed to declare nightly - that he had once kept hunters; another that he had not always been - connected with such a miserable rag as the journal on which he was - temporarily employed. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve been on the best papers in the three kingdoms,” he shouted one - night. - </p> - <p> - “That’s only another way of saying that you’ve been kicked off the most - influential organs in the country,” remarked a bystander. - </p> - <p> - “If you don’t look out you’ll soon be kicked off another.” - </p> - <p> - No verbal retort is possible to such brutality of language. None was - attempted. - </p> - <p> - When I was explaining, the next day, to the proprietor how the chair in - the editor’s room came to be broken, and also how the silhouette of an - octopus came to be executed so boldly in ink upon the wall of the same - apartment, the “scratch” editor (his appellation had a double significance - this day) entered suddenly. He said he had come to explain something. - </p> - <p> - Now when a literary gentleman appears with long strips of sticking plaster - loosely adhering to one side of his face, as white caterpillars adhere to - a garden wall, and when, moreover, the perfume that floats on the air at - his approach is that of a peppermint lozenge that has been preserved from - decay in alcohol, any explanation that he may offer in regard to a - preceding occurrence is likely to be received with suspicion, if not with - absolute distrust. In this case, however, no opportunity was given the man - for justifying any claim that he might advance to be credited. - </p> - <p> - The proprietor assured him that he had already received an account of the - deplorable occurrence of the night before, and that he hoped mutual - apologies would be made in the course of the day, so that, in diplomatic - language, the incident might be considered closed before night. - </p> - <p> - The “scratch” man breathed again—heavily, alcoholically, - peppermintally. And before night I managed to sticking-plaster up a peace - between the belligerents. - </p> - <p> - At the end of a month some busybody outside the paper had the bad taste to - point out to the proprietor that one of the leading articles—the one - contributed by the “scratch” man—in a recent issue of the paper, was - to a word identical with one which had appeared a fortnight before in a - Scotch paper of some importance. The “scratch” man explained—on - alcohol and a clove—that the Scotch paper had copied his article. - But the proprietor expressed his grave doubts on this point, his chief - reason for adopting this course being that the Scotch paper with the - article had appeared ten days previously. Then the “scratch” man said the - matter was a singular, but by no means unprecedented, coincidence. - </p> - <p> - The proprietor opened the office door. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - One of the most interesting of these “casuals” had been a clergyman (he - said). I never was quite successful in finding out with what Church he had - been connected, nor, although pressed for a reply, would he ever reveal to - me how he came to find himself outside the pale of his Church—whatever - it was. He had undoubtedly some of the mannerisms of a clergyman who is - anxious that every one should know his profession, and he could certainly - look out of the corners of his eyes with the best of them. Like the parson - who is so very “low” that he steadily refuses to cross his t’s lest he - should be accused of adopting Romish emblems, he declined to turn his head - without moving his whole body. - </p> - <p> - He wore rusty cloth gloves. - </p> - <p> - He was also the most adroit thief whom I ever met; and I have lived among - some adroit ones in my time. - </p> - <p> - I never read such brilliant articles as he wrote nightly—never, - until I came upon the same articles in old files of the London newspapers, - where they had originally appeared. The original articles from which his - were copied <i>verbatim</i> were, I admit, quite as brilliant as his. - </p> - <p> - His <i>modus operandi</i> was simplicity itself. He kept in his desk a - series of large books for newspaper cuttings, and these were packed with - articles on all manner of subjects, clipped from the best newspapers. - Every day he spent an hour making these extracts, by the aid of a pot of - paste, and indexing them on the most perfect system of double entry that - could be conceived. - </p> - <p> - At night I frequently came down to my office and found that he had written - two columns of the most delightful essays. One might, perhaps, be on the - subject of Moresco-Gothic Architecture and its influence on the genius of - Velasquez, another on Battueshooting and the Acclimatisation of the Bird - of Paradise in English coverts; but both were treated with equal grace. - That such erudition and originality should be associated with cloth gloves - astonished me. One day, however, the man wrote a column upon the - decoration of one of the courts of the Alhambra, and a more picturesque - article I never read—up to a certain point; and this point was - reached when he commenced a new paragraph as follows:— - </p> - <p> - “Alas! that so lovely a piece of work should have fallen a prey to the - devastating element that laid the whole structure in ruins, and eclipsed - the gaiety, if not of nations, at any rate of the people of London, who - were wont to resort nightly to this Thespian temple of Leicester Square, - feeling certain that under the liberal management of its enterprising <i>entrepreneur</i> - some brilliant stage spectacle would be brought before their eyes. Now, - however, that the company for the restoration of the building has been - successfully floated, we may hope for a revival of the ancient glories of - the Alhambra.” - </p> - <p> - I inquired casually of the perpetrator of the article if he had ever heard - of the Alhambra? - </p> - <p> - “Why, I wrote of it yesterday,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve been in it; it’s in Leicester Square.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever hear of another Alhambra?” - </p> - <p> - I asked blandly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; there’s one in Glasgow.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever hear of one that wasn’t a music-hall?” - </p> - <p> - “Never. Maybe the temperance people give one of their new-fashioned coffee - places the name to attract sinners on false pretences.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever hear of an Alhambra in Spain?” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t mean to say that they have music-halls in Spain? But why - shouldn’t they? Spaniards are fond of dancing, I believe.” - </p> - <p> - “Why not indeed?” said I. - </p> - <p> - The next day he had an explanation to offer to the chief of the staff. In - the evening he told me that he was going to leave the paper. - </p> - <p> - “How is that?” I inquired. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t like it,” he replied. “My ideas are cribbed, cabined, and - confined here.” - </p> - <p> - “They are certainly cribbed,” said I. “Did you never hear of the Alhambra - at Grenada?” - </p> - <p> - “Never; that’s what played the mischief with the article. You’ll see how - the mistake arose. There was a capital article in the <i>Telegraph</i> - about the Alhambra—I see now that it must have referred to the one - in Spain—about four years ago; well, I cut it out and indexed it. A - year ago, when the Alhambra in Leicester Square was about to re-open, - there was an article in the <i>Daily News</i>. I found it in my index - also, and incorporated the two articles in mine. How the mischief was I to - know that one referred to Grenada and the other to London? These writer - chaps should be more explicit. What do they get their salaries for, - anyway?” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I have referred to a certain resemblance existing between the unattached - parson and the unattached editor. This resemblance is the more impressed - on me now that, after recalling a memory of an appropriator of another - man’s literary work by the “casual” editor, I can recollect how I lived - for some years next door to a “casual” parson, who had annexed a bagful of - sermons left by his father, one of which he preached whenever he obtained - an engagement. It was said that on receiving the usual telegram from a - disabled rector on Saturday evening, he was accustomed to go to the - sermon-sack, and, putting his hand down the mouth, take out a sermon with - the same ease and confidence as are displayed by the professional - rat-catcher in extracting from his bag one of its lively contents for the - gratification of a terrier. It so happened, however, that upon a fine - Sunday morning, he set out to do duty for a clergyman at a distance, - having previously felt about the sermon-sack until he found a good fat - roll of manuscript, which he stuffed into his pocket. He reached the - church—in which, it should be mentioned, he had never before - preached—and, bustling through the service with his accustomed - celerity, ascended the pulpit and flattened out with a slap or two the - sermon on the cushion in front of him. The sermon proved to be the - valedictory one preached by his father in the church of which he had been - rector for half a century. It was unquestionably a very fine effort, but - it might seem to some people to lack local colour. Delivered in a church - to which the preacher was a complete stranger, it had a certain amount of - inappropriateness about it which might reasonably be expected to diminish - from its effect. - </p> - <p> - “It is a solemn moment for us all, my dear, dear friends. It is a solemn - moment for you, but ah! how much more solemn for me! Sunday after Sunday - for the past fifty years I have stood in the pulpit where I stand to-day - to preach the Gospel of Truth. I see before me now the well-known faces of - my flock. Those who were young when I first came among you are now well - stricken in years. Some whom I baptised as infants, have brought their - infants to me to be baptised; these in turn have been spared to bring - their infants to be admitted into the membership of the Church Militant. - For fifty years have I not taken part in your joys and your sorrows, and - now who shall say that the hour of parting should not be bitter? I see - tears on the faces before me——” - </p> - <p> - And the funny part of the matter was that he did. No one present seemed to - see anything inappropriate in the sermon; and at the pathetic references - to the hour of parting, there was not a dry eye in the church—except - the remarkably bright pair possessed by a female scoffer, who told the - story to me. It was not to be expected that the clergyman would become - aware of the mistake—if it was a mistake—that he had made: he - had for years been a preaching machine, and had become as devoid of - feeling as a barrel organ; but it seemed to me incredible that only one - person in the church should discover the ludicrous aspect of the - situation. - </p> - <p> - So I remarked to my informant, and she said that it was all the same a - fact that the people were weeping copiously on all sides. - </p> - <p> - “I asked the doctor’s wife the next day what she thought of the sermon,” - added my informant, “and she replied with a sigh that it was beautifully - touching; and when I put it straight to her if she did not think it was - queer for a clergyman who was a total stranger to us to say that he had - occupied the pulpit for fifty years, she replied, ‘Ah, my dear, you’re too - matter of fact: sermons should not be taken too literally. <i>You should - make allowance for the parsons imagination</i>.’” - </p> - <p> - It is told of the same “casual” that an attempt was made to get the better - of him by a parsimonious set of churchwardens upon the occasion of his - being engaged to do duty for the regular parson of the parish. The - contract made with the “casual” was to perform the service and preach the - sermon in the morning for the sum of two guineas. He turned up in good - time on the Sunday morning and performed his part of the contract in a - business-like way. In the vestry, after he had preached the sermon, he was - waited on by the senior churchwarden, who handed him his fee and expressed - the great satisfaction felt by the churchwardens at the manner in which - the work had been executed. He added that as the clergyman’s train would - not leave the village until half-past eight at night, perhaps the reverend - gentleman would not mind dining with him, the senior churchwarden, and - performing a short evening service at six o’clock. - </p> - <p> - “That will suit me very well indeed,” said the reverend gentleman. “I - thank you very much for your hospitable offer. I charge thirty shillings - for an evening service with sermon.” - </p> - <p> - The hospitable churchwarden replied that he feared the resources of the - church would not be equal to such a strain upon them. He thought that the - clergyman might not object under the circumstances to give his services - gratis. - </p> - <p> - “Do you dispose of your excellent cheeses gratis?” asked the clergyman - courteously. The churchwarden was in the cheese business. - </p> - <p> - “Well, no, of course not,” laughed the churchwarden. “But still—well, - suppose we say a guinea for the evening service?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s my charge for the service, leaving out the sermon,” said the - clergyman. - </p> - <p> - He explained that it was the cheapest thing in the market at the time. It - was done with only the smallest margin of profit. Allowing for the wear - and tear, it left hardly anything for himself. - </p> - <p> - The churchwarden shook his head. He feared that they would not be able to - trade on the terms, he said. Suddenly, however, he brightened up. Could - the reverend gentleman not give them a good, sound, second quality sermon? - he inquired. They did not expect an A-1, copper-fastened, platinum-tipped, - bevelled-edged, full-calf sermon for the money; but hadn’t the reverend - gentleman a sound, clump-soled, celluloid-faced, nickel-plated sermon—something - evangelical that would do very well for one evening? - </p> - <p> - The clergyman replied that he had nothing of the sort in stock. - </p> - <p> - “Well, at any rate, you will say a few words to the congregation—not - a sermon, you know—after the service, for the guinea?” suggested the - churchwarden. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, I’ll say a few words, if that’s all,” said the clergyman. - </p> - <p> - And he did. - </p> - <p> - When he had got to that grand old Amen which closes the Evening Service, - he stood up and said,— - </p> - <p> - “Dear brethren, there will be no sermon preached here this evening.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Having entered upon the perilous path that is strewn with stories of - clergymen, I cannot leave it without recalling certain negotiations which - a prelate once opened with me for the purchase of an article of furniture - that remained at the palace when he was translated (with footnotes in the - vernacular by local tradesmen) to a new episcopate. I have always had a - weakness for collecting antique carved oak, and the prelate, being aware - of this, called my attention to what he termed an “antique carved oak - cabinet,” which occupied an alcove in the hall. He said he thought that I - might be glad to have a chance of purchasing it, for he himself did not - wish to be put to the trouble of conveying it to his new home—if a - palace can be called a home. Now, there had been a three days’ auction at - the palace where the antiquity remained, and, apparently, all the dealers - had managed to resist the temptation that was offered them of acquiring a - rare specimen of old oak; but, assuming that the dignitary had placed a - high reserve price upon it from which he might now be disposed to abate, I - replied that it would please me greatly to buy the cabinet if it was not - too large. By appointment I accompanied a seemingly meek domestic chaplain - to the dis-.mantled palace; and there, sure enough, in a dark alcove of - the long and narrow hall—for the palace was not palatial—I saw - (dimly) a huge thing like a wardrobe with pillars, or it might have been a - loose box, or perhaps a bedstead gone wrong, or a dismantled hearse. - </p> - <p> - “That’s a dreadful thing,” I remarked to the meek chaplain. - </p> - <p> - “Dreadful, indeed,” he replied. “But it’s antique carved oak, so I suppose - it’s a treasure.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you a match about you?” I asked, for the place was very dark. - </p> - <p> - The meek chaplain looked scandalised—it was light enough to allow of - my seeing that—at the suggestion that he carried matches. He said he - thought he knew where some might be had. He walked to the end of the - passage, and I saw him take out a box of matches from a pocket. He came - back, saying he recollected having seen the box on a ledge “down there.” I - struck a match and held the light close to the fabric. I gave a portion of - it a little scrape with my knife, and then tested the carving by the same - implement. - </p> - <p> - “How did his lordship describe this?” I inquired. - </p> - <p> - “He said it was antique carved oak,” said the meek chaplain. - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever hear of Cuvier and the lobster?” I inquired further. - </p> - <p> - He said he never had. - </p> - <p> - “That being so, I may venture to say that his lordship’s description of - this thing is an excellent one,” I remarked; “only that it is not antique, - it is not carved, and it is not oak.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” asked the meek chaplain.. - </p> - <p> - I struck another match, and showed him the white patch that I had scraped - with my knife, and he admitted that old oak was not usually white beneath - the surface. I showed him also where the carving had sprung up before the - point of my knife, making plain the ‘fact that the carving had been glued - to the fabric. - </p> - <p> - “His lordship got that made by a local carpenter twenty-five years ago,” - said I; “and yet he tries to sell it to me for antique carved oak. It - strikes me that in Wardour Street he would find a congenial episcopate.” - </p> - <p> - The meek chaplain stroked his chin reflectively; then, putting his - umbrella under one arm, he joined the tips of his fingers, saying,— - </p> - <p> - “Whatever unworthy doubts I may once have entertained on the difficult - subject of Apostolic succession are now, thank God, set at rest.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” I inquired. - </p> - <p> - “Is it possible,” he asked, “that you do not perceive how strong an - argument this incident furnishes in favour of our Church’s claim to the - Apostolic succession of her bishops?” - </p> - <p> - I shook my head. - </p> - <p> - “St. Peter was a Jew,” said the meek chaplain. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Another of the casual ward of editors who appears on the tablets of my - memory was a gentleman who came from Wales—and a large number of - other places. He had a rooted objection to write anything new; but he was - the best literary tinker I ever met. In Spitzhagen’s story, “Sturmfluth,” - there is a most amusing account of the sculptor who made the statues of - distinguished Abstractions, which he had carved in his young days, do duty - for memorial commissions of lately-departed heroes. A bust of Homer he had - no difficulty in transforming into one of Germania weeping for her sons - killed in the war, and so forth. The sculptor’s talent was the same as - that of the editor. He had the draft of about fifty articles, and three - obituary notices. These he managed to tinker up, chipping a bit off here - and there, and giving prominence to other portions, until his purpose of - the moment was served. I have seen him turn an article that purported to - show the absurdity of free trade, into an attack upon the Irish policy of - the Government; and in the twinkling of an eye upon another occasion he - made one on the Panama swindle do duty for one on the compulsory rescue of - Emin by Stanley. With only a change of a line or, two, the obituary notice - of Gambetta was that which he had used for Garibaldi; and yet when the - Emperor Frederick died, it was the same article that was furbished up for - the occasion. Every local medical man who died was dealt with in the - appreciative article which he had written some years before on the death - of Sir William Gull; and the influence of the career of every just - deceased local philanthropist was described in the words (slightly altered - to suit topography) that had been written for the Earl of Shaftesbury. - </p> - <p> - It was really little short of marvellous how this system worked. It was a - tinker’s triumph. - </p> - <p> - I must supplement my recollections of these worthies by a few lines - regarding a man of the same type who, I believe, never put pen to paper - without being guilty of some extraordinary error. A high compliment was - paid to me, I felt, when I had assigned to me, as part of my duties, the - reading of his proof sheets nightly. In everyone that I ever read I found - some monstrous mistake; and as he was old enough to be my grandfather, and - extremely sensitive besides, I was completely exhausted by my expenditure - of tact in pointing out to him what I called his “little inaccuracies.” - One night he laid his proof sheet before me, saying triumphantly, “You’ll - not find any of the usual slips in that, I’m thinking. I’ve managed to - write one leader correct at last.” - </p> - <p> - I read the thing he had written. It referred to a letter which Mr. Bence - Jones had contributed to <i>The Times</i> on the subject of the Irish Land - League Agitation. After commenting on this letter, he wound up by saying - that Mr. Bence Jones had proved himself to be as practical an - agriculturalist as he was an expert painter. - </p> - <p> - “Are you certain that Bence Jones is a painter?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “As certain as I can be of anything,” was the reply. “I’ve seen his work - referred to dozens of times. I believe there’s a picture of his in the - Grosvenor Gallery this very year. I thought you knew all about - contemporary art,” he added, with a sneer. - </p> - <p> - “Art is long,” said I, searching for a Grosvenor Gallery catalogue, which - I knew I had thrown among my books. “Now, will you just turn up the - picture you say you saw noticed, and I’ll admit that you know more than I - do?” - </p> - <p> - I handed him the catalogue. He adjusted his spectacles, looked at the - index, gave a triumphant “Ha! I have you now,” and forthwith turned up - “The Golden Stair,” by E. <i>Burne</i> Jones. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V.—THE SUB-EDITORS. - </h2> - <p> - <i>The old and the new—The scissors and paste auxiliaries—A - night’s work—“A dorg’s life”—How to communicate with the third - floor—A modern man in the old days—His migration—Other - migrants—Some provincial correspondents—Forgetful of a Town - Councillor—The Plymouth Brother as a sub-editor—A vocal effort—“Summary” - justice—Place aux Dames—A ghost story—Suggestions of the - Crystal Palace—The presentation.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T would give me no - difficulty to write a book about sub-editors with illustrations from those - whom I have met. It is, perhaps, in this department of a newspaper office - that the change from the old <i>regime</i> is most apparent. The young - sub-editors are frequently graduates of universities; but, in spite of - this, most of them are well abreast of French and German as well as - English literature. They bear out my contention, that journalism is - beginning to be taken seriously. The new men have chosen journalism as - their profession; they have not, as was the case with the men of a past - age, merely drifted into journalism because they were failures in banks, - in tailors’ shops, in the drapery line, and even in the tobacco business—one - in which failure is almost impossible. - </p> - <p> - I have met in the old days with specimens of such men—men who - fancied, and who got their employers to fancy also, that because they had - failed in occupations that demanded the exercise of no intellectual powers - for success, they were bound to succeed in something that they termed “a - literary calling.” They did not succeed as a rule. They glanced over their - column or two of telegraphic news,—in those days few provincial - papers contained more than a double column of telegrams,—they - glanced through the country correspondence and corrected such mistakes in - grammar as they were able to detect: it was with the scissors and paste, - however, that their most striking intellectual work was done. In this - department the brilliancy of the old sub-editor’s genius had a chance of - being displayed. It coruscated, so to speak, on the rim of the paste pot, - and played upon the business angle of the scissors, as the St. Elmo’s - light gleams on the yard-arms. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” said one of them to me, with a glow of proper pride upon his face, - as he ran the closed scissors between the pages of the <i>Globe</i>. “Ah, - it’s only when it comes to a question of cutting out that your true - sub-editor reveals himself.” - </p> - <p> - And he forthwith annexed the “turn-over,” without so much as acquainting - himself with the nature of the column. - </p> - <p> - “Do you never read the thing before you cut it out?” I inquired timidly. - </p> - <p> - He smiled the smile of the professor at the innocent question of a tyro. - </p> - <p> - “Not likely, young fellow,” he replied. “It’s bad enough to have to read - all the cuttings when they appear in our next issue, without reading them - beforehand.” - </p> - <p> - “Then how do you know whether or not the thing that you cut out is - suitable for the paper?” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “That’s where the instinct of your true subeditor comes in,” said he. “I - put in the point of the scissors mechanically and the right thing is sure - to come between the blades.” - </p> - <p> - In a few minutes he had about thirty columns of cuttings ready for the - foreman printer. - </p> - <p> - I began to feel that I had never done full justice to the sub-editor or - the truffle hunter. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I have said that in those old days not more than two columns of wired news - ever came to any provincial paper—<i>The Scotsman</i>, the <i>Glasgow - Herald</i>, and a Liverpool and Manchester organ excepted. The private - wire had not yet been heard of. In the present day, however, I have seen - as many as sixteen columns of telegraphic news in a very ordinary - provincial paper. I myself have come into my office at ten o’clock to find - a speech in “flimsy,” of four columns in length, on some burning question - of the moment. I have read through all this matter, and placing it in the - printers’ hands by eleven, I have written a column of comment (about one - thousand eight hundred words), read a proof of this column and started for - home at half-past one. I may mention that while waiting for the last slips - of my proof, I also made myself aware of the contents of the <i>Times</i>, - the <i>Telegraph</i>, the <i>Standard</i>, and the <i>Morning Post</i>, - which had arrived by the midnight train. - </p> - <p> - I suppose there are hundreds of editors throughout the provinces to whom - such a programme is habitually no more a thing to shrink from than it was - to me for several years of my life. But I am sure that if any one of the - sub-editors of the old days had been required to read even five columns of - a political speech, and eight of parliament, he would have talked about - slave-driving and a “dorg’s life” until he had fallen asleep—as he - frequently did—with his arms on his desk and the “flimsies” on the - floor. - </p> - <p> - Some time ago I was in London, and had written an article at my rooms, - with a view of putting it on the special wire at the Fleet Street end for - transmission to the newspaper on which I was then employed. It so - happened, however, that I was engaged at other matters much longer than I - expected to be that night, so that it was past one o’clock in the morning - when I drove to the office in Fleet Street. The lower door was shut, and - no response was given to my ring. I knew that the editor had gone home, - but of course the telegraph operator was still in his room—I could - see his light in the topmost window—and I made up my mind to rouse - him, for I assumed that he was taking his usual sleep. After ringing the - bell twice without result, it suddenly occurred to me that I might place - myself in connection with him by some other means than the bell-wire. I - drove to the Central Telegraph Office, and sent a telegram to the operator - at the Irish end of the special wire, asking him to arouse the Fleet - Street operator and tell him to open the street door for me. - </p> - <p> - When I returned to Fleet Street I found the operator waiting for me at the - open door. In other words, I found that my easiest plan of communicating - with the third floor from the street was by means of an office in Ireland. - </p> - <p> - I do not think that any of the old-time subeditors would have been likely - to anticipate the arrival of a day when such an incident would be - possible. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The only modern man of the old school, so to speak, with whom I came in - contact at the outset of my journalistic life, now occupies one of the - highest places on the London Press. I have never met so able a man since I - worked by his side, nor have I ever met with one who was so accurate an - observer, or so unerring a judge of men. He was everything that a - subeditor should be, and if he erred at all it was on the side of - courtesy. I have known of men coming down to the office with an action for - libel in their hearts, and bitterness surpassing the bitterness of a - Thomson whose name has appeared with a p, in the account of the attendance - at a funeral, and yet going back to their wives and families quite genial, - owing to the attitude adopted toward them by this subeditor; yes, and - without any offer being made by him to have the mistake, of which they - usually complained, altered in the next issue. - </p> - <p> - He was one of the few men whom I have known to go to London from the - provinces with a doubt on his mind as to his future success. Most of those - to whom I have said a farewell that, unfortunately, proved to be only - temporary, had made up their minds to seek the metropolis on account of - the congenial extent of the working area of that city. A provincial town - of three hundred thousand inhabitants had a cramping effect upon them, - they carefully assured me; the fact being that any place except London was - little better than a kennel—usually a good deal worse.. - </p> - <p> - I have come to the conclusion, from thinking over this matter, that, - although self-confidence may be a valuable quality on the part of a - pressman, it should not be cultivated to the exclusion of all other - virtues. - </p> - <p> - The gentleman to whom I refer is now managing editor of his paper, and - spends a large portion of his hardly-purchased leisure hours answering - letters that have been written to him by literary aspirants in his native - town. One of them writes a pamphlet to prove that there never has been and - never shall be a hell, and he sends it to be dealt with on the following - morning in a leader in the leading London newspaper. He, it seems, has to - be written to—kindly, but firmly. Another wishes a poem—not on - a death in the Royal Family—to be printed, if possible, between the - summary and the first leader; a third reminds the managing editor that - when sub-editor of the provincial paper eleven years before, he inserted a - letter on the disgraceful state of the footpath on one of the local - thoroughfares, and hopes that, now that the same gentleman is at the head - of a great metropolitan organ, he will assist him, his correspondent, in - the good work which has been inaugurated. The footpath is as bad as ever, - he explains. But it is over courteously repressive letters to such young - men—and old men too—as hope he may see his way to give them - immediate and lucrative employment on his staff, that most of his spare - time and all his spare stamps are spent. - </p> - <p> - Ladies write to him by the hundred—for it seems that any one may - become a lady journalist—making valuable suggestions to him by means - of which he may, if he chooses, obtain daily a chatty column with local - social sketches, every one guaranteed to be taken from life. - </p> - <p> - He doesn’t choose. - </p> - <p> - The consequence is that the ladies write to him again without the loss of - a post, and assure him that if he fancies his miserable paper is anything - but the laughing-stock of humanity, he takes an absurdly optimistic view - of the result of his labours in connection with it. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - About five years after he had left the town where we had been located - together, I met a man who had come upon him in London, and who had - accepted his invitation to dinner. - </p> - <p> - “We had a long talk together,” said the man, recording the transaction, - “and I was surprised to find how completely he has severed all his former - connections and old associations. I mentioned casually the names of some - of the most prominent of the people here, but he had difficulty in - recalling them. Why, actually—you’ll scarcely believe it—when - I spoke of Sir Alexander Henderson, he asked who was he! It’s a positive - fact!” - </p> - <p> - Now Sir Alexander Henderson was a Town Councillor. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The provincial successor to the sub-editor just referred to was - undoubtedly a remarkable man. He was a Plymouth Brother, and without - guile. He was, for some reason or other, very anxious that I should join - “The Church” also. I might have done so if I had succeeded in discovering - what were the precise doctrines held by the body. But it would seem that - the theology of the Plymouth Brethren is not an exact science. A Plymouth - Brother is one who accepts the doctrines of the Plymouth Brethren. So much - I learned, and no more. - </p> - <p> - He possessed a certain amount of confidence in the correctness of his - views—whatever they may have been, and he never allowed any pressman - to enter his room without writing a summary on some subject; for which, it - may be mentioned, he himself got credit in the eyes of the proprietor. He - had no singing voice whatsoever, but his views on the Second Advent were - so deep as to force him to give vocal expression to them thus:— - </p> - <p> - “Parlando. The Lord shall come. Will you write me a bit of a summary?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0092.jpg" alt="0092 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0092.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The request to anyone who chanced to be in the room with him, following so - hard upon the vocal assertion of the most solemn of his theological - tenets, had a shocking effect; more especially as the newspaper offices in - those old days were constantly filled with shallow scoffers and sceptics; - and, of course, persons were not wanting who endeavoured to evade their - task by assuring him that the Sacred Event was not one that could be - legitimately treated within a lesser space than a full column. - </p> - <p> - He usually offered to discuss with me at 2 a.m. such subjects as the - Immortality of the Soul or the Inspiration of Holy Writ. When he would - signify his intention of proving both questions, if I would only wait for - four hours. - </p> - <p> - I was accustomed to adopt the attitude of the schoolboy who, when the - schoolmaster, after drawing sundry lines on the blackboard, asserted that - the square described upon the diagonal of a double rectangular - parallelogram was equal to double the rectangle described upon the other - two sides, and offered to prove it, said, “Pray don’t trouble yourself, - sir; I don’t doubt it in the least.” - </p> - <p> - I assured the sub-editor that there was nothing in the somewhat extensive - range of theological belief that I wouldn’t admit at 2 a.m. after a long - night’s work. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The most amusing experience was that which I had with the same gentleman - at the time of the Eastern crises of the spring of 1878. During the - previous year he had accustomed himself to close his nightly summary of - the progress of the war between Russia and Turkey and the possibility of - complications arising with England, with these words:—“Fortunate - indeed it is that at the present moment we have at our Foreign Office so - sagacious and far-seeing a statesman as Earl Derby. Every confidence may - be reposed in his judgment to avert the crisis which in all probability is - impending.” - </p> - <p> - Certainly once a week did this summary appear in the paper, until I fancy - the readers began to tire of it. As events developed early in the spring, - the paragraph was inserted with feverish frequency. He was at it again one - night—I could hear him murmur the words to himself as he went over - the thing—but the moment he had given out the copy I threw down in - front of him a telegram which I had just opened. - </p> - <p> - “That will make a good summary,” I said. “The Reserves are called out and - Lord Derby has resigned.” - </p> - <p> - He sprang to his feet, exclaiming, like the blameless George, “What—what—what?” - </p> - <p> - “There’s the flimsy,” said I. “It’s a good riddance. He never was worth - much. The idea of a conscientious Minister at the Foreign Office! Now - Beaconsfield will have a free hand. You’d better write that summary.” - </p> - <p> - “I will—I will,” he said. “But I think I’ll ask you to dictate it to - me.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said I. “Heave ahead. ‘The news of the resignation of Earl - Derby will be received by the public of Great Britain with feelings akin - to those of relief.... The truth is that for several months past it was - but too plain to even the least sagacious persons that Lord Derby at the - Foreign Office was the one weakness in the <i>personnel</i> of the - Ministry. In colloquial, parlance he was the square peg in the round hole. - Now that his resignation has been accepted we may say farewell, a long - farewell, to a feeble and vacillating Minister of whose capacity at such a - serious crisis we have frequently thought it our duty to express our grave - doubts.’” - </p> - <p> - He took a shorthand note of this stuff, which he transcribed, and ordered - to be set up in place of the first summary. For the next three months that - original metaphor of the square peg and the round hole appeared in - relation to Lord Derby once a week in the political summary. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Among the minor peculiarities of this subeditor of the old time was an - apparently irresistible desire for the companionship of his wife at - nights. Perhaps, however, I am doing him an injustice, and the evidence - available on this point should only be accepted as indicating the desire - of his wife for the companionship of her husband. At any rate, for some - reason or other, the lady occupied an honoured place in her husband’s room - certainly three nights every week. - </p> - <p> - The pair never exchanged a word for the six or seven hours that they - remained together. Perhaps here again I am doing one of them an injustice, - for I now remember that during at least two hours out of every night the - door of the room was locked on the inside, so they may have been making up - their arrears of silence by discussing the immortality of the soul, or - other delicate theological points, during this “close” season. - </p> - <p> - The foreman printer was the only one in the office who was in the habit of - complaining about the presence of the lady in the sub-editor’s room. He - was the rudest-voiced man and the most untiring user of oaths ever known - even among foremen printers, and this is saying a great deal. He explained - to me in language that was by no means deficient in force, that the - presence of the lady had a cramping and enervating effect upon him when he - went to tell the sub-editor that he needn’t send out any more “copy,” as - the paper was overset. How could any conscientious foreman do himself - justice under such circumstances? he asked me. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The same sub-editor had a ghost story. He was the only man whom I ever met - who believed in his own ghost story. I have come in contact with several - men who had ghost stories in their <i>répertoire</i>, but I never met any - but this one who was idiot enough to believe in the story that he had to - tell. I am sorry that I cannot remember its many details. But the truth is - that it made no more impression on me than the usual ghost story makes - upon a man with a sound digestion. As a means of earning a livelihood the - journalistic “spook” occupies a legitimate place among the other devices - of modern enterprise to effect the same praiseworthy object; but a - personal and unprofessional belief in the possibility of the existence in - visible form of a “ghost” is the evidence either of a mind - constitutionally adapted to the practice of imposture, or of a remarkable - capacity for being imposed upon. My friend the sub-editor had not a heart - for falsehood framed, so I believed that he believed that he had seen the - spirit of his father make an effective exit from the apartment where the - father had died. This was, I recollect, the foundation of his story. I - remember also that the spirit took the form of a small but compact ball of - fire, and that it rolled up the spout—on the outside—and then - broke into a thousand stars. - </p> - <p> - The description of the incident suggested a lesser triumph of Messrs. - Brock at the Crystal Palace rather than the account of the solution of the - greatest mystery that man ever has faced or ever can face. When I had - heard the story to the end—up to the moment that the old nurse came - out of the house crying, “He’s gone, he’s gone!” preparatory to throwing - her apron over her head—I merely asked,— - </p> - <p> - “How many nights did you say you had been watching by your father?” - </p> - <p> - “Three,” he replied. “But I don’t think that I said anything to you about - watching.” Neither had he. Like the witness at the mysterious murder trial - who didn’t think it worth while mentioning to the police that he had seen - a man, who had a grudge against the deceased, leaving the room where the - body was found, and carrying in one hand a long knife dripping with blood, - my friend did not think that the circumstance of his having had no sleep - for three nights had any bearing upon the question of the accuracy of his - eyesight. - </p> - <p> - Of course I merely said that the story was an extraordinary one. - </p> - <p> - I have noticed that Plymouth Brotherhood, vegetarianism, soft hats, bad - art, and a belief in at least one ghost usually are found associated. - </p> - <p> - This sub-editor emigrated several years ago to the South Sea Islands with - evangelistic intentions. On his departure his colleagues made him a - graceful and appropriate gift which could not fail to cause him to recall - in after years the many pleasant hours they had spent together. - </p> - <p> - It took the form of an immense marble chimney-piece clock, weighing about - a hundredweight and a half, and looking uncomfortably like an - eighteenth-century mural tomb. It was such a nice present to make to an - evangelist in the neophyte stage, every one thought; for what the gig was - in the forties as a guarantee of all that was genteel, the massive marble - clock was in the eyes of the past generation of journalists. I happen to - know something about the sunny islands of the South Pacific and their - inhabitants, and it has often occurred to me that the guarantees of - gentility which find universal acceptance where the hibiscus blooms, may - not be wholly identical with those that were in vogue among journalists - long ago. Should these unworthy doubts which now and again occur to me - when I am alone, be well founded, I fear that the presentation to my - friend may repose elsewhere than on a chimney-piece of Upolu or Tahiti. - </p> - <p> - As a matter of fact, I read a short time ago an account of a remarkable - head-dress worn by a native chief, which struck me as having many points - in common with a massive dining-room marble clock. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI—THE SUB-EDITORS (continued). - </h2> - <p> - <i>The opium eater—A babbler o’ green fields—The “Brither - Scots”—A South Sea idyl—St. Andrew Lang Syne—An - intelligent community—The arrival of the “Bonnie Doon,” Mackellar, - master—Captain Mackellar “says a ‘sweer’”—A border raid on a - Newspaper—It pays—A raid of the wild Irish—Naugay Doola - as a Newspaper editor—An epic—How the editor came to buy my - emulsion—The constitutionially quarlsome sub-editor—The - melancholy man—Not without a cause—The use of the razor.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>NOTHER remarkable - type of the subeditor of the past was a middle-aged man whom it was my - privilege to study for some months. No one could account for a curious <i>distrait</i> - air which he frequently wore; but I had only to look at his eyes to become - aware of the secret of his life. I had seen enough of opium smokers in the - East to enable me to pronounce decisively on this “case.” He was a most - intelligent and widely-read man; but he had wrecked his life over opium. - He could not live without it, and with it he was utterly unfit for any - work. Night after night I did the wretched man’s work while he lay in a - corner of the room wandering through the opium eater’s paradise. After - some months he vanished, utterly from the town, and I never found a trace - of him elsewhere. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - He was much to be preferred to a curious Scotsman who succeeded him. It - was not the effects of opium that caused this person to lie in a corner - and babble o’ green fields upon certain occasions, such as the anniversary - of the birth of Robert Burns, the anniversary of the death of the same - poet, the celebration of the Annual Festival of St. Andrew, the Annual - Dinner of the Caledonian Society, the Anniversary Supper of the Royal - Scottish Association, the Banquet and Ball of the Sons of Scotia, the - “Nicht wi’ Our Ain Kin,” the Ancient Golf Dinner, the Curlers’ Reunion, - the “Rink and Drink” of the “Free Bowlers”—a local festival—the - Pipe and Bagpipe of the Clans Awa’ Frae Harne—another local club of - Caledonians. Each of these celebrations of the representatives of his - nation, which took place in the town to which he came—I need - scarcely say it was not in Scotland—was attended by him; hence the - babbling o’ green fields between the hours of one and three a.m. He - babbled once too often, and was sent forth to fresh fields by his - employer, who was not a “brither Scot.” I daresay he is babbling up to the - present hour. - </p> - <p> - In spite of the well-known and deeply-rooted prejudices of the Scottish - nation against the spirit of what may be termed racial cohesion, it cannot - be denied that they have been known now and again to display a tendency—when - outside Scotland—to localise certain of their national institutions. - They do so at considerable self-sacrifice, and the result is never - otherwise than beneficial to the locality operated on. No more adequately - attested narrative has been recorded than that of the two Shanghai - merchants—Messrs. Andrew Gareloch and Alexander MacClackan—who - were unfortunate enough to be wrecked on the voyage to England. They were - the sole survivors of the ship’s company, and the island upon which they - found themselves was in the middle of the Pacific, and about six miles - long by four across. In the lagoon were plenty of fish, and on the ridge - of the slope cocoanuts, loquats, plantains, and sweet potatoes were - growing, so that there was no question as to their supplies holding out. - After a good meal they determined that their first duty was to name the - island. They called it St. Andrew Lang Syne Island, and became as festive - and brotherly—they pronounced it “britherly”—as was possible - over cocoanut milk: it was a long time since either of them had tasted - milk. The second day they founded a local Benevolent Society of St. - Andrew, and held the inaugural dinner; the third day they founded a Burns - Club, and inaugurated the undertaking with a supper; the fourth day they - started a Scottish Association, and with it a series of monthly reunions - for the discussion of Scotch ballad literature; the fifth day they laid - out a golf links with the finest bunkers in the world, and instituted a - club lunch (strictly non-alcoholic); the sixth day they formed a Curling - Club—the lagoon would make a braw rink, they said, if it only froze; - if it didn’t freeze, well, they could still have the annual Curlers’ - supper—and they had it; the Seventh Day they <i>kept</i>. On the - evening of the same day a vessel was sighted bearing up for the island; - but, of course, neither of the men would hoist a signal on the Seventh - Day, and they watched the craft run past the island, though they were - amazed to find that she had only her courses and a foresail set, in spite - of the fact that the breeze was a light one. The next morning, when they - were sitting together at breakfast discussing whether they should lay the - foundation stone—with a commemorative lunch—of a free kirk, a - U.P. meeting-house, or an Auld Licht meeting-house—they had been - fiercely discussing the merits of each at every spare moment during the - previous twenty years at Shanghai—they saw the vessel returning with - all sail set and a signal flying. To run up one of their shirts to a pole - at the entrance to the lagoon was a matter of a moment, and they saw that - their signal was responded to. Sail was taken off the ship, she was - steered by signals from the shore through the entrance to the lagoons and - dropped anchor. - </p> - <p> - She turned out to be the <i>Bonnie Doon</i>, of Dundee, Douglas Mackellar, - master. He had found portions of wreckage floating at sea, and had thought - it possible that some of the survivors of the wreck might want passages - “hame.” - </p> - <p> - “Nae, nae,” said both the men, “we’re no in need o’ passages hame just the - noo. But what for did ye no mak’ for the passage yestere’en in the - gloaming?” - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” said Captain Mackellar, “I ran by aboot the mirk; but hoot awa’—hoot - awa’, ye wouldn’t hae me come ashore on the Sawbath Day.” - </p> - <p> - “Ye shortened sail, tho’,” remarked Mr. MacClackan. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, on Saturday nicht. I never let her do more than just sail on the - Sawbath. Why the eevil didn’t ye run up a bit signal, ye loons, if ye - spied me sae weel?” - </p> - <p> - “Hoot awa’—hoot awa’, ye wouldn’t hae us mak’ a signal on the - Sawbath day.” - </p> - <p> - “Na’, na’, no regular signal; but ye might hae run up a wee bittie—just - eneugh tae catch my e’en. Ay, an’ will ye nae come aboard?” - </p> - <p> - “We’ll hae to talk owre it, Captain.” - </p> - <p> - Well; they did talk over the matter, cautiously and discreetly, for a few - hours, for Captain Mackellar was a hard man at a bargain, and he would not - agree to give them a passage at anything less than two pound a head. At - last negotiations were concluded, the men got aboard the <i>Bonnie Doon</i> - and piloted her out of the lagoon. They reached the Clyde in safety, - having on the voyage found that Captain Mackellar was a religious man and - never used any but the most God-fearing of oaths at his crew. - </p> - <p> - “Weel, ma freends,” said he, as they approached Greenock—“Weel, I’m - in hopes that ye’ll be paying me the siller this e’en.” - </p> - <p> - “Ay, mon, that we will, certes,” said the passengers. “In the meantime, - we’d tak’ the liberty o’ calling your attention to a wee bit claim we hae - japped doon on a bit slip o’ paper. It’s three poon nine for harbour dues - that ye owe us, Captain Mackellar, and twa poon ten for pilotage—it’s - compulsory at yon island, so maybe ye’ll mak’ it convenient to hand us - owre the differs when we land. Ay, Douglas Mackellar, ye shouldn’a try to - get the better o’ brither Scots.” - </p> - <p> - Captain Douglas Mackellar was a God-fearing man, but he said “Dom!” - </p> - <p> - I once had some traffic with a newspaper office that had suffered from a - border raid. In the month of June a managing editor had been imported from - the Clyde, and although previously no “hand” from north of the Tweed had - ever been located within its walls, yet before December had come, to take - a stroll through any department of that office was like taking a walk down - Sauchiehall Street, or the Broomielaw. The foreman printer used weird - Scotch oaths, and his son was the “devil”—pronounced <i>deevil</i>. - His brother-in-law was the day foreman, and his brother-in-law’s son was a - junior clerk. The stereotyper was the stepson of the night foreman’s - mother, and he had a nephew who was the machinist, with a brother for his - assistant. The managing editor’s brother was sub-editor, and the man to - whom his wife had been engaged before she married him, was - assistant-editor. The assistant-editor’s uncle became the head of the - advertising department, and he had three sons; two of them became clerks - with progressive salaries, and the third became the chief reporter, also - with a progressive salary. In fact, the paper became a one-family show—it - was like a “nicht wi’ Burns,”—and no paper was ever worked better. - It never paid less than fifteen per cent. - </p> - <p> - A rather more amusing experience was of the overrunning of a newspaper - office by the wild Irishry. The organ in question had a somewhat chequered - career during the ten months that it existed. At one period—for even - as long as a month—it was understood to pay its expenses; but when - it failed to pay its expenses, no one else paid them; hence in time it - came to be looked upon as a rather unsound property. The original editor, - a man of ability and culture, declined to be dictated to in some delicate - political question by the proprietor, and took his departure without going - through the empty formality—it was, after all, only a point of - etiquette—of asking for the salary that was due to him. For some - weeks the paper was run—if something that scarcely crawled could be - said to be run—without an editor; then a red-headed Irishman of the - Namgay Doola type appeared—like a meteor surrounded by a nimbus of - brogue—in the editor’s room. His name was O’Keegan, but lest this - name might be puzzling to the English nation, he weakly gave in to their - prejudices and simplified it into O’Geogheghoiran. He was a Master of Arts - of the Royal University in Ireland, and a winner of gold medals for Greek - composition, as well as philosophy. He said he had passed at one time at - the head of the list of Indian Civil Service candidates, but was rejected - by the doctor on account of his weak lungs. When I met him his lungs had - apparently overcome whatever weakness they may once have had. He had a - colloquial acquaintance with Sanscrit, and he had also been one of the - best billiard markers in all Limerick. - </p> - <p> - I fancy he knew something about every science and art, except the art and - science of editing a daily newspaper on which the payment of salaries was - intermittent. In the course of a week a man from Galway had taken the - vacant and slightly injured chair of the sub-editor, a man from Waterford - said he had been appointed chief of the reporting staff, a man from - Tipperary said he was the new art editor and musical critic, and a man - from Kilkenny said he had been invited by his friend Mr. O’Geogheghoiran - to “do the reviews.” I have the best of reasons for knowing that he - fancied “doing the reviews” meant going into the park upon military - field-days, and reporting thereupon. - </p> - <p> - In short, the newspaper <i>staff</i> was an Irish blackthorn. - </p> - <p> - It began to “behave as sich.” - </p> - <p> - The office was situated down a court on my line of route homeward; and one - morning about three o’clock I was passing the entrance to the court when I - fancied I heard the sound of singing. I paused, and then, out of sheer - curiosity, moved in the direction of the newspaper premises. By the time I - had reached them the singing had broadened into recrimination. I have - noticed that singing is usually the first step in that direction. The - members of the literary staff had apparently assembled in the reporters’ - room, and, stealing past the flaring gas jet on the very rickety stairs, I - reached that window of the apartment which looked upon the lobby. When I - rubbed as much dust and grime off one of the panes as admitted of my - seeing into the room, I learned more about fighting in five minutes than I - had done during a South African campaign. - </p> - <p> - A dozen or so bottles of various breeds lay about the floor, and a variety - of drinking vessels lay about the long table at the moment of my glancing - through the window. Only for a moment, however, for in another second the - editor had leapt upon the table, and with one dexterous kick—a kick - that no amount of Association play could cause one to acquire; a kick that - must have been handed down, so to speak, from father to son, unto the - third and fourth generations of backs—had sent every drinking vessel - into the air. One—it was a jug—struck the ceiling, and brought - down a piece of plaster about the size of a cart-wheel; but before the - mist that followed this transaction had risen to obscure everything, I saw - that a tumbler had shot out through the window that looked upon the court. - I heard the crash below a moment afterwards. A mug had caught the - corresponding portion of the anatomy of the gentleman from Waterford, and - it irritated him; a cup crashed at the open mouth of the reviewer from - Kilkenny, and, so far as I could see, he swallowed it; a tin pannikin - carried away a portion of the ear of the musical critic from Tipperary—it - was so large that he could easily spare a chip or so of it, though some - sort of an ear is essential to the conscientious discharge of the duties - of musical critic. - </p> - <p> - For some time after, I could not see very distinctly what was going on in - the room, for the dust from the dislodged plaster began to rise, and - “friend and foe were shadows in the mist.” Now and again I caught a - glimpse of the red-head of the Master of Arts and Gold Medallist - permeating the mist, as the western sun permeates the smoke that hangs - over a battle-field; and wherever that beacon-fire appeared devastation - was wrought. The subeditor had gone down before him—so much I could - see; and then all was dimness and yells again—yells that brought - down more of the plaster and a portion of the stucco cornice; yells that - chipped flakes off the marble mantelpiece and sent them quivering through - the room; yells that you might have driven tenpenny nails home with. - </p> - <p> - Then the dust-cloud drifted away, and I was able to form a pretty good - idea of what was going on. The meeting in mid-air of the ten-light - gasalier, which the dramatic critic had pulled down, and the iron fender, - which the chief of the reporting staff had picked up when he saw that his - safety was imperilled, was epic. The legs of chairs and stools flying - through the air suggested a blackboard illustration of a shower of - meteors; every now and again one crashed upon a head and cannoned off - against the wall, where it sometimes lodged and became a bracket that you - might have hung a coat on, or else knocked a brick into the adjoining - apartment. - </p> - <p> - The room began to assume an untidy appearance after a while; but I noticed - that the editor was making praiseworthy efforts to speak. I sympathised - with the difficulty he seemed to have in that direction. It was not until - he had folded in two the musical critic and the chief reporter, and had - seated himself upon them without straightening them out, that his voice - was heard. - </p> - <p> - “Boys,” he cried, “if this work goes on much longer I fear there’ll be a - breach of the peace. Anyhow, I’m thirsty. I’ve a dozen of porter in my - room.” - </p> - <p> - The only serious accident of the evening occurred at this point. The - reviewer got badly hurt through being jammed in with the other six in the - door leading to the editor’s room. - </p> - <p> - The next morning the paper came out as usual, and the fact that the - leaders were those that had appeared on the previous day, and that the - Parliamentary report had been omitted, was not noticed. I met the - red-haired editor as he came out of a chemist’s shop that afternoon. I - asked, as delicately as possible, after his health. - </p> - <p> - “I’d be well enough if it wasn’t for the sense of responsibility that - sometimes oppresses me,” said he. “It’s a terrible weight on a single - man’s shoulders that a daily paper is, so it is.” - </p> - <p> - “No doubt,” said I. “Do you feel it on your shoulders now?” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t I just?” said he. “I’ve been buying some emulsion inside to see if - that will give me any ease.” - </p> - <p> - He then told me a painfully circumstantial story of how, when walking home - early in the morning, he was set upon by some desperate miscreant, who had - struck him twice upon his left eye, which might account, he said, for any - slight discolouration I might notice in the region of that particular - organ if I looked closely at it. - </p> - <p> - “But what’s the matter with your hair?” - </p> - <p> - I inquired. “It looks as if it had been powdered.” - </p> - <p> - “Blast it!” said he, taking off his hat, and disclosing several hillocks - of red heather with a patch of white sticking-plaster on their summits—like - the illustration of the snow line on a geological model of the earth’s - surface. “Blast it! It must have been the ceiling. It’s a dog’s life an - editor’s is, anyhow.” - </p> - <p> - I never saw him again. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Of course, the foregoing narrative is only illustrative of the exuberance - of the Irish nature under depressing circumstances; but I have also come - in contact with sub-editors who were constitutionally quarrelsome. They - were nearly as disagreeable to work with as those who were perpetually - standing on their dignity—men who were never without a complaint of - being insulted. I bore with one of this latter class longer than any one - else would have done. He was the most incompetent man whom I ever met, so - that one night when he growled out that he had never been so badly treated - by his inferiors as he was just at that instant, I had no compunction in - saying,— - </p> - <p> - “By whom?” - </p> - <p> - “By my inferiors in this office,” he replied. - </p> - <p> - “I’d like to know where your inferiors are,” said I. “They’re not in this - office—so much I can swear. I doubt if they are in any other.” - </p> - <p> - He asked me if I meant to insult him, and I assured him that I invariably - made my meaning so plain when I had occasion to say anything, there was no - excuse for asking what I meant. - </p> - <p> - He never talked to me again about being insulted. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Another curious specimen of an extinct animal was subject to remarkable - fits of depression and moroseness. He offered to make me a bet one night - that he would not be alive on that day week. I took him up promptly, and - offered to stake a five-pound note on the issue, provided that he did the - same. He said he hadn’t a five-pound note in the world, though he had been - toiling like a galley slave for twenty years. I pitied the poor fellow, - though it was not until I saw his wife—a mass of black beads and - pomatum—that I recognised his right to the consolation of pessimism. - I believe that he was only deterred from suicide by an irresistible belief - in a future state. He had heard a well-meant but injudicious sermon in - which the statement was made that husband and wife, though parted by - death, would one day be reunited. Believing this he lived on. What was the - use of doing anything else? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I met with another sub-editor on whom for a period I looked with some - measure of awe, being <i>in statu pupillari</i> at the time. - </p> - <p> - Every night he used to take a razor out of his press and lay it beside his - desk, having opened it with great deliberation and a hard look upon his - haggard face. I believed that he was possessed of strong suicidal - impulses, and that he was placing the razor where it would be handy in - case he should find it necessary to make away with himself some night or - in the early hours of the morning. - </p> - <p> - I held him in respect for just one month. At the end of that time I saw - him sharpening his pencil with the razor, and I ventured to inquire if he - usually employed the instrument for that purpose. - </p> - <p> - “I do,” he replied. “I lost six penknives in this room within a fortnight; - those blue-pencilled reporters use up a lot of knives, and they never buy - any, so I brought down this old razor. They’ll not steal that.” - </p> - <p> - And they didn’t. - </p> - <p> - But I lost all respect for that sub-editor. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII.—SOME EXTINCT TYPES. - </h2> - <p> - <i>A perturbed spirit—The loss of a fortune—A broken bank—A - study in bimetallism—Auri sacra fames—A rough diamond—A - friend of the peerage—And of Dublin stout—His weaknesses—The - Quarterly Review—The dilemma—An amateur hospital nurse—A - terrible night—Benvenuto Cellini—A subtle jest—The - disappearance of the jester—An appropriated leaderette—An - appropriated anecdote—An appropriated quatrain.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>NCE I saw a - sub-editor actually within easy reach of suicide. It was not the - duplicating of a five-column speech in flimsy, nor was it that the foreman - printer had broken his heart. It was that he had been the victim of a - heartless theft. His savings of years had been carried off in the course - of a single night. So he explained to me with “tears in his eyes, - distraction in’s aspect,” when I came down to the office one evening. He - was walking up and down his room, with three hours’ arrears of unopened - telegrams on his desk and a <i>p.p.c.</i> note from the foreman beneath a - leaden “rule,” used as a paper weight; for the foreman, being, as usual, a - conscientious man, invariably promised to hand in his notice at sundown if - kept waiting for copy. - </p> - <p> - “What on earth is the matter?” I inquired. - </p> - <p> - “Is it neuralgia or——” - </p> - <p> - “It’s worse—worse!” he moaned. “I’ve lost all my money—all—all! - there’s the tin I kept it in—see for yourself if there’s a penny - left in it.” He threw himself into his chair and bowed down his head upon - his hands. - </p> - <p> - Far off a solitary (speaking) trumpet blew. - </p> - <p> - “If the hands are to go home you’ve only got to say so and I release - them,” was the message that was delivered into my ear when I went to the - end of the tube communicating with the foreman. - </p> - <p> - “Three columns will be out inside half an hour,” I replied. Then I turned - to the sobbing sub-editor. “Come,” said I, “bear it like a man. It’s a - terrible thing, of course, but still it must be faced. Tell me how many - pounds you’ve lost, and I’ll put the matter into the hands of the police.” - </p> - <p> - He looked up with a vacant white face. - </p> - <p> - “How many—there were a hundred and forty pence in the tin when I - went home last night. See if there’s a penny left.” - </p> - <p> - A cursory glance at the chocolate tin that lay on the table was quite - sufficient to convince me that it was empty. - </p> - <p> - “Cheer up,” I said. “A hundred and forty pence. It sounds large in pence, - to be sure, but when you think of it from the standard of the silver - currency it doesn’t seem so formidable. Eleven and eightpence. Of course - it’s a shocking thing. Was it all in pence?” - </p> - <p> - “All—all—every penny of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Keep up your heart. We may be able to trace the money. I suppose you are - prepared to identify the coins?” - </p> - <p> - He ran his fingers through his hair, and I could see that he was striving - manfully to collect his thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “Identify? I could swear to them if I saw them in the lump—one - hundred and forty—one—hundred—and—forty—pence! - Yes, I’ll swear that I could swear to them in the lump. But singly—oh, - I’ll never see them again!” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me how it came about that you had so much money in this room,” said - I, beginning to open the telegrams. “Man, did you not think of the - terrible temptation that you were placing in the way of the less opulent - members of the staff? Eleven and eight in a disused chocolate tin! It’s a - temptation like this that turns honest men into thieves.” - </p> - <p> - Then it was that he informed me on the point upon which I confess I was - curious—namely, how he came to have this fortune in copper. - </p> - <p> - His wife, he said, was in the habit of giving him a penny every rainy - night, this being his tramcar fare from his house to his office. But—he - emphasised this detail—she was usually weak enough not to watch to - see whether he got into the tramcar or not, and the consequence was that, - unless the night was very wet indeed, he was accustomed to walk the whole - way and thus save the penny, which he nightly deposited in the chocolate - tin: he could not carry it home with him, he said, for his wife would be - certain to find it when she searched his waistcoat pockets before he arose - in the morning. - </p> - <p> - “For a hundred and forty times you persevered in this course of duplicity - for the sake of the temporary gain!” said I. “It is this craving to become - quickly rich that is the curse of the nineteenth century. I thought that - journalists were free from it; I find that they are as bad as Stock - Exchange gamblers or magazine proprietors. Oh, gold! gold! Go on with your - work or there’ll be a blue-pencilled row to-morrow. Don’t fancy you’ll - obtain the sympathy of any human being in your well-earned misfortune. You - don’t deserve to have so good a wife. A penny every rainy night—a - penny! Oh, I lose all patience when I think of your complaining. Go on - with your work.” - </p> - <p> - He went on with his work. - </p> - <p> - Some months after this incident he thought it necessary to tell me that he - was a Scotchman. - </p> - <p> - It was not necessary; but I asked him if his wife was one too. - </p> - <p> - “Not exactly,” said he argumentatively. “But she’s a native of Scotland—I’ll - say that much for her.” - </p> - <p> - I afterwards heard that he had become the proprietor of that very journal - upon which he had been sub-editor. - </p> - <p> - I was not surprised. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - My memories of the sub-editor’s room include a three months’ experience of - a remarkable man. He imposed upon me for nearly a week, telling me - anecdotes of the distinguished persons whom he had met in the course of - his career. It seemed to me—for a week—that he was the darling - of the most exclusive society in Europe. He talked about noble lords by - their Christian names, and of noble ladies with equal breezy freedom. Many - of his anecdotes necessitated a verbatim report of the replies made by - marquises and countesses to his playful sallies; and I noticed that, so - far as his recollection served him, they had always addressed him as - George; sometimes—but only in the case of over-familiar daughters of - peers—Georgie. I felt—for a week—that journalism had - made a sensible advance socially when such things were possible. Perhaps, - I thought, some day the daughter of a peer may distort my name, so that I - may not die undistinguished. - </p> - <p> - I have seen a good many padded peeresses and dowdy duchesses since those - days, and my ambition has somehow drifted into other channels; but while - the man talked of his intimacies with peers, and his friendship—he - assured me on his sacred word of honour (whatever that meant) that it was - perfectly Platonic—with peeresses. - </p> - <p> - I was carried away—for a week. - </p> - <p> - He was an undersized man, with a rooted prejudice against soap and the - comb. He spoke like a common man, and wore clothes that were clearly - second-hand. He posed as the rough diamond, the untamed literary lion, the - genius who refuses to be trammelled by the usages—most of them - purely artificial—of society, and on whom society consequently - dotes. - </p> - <p> - What he doted on was Dublin stout. If he had acquired during his - intercourse with the aristocracy their effete taste in the way of - drinking, he certainly managed to chasten it. He drank six bottles of - stout in the course of a single night, and regretted that there was not a - seventh handy. - </p> - <p> - For a month he did his work moderately well, but at the end of that time - he began to put it upon other people. He made excuse after excuse to shirk - his legitimate duties. One night he came down with a swollen face. He was - suffering inexpressible agony from toothache, he said, and if he were to - sit down to his desk he really would not guarantee that some shocking - mistake would not occur. He would, he declared, be serving the best - interests of the paper if he were to go home to his bed. He only waited to - drink a bottle of stout before going. - </p> - <p> - A few days after his return to work he entered the office enveloped in an - odoriferous muffler, and speaking hoarsely. He had, he said, caught so - severe a cold that the doctor was not going to allow him to leave his - house; but so soon as he got his back turned, he had run down to tell us - that it was impossible for him to do anything for a night or two. He - wanted to bind us down in the most solemn way not to let the doctor know - that he came out, and we promised to let no one know except the manager. - This assurance somehow did not seem to satisfy him. But he drank a bottle - of porter and went away. - </p> - <p> - The very next week he came to me in confidence, telling me that he had - just received the proofs of his usual political article in the <i>Quarterly</i>, - and that the editor had taken the trouble to telegraph to him to return - the proofs for press without fail the next day. Now, the only question - with him was, should he chuck up the <i>Quarterly</i>, for which he had - written for many years, or the humble daily paper in the office of which - he was standing. - </p> - <p> - I did not venture to suggest a solution of the problem. - </p> - <p> - He did. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe you wouldn’t mind taking a squint”—his phraseology was that - of the rough genius—“through the telegrams for to-night,” said he. - “I don’t like to impose on a good-natured sonny like you, but you see how - I’m situated. Confound that <i>Quarterly!</i>” - </p> - <p> - “Do you do the political article for the <i>Quarterly?</i>” I asked. - </p> - <p> - “Man, I’ve done it for the past eleven years,” said he. “I thought every - one knew that. It’s editor of the <i>Quarterly</i> that I should be to-day - if William Smith hadn’t cut me out of the job. But I bear him no malice—bless - your soul, not I. You’ll go over the flimsies?” - </p> - <p> - I said I would, and he wiped a bath sponge of porter-froth off his beard - in order to thank me. - </p> - <p> - I knew that he was telling me a lie about the <i>Quarterly</i>, but I did - his work. - </p> - <p> - Less than a week after, he entered my room to express the hope that I - would be able to make arrangements to have his work done for him once - again, the fact being that he had just received a message from Mrs. - Thompson—the wife of young Thompson, the manager for Messrs. Gibson, - the shippers—to ask him for heaven’s sake to help her to look after - her husband that night. Young Thompson had been behaving rather wildly of - late, it appeared, and was suffering from an attack of that form of - heredity known as <i>delirium tremens</i>. He had been held down in the - bed by three men and Mrs. Thompson the previous night, my informant said, - and added that he himself would probably be one of a fresh batch on whom a - similar duty would devolve inside an hour or so. - </p> - <p> - He had scarcely left the office—after refreshing himself by the - artificial aid of Guinness—before a knock came to my door, and the - next moment Mr. Thompson himself quietly entered. I saw that the poker was - within easy reach, and then asked him how he was. - </p> - <p> - “I’m all right,” he replied. “I merely dropped in to borrow the <i>Glasgow - Herald</i> for a few minutes. I heard to-day that a ship of ours was - reported as spoken, but I can’t find it in any paper that has come to us.” - </p> - <p> - “You can have the <i>Herald</i> with pleasure,” said I. “You didn’t go to - the concert last night?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said he. “You see it was the night of our choir practice, and I had - to attend it to keep the others up to their work.” - </p> - <p> - The next night I asked the sub-editor how his friend Mr. Thompson was, and - if he had experienced much difficulty in keeping him from making an - onslaught upon the snakes. - </p> - <p> - He shook his head solemnly, as if his experiences of the previous night - were too terrible to be expressed in ordinary colloquialisms. - </p> - <p> - “Sonny,” said he, “pray that you may never see all that I saw last night.” - </p> - <p> - “Or all that Thompson saw,” said I. “Was he very bad?” - </p> - <p> - “As bad as they make them,” he replied. “I sat on his head for hours at a - stretch.” - </p> - <p> - “When he was off his head you were on it?” - </p> - <p> - “Ay; but every now and again he would, by an almost superhuman effort, - toss me half way up to the ceiling. Man, it was an awful night! It’s - heartless of me not being with the poor woman now; but I said I’d do a - couple of hours’ work before going.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said I. “Maybe Thompson will call here and you can walk up - with him.” - </p> - <p> - “Thompson call? What the blue pencil do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Just what I say. If you had waited for five minutes last night you might - have had his company up to that pleasant little <i>séance</i> in which you - turned his head into a chair. He called to see the <i>Glasgow Herald</i> - before you could have reached the end of the street.” - </p> - <p> - He gave a little gasp. - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t say Thompson, did I?” he asked, after a pause. - </p> - <p> - “You certainly did,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll be forgetting my own name next,” said he. “The man’s name is - Johnston—he lives in the corner house of the row I lodge in.” - </p> - <p> - “Anyhow, you’ll not see him to-night,” said I. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The fellow failed to exasperate me even then. But he succeeded early the - next month. He came to me one night with a magazine in his hand. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if the boss”—I think I mentioned that he was a rough - diamond—“would mind my inserting a column or so of extracts from - this paper of mine in the <i>Drawing Room</i> on Benvenuto Cellini?” He - pronounced the name “Selliny.” - </p> - <p> - “On whom is the paper?” I inquired. - </p> - <p> - “Selliny—Benvenuto Selliny. I’ve made Selliny my own—no man - living can touch me there. I knocked off the thing in a hurry, but it - reads very well, though I say it who shouldn’t.” - </p> - <p> - “Why shouldn’t you say it?” I inquired. - </p> - <p> - “Well when you’ve written as much as me,”—he was a rough diamond—“maybe - you’ll be as modest,” he cried, gaily. “When you can knock off a paper——” - </p> - <p> - “There’s one paper that you’ll not knock off, but that you’ll be pretty - soon knocked off,” said I; “and that paper is the one that you are - connected with just now. If lies were landed property you’d be one of the - largest holders of real estate in the world. I never met such a liar as - you are. You never wrote that article on Benvenuto Cellini—you don’t - even know how to pronounce the man’s name.” - </p> - <p> - “The boy’s mad—mad!” he cried, with a laugh that was not a laugh. - “Mr. Barton,”—the managing editor had entered the room,—“this - fair-haired young gentleman is a bit off his head, I’m thinking.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m not off my head in the least,” said I. “Do you mean to say, in the - presence of Mr. Barton, that you wrote that paper in the <i>Drawing Room</i> - on Benvenuto Cellini?” - </p> - <p> - “Do you want me to take my oath that I wrote it?” said he. “What makes you - think that I didn’t write it?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing beyond the fact that I wrote it myself, and that this slip of - paper which I hold in my hand is the cheque that was sent to me in payment - for it, and that this other slip is the usual form of acknowledgment—you - see the title of the article on the side—which I have to post - to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - There was a silence in the room. The managing editor had seated himself in - my chair and was scribbling something at the desk. - </p> - <p> - “My fair-haired friend,” said the sub-editor, “I thought that you would - have seen from the first the joke I was playing on you. Why, man, the - instant I read the paper I knew it was by you. Don’t you fancy that I know - your fluent style by this time?” - </p> - <p> - “I fancy that there’s no greater liar on earth than yourself,” said I. - </p> - <p> - “Look here,” he cried, assuming a menacing attitude. “I can stand a lot, - but——” - </p> - <p> - “And so can I,” said the managing editor, “but at last the breaking strain - is reached. That paper will allow of your drawing a month’s salary - to-morrow,”—he handed him the paper which he had scribbled,—“and - I think that as this office has done without you for eleven nights during - the past month, it will do without you for the twelfth. Don’t let me find - you below when I am going away.” - </p> - <p> - He didn’t. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I cannot say that I ever met another man connected with a newspaper quite - so unscrupulous as the man with whom I have just dealt. I can certainly - safely say that I never again knew of a journalist laying claim to the - authorship of anything that I wrote, either in a daily paper, where - everything is anonymous, or in a magazine, where I employed a pseudonym. - No one thought it worth his while doing so. A man who was not a - journalist, however, took to himself the honour and glory associated with - the writing of a leaderette of mine on the excellent management of a local - library. The man who was idiot enough to do so was a theological student - in the Presbyterian interest. He began to frequent the library without - previously having paid his fare, and on being remonstrated with mildly by - the young librarian, said that surely it was not a great concession on the - part of the committee to allow him the run of the building after the - article he had written in the leading newspaper on the manner in which the - institution was conducted. It so happened, however, that the librarian - had, at my request, furnished me with the statistics that formed the basis - of the leaderette, and he had no hesitation in saying of the divinity - student at his leisure what David said of all men in his haste. But after - being thrust out of the library and called an impostor, the divinity - student went home and wrote a letter signed “Theologia,” in which he made - a furious onslaught upon the management of the library, and had the - effrontery to demand its insertion in the newspaper the next day. - </p> - <p> - He is now a popular and deservedly respected clergyman, and I hear that - his sermon on Acts v., 1-11 is about to be issued in pamphlet form. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Curiously enough quite recently a man in whose chambers I was - breakfasting, pointed out to me what he called a good story that had - appeared in a paper on the previous evening. - </p> - <p> - The paragraph in which it was included was as follows:— - </p> - <p> - “A rather amusing story is told by the <i>Avilion Gazettes</i> Special - Commissioner in his latest article on ‘Ireland as it is and as it would - be.’ It is to the effect that some of the Irish members recently wished to - cross the Channel for half-a-crown each, and to that end called on a boat - agent, a Tory, who knew them, when the following conversation took place:— - </p> - <p> - “‘Can we go across for half-a-crown each?’ - </p> - <p> - “‘No, ye can’t, thin.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘An’ why not?’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Because’tis a cattle boat.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Nevermind that, sure we’re not particular.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘No, but the cattle are.’” - </p> - <p> - That was the entire paragraph.. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a bit rough on your compatriots,” said my host. “You look as if you - feel it.” - </p> - <p> - “I do,” said I; “I feel it to be rather sad that a story that a fellow - takes the trouble to invent and to print in a pamphlet, should be picked - up by an English correspondent in Dublin, printed in one of his letters - from Ireland, and afterwards published in a London evening paper without - any acknowledgment being made of the source whence it was derived.” - </p> - <p> - And that is my opinion still. The story was a pure invention of my own, - and it was printed in an anonymous skit, only without the brogue. It was - left for the English Special Commissioner to make a feature of the brogue, - of which, of course, he had become a master, having been close upon two - days in Dublin. - </p> - <p> - But the most amusing thing to me was to find that the sub-editor of the - newspaper with which I was connected had actually cut the paragraph out of - the London paper and inserted it in our columns. He pointed it out to me - on my return, and asked me if I didn’t think it a good story. - </p> - <p> - I said it was first rate, and inquired if he had ever heard the story - before. He replied that he never had. - </p> - <p> - That was, I repeat, the point of the whole incident which amused me most; - for I had made the sub-editor a present of the original pamphlet, and he - said he had enjoyed it immensely. - </p> - <p> - He also hopes to be one day an ordained clergyman. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - When in Ireland during the General Election of 1892, I got a telegram one - night informing me that Mr. Justin M’Carthy had been defeated in Derry - that day by Mr. Ross, Q.C. - </p> - <p> - It occurred to me that if a quatrain could be made upon the incident it - might be read the next day. The following was the result of the great - mental effort necessary to bring to bear upon the task:— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “That the Unionists Derry can win - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Is a matter to-day beyond doubt; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - For Ross the Q.C. is just in, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And the one that’s Justin is just out.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I put my initials to this masterpiece, and I need scarcely say that I was - dizzy with pride when it appeared at the head of a column the next - morning. Now, that thing kept staring me in the face out of every - newspaper, English as well as Irish, that I picked up during the next - fortnight, only it appeared without my initials, but in compensation bore - as preface, lest the reader might be amazed at coming too suddenly upon - such subtle humour, these words:— - </p> - <p> - “The following epigram by a Dublin wit is being widely circulated in the - Irish metropolis.” Some months afterwards, when I chanced to pay a visit - to Dublin, the author of the epigram was pointed out to me. - </p> - <p> - “So it was he who wrote that thing about just in and just out?” I - remarked. - </p> - <p> - “It was,” said my friend. “I’d introduce you to him only, between - ourselves, though a nice enough fellow before he wrote that, <i>he hasn’t - been very approachable since</i>.” - </p> - <p> - I felt extremely obliged to the gentleman. I thought of Mary Barton, the - heroic lady represented by Miss Bateman long ago, who had accused herself - of the crime committed by another. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII.—MEN, MENUS, AND MANNERS. - </h2> - <p> - <i>A humble suggestion—The reviewer from Texas—His treatment - of the story of Joseph and his Brethren—A few flare-up headings—The - Swiss pastor—Some musical critics—“Il Don Giovanni”—A - subtle point—Newspaper suppers—Another suggestion—The - bitter cry of the journalist—The plurality of porridge—An - object lesson superior to grammatical rules—The bloater as a supper - dish—Scarcely an unequivocal success.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> HOPE I may not be - going too far when I express the hope in this place that any critic who - finds out that some of my jottings are ancient will do me the favour to - state where the originals are to be found. I have sufficient curiosity to - wish to see how far the jottings deviate from the originals. - </p> - <p> - In the preparation of stories for the Press it is, I feel more impressed - every day, absolutely necessary to bear in mind the authentic case of the - young sailor’s mother who abused him for telling her so palpably - impossible a yarn about his having seen fish rise from the water and fly - along like birds, but who was quite ready to accept his account of the - crimson expanse of the Red Sea. Some of the most interesting incidents - that have actually come under my notice could not possibly be published if - accuracy were strictly observed as to the details. They are “owre true” to - obtain credence.. - </p> - <p> - In this category, however, I do not include the story about the gentleman - from Texas who, after trying various employments in Boston to gain a - dishonest livelihood, represented himself at a newspaper office as a - journalist, and only asked for a trial job. The editor, believing he saw - an excellent way of getting rid of a parcel of books that had come for - review, flung him the lot and told him to write three-quarters of a column - of flare-up head-lines, and a quarter of reviews, and maybe some fool - might be attracted to the book column. Now, at the top of the batch there - chanced to be the first instalment of a new Polyglot Bible, after the plan - so successfully adopted by Messrs. Bagster, about to be issued in parts, - and the reviewer failed to recognise the Book of Genesis, which he - accordingly read for fetching head-lines. The result of his labours by - some oversight appeared in the next issue of the paper, and attracted a - considerable amount of interest in religious circles in Boston. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0136.jpg" alt="0136 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0136.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The remaining quarter of a column was occupied by a circumstantial and - highly colloquial account of the incidents recorded in the Book of - Genesis, and it very plainly suggested that the work had been published by - Messrs. Hoskins as a satire upon the success of the Hebrew race in the New - England States. The reviewer even made an attempt to identify Joseph with - a prominent Republican politician, and Potiphar’s wife with the Democratic - party, who were alleged to be making overtures to the same gentleman. - </p> - <p> - But I really did once meet with a sub-editor who had reviewed “The Swiss - Family Robinson” as a new work. He commenced by telling the readers of the - newspaper that the book was a wholesome story of a worthy Swiss pastor, - and so forth. - </p> - <p> - I also knew a musical critic who, on being entrusted with the duty of - writing a notice of <i>Il Don Giovanni</i>, as performed by the Carl Rosa - Company, began as follows: “Don Giovanni, the gentleman from whom the - opera takes its name, was a licentious Spanish nobleman of the past - century.” The notice gave some account of the <i>affaires</i> of this - newly-discovered reprobate, glossing over the Zerlina business rather more - than Mozart thought necessary to do, but being very bitter against - Leporello, “his valet and confidant,” and finally expressing the opinion - somewhat dogmatically that “few of the public would be disposed to say - that the fate which overtook this callous scoundrel was not well earned by - his persistence in a course of unjustifiable vice. The music is tuneful - and was much encored.” - </p> - <p> - Upon the occasion of this particular representation I recollect that I - wrote, “An Italian version of a Spanish story, set to music by a German, - conducted by a Frenchman, and interpreted by a Belgian, a Swiss, an - Irishman and a Canadian—this is what is meant by English Opera.” - </p> - <p> - My notice gave great offence; but the other was considered excellent. - </p> - <p> - The moral tone that pervaded it was most praiseworthy, the people said. - </p> - <p> - And so it was. - </p> - <p> - I have got about five hundred musical jottings which, if provoked, I may - one day publish; but, meantime, I cannot refrain from giving one - illustration of the way in which musical notices were managed long ago. - </p> - <p> - Madame Adelina Patti had made her first (and farewell) appearance in the - town where I was located. I was engaged about two o’clock in the morning - putting what I considered to be the finishing touches to the column which - I had written about the diva’s concert, when the reporter of the leading - paper burst into the room in which I was writing. He was in rather a - dishevelled condition, and he approached me and whispered that he wanted - to ask me a question outside—there were others in the room. I went - through the door with him and inquired what I could do for him. - </p> - <p> - “I was marked for that blessed concert, and I went too, and now I’m - writing the notice,” said he. “But what I want to know is this—<i>Is - Patti a soprano or a contralto?</i>” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I have just now discovered that it would be unwise for me to continue very - much farther these reminiscences of editors and sub-editors, the fact - being that I have some jottings about every one of the race whom I have - ever met, and when one gets into a desultory vein of anecdotage like that - in which I now find myself for the first time in my life, one is liable to - exhaust a reader’s forbearance before one’s legitimate subject has become - exhausted. I think it may be prudent to make a diversion at this period - from the sub-editors of the past to the suppers of the newspaper office. - Gastronomy as a science is not drawn out to its finest point within these - precincts. There is still something left to be desired by such persons as - are fastidious. I have for long thought that it would be by no means - extravagant to expect every newspaper office to be supplied with a - kitchen, properly furnished, and with the “good plain cook,” who so - constantly figures in the columns (advertising), at hand to turn out the - suppers for all departments engaged in the production of the paper. - </p> - <p> - It is inconvenient for an editor to be compelled to cook his own supper at - his gas stove, while the flimsies of the speech upon which he is writing - are being laid on his desk by the sub-editor, and the foreman’s messenger - is asking for them almost before they have ceased to flutter in the - cooling draught created by opening the door. Equally inconvenient is it - for the sub-editor and the reporters to get something to prevent them from - succumbing to starvation. The compositors in some offices have lately - instituted a rule by which they “knock off” for supper at half-past ten; - but what sort of a meal do they get to sustain them until four in the - morning? I have no hesitation in pronouncing it to be almost as - indifferent as that upon which the editor is forced to subsist for, - perhaps, the same period. I have seen the compositors—some of them - earning £5 a week—crouching under their cases, munching hunches (the - onomatopæia is Homeric) of bread, while their cans of tea—that - abomination of cold tea warmed up—were stewing over their gas - burners. - </p> - <p> - In the sub-editors’ room, and the reporters’ room, tea was also being - cooked, or bottles of stout drunk, the accompanying, comestibles being - bread or biscuits. After swallowing tea that has been stewing on its - leaves for half-an-hour, and eating a slab of office bread out of one hand - while the other holds the pen, the editor writes an article on the - grievances of shopmen who are only allowed an hour for dinner and - half-an-hour for tea; or, upon the slavery of a barmaid; or, perhaps, - composes a nice chatty half-column on the progress of dyspepsia and the - necessity for attending carefully to one’s diet. - </p> - <p> - Now, I affirm that no newspaper office should be without a kitchen. The - compositors should be given a chance of obtaining all the comforts of home - at a lesser cost than they could be provided at home; and later on in the - night the reporters, sub-editors, and editor should be able to send up - messages as to the hour they mean to take supper, and the dish which they - would like to have. Here is an opportunity for the Institute of - Journalists. Let them take sweet counsel together on the great kitchen - question, and pass a resolution “that in the opinion of the Institute a - kitchen in complete working order should form part of every morning - newspaper office; and that a cook, holding a certificate from South - Kensington, or, better still, Mrs. Marshall, should be regarded as - essential to the working staff as the editor.” - </p> - <p> - I do not say that a box of Partagas, or Carolinas, should be provided by - the management for every room occupied by the literary staff; though - undoubtedly a move in the right direction, yet I fear that public feeling - has not yet been sufficiently aroused by the bitter cry of the journalist, - to make the cigar-box and the club chair probable; but I do say that since - journalism has become a profession, those who practise it should be - treated as if they were as deserving of consideration as the salesmen in - drapers’ shops. Surely, as we have sent the bitter cry into all the ends - of the earth on behalf of others, we might be permitted the luxury of a - little bitter cry on our own account. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - This brings me down to the recollections I retain of the strange ideas - that some of the staff of journals with which I have been connected, - possessed as to the most appropriate menu for supper. One of these - gentlemen, for instance, was accustomed to make oatmeal porridge in a - saucepan for himself about two o’clock in the morning. When accused of - being a Scotchman, he indignantly denied that he was one. He admitted, - however, that he was an Ulsterman, and this was considered even worse by - his accusers. He invariably alluded to the porridge in the plural, calling - it “them.” I asked him one night why the thing was entitled to a plural, - and he said it was because no one but a blue-pencilled fool would allude - to it as otherwise. I had the curiosity to inquire farther how much - porridge was necessary to be in the saucepan before it became entitled to - a plural; if, for instance, there was only a spoonful, surely it would be - rather absurd to still speak of it as “them.” He replied, after some - thought, that though he had never considered the matter in all its - bearings, yet his impression was that even a spoonful was entitled to a - plural. - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever hear any one allude to brose as ‘it’?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - I admitted that I never had. - </p> - <p> - “Then if you call brose ‘them,’ why shouldn’t you call stirabout ‘them’?” - he asked, triumphantly. - </p> - <p> - “I must confess that I never had the matter brought so forcibly before - me,” said I. - </p> - <p> - As he was going to “sup them,” as he termed the operation of ladling the - contents of the saucepan into his mouth, I hastily left the room. I have - eaten tiffin within easy reach of a dozen lepers on Robben Island in Table - Bay, I have taken a hearty supper in a tent through which a camel every - now and again thrust its nose, I have enjoyed a biltong sandwich on the - seat of an African bullock waggon with a Kaffir beside me, I have even - eaten a sausage snatched by the proprietor from the seething panful in the - window of a shop in the Euston Road—I did so to celebrate the - success of a play of mine at the Grand Theatre—but I could not - remain in the room while that literary gentleman partook of that simple - supper of his. - </p> - <p> - On my return when he had finished I never failed to allow in the most - cordial way the right of the preparation to a plural. It was to be found - in every part of the room; the table, the chairs, the floor, the - fireplace, the walls, the ceiling—all bore token to the fact that it - was not one but many. - </p> - <p> - In the hands of a true Ulsterman stirabout “are” a terrible weapon. - </p> - <p> - As a mural decorative medium “they” leave much to be desired. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Only one man connected with the Press did - </p> - <p> - I ever know addicted to the bloater as a supper dish. The man came among - us like a shadow and disappeared as such, after a week of incompetence; - but he left a memory behind him that not all the perfumes of Arabia can - neutralise. It was about one o’clock in the morning—he had come on - duty that night—that there floated through the newspaper office a - dense blue smoke and a smell—such a smell! It was of about the same - density as an ironclad. One felt oneself struggling through it as though - it were a mass of chilled steel plates, backed with soft iron. On the - upper floor we were built in by it, so to speak. It arose on every side of - us like the wall of a prison, and we kept groping around it for a hole - large enough to allow of our crawling through. Two of us, after battering - at that smell for a quarter of an hour, at last discovered a narrow - passage in it made by a current of air from an open window, and having - squeezed ourselves through, we ran downstairs to the sub-editors’ room. - </p> - <p> - Through the crawling blue smoke we could just make out the figure of a man - standing in his shirt sleeves in front of the fire using a large - two-pronged iron fork as a toothpick. On a plate on the table lay the - dislocated backbone of a red herring (<i>harengus rufus</i>). - </p> - <p> - The man was perfectly self-possessed. We questioned him closely about the - origin of the smoke and the smell, and he replied that, without going so - far as to pronounce a dogmatic opinion on the subject, and while he was - quite ready to accept any reasonable suggestion on the matter from either - of us, he, for his part, would not be at all surprised if it were found on - investigation that both smoke and smell were due to his having openly - cooked a rather bloated specimen of the Yarmouth bloater. He always had - one for his supper, he said; critically, when not too pungent—he - disliked them too pungent—he considered that a full-grown bloater, - well preserved for its years and considering the knocking about that it - must have had, was fully equal to a beefsteak. There was much more - practical eating in it, he should say, speaking as man to man. And it was - so very simple—that was its great charm. - </p> - <p> - For himself, he never could bear made-up dishes; they were, he thought, - usually rich, and he had a poor-enough digestion, so that he could not - afford to trifle with it. - </p> - <p> - Just then the foreman loomed through the dense smoke, and, being - confronted with the hydra-headed smell, he boldly grappled with it, and - after a fierce contest, he succeeded in strangling one of the heads and - then set his foot on it. He hurriedly explained to the subeditor that all - the hands who had lifted the copy that had been sent out were setting it - up with bowls of water beside them to save themselves the trouble of going - to the water-tap for a drink. - </p> - <p> - The next day the clerks in the mercantile department were working with - bottles of carbolic under their noses, and every now and again a note - would be brought in from a subscriber ordering his paper to be stopped - until a new consignment of printers’ ink should arrive, in which the chief - ingredient was not so pungent. - </p> - <p> - At the end of a week the sub-editor was given a month’s salary and an - excellent testimonial, and was dismissed. The proprietor of the journal - had the sub-editors’ room freshly painted and papered, and made the - assistant-editor a present of two pounds to buy a new coat to replace the - one which, having hung in the room for an entire night, had to be burnt, - no cleaner being found who would accept the risk of purifying it. The - cleaners all said that they would not run the chance of having all the - contents of their vats left on their hands. They weren’t as a rule - squeamish in the matter of smells; they only drew the line at creosote, - and the coat was a long way on the other side. - </p> - <p> - Seven years have passed since that sub-editor partook of that simple - supper, and yet I hear that every night drag-hounds howl at the door of - the room, and strangers on entering sniff, saying,— - </p> - <p> - “Whew! there’s a barrel of red herrings somewhere about.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX.—ON THE HUMAN IMAGINATION. - </h2> - <p> - <i>Mr. Henry Irving and the Stag’s Head—The sense of smell—A - personal recollection—Caught “tripping”—The German band—In - the pre-Wagnerian days—Another illustration of a too-sensitive - imagination—The doctor’s letter—Its effects—A sudden - recovery—The burial service is postponed indefinitely</i>. - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T might be as - well, I fancy, to accept with caution the statement made in the last lines - of the foregoing chapter. At any rate, I may frankly confess that I have - always done so, knowing how apt one is to be carried away by one’s - imagination in some matters. Mr. Henry Irving told me several years ago a - curious story on this very point, and in regard also to the way in which - the imagination may be affected through the sense of smell. - </p> - <p> - When he was very young he was living at a town in the west of England, and - in one of the streets there was a hostelry which bore a swinging sign with - a stag’s head painted upon it, with a sufficient degree of legibility to - enable casual passers-by to know what it was meant to simulate. But every - time he saw this sign, he had a feeling of nausea that he could overcome - only by hurrying on down the street. Mr. Irving explained to me that it - did not appear to him that this nausea was the result of an offended - artistic perception owing to any indifferent draughtsmanship or defective - <i>technique</i> in the production of the sign. It actually seemed to him - that the painted stag possesses some influence akin to the evil eye, and - it was altogether very distressing to him. After a short time he left the - town, and did not revisit it until he had attained maturity; and then, - remembering the stag’s head and the curious way in which it had affected - him long before, he thought he would look up the old place, if it still - existed, and try if the evil charm of the sign had ceased to retain its - potency upon him. He walked down the street; there the sign was swinging - as of old, and the moment he saw it he had a feeling of nausea. Now, - however, he had become so impregnated with the investigating spirit of the - time, that he determined to search out the origin of the malign influence - of the neighbourhood; and then he discovered that the second house from - the hostelry was a soap and candle factory, on a sufficiently extensive - scale to make a daily “boiling” necessary. It was the odour arising from - this enterprise that induced the disagreeable sensation which he had - experienced years before, and from which few persons are free when in the - neighbourhood of tallow in a molten state. - </p> - <p> - I do not think that this story has been published. But even if it has - appeared elsewhere it scarcely requires an apology. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Though wandering even more widely than usual from my text—after all, - my texts are only pretexts for unlimited ramblings—I will give - another curious but perfectly authentic case of the force of imagination. - In this case the imagination was reached through the sense of hearing. - </p> - <p> - At one time I lived in a town at the extremity of a very fine bay, at the - entrance to which there was a small village with a little bay of its own - and a long stretch of sand, the joy of the “tripper.” I was a “tripper” of - six in those days, and during the summer months an excursion by steamer on - the bay was one of the most joyous of experiences. But the steamer was a - very small one, and apt to yield rather more than is consistent with - modern ideas of marine stability to the pressure of the waves, which in a - north-easterly wind—the prevailing one—were pretty high in our - bay. The effect of this instability was invariably disastrous to a maiden - aunt who was supposed to share with me the enjoyment of being caught - “tripping.” With the pertinacity of a man of six carrying a model of a - cutter close to his bosom, I refused to “go below” under the - circumstances, with my groaning but otherwise august relative, and she was - usually extremely unwell. It so happened, however, that the proprietors of - the steamboat were sufficiently enterprising to engage—perhaps I - should say, to permit—a German band to drown the groans of the - sufferers in the strains of the beautiful “Blue Danube,” or whatever the - waltz of the period may have been—the “Blue Danube” is the oldest - that I can remember. Now, when the “season” was over, and the steamer was - laid up for the winter, the Germans were accustomed to give open-air - performances in the town; so that during the winter months we usually had - a repetition on land of the summer’s <i>répertoire</i> at sea. The first - bray that was given by the trombone in the region of the square where we - lived was, however, quite enough to make my aunt give distinct evidence of - feeling “a little squeamish”; by the time the oboe had joined hands, so to - speak, with the parent of all evil, the trombone, she had taken out her - handkerchief and was making wry faces beneath her palpably false scalpet. - But when the wry-necked fife, and the serpent—the sea-serpent it was - to her—were doing their worst in league with, but slightly - indifferent to, the cornet and the Saxe-horn, my aunt retired from the - apartment amid the derisive yells of the young demons in the schoolroom, - and we saw her no more until the master of the music had pulled the bell - of the hall-door, and we had insulted him in his own language by shouting - through the blinds “schlechte musik!—sehr schlechte musik!” We were - ready enough to learn a language for insulting purposes, just as a parrot - which declines to acquire the few refined words of its mistress, will, if - left within the hearing of a groom, repeat quite glibly and joyously, - phrases which make it utterly useless as a drawing-room bird in a house - where a clergyman makes an occasional call. For years my aunt could never - hear a German band without emotion, since the crazy little steamer had - danced to their strains. In this case, it must also be remarked, the - feeling was not the result of a highly-developed artistic temperament. The - blemishes of the musical performances were in no way accountable for my - relative’s emotions, though I believe that the average German band - frequenting what theatrical-touring companies call “B. towns,” might - reasonably be regarded as sufficient to precipitate an incipient disorder. - No, it was the force of imagination that brought about my aunt’s disaster, - which, I regret to say, I occasionally purchased, when I felt that I owed - myself a treat, for a penny, for this was the lowest sum that the <i>impresario</i> - would take to come round our square and make my aunt sick. The sum was so - absurdly low, considering the extent of the results produced, I am now - aware that no really cultured musician, no <i>impresario</i> with any - self-respect, would have accepted it to bring his band round the corner; - but when one reflects that the sum on the original <i>scrittura</i> was - invariably doubled—for my aunt sent a penny out when her sufferings - became intense, to induce the band to go away—the transaction - assumes another aspect. - </p> - <p> - We hear of the enormous increase in the salaries paid to musical artists - nowadays, and as an instance of this I may mention that a friend of mine a - few months ago, having occasion for the services of a German band—not - for medicinal purposes but for a philological reason—was forced to - pay two shillings before he could effect his object! Truly the conditions - under which art is pursued have undergone a marvellous change within a - quarter of a century. I could have made my aunt sick twenty-four times for - the sum demanded for a single performance nowadays. And in the sixties, it - must also be remembered, Wagner had not become a power. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Strong-minded persons, such as the first Lord Brougham, may take a - sardonic delight in reading their own obituary notices, and such persons - would probably scoff at the suggestion made in an earlier chapter, that - the shock of reading the record of his death in a newspaper might have a - disastrous effect upon a man, but there is surely no lack of evidence to - prove the converse of “<i>mentem mortalia tangunt</i>.” - </p> - <p> - I heard when in India a story which seemed to me to be, as an illustration - of the effects of imagination, quite as curious as the well-known case of - the sailor who became cured of scurvy through fancying that the clinical - thermometer with which the surgeon took his temperature was a drastic - remedy. A young civil servant at Colombo felt rather fagged after an - unusually long stretch of work, and made up his mind to consult the best - doctor in the place. He did so, and the doctor went through the usual - probings and stethoscopings, and then looked grave and went over half the - surface again. He said he thought that on the whole he had better write - his opinion of the “case” in all its particulars and send it to the - patient. - </p> - <p> - The next morning the patient received the following letter:— - </p> - <p> - “My dear Sir,—I think it only due to the confidence which you have - placed in me to let you know in the plainest words what is the result of - my diagnosis of your condition. Your left lung is almost gone, but with - care you might survive its disappearance. Unhappily, however, the cardiac - complications which I suspected are such as preclude the possibility of - your recovery. In brief, I consider it to be my duty to advise you to lose - no time in carrying out any business arrangements that demand your - personal attention. You may of course live for some weeks; but I think you - would do wisely to count only on days. - </p> - <p> - “Meantime, I would suggest no material change in your diet, except the - reduction of your brandy pegs to seven per diem.” - </p> - <p> - This letter was put into the hands of the unfortunate man when he returned - from his early ride the next morning. Its effect was to diminish to an - appreciable degree his appetite for breakfast. He sat motionless on his - chair out on the verandah and stared at the letter—it was his - death-warrant. After an hour he felt a difficulty in breathing. He - remembered now that he had always been uneasy about his lungs—his - left in particular. He put his hand over the place where he supposed his - heart to lie concealed. How could he have lived so many years in the world - without becoming aware of the fact that as an every-day sort of an organ—leaving - the higher emotions out of the question altogether—his heart was a - miserable failure? Sympathy, friendship, love, emotion,—he would not - have minded if his heart were incapable of these, if it only did its - business as a blood pump; but it was perfectly plain from the manner in - which it throbbed beneath his hand, that it was deserving of all the - reprobation the doctor had heaped upon it. - </p> - <p> - His difficulty of respiration increased, and with this difficulty he - became conscious of an acute pain under his ribs. He found when he - attempted to rise that he could only do so with an effort. He managed to - totter into his bedroom, and when he threw himself on his bed, it was with - the feeling that he should never rise from it again. - </p> - <p> - His faithful Khânsâmah more than once inquired respectfully if the - Preserver of the Poor would like to have the Doctor Sahib sent for, and if - the Joy of the Whole World would in the meantime drink a peg. But the - Preserver of the Poor had barely strength to express the hope that the - disappearance of the Doctor Sahib might be effected by a supernatural - agency, and the Joy of the Whole World could only groan at the suggestion - of a peg. The pain under his ribs was increasing, and he had a general - nightmare feeling upon him. Toward evening he sank into a lethargy, and at - this point the Khânsâmah made up his mind that the time for action had - come; he went for the doctor himself, and was fortunate enough to meet him - going out in his buggy to dine. - </p> - <p> - “What on earth have you been doing with yourself?” he inquired, when he - had felt the pulse of the patient. “Why, you’ve no pulse to speak of, and - your skin—What the mischief have you been doing since yesterday?” - </p> - <p> - “How can you expect a chap’s pulse to be anything particular when he has - no heart worth speaking of?” gasped the patient. - </p> - <p> - “Who has no heart worth speaking of?” - </p> - <p> - The patient looked piteously up at him. - </p> - <p> - “That’s kicking a man when he’s down,” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the matter with you anyway?” said the doctor. “Your heart’s all - right, I know—at least, it was all right yesterday. Is it your - liver? Let me have a look at your eyes.” - </p> - <p> - He certainly did let the doctor have a look at his eyes. He lay staring at - the good physician for some minutes. - </p> - <p> - “No, your liver is no worse than it was yesterday,” said the doctor, - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to say that your letter was only a joke?” said the patient, - still staring. - </p> - <p> - “A joke? Don’t be a fool. Do you fancy that I play jokes upon my patients? - I wrote to you what was the exact truth. I flatter myself I always tell - the truth even to my patients.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” groaned the patient. “And after telling me that I hadn’t more than a - few days to live you now say my heart’s all right.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re mad, my good fellow, mad! I said that you must go without the - delay of a day for a change—a sea voyage if possible—and that - in a week you’d be as well as you ever were. Where’s the letter?” - </p> - <p> - It was lying on the side of the bed. The patient had read it again after - he had thrown himself down. - </p> - <p> - “My God!” cried the doctor, when he had brought it over to the lamp. “An - awful thing has happened. This is the letter that I wrote to Lois Perez, - the diamond merchant, who visited me yesterday just before you came. My - assistant must have put the letter that was meant for Perez into the - envelope addressed to you, and your letter into the other cover. Great - heavens!” - </p> - <p> - The patient was sitting up in the bed. - </p> - <p> - “You mean to say that—that—I’m all right?” he gasped. - </p> - <p> - “Of course you’re all right. You told me you wanted a sea voyage, and - naturally I prescribed one for you to give you a chance of getting your - leave without any trouble.” - </p> - <p> - The patient stared at the doctor for another minute and then fell back - upon his pillow, turned his face to the wall, and wept. - </p> - <p> - Only for a few minutes, however; then he suddenly sprang from the bed, - caught the doctor by the collar of his coat, looked around for a weapon of - percussion, picked up the pillow and forthwith began to belabour the - physician with such vehemence that the Khânsâmah, who hurried into the - room hearing the noise of the scuffle, fled from the compound, being - certain that the Joy of the Whole World had become a maniac. - </p> - <p> - After the lapse of about a minute the doctor was lying on the floor with - the tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks and on to his disordered - shirt-front, while the patient sat limp on a chair yelling with laughter—a - trifle hysterically, perhaps. At the end of five minutes both were sitting - over a bottle of champagne—not too dry—discussing the - extraordinary effect of the imagination upon the human frame. - </p> - <p> - “But, by Jingo! I mustn’t forget poor Lois Perez,” cried the doctor, - starting up. “You may guess what a condition he is in when you know that - the letter you read was meant for him.” - </p> - <p> - “By heavens, I can make a good guess as to his condition,” said the - patient. “I was within measurable distance of that condition half an hour - ago. But I’m hanged if you are going to make any other poor devil as - miserable as you made me. Let the chap die in peace.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s something in what you say,” said the doctor. “I believe that I’ll - take your advice; only I must rescue your letter from him. If it were - found among his effects after his death next week, I’d be set down as - little better than a fool for writing that he was generally sound but in - need of a long sea voyage.” - </p> - <p> - He drove off to the house of the Portuguese dealer in precious stones, and - on inquiring for him, learned that he had left in the afternoon by the - mail steamer to take the voyage that the doctor had recommended. He meant - to call at the Andamans, and then go on to Rangoon, the man in charge of - the house said. - </p> - <p> - “There’ll be an impressive burial service aboard that steamer before it - arrives at the Andaman Islands,” said the doctor to his wife as he told - her what had occurred. The doctor was in a very anxious state lest the - letter which the Portuguese had received should be found among his papers. - His wife, however, took a more optimistic view of the situation. And she - was right; for Lois Perez returned in due course from Rangoon with a very - fine collection of rubies; and five years afterwards he had still - sufficient strength left to get the better of me in the sale of a - cat’s-eye to which he perceived I had taken a fancy that was not to be - controlled. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X—THE VEGETARIAN AND OTHERS. - </h2> - <p> - <i>“Benjamin’s mess”—An alluring name—Scarcely accurate—A - frugal supper—Why the sub-editor felt rather unwell—“A man - should stick to plain homely fare”—Two Sybarites—The stewed - lemon as a comestible—The midnight apple—The roasted crabs—The - Zenana mission—The pibroch as a musical instrument—A curious - blunder—The river Deccan—Frankenstein as the monster—The - outside critics—A critical position—The curate as critic—A - liberal-minded clergyman—Bound to be a bishop—The joy-bells.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>O return to the - sub-editors and their suppers, I may say that I never met but one - vegetarian pressman. He was particularly fond of a supper dish to which - the alluring name of Benjamin’s Mess was given by the artful inventor. I - do not know if the editor of this compilation had any authority—Biblical - or secular—for assuming that its ingredients were identical with - those with which Joseph, with the best of intentions, no doubt, but with - very questionable prudence, heaped upon the dish of his youngest brother. - I am not a profound Egyptologist, but I have a distinct recollection of - hearing something about the fleshpots of Egypt, and the longing that the - mere remembrance of these receptacles created in the hearts of the - descendants of Joseph and his Brethren, when undergoing a course of - enforced vegetarianism, though somewhat different in character from that - to which, at a later period, Nebuchadnezzar—the most distinguished - vegetarian that the world has ever known—was subjected. Therefore, I - think it is only scriptural to assume that the original mess of Benjamin - was something like a glorified Irish stew, or perhaps what yachtsmen call - “lobscouce,” and that it contained at least a neck of mutton and a knuckle - of ham—the prohibition did not exist in those days, and if the stew - did not contain either ham or corned beef it would not be worth eating. - But the compilation of which my friend was accustomed to partake nightly, - and to which the vegetarian cookery book arrogates the patriarchal title, - was wholly devoid of flesh-meat. It consisted, I believe, of some lentils, - parsnips, a turnip, a head of cabbage or so, a dozen of leeks, a quart of - split peas, a few vegetable marrows, a cucumber, a handful of green - gooseberries, and a diseased potato to give the whole a piquancy that - could not be derived from the other simple ingredients. - </p> - <p> - I was frequently invited by the sub-editor to join him in his frugal - supper, but invariably declined. I told him that I had no desire to - convert my frame into a costermonger’s barrow. - </p> - <p> - Upon one occasion the man failed to come down to the office when he was - due. He appeared an hour later, looking very pale. His features suggested - those of an overboiled cauliflower that has not been sufficiently strained - after being removed from the saucepan. He explained to me the reason of - his delay and of his overboiled appearance. - </p> - <p> - “The fact is,” said he, “that I did not feel at all well this morning. For - my breakfast I could only eat one covered dishful of peasepudding, a head - or two of celery and a few carrots, with a tureen of lentil soup and a raw - potato salad; so my wife thought she would tempt me with a delicacy for my - dinner. She made me a bran pie all for myself—thirty-two Spanish - onions and four Swedish turnips, with a beetroot or two for colouring, and - a thick paste of oatmeal and bran—that’s why it’s called a bran pie. - Confound the thing! It’s too fascinating. I can never resist eating it - all, and scraping the stable bucket in which it is cooked. I did so - to-day, and that’s why I’m late. Well, well, perhaps I’ll gain sense late - in life. I don’t feel quite myself even yet. Oh, confound all those dainty - dishes! A man should stick to plain homely fare when he has work to do.” - </p> - <p> - But on reflection I think that the most peculiar supper menus of the - sub-editorial staff were those partaken of by two journalists who occupied - the same room for close upon a year—a room to which I had access - occasionally. One of these gentlemen was accustomed to place in a saucepan - on the fire a number of unpeeled lemons with as much water as just covered - them. After four hours’ stewing, this dainty midnight supper was supposed - to be cooked. It certainly was eaten, and with very few indications, all - things considered, of abhorrence, by the senior occupant of the - sub-editor’s room. He told me once in confidence that he really did not - dislike the stewed lemons very much. He had heard that they were conducive - to longevity, and in order to live long he was prepared to make many - sacrifices. There could be little doubt, he said, that the virtue - attributed to them was real, for he had been partaking of them for supper - for over three years, and he had never suffered from anything worse than - acute dyspepsia. I congratulated him. Nothing worse than acute dyspepsia! - </p> - <p> - His stable companion, so to speak, did not believe in heavy hot suppers - such as his colleague indulged in. He said it was his impression that no - more light and salutary supper could be imagined than a single apple, not - quite ripe. - </p> - <p> - He acted manfully up to his belief, for every night I used to see him - eating his apple shortly after midnight, and without offering the fruit - the indignity of a paring. The spectacle was no more stimulating than that - of the lemon-eater. My mouth invariably became so puckered up through - watching the midnight banquets of these Sybarites, it was only with - difficulty that I could utter a word or two of weak acquiescence in their - views on a question of recognised difficulty. - </p> - <p> - It is somewhat remarkable that the apple-eating sub-editor should be the - one who was guilty of the most remarkable error I ever knew in connection - with an attempted display of erudition. He had set out to write a lively - little quarter-of-a-column leaderette on a topic which was convulsing - society in those days—namely, the cruelty of boiling lobsters alive. - I am not quite certain that the question has even yet been decided to the - satisfaction either of the humanitarian who likes lobster salad, or of the - lobster that finds itself potted. Perhaps the latter may some day come out - of its shell and give us its views on the question. - </p> - <p> - At any rate, in the year of which I write, the topic was almost a burning - one: the month was September, Parliament had risen, and as yet the - sea-serpent had not appeared on the horizon. The apple-eating sub-editor - was doing duty for the assistant-editor, who was on his holidays; and as - evidence of his light and graceful erudition, he asserted in his article - that, however inhuman modern cooks might be in their preparation of - Crustacea for the fastidious palates of their patrons, quite as great - cruelty—assuming that it was cruelty—was in the habit of being - perpetrated in cookery in the days of Shakespeare. “Readers of the - immortal bard of Avon,” he wrote, “will recollect how, in one of the - charming lyrics to ‘Love’s Labour’s Lost,’ among the homely pleasures of - winter it is stated that ‘roasted crabs hiss in the bowl.’ - </p> - <p> - “This reference to the preparation of crabs for the table makes it - perfectly plain that it was quite common to cook them alive, for were it - otherwise, how could they hiss? That listening to the expression of the - suffering of the crabs should be regarded by Shakespeare as one of the - joys of a household, casts a somewhat lurid light upon the condition of - English Society in the sixteenth century.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It was the lemon-eating sub-editor who, on being requested by the editor - to write something about the Zenana Mission, pointing out the great good - that it was achieving, and the necessity there was for maintaining it in - an efficient condition, produced a neat little article on the subject. He - assured the readers of the paper that, among the many scenes of missionary - labour, none had of late attracted more attention than the Zenana mission, - and assuredly none was more deserving of this attention. Comparatively few - years had passed since Zenana had been opened up to British trade, but - already, owing to the devotion of a handful of men and women, the nature - of the inhabitants had been almost entirely changed. The Zenanese, from - being a savage people, had become, in a wonderfully short space of time, - practically civilised; and recent travellers to Zenana had returned with - the most glowing accounts of the continued progress of the good work in - that country. The writer of the article then branched off into the - “labourer-worthy-of-his-hire” side of this great evangelisation question—in - most questions of missionary enterprise this side has a special interest - attached to it—and the question was aptly asked if the devoted - labourers in that remote vineyard were not deserving of support. Were - civilisation and Christianity to be snatched from the Zenanese just when - both were within their grasp? So on for nearly half a column the writer - meandered in the most orthodox style, just as he had done scores of times - before when advocating certain missions. - </p> - <p> - I found him the next day running his finger down the letter Z, in the - index to the Handy Atlas, with a puzzled look upon his face. I knew then - that he had received a letter from the editor, advising him to look out - Zenana in the Atlas before writing anything further about so ticklish a - region. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I also knew a sub-editor who fancied that the pibroch was a musical - instrument widely circulated in the Highlands. - </p> - <p> - But who can blame a humble provincial journalist for making an odd blunder - occasionally, when a leading London newspaper, in announcing the death, - some years ago, of Captain Wallace, son of Sir Richard Wallace, stated - that the sad event had occurred while he was “playing at bagatelle in the - Bois de Boulogne”? It might reasonably have been expected, I think, that - the sub-editor of the foreign news should know of the existence of the - historic mansion Bagatelle, which the Marquis of Hertford left to Sir - Richard Wallace with the store of art treasures that it contained. - </p> - <p> - What excuse, one may also ask, can be made for the Dublin Professor who - referred in print “to those populous districts of Hindostan, watered by - the Ganges and the Deccan”? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - In alluding to Frankenstein as the monster, and not merely the maker of - the monster, the mistakes made by provincial journalists of the old school - may certainly also be condoned, when we find the same ridiculous - hallucination maintained by one of the most highly representative of - modern journalists, as-well as by the editor of a weekly paper of large - circulation, who enshrined it in the preface to a book for which he was - responsible. In this case the writer could not have been pressed for time. - But the marvel is, not that so many errors are run into by provincial - journalists, but that so few can be laid to their charge. With telegrams - pouring in by private wire, as well as by the P.A. and C.N., to say - nothing of Baron Reuter’s and Messrs, Dalziel’s special services; with the - foreman printer, too, appearing like a silent spectre and departing like - one that is not silent, leaving the impression behind him that no - newspaper, except that composed by a hated rival, can possibly be produced - the next morning;—with all these drags upon the chariot wheels of - composition, how can it be reasonably expected that an editor or a - sub-editor will become Academic in his erudition? When, however, it is - discovered the next day by some tenth-rate curate, who probably gets a - free copy of the paper, that the quotation “<i>O tempora! O mores!</i>” is - attributed to Virgil instead of Cicero, in a leading article a column in - length, written upon a speech of seven columns, the writer is at once - referred to as an ignorant boor, and an invitation is given to all that - curate’s friends to point the finger of scorn at the journalist. - </p> - <p> - A long experience has convinced me that the curate who gets a free copy of - the paper, and who is most velvet-gloved in approaching any member of the - staff when he wants a favour, such as a leaderette on the Zenana Mission, - in which several of his lady friends are deeply interested, or a paragraph - regarding a forthcoming bazaar, or the insertion of a letter signed - “Churchman,” calling attention to some imaginary reform which he himself - has instituted—this very curate is the person who sends the marked - copies of the paper to the proprietor with a gigantic <i>Sic</i> opposite - every mistake, even though it be only a turned letter. - </p> - <p> - I put a stop to the tricks of one of the race who had annoyed me - excessively. I simply inserted verbatim a long letter that he wrote on - some subject. It was full of mistakes, and to these the next day, in a - letter which he meant to be humorous, he referred as “printer’s errors.” I - took the liberty of appending an editorial note to this communication, - mentioning that the mistakes existed in the original letter, and adding - that I trusted the writer would not think it necessary to attribute to the - printer the further blunders which appeared in the humorous communication - to which my note was appended. - </p> - <p> - The fellow sought an interview with me the next day, and found it. He was - furiously indignant at the course which I had adopted, and said I had - taken advantage of the haste in which he had written both letters. I - brought out of my desk forthwith a paper which he had taken the trouble to - re-edit with red ink for the benefit of the proprietor, who had, - naturally, handed it to me. I recognised the handwriting of the red-ink - editor the moment I received the first of his letters. - </p> - <p> - “Did you make any allowance for the haste of the writers of these passages - that you took the trouble to mark and send to the proprietor?” I inquired - blandly. - </p> - <p> - He said he did not know what it was that I referred to; and added that it - was a gratuitous assumption on my part to say that he had marked and sent - the paper. - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” said I. “I’ll assume that you deny having done so. May I do - so?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly you may,” he replied. “I have something else to do beside - pointing out the blunders of your staff.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I ask your pardon for having assumed that you marked the paper,” - said I. “I was too hasty.” - </p> - <p> - “You were—quite too hasty,” said he, going to the door. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve acknowledged it,” said I. “And therefore I’ll not go to your rector - until to-morrow evening to prove to him that his curate is a sneak and a - liar as well as an extremely ignorant person.” - </p> - <p> - He returned as I sat down. - </p> - <p> - “What paper is it that you allude to?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “I showed it to you,” said I. “It was the paper that you re-edited in red - ink and posted anonymously to the proprietor.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that?” said he. “Why on earth didn’t you say so at once? Of course I - sent that paper. My dear fellow, it was only my little joke. I meant to - have a little chaff with you about the mistakes.” - </p> - <p> - “Go away—go away,” said I. “Go away, <i>Stiggins</i>.” - </p> - <p> - And he went away. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I need scarcely say that such clergymen are not to be interviewed every - day. Equally exceptional, I think, was the clergyman who was good enough - to pay me a visit a few months after I had joined the editorial staff of a - daily paper. Although I had never exactly been the leader of the coughers - in church, yet on the other hand I had never been a leader of the scoffers - outside it; and somehow the parson had come to miss me. I had an uneasy - feeling when he entered my room that he had come on business—that he - might possibly have fancied I was afflicted with doubts on, say, the right - of unbaptised infants to burial in consecrated ground, and that he had - come prepared to lift the burden from my soul; but he never so much as - spoke of business until he had picked up his hat and gloves, and had said - a cheerful farewell. Only then he remarked, as if the thing had occurred - to him quite suddenly,— - </p> - <p> - “Oh, by the way, I don’t think I noticed you in church during the past few - Sundays. I was afraid that you were indisposed.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no,” said I. “I was all right; but the fact is, you see, that I’ve - become a sort of editor, and as I can never get to bed before three or - four in the morning, it would be impossible for me to rise before eleven. - To be sure I’m not on duty on Saturday nights, but the force of habit is - so great that, though I may go to bed in decent time on that night, I - cannot sleep until my usual hour.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I see, I see,” said he, beginning to draw on his gloves. “Well, - perhaps on the whole—all things considered—the—ah—” - here he was seized with a fit of coughing, and when he recovered he said - he had always been an admirer of old Worcester, and he rather thought that - some cups which I had on a shelf were, on the whole, the most - characteristic as regards shape that he had ever seen. - </p> - <p> - Then he went away, and I perceived from the appearance that his back - presented to me, that he would one day become a bishop. A clergyman with - such tact as he exhibited can no more avoid being made a bishop than the - young seal can avoid taking to the water. - </p> - <p> - Before five years had passed he was, sure enough, raised to the Bench, and - every one is delighted with him. The celery from the Palace garden - invariably takes the first prize at the local shows; his lordship smiles - when you congratulate him on his repeated successes with celery, but when - you talk about chrysanthemums he becomes grave and shakes his head. - </p> - <p> - This is his tact. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The church of which he was rector was situated in a fashionable suburb of - the town, and it possessed one of the noisiest peals of bells possible to - imagine. They were the terror of the neighbourhood. - </p> - <p> - Upon one occasion an elderly gentleman living close to the church - contracted some malady which necessitated, the doctor said, the observance - of the strictest quiet, even on Sundays. A message was sent to the chief - of the bellringers to this effect, the invalid’s wife expressing the hope - that for a Sunday or two the bells might be permitted to remain silent. Of - course her very reasonable wish was granted. The chief of the ringers - thoughtfully called every Sunday morning to inquire after the sufferer’s - condition, and for three weeks he learned that it was unchanged, and the - bells consequently remained silent. On the fourth Sunday, he was told that - the man had died during the night. He immediately hastened off to the - other seven bellringers, worse than the first, and telling them that their - prohibition was removed, they climbed the belfry and rang forth the most - joyous peal that had ever annoyed the neighbourhood. - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said the lady with whom I lodged, “there are the joy bells once - more. Poor Mr. Jenkins must be dead at last.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI.—ON SOME FORMS OF SPORT. - </h2> - <p> - <i>An invitation to shoot rooks—The sub-editors gun—A - quotation from “The Rivals”—The rook in repose—How the gun - came to be smashed—Recollections of the Spanish Main—A greatly - overrated sport—The story of Jack Burnaby’s dogs—A fastidious - man—His keeper’s remonstrance—The Australian visitor—-A - kind offer—Over-willing dogs—The story of a muzzle-loader—How - Mr. Egan came to be alive—Why Patsy Muldoon smiled—The moral—Degrees - of dampness—Below the surface—The chameleon blackberry—A - superlative degree of thirst.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> FRIEND of mine - once came to my office to invite me to an afternoon’s rook-shooting. I was - not in my room and he found me in the sub-editor’s. I inquired about the - trains to the place where the slaughter was to be done, and finding that - they were satisfactory, agreed to join him on the following afternoon. - </p> - <p> - Then he turned to the sub-editor—a pleasant young fellow who had - ideas of going to the bar—and asked him if he would care to come - also. At first the sub-editor said he did not think he would be able to - come, though he would like very much to do so. A little persuasion was - sufficient to make him agree to be one of our party. He had not a gun of - his own, he said, but a friend had frequently offered to lend him one, so - that there would be no difficulty so far as that matter was concerned. - </p> - <p> - The next day I managed, as usual, just to catch the train as it began to - move-away from the platform. My colleague on the newspaper had the door of - the compartment open for me, and I could see the leather of his gun-case - under the seat. I put my rook rifle—it was not in a case—in - the network, and we had a delightful run through the autumn landscape to - the station—it seemed miles from any village—where my friend - was awaiting us in his dogcart, driving tandem. The drive of three miles - to the rook-wood was exhilarating, and as we skirted some lines of old - gnarled oaks, I perceived in a moment that we could easily fill a railway - truck with birds, they were so plentiful. I made a remark to this effect - to my friend, who was driving, and he said that when we arrived at the - shooting ground and gave the birds the chance to which they were entitled - we mightn’t get more than a couple of hundred all told. - </p> - <p> - The shooting ground was under a straggling tree about fifty yards from the - ruin of an old castle, said to have been built by the Knights Templar. - Here we dismounted from the dogcart, sending it a mile or two farther - along the road in charge of the man, and got ready our rifles. - </p> - <p> - “What on earth have you got there?” my friend inquired of the sub-editor, - who was working at the gun-case. - </p> - <p> - “It’s the gun and cartridges,” replied the young man; “but I’m not quite - certain how to make fast the barrels to the stock.” - </p> - <p> - “Great heavens!” cried my friend. “You’ve brought a double-barrelled - sporting gun to shoot rooks!” - </p> - <p> - And so he had. - </p> - <p> - We tried to explain to him that for any human being to point such a weapon - at a rook would be little short of murder, but he utterly failed to see - the force of our arguments. He very good-humouredly said that, as we had - come out to shoot rooks, he couldn’t see how it mattered—especially - to the rooks—whether they were shot with his gun or with our rook - rifles. He added that he thought the majority of the birds were like Bob - Acres, and would as lief be shot in an ungentlemanly as a gentlemanly - attitude. - </p> - <p> - Of course it is impossible to argue with such a man. We only said that he - must accept the responsibility for the butchery, and in this he cheerfully - acquiesced, slipping cartridges into both barrels—the friend from - whom he had borrowed the weapon had taught him how to do this. - </p> - <p> - We soon found that at this point the breaking-strain of his information - was reached. He had no more idea of sport than a butcher, or the <i>Sonttag - jager</i> of the <i>Oberlander Blatter.</i> - </p> - <p> - As the rooks flew from the ruins to the belt of trees my friend and I - brought down one each, and by the time we had reloaded, we were ready for - two more, but I fired too soon, so that only one bird dropped. I saw the - eyes of the man with the shot-gun gleam, “his heart with lust of slaying - strong,” and he forthwith fired first one barrel and then the other at an - old rook that cursed us by his gods, sitting on a branch of a tree ten - yards off. - </p> - <p> - The bird flapped heavily away, becoming more vituperative every moment. - </p> - <p> - “Look here,” I shouted, “you mustn’t shoot at a bird that’s sitting on a - branch.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh. yes,” said my friend, with a grim smile. “Oh, yes, he may. It’ll do - him no more harm than the birds.” - </p> - <p> - Not a bird did that young sportsman fire at except such as had assumed a - sitting posture, and, incredible though it may seem, he only succeeded in - killing one. But from the moment that his skill was rewarded by witnessing - the downward flap of this one, the lust for blood seemed to take - possession of him, as it does the young soldiers when their officers have - succeeded in preventing them from blazing away at the enemy while still a - mile off. He continued to load and fire at birds that were swaying on the - trees beside us. - </p> - <p> - “There’s a chance for you,” said my friend, “sarkastik-like,” pointing to - a rook that had flapped into a branch just above our heads. - </p> - <p> - The young man, his face pale and his teeth set, was in no mood for - distinguishing between one tone of voice and another. He simply took half - a dozen steps into the open and, aiming steadily at the bird, fired both - barrels simultaneously. Down came the rook in the usual way, clawing from - branch to branch. It remained, however, for several seconds on a bough - about eight feet from the ground; then we had a vision of the sportsman - clubbing his gun, and making a wild rush at his prey—and then came a - crash and a cheer. The sportsman held aloft in one hand the tattered rook - and in the other a double-barrelled gun with a broken stock. - </p> - <p> - He had never fired a shot in his life before this day, and all his ideas - of musketry were derived from the stories of pirates and buccaneers of the - Spanish Main—wherever that may be—which had come to him for - review. He thought that the clubbing of his weapon, in order to prevent - the escape of the rook, quite a brilliant thing to do. - </p> - <p> - He had, however, completely smashed the gun, and that, my friend said, was - a step in the right direction. He could not do any more butchery with it - that day. - </p> - <p> - It cost him four pounds getting that gun repaired, and he confessed to me - that, according to his experience, fowling was a greatly overrated sport. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It was while we were driving to the train that my friend told me the story - of Jack Burnaby’s dogs—a story which he frankly confessed he had - never yet got any human being to believe, but which was accurate in all - its details, and could be fully verified by affidavit. He did not succeed - in obtaining my credence for it. There are other forms of falsehood - besides those verified by an affidavit, and I could not have given more - implicit disbelief than I did to the story, even if it had formed the - subject of this legal method of embodying a fiction. - </p> - <p> - It appeared that never was there a more fastidious man in the matter of - his sporting dogs than one Algy Grafton. Pointers that called for - outbursts of enthusiasm on the part of other men—quite as good - sportsmen as Algy—failed to obtain more than a complimentary word - from him, and even this word of praise was grudgingly given and invariably - tempered by many words which were certainly not susceptible of a - eulogistic meaning. - </p> - <p> - Among his friends—such as declined to resent the insults which he - put upon their dogs—there was a consensus of opinion that the animal - which would satisfy him would not be born—allowing a reasonable time - for the various processes of evolution—for at least a thousand - years, and then, taking into consideration the growth of radical ideas, - and the decay of the English sport, there would be little or no demand for - a first-class dog in the British Islands. - </p> - <p> - Algy Grafton had just acquired the Puttick-Foozler moor, and almost every - post brought him a letter from his head-keeper describing the condition of - the birds and the prospects of the Twelfth. Though the letters were - written on a phonetic principle, the correctness of which was, of course, - proportionate to the accuracy of a Scotchman’s ear, and though the - head-keeper was scarcely an optimist, still there was no mistaking the - general tone of the information which Algy received through this source - from the north: he gathered that he might reasonably look forward to the - finest shoot on record. - </p> - <p> - Every letter which he got from the moor, however, contained the expression - of the keeper’s hope that his master would succeed in his search for a - couple of good dogs. The keeper’s hope was shared by Algy; and he did - little else during the month of July except interview dogs that had been - recommended to him. He travelled north and south, east and west, to - interview dogs; but so ridiculously fastidious was he that at the close of - the first week in August he was still without a dog. He was naturally at - his wit’s end by this time, for as the Twelfth approached there was not a - dog in the market. He telegraphed in all directions in the endeavour to - secure some of the animals which he had rejected during the previous - month, but, as might have been expected, the dogs were no longer to be - disposed of: they had all been sold within a day or two after their - rejection by Mr. Grafton. It was on the seventh of August that he got a - letter from his correspondent on the moor, and in this letter the tone of - mild remonstrance which the keeper had hitherto adopted in referring to - his master’s extravagant ideas on the dog question, was abandoned in - favour of one of stern reprimand; in fact, some sentences were almost - abusive. Mr. Donald MacKilloch professed to be anxious to know what was - the good of his wearing out his life on the moor if his master did not - mean to shoot on it. He hoped he would not be thought wanting in respect - if he doubted the sanity of the policy of waiting without a dog until it - pleased Providence—Mr. MacKilloch was a very religious man—to - turn angels into pointers and saints into setters, a period which, it - seemed to Mr. MacKilloch, his master was rather oversanguine in - anticipating. - </p> - <p> - It was not surprising that, after receiving this letter from the - Highlands, Algy Grafton was somewhat moody as he strolled about his - grounds on the morning of the eighth, nor was it remarkable that, when the - rectory boy appeared with a letter stating that the Reverend Septimus - Burnaby was anxious for him to run across in time to lunch at the rectory, - to meet Jack Burnaby, who had just returned from Australia, Algy said that - the rector and his brother Jack and all the squatters in the Australian - colonies might be hanged together. Mrs. Grafton, however, whose life had - not been worth a month’s purchase since the dog problem had presented - itself for solution, insisted on his going to the rectory to lunch, and he - went. It was while smoking a cigar in the rectory garden with Jack - Burnaby, who had spent all his life squatting, but with no apparent - inconvenience to himself, that Algy mentioned that he was broken-hearted - on account of his dogs. He gave a brief summary of his travels through - England in search of trustworthy animals, and lamented his failure to - obtain anything that could be depended on to do a day’s work. - </p> - <p> - “By George! you don’t mean to say there’s not a good dog in the market - now?” said Mr. Burnaby, the squatter. - </p> - <p> - “But that’s just what I do mean to say,” cried Algy, so plaintively that - even the stern and unbending MacKilloch might have pitied him. “That’s - just what I do mean to say. I’d give fifty pounds to-day for a pair of - dogs that I wouldn’t have given ten pounds for a month ago. I’m - heart-broken—that’s what I am!” - </p> - <p> - “Cheer up!” said Mr. Burnaby. “I have a couple of sporting dogs that I’ll - lend to you until I return to the Colony in February next—the best - dogs I ever worked with, and I’ve had some experience.” - </p> - <p> - “It was Providence that caused you to come across to me to-day, Grafton,” - said the rector piously, as Algy stood speechless among the trim rosebeds. - </p> - <p> - “You’re sure they’re good?” said Algy, his old suspicions returning. - </p> - <p> - “Good?—am I sure?—oh, you needn’t have them if you don’t - like,” said the Australian. - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon a thousand times,” cried Algy. “Don’t fancy that I - suggest that the dogs are not first rate. Oh, my dear fellow, I don’t know - how to thank you. I am—well, my heart is too full for words.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s not a man in England except yourself that I’d lend them to,” said - Mr. Burnaby. “I give you my word that I’ve been offered forty pounds for - each of them. Oh, there isn’t a fault between them. They’re just perfect.” - </p> - <p> - Algy was delighted, and for the remainder of the evening he kept assuring - his poor wife that he was not quite such a fool as some people, including - the Scotch keeper, seemed to fancy that he was. - </p> - <p> - He had felt all along, he said, that just such a piece of luck as had - occurred was in store for him, and it was on this account he had steadily - refused to be gulled into buying any of the inferior animals that had been - offered to him. - </p> - <p> - Oh, yes, he assured her, he knew what he was about, and he’d let - MacKilloch know who it was that he had to deal with. - </p> - <p> - The Australian’s dogs were in the custody of a man at Southampton, but he - promised to have them sent northward in good time. It was the evening of - the eleventh when they arrived at the lodge. They were strange wiry - brutes, and like no breed that Algy had ever seen. The head-keeper looked - at them critically, and made some observations regarding them that did not - seem grossly flattering. It was plain that if Mr. MacKilloch had conceived - any sudden admiration for the dogs he contrived to conceal it. Algy said - all that he could say, which was that Mr. Burnaby knew perfectly well what - a dog was, and that a dog should be proved before it was condemned. Mr. - MacKilloch, hearing this excellent sentiment, grunted. - </p> - <p> - The next day was a splendid Twelfth so far as the weather was concerned. - Algy and his two friends were on the moor at dawn. At a signal from the - head-keeper the dogs were put to their work. They seemed willing enough to - work. Under their noses rose an old cock. To the horror of every one they - made a snap for him, and missing him they rushed full speed through the - heather in the direction he had taken, setting up birds right and left, - and driving them by the score into the next moor. Algy stood aghast and - speechless. It would be inaccurate to describe the attitude of Donald - MacKilloch as passive. He was not silent. But in spite of his shouts—in - spite of a fusi-lade of the strongest “sweers” that ever came from a - God-fearing Scotchman with well-defined views of his own on the Free Kirk - question, the two dogs romped over the moor, and the air was thick with - grouse of all sorts and conditions, from the wary cocks to the incipient - cheepers. - </p> - <p> - To the credit of Algy Grafton it must be stated that he resolutely refused - to allow a gun to be put into the hands of Donald MacKilloch. There was a - blood-thirsty look in the keeper’s eyes as now and again one of the dogs - appeared among the clumps of purple heather. When they were tired out - toward evening they were captured by one of the keepers, and led off the - moor, Algy following them, for he feared that they might meet with an - accident. He sent a telegram that night to their owner, and the next - morning received the following reply:— - </p> - <p> - “The infernal idiot at Southampton sent you the wrong dogs. The right ones - will reach you to-morrow. You have got a pair of the best kangaroo hounds - in the world—worth five hundred guineas. Take care of them.—Burnaby.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Kangaroo hounds! kangaroo hounds!</i>” murmured Algy with a far-away - look in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - It seems that he is not quite so fastidious about dogs as he used to be. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - When in the west of Ireland some years ago, pretending to be on the - look-out for “local colour” for a novel, I heard, with about ten thousand - others, a very amusing story regarding a gun. It was told to me by a man - who was engaged in grazing a cow along the side of a ditch where I sat - while partaking of a sandwich, fondly hoping that at sundown I might be - able to look a duck or two straight in the face as the “fly” came over the - smooth surface of the glorious lake along which the road skirted. - </p> - <p> - “Your honour,” said the narrator—he pronounced the words something - like “yer’an’r,” but the best attempts to reproduce a brogue are - ineffective—“Your honour will mind how Mr. Egan was near having an - accident just as he drew by the bit of stone wall beyond the entrance to - his own gates?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” I replied, “I remember hearing that he was fired at by some - ruffian, and that his horse ran away with him.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s likely that that’s the same story only told different. Maybe you - never heard tell that it was Patsy Muldoon that was bid to do the job for - Mr. Egan, God save him!” - </p> - <p> - “I never heard that.” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe not, sir. Ay, Patsy has repented for that shot, for it knocked the - eye of him that far into the inside of his head that the doctors had no - machine long enough to drag for it in the depths of his ould skull. Patsy - wasn’t a well-favoured boy before that night, and with the loss of his ear - and the misplacement of his eye—it’s not lost that it is, for it’s - somewhere in the inside of his head—he’s not a beauty just now. You - see, sir, Patsy Muldoon, Conn Moriarty, Jim Tuohy, and Tim Gleeson was all - consarned in the business. They got the lend of a loan of ould Gleeson’s - gun, and the powder was in a half-pint whisky-bottle with a roll of paper - for a cork, and every boy was supposed to bring his own bullets. Well, - sir, ould Gleeson, before going quiet to his bed, had put a full charge of - powder and a bullet down the throat of the gun, and had left her handy for - Tim in the turf stack. But when Tim got a hoult of the wippon, he didn’t - know that the ould man had loaded her, and so he put another charge in - her, and rammed it home to make sure. Then he slipped the bottle with the - rest of the powder into his pocket and strolled down to the bit of dead - wall—I suppose they call them dead walls, sir, because they’re so - convanient for such-like jobs. Anyhow, he laid down herself and the - powder-bottle handy among the grass, and went back to the cabin, so as not - to be suspected by the polis of interferin’ with the job that was Patsy’s - by right. Well, sir, my brave Conn was the next to come to the place, just - to see that Tim hadn’t played a thrick on him. He knew that it was all - right when he saw herself lying among the grass, and as he didn’t know - that Tim had loaded her, he gave her a mouthful of powder himself and - rammed down the lead. After him came my bould Tuohy, and, by the Powers, - if he didn’t load herself in proper style too. Last of all came Patsy that - was to do the job—he’d been consalin’ himself in the plantation, and - it was barely time he had to put another charge into the ould gun, when - Mr. Egan came up on his horse. Patsy slipped a cap on the nipple, and took - a good aim from the side of the wall. When he pulled the trigger it’s a - dead corp that the gentleman would ha’ been only for the accident that - occurred just then, for by some reason or other that nobody can account - for, herself burst—a thing she’d never done before—and Patsy’s - eye was druv into his head, and he was left searching by the aid of the - other for the half of his ear, while Mr. Egan was a mile away on a mad - horse. That’s the story, your honour, only nobody can account to this day - for the quare way that Patsy smiles when he sees a single barr’l gun with - the barr’l a bit rusty.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It was, I recollect, on the day following the rehearsal of this pretty - little tale—the moral of which is that no man should shoot at a - fellow man from the shelter of a crumbling wall, without having - ascertained the exact numerical strength of the charges already within the - barrel of the gun—that I was caught on the mountain in a shower of - rain which penetrated my two coats within half-an-hour, leaving me in the - condition of a bath sponge that awaits squeezing. While I was trickling - down to the plains I met with the narrator of the story just recorded, and - to him I explained that I was wet to the skin. - </p> - <p> - “And if your honour’s wet to the skin, and you with an overcoat on, how - much worse amn’t I that was out through all the shower with only a rag on - my back?” - </p> - <p> - It is said that it was in this neighbourhood that the driver of one of the - “long cars,” on being asked by a tourist what was the name of a berry - growing among the hedges, replied, “Oh, them’s blackberries, your honour.” - </p> - <p> - “Blackberries?” said the tourist. “But these are not black, but pink.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, sir; but blackberries is always pink when they’re green,” was - the ready explanation. - </p> - <p> - I cannot guarantee the novelty of this story; but I can certainly affirm - that it is far more reasonable than the palpable invention regarding the - nervous curate who is said to have announced that, “next Tuesday, being - Easter Monday, an open air meeting will be held in the vestry, to - determine what colour the interior of the schoolhouse shall be whitewashed - outside.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “Am I dhry? Is it am I dhry, that you’re afther askin’ me?” said a car - driver to a couple of country solicitors, whom he was “conveying” to a - court-house at a distant town on a summer’s day. “Dhry? By the Powers! I’m - that dhry that if you was to jog up against me suddint-like, the dust - would fly out of my mouth.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII.—SOME REPORTERS. - </h2> - <p> - <i>An important person—The mayor-maker—Two systems—The - puff and the huff—“Oh that mine enemy were reported verbatim!”—Errors - of omission—Summary justice—An example—The abatement of - a nuisance—The testimony of the warm-hearted—The fixed rate—A - possible placard—A gross insult—Not so bad as it might have - been—The subdivision of an insult—An inadequate assessment—The - Town Councillor’s bribe—Birds of a feather—A handbook needed—An - outburst of hospitality—Never again—The reporters “gloom”—The - March lion—The popularity of the coroner.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE chief of the - reporting staff is usually the most important person connected with a - provincial newspaper. It is not too much to say that it is in his power to - make or to annihilate the reputation of a Town Councillor, or even a Poor - Law Guardian. He may do so by the adoption of either of two systems: the - first is persistent attention, the second is persistent neglect. He may - either puff a man into a reputation, or puff him out of it. There are some - men who become universally abhorred through being constantly alluded to as - “our respected townsman”; such a distinction seems an invidious one to the - twenty thousand townsmen who have never been so referred to. If a reporter - persists in alluding to a certain person as “our respected townsman,” he - will eventually succeed in making him the most highly disrespected burgess - in the municipality, if he was not so before.’ On the other hand a - reporter may, by judicious neglect of a burgess who burns for distinction, - destroy his chances of becoming a Town Councillor; and, perhaps, before he - dies, Mayor. But my experience leads me to believe that if a reporter has - a grudge against a Town Councillor, a Poor Law Guardian, or a Borough - Magistrate, and if he is really vindictive, the most effective course of - vengeance that he can adopt is to record verbatim all that his enemy - utters in public. The man who exclaimed, at a period of the world’s - history when the publishing business had not attained its present - proportions, “Oh that mine enemy had written a book!” knew what he was - talking about. “Oh that mine enemy were reported verbatim!” would - assuredly be the modern equivalent of the bitter cry of the patriarch. The - stutterings, the vain repetitions, and the impossible grammar which - accompany the public utterances—imbecile only when they are not - commonplace—of the average Town Councillor or Poor Law Guardian, - would require the aid of the phonograph to admit of their being anly when - they are not commonplace—of the average Town Councillor or Poor Law - Guardian, would require the aid of the phonograph to admit of their being - adequately depreciated by the public. - </p> - <p> - The worst offenders are those men who are loudest in their complaints - against the reporters, and who are constantly writing to correct what they - call “errors” in the summary of their speeches. A reporter puts in a - grammatical and a moderately reasonable sentence or two the ridiculous - maunderings and wanderings of one of these “public men,” and the only - recognition he obtains assumes the form of a letter to the editor, - pointing out the “omissions” made in the summary. Omissions! I should - rather think there were omissions. - </p> - <p> - I have no hesitation in affirming that the verbatim reporting of their - speeches would mean the annihilation of ninety-nine out of every hundred - of these municipal orators. - </p> - <p> - Only once, on a paper with which I was connected, had a reporter the - courage to try the effect of a literal report of the speech of a man who - was greatly given to complaining of the injustice done to him in the - published accounts of his deliverances. Every “haw,” “hum,” “ah,” “eh—eh;” - every repetition, every reduplication of a repetition, every unfinished - sentence, every singular nominative to a plural verb, every artificial - cough to cover a retreat from an imbecile statement, was reported. The - result was the complete abatement of this nuisance. A considerable time - elapsed before another complaint as to omissions in municipal speeches was - made. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - To my mind, the ability and the judgment shown by the members of the - reporting staff cannot be too warmly commended. It is not surprising that - occasionally attempts should be made by warm-hearted persons to express in - a substantial way their recognition of the talents of this department of a - newspaper. I have several times known of sums of money being offered to - reporters in the country, with a view of obtaining the insertion of - certain paragraphs or the omission of others. Half-a-crown was invariably - the figure at which the value of such services was assessed. I am still of - the opinion that this was not an extravagant sum to offer a presumably - educated man for running the risk of losing his situation. Curiously - enough, the majority of these offers of money came from competitors at - ploughing matches, at exhibitions of oxen and swine, and at flower shows. - Why agriculturalists should be more zealous to show their appreciation of - literary work than the rest of the population it would be difficult to - say; but at one time—a good many years ago—I heard so much - about the attempted distribution of half-crowns in agricultural districts, - I began to fear that at the various shows it would be necessary to have a - placard posted, bearing the words: “GRATUITIES TO REPORTERS STRICTLY - PROHIBITED.” - </p> - <p> - Many years ago I was somewhat tired of hearing about the numerous insults - offered to reporters in this way. A head-reporter once told me that a - junior member of his staff had come to him after a day in the country, - complaining bitterly that he had been grossly insulted by an offer of - money. - </p> - <p> - “And what did you say to him?” I inquired. - </p> - <p> - “I asked him how much he had been offered,” replied the head-reporter, - “and when he said, ‘Half-a-crown,’ I said, ‘Pooh! half-a-crown! that - wasn’t much of an insult. How would you like to be offered a sovereign, as - I was one day in the same neighbourhood? You might talk of your insults - then.’ That shut him up.” - </p> - <p> - I did not doubt it. - </p> - <p> - “You think the juniors protest too much?” said I. - </p> - <p> - The reporter laughed shrewdly. - </p> - <p> - “You remember <i>Punch’s</i> picture of the man lying drunk on the - pavement, and the compassionate lady in the crowd who asked if the poor - fellow was ill, at which a man says, ‘Ill? ‘im ill? I only wish I’d alf - his complaint’?” - </p> - <p> - I admitted that I had a vivid recollection of the picture; but I added - that I could not see what it had to say to the subject we were discussing. - </p> - <p> - Again the reporter smiled. - </p> - <p> - “If you had seen the chap’s face to-day when I talked of the sovereign you - would know what I meant; his face said quite plainly, ‘I wish I had half - of that insult.’” - </p> - <p> - That view was quite intelligible to me some time after, when a reporter, - whose failings were notorious, came to me with the old story. He had been - offered half-a-crown by a man in a good social position who had been fined - at the police court that day for being drunk and assaulting a constable, - and who was anxious that no record of the transaction should appear in the - newspaper. - </p> - <p> - “Great heavens!” said I, “he had the face to offer you half-a-crown?” - </p> - <p> - “He had,” said the reporter, indignantly. “Half-a-crown! The low hound! He - knew that if I included his case in to-morrow’s police news he would lose - his situation, and yet he had the face to offer me half-a-crown. What - hounds there are in the world! Two pounds would have been little enough.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I never heard of a Town Councillor offering a bribe to a reporter; but I - have heard of something more phenomenal—a Town Councillor - indignantly rejecting what he conceived to be a bribe. He took good care - to boast of it afterwards to his constituents. It happened that this - Councillor was the leader of a select faction of three on the Corporation, - whose <i>métier</i> consisted in opposing every scheme that was brought - forward by the Town Clerk, and supported by the other members of the - Corporation. Now the Town Clerk had hired a shooting one autumn, and as - the birds were plentiful, he thought that it would be a graceful act on - his part to send a brace of grouse to every Alderman and every Councillor. - He did so, and all the members of the Board accepted the transaction in a - right spirit—all, except the leader of the opposition faction. He - explained his attitude to his constituents as follows: - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen, you’ll all be glad to hear that I’ve made myself formidable to - our enemies. I’ve brought the so-called Town Clerk down on his knees to - me. An attempt was made to bribe me last week, which I am determined to - expose. One night when I came home from my work, I found waiting for me a - queer pasteboard box with holes in it. I opened it, and inside I found a - couple of fat <i>brown pigeons</i>, and on their legs a card printed ‘With - Mr. Samuel White’s compliments.’ ‘Mr. Samuel White! That’s the Town - Clerk,’ says I, ‘and if Mr. Samuel White thinks to buy my silence by - sending me a pair of brown pigeons with Mr. Samuel White’s compliments, - Mr. Samuel White is a bit mistaken;’ so I just put the pigeons back into - their box, and redirected them to Mr. Samuel White, and wrote him a polite - note to let him know that if I wanted a pair of pigeons I could buy them - for myself. That’s what I did.” (Loud cheers.) - </p> - <p> - When it was explained to him some time after that the birds were grouse, - and not pigeons, he asked where was the difference. The principle would be - precisely the same, he declared, if the birds were eagles or ostriches. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It has often occurred to me that for the benefit of such men, a complete - list should be made out of such presents as may be legitimately received - from one’s friends, and of those that should be regarded as insultive in - their tendency. It must puzzle a good many people to know where the line - should be drawn. Why should a brace of grouse be looked on as a graceful - gift, while a pair of fowl—a “yoke,” they are called in the West of - Ireland—can only be construed as an affront? Why should a haunch of - venison (when not over “ripe”) constitute an acceptable gift, while a - sirloin of prime beef could only be regarded as having an eleemosynary - signification? Why may a lover be permitted to offer the object of his - attachment a fan, but not a hat? a dozen of gloves, but not a pair of - boots? These problems would tax a much higher intelligence—if it - would be possible to imagine such—than that at the command of the - average Town Councillor. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It was the same member of the Corporation who, one day, having succeeded—greatly - to his astonishment—in carrying a resolution which he had proposed - at a meeting, found that custom and courtesy necessitated his providing - refreshment for the dozen of gentlemen who had supported him. His ideas of - refreshment revolved round a public-house as a centre; but when it was - explained to him that the occasion was one that demanded a demonstration - on a higher level, and with a wider horizon, he declared, in the - excitement of the moment, that he was as ready as any of his colleagues to - discharge the duties of host in the best style. He took his friends to a - first-class restaurant, and at a hint from one of them, promptly ordered a - couple of bottles of champagne. When these had been emptied, the host gave - the waiter a shilling, telling him in a lordly way to keep the change. The - waiter was, of course, a German, and, with a smile and a bow, he put the - coin into his pocket, and hastened to help the gentlemen on with their - overcoats. When they were trooping out, he ventured to enquire whom the - champagne was to be charged to. - </p> - <p> - The hospitable Councillor stared at the man, and then expressed the - opinion that all Frenchmen, and perhaps Italians, were the greatest rogues - unhung. - </p> - <p> - “You savey!” he shouted at the waiter—for like many persons on the - social level of Town Councillors, he assumed that all foreigners are a - little deaf,—“You savey, I give you one shilling—one bob—you - savey!” - </p> - <p> - The waiter said he was “much oblige,” but who was to pay for the - champagne? - </p> - <p> - The gentlemen who had partaken of the champagne nudged one another, but - one of them was compassionate, and explained to the Councillor that the - two bottles involved the expenditure of twenty-four shillings. - </p> - <p> - “Twenty-eight shillings,” the waiter murmured in a submissive, - subject-to-the-correction-of-the-Court tone. The wine was Heidsieck of - ‘74, he explained. - </p> - <p> - The Councillor gasped, and then smiled weakly. He had been made the - subject of a jest more than once before, and he fancied he saw in the - winks of the men around him, a loophole of escape from an untenable - position. - </p> - <p> - “Come, come,” said he, “I’ve no more time to waste. Don’t you flatter - yourselves that I can’t see this is a put-up job between you all and the - waiter.” - </p> - <p> - “Pay the man the money and be hanged to you!” said an impetuous member of - the party. - </p> - <p> - Just then the manager of the restaurant strolled up, and received with a - polite smile the statement of the hospitable. Councillor regarding what he - termed the barefaced attempt to swindle on the part of the German waiter. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said the manager, “the price of the wine is on the card. Here it - is,”—he whipped a card out of his pocket. “‘Heidsieck—1874—14s.’” - </p> - <p> - The generous host fell back on a chair speechless. - </p> - <p> - Had any of his friends ever read Hamlet they would certainly not have - missed quoting the lines: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “Indeed this (Town) Councillor - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Who was in life—” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Well—otherwise. However, <i>Hamlet</i> remained unquoted. - </p> - <p> - After a long pause he recovered his powers of speech. - </p> - <p> - “And that’s champagne—that’s champagne!” he said in a weak voice, - “Champagne! By the Lord Harry, I’ve tasted better ginger-beer!” - </p> - <p> - He has lately been very cautious in bringing forward any resolutions at - the Corporation. He is afraid that another of them may chance to be - carried. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The reporter who told me the story which I have just recorded, was an - excellent specimen of the class—shrewd, a capital judge of - character, and a good organiser. He had, however, never got beyond the - stereotyped phrases which appear in every newspaper—indeed, there - was no need for him to get beyond them. Every death “cast a gloom” over - the locality where it occurred; and a chronicle of the weather at any time - during the month of March caused him to let loose the journalist’s lion - upon an unsuspecting public. - </p> - <p> - Once it occurred to me that he went a little too far with the gloom that - he kept, as Captain Mayne Reid’s Mexicans kept their lassoes, ready to - cast at a moment’s notice. - </p> - <p> - He wrote an account of a fire which had caused the death of two persons, - and concluded as follows:— - </p> - <p> - “The conflagration, which was visible at a distance of four miles, and was - not completely subjugated until a late hour, cast a gloom over the entire - quarter of the town, that will be felt for long, more especially as the - premises were wholly uninsured.” - </p> - <p> - Yes, I thought that this was carrying the gloom a little too far. - </p> - <p> - I will say this for him, however: it was not he who wrote: “A tall but - well-dressed man was yesterday arrested on suspicion of being concerned in - a recent robbery.” - </p> - <p> - Nor was it he who headed a paragraph, “Fatal Death by Drowning.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - In a town in which I once resided the coroner died, and there was quite a - brisk competition for the vacant office. The successful candidate was a - gentleman whose claims had been supported by a newspaper with which I was - connected. Three months afterwards the proofreader brought under the - notice of the sub-editor in my presence a paragraph which had come from - the reporter’s room, and which had already been “set up.” So nearly as I - can remember, it was something like this:—“Yesterday, no fewer than - three inquests were held in various parts of this town by our highly - respected coroner. Indeed, any doubts that may possibly have existed as to - the qualification of this gentleman for the coronership, among those - narrowminded persons who opposed his selection, must surely be dispelled - by reference to the statistics of inquests held during the three months - that he has been in office. The increase upon the corresponding quarter - last year is thirteen, or no less than 9.46 per cent. Compared with the - immediately preceding quarter the figures are no less significant, - showing, as they do, an increase of seventeen, or 12.18 per cent. In other - words, the business of the coroner has been augmented by one-eighth since - he came into office. This fact speaks volumes for the enterprise and - ability of the gentleman whose candidature it was our privilege to - support.” - </p> - <p> - Of course this paragraph was suppressed. The sub-editor told me the next - day that it had been written by a junior reporter, who had misunderstood - the instructions of his chief. The fact was that the coroner wanted an - increase of remuneration,—he was paid by a fixed salary, not by - “piece work,” so to speak,—and he had suggested to the chief - reporter that a paragraph calling attention to the increase of inquests in - the town might have a good effect. The chief reporter had given the - figures to a junior, with a few hasty instructions, which he had somehow - misinterpreted. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII—THE SUBJECT OF REPORTS. - </h2> - <p> - <i>The lecture society—“Early Architecture”—The professional - consultation—Its result—“Un verre d’eau”—Its story—Lyrics - as an auxiliary to the lecture—The lecture in print—A - well-earned commendation—The preservation of ancient ruins—The - best preservative—“Stone walls do not a prison make”—The - Parnell Commission—A remarkable visitor—A false prophet—Sir - Charles Russell—A humble suggestion—The bashful young man—Somewhat - changed—“Ireland a Nation”—Some kindly hints—The - “Invincibles” in court—The strange advertisement—How it was - answered—Earl Spencer as a patron—“No kindly act was ever done - in vain!”</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> REPORTER is now - and again compelled to exercise other powers than those which are - generally supposed to be at the command of the writer of shorthand and the - paragraphist. I knew a very clever youth who in a crisis showed of what he - was capable. There was, in the town where we lived, a society of very - learned men and equally learned women. Once a fortnight a paper was read, - usually on some point of surpassing dulness—this was in the good old - days, when lectures were solemn and theatres merry. Just at present, I - need scarcely say, the position of the two is reversed: the theatres are - solemn (the managers, becoming pessimistic by reason of their losses, - endeavour to impress their philosophy upon the public), but the - lecture-room rings with laughter as some <i>savant</i> treats of the - “Loves of Coleoptera” with limelight illustrations, or “The Infant - Bacillus.” The society which I have mentioned had engaged as lecturer for - a certain evening a local architect, who had largely augmented his - professional standing by a reputation for conviviality; and the subject - with which he was to deal was “Early Architecture.” A brother professional - man, whose sympathies were said to extend in many directions, had promised - to take the chair upon this occasion. It so happened, however, that, owing - to his pressing but unspecified engagements, the lecturer found himself, - on the day for which the lecture was announced, still in doubt as to the - sequence that his views should assume when committed to paper. About noon - on this day he strolled into the office of the gentleman who was - advertised to take the chair in the evening, and explained that he should - like to discuss with him the various aspects of the question of Early - Architecture, so that his mind might be at ease on appearing before the - audience. - </p> - <p> - They accordingly went down the street, and made an earnest inspection of - the interior of a cave-dwelling in the neighbourhood—it was styled - “The Cool Grot,” and tradition was respected by the presence therein of - shell-fish, oat-cake, and other elementary foods, with various samples of - alcohol in a rudimentary form. In this place the brother architects - discussed the subject of Early Architecture until, as a reporter would - say, “a late hour.” The result was not such as would have a tendency to - cause an unprejudiced person to accept without some reserve the theory - that on a purely æsthetic question, a just conclusion can most readily be - arrived at by a friendly discussion amid congenial surroundings. - </p> - <p> - A small and very solemn audience had assembled some twenty minutes or so - before the lecturer and chairman put in an appearance, and then no time - was lost in commencing the business of the meeting. The one architect was - moved to the chair, and seconded, and he solemnly took it. Having - explained that he occupied his position with the most pleasurable - feelings, he poured himself out a glass of water with a most unreasonable - amount of steadiness, and laid the carafe exactly on the spot—he was - most scrupulous on this point—it had previously occupied. He drank a - mouthful of the water, and then looked into the tumbler with the shrewd - eye of the naturalist searching for infusoria. Then he laughed, and told a - story that amused himself greatly about a friend of his who had attended a - temperance lecture, and declared that it would have been a great success - if the lecturer had not automatically attempted to blow the froth off the - glass of water with which he refreshed himself. Then he sat down and fell - asleep, before the lecturer had been awakened by the secretary to the - committee, and had opened his notes upon the desk. For about ten minutes - the lecturer made himself quite as unintelligible as the most erudite of - the audience could have desired; but then he suddenly lapsed into - intelligibility—he had reached that section of his subject which - necessitated the recitation of a poem said to be in a Scotch dialect, - every stanza of which terminated with the words, “A man’s a man for a’ - that!” He then bowed, and, recovering himself by a grasp of the desk, - which he shook as though it were the hand of an old schoolfellow whom he - had not met for years, he retired with an almost supernatural erectness to - his chair. - </p> - <p> - In a moment the chairman was on his feet—the sudden silence had - awakened him. In a few well-chosen phrases he thanked the audience for the - very hearty manner in which they had drunk his health. He then told them a - humorous story of his boyhood, and concluded by a reference to one “Mr. - Vice,” whom he trusted frequently to see at the other end of the table, - preparatory to going beneath it. He hoped there was no objection to his - stating that he was a jolly good fellow. No absolute objection being made, - he ventured on the statement—in the key of B flat; the lecturer - joined in most heartily, and the solemn audience went to their homes, - followed by the apologies of the secretary to the committee. - </p> - <p> - The chairman and the lecturer were then shaken up by the old man who came - to turn out the lights. He turned them out as well. - </p> - <p> - Now, the reporter who had been “marked” for that lecture found that he had - some much more important business to attend to. He did not reach the - newspaper office until late, and then he seated himself, and thoughtfully - wrote out the remarks which nine out of every ten chairmen would have - made, attributing them to the gentleman who presided at the lecture; and - then gave a general summary of the lecture on “Early Architecture” which - ninety-nine out of every hundred working architects would deliver if - called on. He concluded by stating that the usual vote of thanks was - conveyed to the lecturer, and suitably acknowledged by him, and that the - audience was “large, representative, and enthusiastic.” - </p> - <p> - The secretary called upon the proprietor of the paper the next day, and - expressed his high appreciation of the tact and judgment of the reporter; - and the proprietor, who was more accustomed to hear comments on the - display of very different attainments on the part of his staff, actually - wrote a letter of commendation to the reporter, which I think was well - earned. - </p> - <p> - The most remarkable point in connection with this occurrence was the - implicit belief placed in the statements of the newspaper, not only by the - public—for the public will believe anything—but also by the - architect-lecturer and the architect-chairman. The professional standing - of the former was certainly increased by the transaction, and till the day - of his death he was accustomed to allude to his lecture on “Early - Architecture.” The secretary to the committee, for his own credit’s sake, - said nothing about the fiasco, and the solemn members of the audience were - so accustomed to listen to incomprehensible lectures in the same room that - they began to think that the performance at which they had “assisted” was - only another of the usual type, so they also held their peace on the - matter. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Having introduced this society, I cannot refrain from telling the story of - another transaction in which it was concerned. The ramifications of the - society extended in many directions, and a more useful organisation could - scarcely be imagined. It was like an elephant’s trunk, which can uproot a - tree—if the elephant is in a good humour—but which does not - disdain to pick up a pin—like the boy who afterwards became Lord - Mayor of London. The society did not shrink from discussing the question - “Is a Monarchy or a Republic the right form of Government?” on the same - night that it dealt with a new stopper for soda-water bottles. The - Carboniferous Future of England was treated of upon the same evening as - the Immortality of the Soul; perhaps there is a closer connection than at - first meets the eye between the two subjects. It took ancient buildings - under its protection, as well as the most recently fabricated pre-historic - axe-head; and it was the discharge of its functions in regard to ancient - buildings that caused the committee to pass a resolution one day, calling - on their secretary to communicate with the owner of a neighbouring - property, in the midst of which a really fine ruin of an ancient castle, - with many interesting associations, was situated, begging him to order a - wall to be built around the ruins, so as to prevent them from continuing - to be the resort of cows with a fine taste in archaeology, when the summer - days were warm and they wanted their backs scratched. - </p> - <p> - The property was in Ireland, consequently the landlord lived in England, - and had never so much as seen the ruins. It was news to him that anything - of interest was to be found on his Irish estates; but as his son was - contemplating the possibility of entering Parliament as the representative - of an Irish borough, he at once crossed the Channel, had an interview with - the society’s secretary, and, with the president, visited the old castle, - and was delighted with it. He sent for his bailiff, and told him that he - wanted a wall four feet high to be built round the field in the centre of - which the ruins lay—he even went so far as to “peg out,” so to - speak, the course that he wished the wall to take. - </p> - <p> - The Irish bailiff stared at his master, but expressed the delight it would - give him to carry out his wishes. - </p> - <p> - The owner crossed to England, promising to return in three months to see - how the work had been done. - </p> - <p> - He kept his word. He returned in three months, and found, sure enough, - that an excellent wall had been built on the exact lines he had laid down, - but every stone of the ruins of the ancient castle had disappeared. - </p> - <p> - The bailiff stood by with a beaming face as he explained how the ruins had - gone. - </p> - <p> - <i>He had caused the wall to be built out of the stones of the ancient - castle, to save expense.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - If reporters were only afforded a little leisure, any one of them who has - lived in a large town could compile an interesting volume of his - experiences. I have often regretted that I could never master the art of - shorthand. I worked at it for months when a boy, and made sufficient - progress to be able to write it pretty fairly; but writing is not - everything. The capacity for transcribing one’s notes is something to be - taken into account; and it was at this point that I broke down, and was - forced to become a novelist—a sort of novelist. The first time that - I went up country in Africa, my stock of paper being limited, I carried - only two pocket-books, and economised my space by taking my notes in - shorthand. I had no occasion to refer to these notes until I was writing - my novel “Daireen,” and then I found myself face to face with a hundred - pages of hieroglyphs which were utterly unintelligible to me. In despair I - brought them to a reporter, and he read them off for me much more rapidly - than he or anyone else could read my ordinary handwriting to-day. In fact, - he read just a little too fast,—I was forced to beg him to stop. - There are some occurrences of which one takes a note in shorthand in one’s - youth in a strange country, but which one does not wish particularly to - offer to the perusal of strangers years afterwards. - </p> - <p> - But although I could never be a reporter, I now and again availed myself - of a reporter’s privileges, when I wished to be present at a trial that - promised some interesting features to a student of good and evil. It - seemed to me that the Parnell Commission was an epitome of the world’s - history from the earliest date. No writer has yet done justice to that - extraordinary incident. I have asked some reporters, who were present day - after day, if they intended writing a real history of the Commission; not - the foolish political history of the thing, but the story of all that was - laid bare to their eyes hour after hour,—the passions of patriotism, - of power, of hate, of revenge; the devotion to duty, the dogged heroism, - the religious fervour; every day brought to light such examples of these - varied attributes of the Irish nature as the world had never previously - known. - </p> - <p> - The reporters said they had no time to devote to such thankless work; and, - besides, every one was sick of the Commission. - </p> - <p> - Often as I went into the court and faced the scene, it never lost its - glamour for me. Every day I seemed to be wandering through a world of - romance. I could not sleep at night, so deeply impressed was I with the - way certain witnesses returned the scrutiny of Sir Charles Russell; with - the way Mr. Parnell hypnotised others; with the stories of the awful - struggle of which Ireland was the centre. - </p> - <p> - Going out of the courts one evening, I came upon an old man standing with - his hat off and with one arm uplifted in an attitude of denunciation that - was tragic beyond description. He was a handsome old man, very tall, but - slightly stooped, and he clearly occupied a good position in the world. - </p> - <p> - We were alone just outside the courts. I pretended that I had suddenly - missed something. I stood thrusting my hands into my pockets and feeling - between the buttons of my coat, for I meant to watch him. At last I pulled - out my cigarette-case and strolled on. - </p> - <p> - “You were in that court?” the old man said, in a tone that assured me I - had not underestimated his social position. - </p> - <p> - He did not wait for me to reply. - </p> - <p> - “You saw that man sitting with his cold impassive face while the tears - were on the cheeks of every one else? Listen to me, sir! I called upon the - Most High to strike him down—to strike him down—and my prayer - was heard. I saw him lying, disgraced, deserted, dead, before my eyes; and - so I shall see him before a year has passed. ‘Mene, mene, tekel, - upharsin.’” - </p> - <p> - Again he raised his arm in the direction of the court, and when I saw the - light in his eyes I knew that I was looking at a prophet. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly he seemed to recover himself. He put on his hat and turned round - upon me with something like angry surprise. I raised my hat. He did the - same. He went in one direction and I went in the opposite. - </p> - <p> - He was a false prophet. Mr. Parnell was not dead within the year. In fact, - he was not dead until two years and two months had passed. In accordance - with the thoughtful provisions of the Mosaic code, that old gentleman - deserved to be stoned for prophesying falsely. But his manner would almost - have deceived a reporter. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Having introduced the subject of the Parnell Commission, I may perhaps be - permitted to express the hope that Sir Charles Russell will one day find - sufficient leisure to give us a few chapters of his early history. I - happen to know something of it. I am fully acquainted with the nature of - some of its incidents, which certainly would be found by the public to - possess many interesting and romantic elements; though, unlike the - romantic episodes in the career of most persons, those associated with the - early life of Sir Charles Russell reflect only credit upon himself. Every - one should know by this time that the question of what is Patriotism and - what is not is altogether dependent upon the nature of the Government of - the country. In order to prolong its own existence for six months, a - Ministry will take pains to alter the definition of the word Patriotism, - and to prosecute every one who does not accept the new definition. Forty - years ago the political lexicon was being daily revised. I need say no - more on this point; only, if Sir Charles Russell means to give us some of - the earlier chapters of his life he should lose no time in setting about - the task. A Lord Chief Justice of England cannot reasonably be expected to - deal with any romantic episodes in his own career, however important may - be the part which he feels himself called on now and again to take in the - delimitation of the romantic elements (of a different type) in the careers - of others of Her Majesty’s subjects. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It may surprise some of those persons who have been unfortunate enough to - find themselves witnesses for the prosecution in cases where Sir Charles - Russell has appeared for the defence, to learn that in his young days he - was exceedingly shy. He has lost a good deal of his early diffidence, or, - at any rate, he manages to prevent its betraying itself in such a way as - might tend to embarrass a hostile witness. As a rule, the witnesses do not - find that bashfulness is the most prominent characteristic of his - cross-examination. But I learned from an early associate of Sir Charles’s, - that when his name appeared on the list to propose or to respond to a - toast at one of the dinners of a patriotic society of which my informant - as well as Sir Charles was a member, he would spend the day nervously - walking about the streets, and apparently quite unable to collect his - thoughts. Upon one occasion the proud duty devolved upon him of responding - to the toast, “Ireland a Nation!” Late in the afternoon my informant, who - at that time was a small shopkeeper—he is nothing very considerable - to-day—found him in a condition of disorderly perturbation, and - declaring that he had no single idea of what he should say, and he felt - certain that unless he got the help of the man who afterwards became my - informant he must inevitably break down. - </p> - <p> - “I laughed at him,” said the gentleman who had the courage to tell the - story which I have the courage to repeat, “and did my best to give him - confidence. ‘Sure any fool could respond to “Ireland a Nation!”’ said I; - ‘and you’ll do it as well as any other.’ But even this didn’t give him - courage,” continued my informant, “and I had to sit down and give him the - chief points to touch on in his speech. He wrung my hand, and in the - evening he made a fine speech, sir. Man, but it was a pity that there - weren’t more of the party sober enough to appreciate it!” - </p> - <p> - I tell this tale as it was told to me, by a respectable tradesman whose - integrity has never been questioned. - </p> - <p> - It occurred to me that that quality in which, according to his interesting - reminiscence of forty years ago, his friend Russell was deficient, is not - one that could with any likelihood of success be attributed to the - narrator. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - If any student of good and evil—the two fruits, alas! grow upon the - same tree—would wish for a more startling example of the effect of a - strong emotion upon certain temperaments than was afforded the people - present in the Dublin Police Court on the day that Carey left the dock and - the men he was about to betray to the gallows, that student would indeed - be exacting. - </p> - <p> - I had been told by a constabulary officer what was coming, so that, unlike - most persons in the court, I was not too startled to be able to observe - every detail of the scene. Carey was talking to a brother ruffian named - Brady quite unconcernedly, and Brady was actually smiling, when an officer - of constabulary raised his finger and the informer stepped out of the - dock, and two policemen in plain clothes moved to his side. Carey glanced - back at his doomed accomplices, and muttered some words to Brady. I did - not quite catch them, but I thought the words were, “It’s half an hour - ahead of you that I am, Joe.” - </p> - <p> - Brady simply looked at his betrayer, whom it seems he had been anxious to - betray. There was absolutely no expression upon his face. Some of the - others of the same murderous gang seemed equally unaffected. One of them - turned and spat on the floor. But upon the faces of at least two of the - men there was a look of malignity that transformed them into fiends. It - was the look that accompanies the stab of the assassin. Another of them - gave a laugh, and said something to the man nearest to him; but the laugh - was not responded to. - </p> - <p> - The youngest of the gang stared at one of the windows of the court-house - in a way that showed me he had not been able to grasp the meaning of - Carey’s removal from the dock. - </p> - <p> - In half-an-hour every expression worn by the faces of the men had changed. - They all had a look that might almost have been regarded as jocular. There - can be no doubt that when a man realises that he has been sentenced to - death, his first feeling is one of relief. His suspense is over—so - much is certain. He feels that—and that only—for an hour or - so. I could see no change on the faces of these poor wretches whom the - Mephistophelian fun of Fate had induced to call themselves Invincible, in - order that no devilish element might be wanting in the tragedy of the - Phoenix Park. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I do not suppose that many persons are acquainted with the secret history - of the detection of the “Invincibles.” I think I am right in stating that - it has never yet been made public. I am not at liberty to mention the - source whence I derived my knowledge of some of the circumstances that led - to the arrest of Carey, but there is no doubt in my mind as to the - accuracy of my “information received” on this matter. - </p> - <p> - It may, perhaps, be remembered that, some months after the date of the - murders, a strange advertisement appeared in almost every newspaper in - Great Britain. It stated that if the man who had told another, on the - afternoon of May 6th, 1882, that he had once enjoyed a day’s skating on - the pond at the Viceregal Lodge, would communicate with the Chief of the - Detective Department at Dublin Castle, he would be thanked. Now beyond the - fact that May 6th was the date of the murders, and that they had taken - place in the Phoenix Park, there was nothing in this advertisement to - suggest that it had any bearing upon the shocking incident; still there - was a general feeling that it had a very intimate connection with the - efforts that the police were making to unravel the mystery of the outrage; - and this impression was well founded. - </p> - <p> - I learned that the strangely-worded advertisement had been inserted in the - newspapers at the instigation of a constabulary officer, who had, in many - disguises, been endeavouring to find some clue to the assassins in Dublin. - One evening he slouched into a public-house bespattered as a bricklayer, - and took a seat in a box, facing a pint of stout. He had been in - public-house after public-house every Saturday night for several weeks - without obtaining the slightest suggestion as to the identity of the - murderers, and he was becoming discouraged; but on this particular evening - he had his reward, for he overheard a man in the next box telling some - others, who were drinking with him, that Lord Spencer was not such a bad - sort of man as might be supposed from the mere fact of his being - Lord-Lieutenant. He (the narrator) had been told by a man in the Phoenix - Park on the very evening of the murders that he (the man) had not been - ashamed to cheer Lord Spencer on his arrival at Dublin that day, for when - he had last been in Dublin he had allowed him to skate upon the pond in - the Viceregal grounds. - </p> - <p> - The officer dared not stir from his place: he knew that if he were at all - suspected of being a detective, his life would not be worth five minutes’ - purchase. He could only hope to catch a glimpse of some of the party when - they were leaving the place. He failed to do so, for some cause—I - cannot remember what it was—nor could the barmaid give any - satisfactory reply to his cautiously casual enquiries as to the names of - any of the men who had occupied the box. - </p> - <p> - It was then that the advertisement was inserted in the various newspapers; - and, after the lapse of some weeks, a man presented himself to the Chief - of the Criminal Investigation Department, saying that he believed the - advertisement referred to him. The man seemed a respectable artisan, and - his story was that one day during the last winter that Earl Spencer had - been in Ireland, he (the man) had left his work in order to have a few - hours’ skating on the ponds attached to the Zoological Gardens in the - Phoenix Park, but on arriving at the ponds he found that the ice had been - broken. “I was just going away,” the man said, “when a gentleman with a - long beard spoke to me, and enquired if I had had a good skate. I told him - that I was greatly disappointed, as the ice had all been broken, and I - would lose my day’s pay. He took a card out of his pocket, and wrote - something on it,” continued the man, “and then handed it to me, saying, - ‘Give that to the porter at the Viceregal Lodge, and you’ll have the best - day’s skating you have had in all your life.’ He said what was true: I - handed in the card and told the porter that a tall gentleman with a beard - had given it to me. ‘That was His Excellency himself,’ said the porter, as - he brought me down to the pond, where, sure enough, I had such a day’s - skating as I’ve never had before or since.” - </p> - <p> - “And you were in the Phoenix Park on the evening of the murders?” said the - Chief of the Department. - </p> - <p> - “I must have been there within half-an-hour of the time they were - committed,” replied the man. “But I know nothing of them.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m convinced of it,” said the officer. “But I should like to hear if you - met any one you knew in the Park as you were coming away.” - </p> - <p> - “I only met one man whose name I knew,” said the other, “and that was a - builder that I have done some jobs for: James Carey is his name.” - </p> - <p> - This was precisely the one bit of evidence that was required for the - committal of Carey. - </p> - <p> - An hour afterwards he offered to turn Queen’s Evidence. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV.—IRELAND AS A FIELD FOR REPORTERS. - </h2> - <p> - <i>The humour of the Irish Bench—A circus at Bombay—Mr. - Justice Lawson—The theft of a pig—“Reasonably suspected”—A - prima facie case for the prosecution—The defence—The judge’s - charge—The scope of a judge’s duties in Ireland—Collaring a - prisoner—A gross contempt of court—How the contempt was purged—The - riotous city—The reporter as a war correspondent—“Good mixed - shooting”—The tram-car driver cautioned—The “loot” mistaken - for a violin—The arrest in the cemetery—Pommelling a policeman—A - treat not to be shared—A case of discipline—The German - infantry—A real grievance—“Palmam qui meruit ferat.”</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE is plenty of - light as well as gloom to be found in the law courts, especially in - Ireland. Until recently, the Irish Bench included many humorists. Perhaps - the last of the race was Mr. Baron Dowse. Reporters were constantly giving - me accounts of the brilliant sallies of this judge; but I must confess it - seemed to me that most of the examples which I heard were susceptible of - being regarded as evidence of the judge’s good memory rather than of his - original powers. - </p> - <p> - Upon one occasion, he complained of the misprints in newspapers, and - stated that some time before, he had made the quotation in court, “Better - fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay,” but the report of the case - in the newspaper attributed to him the statement, “Better fifty years of - Europe than a circus at Bombay.” - </p> - <p> - He omitted giving the name of the paper that had so ill-treated him and - Lord Tennyson. He had not been a judge for fifteen years without becoming - acquainted with the rudiments of story-telling. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Mr. Justice Lawson was another Irish judge with a strong vein of humour - which he sometimes repressed, for I do not think that he took any great - pleasure in listening to that hearty, spontaneous, and genial outburst of - laughter that greets every attempt at humour on the part of a judge. It is - a nasty thing to say, but I do believe that he now and again doubted the - sincerity of the appreciation of even the junior counsel. A reporter who - was present at one Cork Assizes when Lawson was at his best, told me a - story of his charge to a jury which conveys a very good idea of what his - style of humour was. - </p> - <p> - A man was indicted for stealing a pig—an animal common in some parts - of Ireland. He was found driving it along, with no more than the normal - amount of difficulty which such an operation involves; and on being spoken - to by the sergeant of constabulary, he stated that he had bought the pig - in a neighbouring town, and that he had paid a certain specified sum for - it. On the same evening, however, a report reached the police barrack that - a pig, the description of which corresponded with the recollection which - the sergeant retained of the one which he had seen some hours before, had - been stolen from its home in the neighbourhood. The owner was brought face - to face with the animal that the sergeant had met, and it was identified - as the one that had been stolen. The man in whose possession the pig was - found was again very frank in stating where he had bought it; but his - second account of the transaction was not on all fours with his first, and - the person from whom he said he had purchased it, denied all knowledge of - the sale—in fact, he was able to show that he was at Waterford at - the time he was alleged to be disposing of it. - </p> - <p> - All these facts were clearly proved; and no attempt was made to controvert - them in the defence. The counsel for the prisoner admitted that the police - had a good <i>prima facie</i> case for the arrest of his client; there - were, undoubtedly, some grounds for suspecting that the animal had - disappeared from the custody of its owner through the instrumentality of - the prisoner; but he felt sure that when the jury had heard the witnesses - for the defence, they would admit that it was utterly impossible to - conceive the notion that he had had anything whatever to do with the - matter. - </p> - <p> - The parish priest was the first witness called, and he stated that he had - known the prisoner for several years, and had always regarded him as a - thrifty, sober, hard-working man, adding that he was most regular in his - attendance to his religious duties. Then the episcopal clergyman was - examined, and stated that the prisoner was an excellent father and a - capital gardener; he also knew something about the care of poultry. - Several of the prisoner’s neighbours testified to his respectability and - his readiness to oblige them, even at considerable personal inconvenience. - </p> - <p> - After the usual speeches, the judge summed up as follows:— - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the evidence in the case, and it’s - not for me to say that any of it is false. The police sergeant met the - prisoner driving the stolen pig, and the prisoner gave two different - accounts as to how it had come into his possession, but neither of these - accounts could be said to have a particle of truth in it. On the other - hand, however, you have heard the evidence of the two clergymen, to whom - the prisoner was well known. Nothing could be more satisfactory than the - character they gave him. Then you heard the evidence given by the - neighbours of the prisoner, and I’m sure you’ll agree with me that nothing - could be more gratifying than the way they all spoke of his neighbourly - qualities. Now, gentlemen, although no attempt whatever has been made by - the defence to meet the evidence given for the prosecution, yet I feel it - necessary to say that it is utterly impossible that you should ignore the - testimony given as to the character of the prisoner by so many witnesses - of unimpeachable integrity; therefore, gentlemen, I think that the only - conclusion you can come to is that the pig was stolen by the prisoner and - that he is the most amiable man in the County Cork.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Mr. Justice Lawson used to boast that he was the only judge on the Bench - who had ever arrested a man with his own hand. The circumstances connected - with this remarkable incident were related to me by a reporter who was - present in the court when the judge made the arrest. - </p> - <p> - The <i>locale</i> was the court-house of an assize town in the South of - Ireland. For several days the Crown had failed to obtain a conviction, - although in the majority of the cases the evidence was practically - conclusive; and as each prisoner was either sent back or set free, the - crowds of sympathisers made an uproar that all the ushers in attendance - were powerless to suppress. On the fourth day the judge, at the opening of - the court, called for the County Inspector of Constabulary, and, when the - officer was brought from the billiard-room of the club, and bustled in, - all sabre and salute, the judge, in his quiet way, remarked to him, “I’m - sorry for troubling you, sir, but I just wished to say that as the court - has been turned into a bear-garden for some hours during the past three - days, I intend to hold you responsible for the maintenance of perfect - order to-day. Your duty is to arrest every man, woman, or child that makes - any demonstration of satisfaction or dissatisfaction at the result of the - hearing of a case, and to put them in the dock, and give evidence as to - their contempt of court. I’ll deal with them after that.” The officer went - down, and orders were given to his men, of whom there were about fifty in - the court, to arrest any one expressing his feelings. The first prisoner - to be tried was a man named O’Halloran, and his case excited a great deal - of interest. The court was crowded to a point of suffocation while the - judge was summing up, which he did with a directness that left nothing to - be desired. In five minutes the jury had returned a verdict of “Not - Guilty.” At that instant a wild “Hurroo!” rang through the court. It came - from a youth who had climbed a pillar at a distance of about a yard from - the Bench. In a moment the judge had put out his hand and grasped the - fellow by the collar; and then, of course, the policemen crushed through - the crowd, and about a dozen of them seized the prehensible legs of the - prisoner Stylites. - </p> - <p> - “One of you will be ample,” said the judge. “Don’t pull the boy to pieces; - let him down gently.” - </p> - <p> - This operation was carried out, and the excitable youth was placed in the - dock, whence the prisoner just tried had stepped. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” said the judge, “I’m going to make an example of you. You heard - what I said to the Inspector of Constabulary, and yet I arrested you with - my own hand in the very act of committing a gross contempt of court. I’ll - make an example of you for the benefit of others. What’s your name?” - </p> - <p> - “O’Halloran, yer honour,” said the trembling youth. - </p> - <p> - “Isn’t that the name of the prisoner who has just been tried?” said the - judge. - </p> - <p> - “It is, my lord,” replied the registrar. - </p> - <p> - “Is the last prisoner any relation of yours?” the judge asked of the youth - in the dock. - </p> - <p> - “He’s me brother, yer honour,” was the reply. - </p> - <p> - “Release the boy, and go on with the business of the court,” said the - judge. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I chanced to be in Belfast at the time of the riots in 1886, and my - experience of the incidents of every day and every night led me to believe - that British troops have been engaged in some campaigns that were a good - deal less risky to war correspondents than the riots were to the local - newspaper reporters. Six of them were more or less severely wounded in the - course of a week. I found it necessary, more than once, to go through the - localities of the disturbances, and I must confess that I was always glad - when I found myself out of the line of fire. I am strongly of the opinion - that the reporters should have been paid at the ratio of war - correspondents at that time. When they engaged themselves they could not - have contemplated the possibility of being forced daily for several weeks - to stand up before a fusilade of stones weighing a pound or so each, and - Martini-Henry bullets, with an occasional iron “nut” thrown in to make up - weight, as it were. In the words of the estate agents’ advertisements, - there was a great deal of “good mixed shooting” in the streets almost - nightly for a month. - </p> - <p> - Several ludicrous incidents took place while the town was crowded with - constabulary who had been brought hastily from the country districts. A - reporter told me that he was the witness of an earnest remonstrance on the - part of a young policeman with a tram-car driver, whom he advised to take - his “waggon” down some of the side streets, in order to escape the angry - crowd that had assembled farther up the road. Upon another occasion, a - grocer’s shop had been looted by the mob at night, and a man had been - fortunate enough to secure a fine ham which he was endeavouring, but with - very partial success, to secrete beneath his coat. A whole ham takes a - good deal of secreting. The police had orders to clear the street, and - they were endeavouring to obey these orders. The man with the ham received - a push on his shoulder, and the policeman by whom it was dealt, shouted - out in a fine, rich Southern brogue (abhorred in Belfast), “Git along wid - ye, now thin, you and yer violin. Is this any toime for ye to be after - lookin’ to foind an awjence? Ye’ll get that violin broke, so ye will.” - </p> - <p> - The man was only too glad to hurry on with his “Strad.” of fifteen pounds’ - weight, mild-cured. He did not wait to explain that there is a difference - between the viol and “loot.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - One of the country policemen made an arrest of a man whom he saw in the - act of throwing a stone, and the next day he gave his evidence at the - Police Court very clearly. He had ascertained that the scene of the arrest - was York Street, and he said so; but the street is about a mile long, and - the magistrate wished to know at what part of it the incident had - occurred. - </p> - <p> - “It was just outside the cimitery, yer wash’p,” replied the man. - </p> - <p> - “The cemetery?” said the magistrate. “But there’s no cemetery in York - Street.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, yer wash’p—there’s a foine cimitery there,” said the - policeman. “It was was just outside the cimitery I arrested the prisoner.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s the first I’ve heard of a cemetery in that neighbourhood,” said the - Bench. “Don’t you think the constable is mistaken, sergeant?” - </p> - <p> - The sergeant put a few questions to the witness, and asked him how he knew - that the place was a cemetery. - </p> - <p> - “Why, how would anybody know a cimitery except by the tombstones?” said - the witness. “I didn’t go for to dig up a corp or two, but there was the - foinest array of tombstones I ever clapt oyes on.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s the stonecutter’s yard the man means,” came a voice from the body of - the court; and in another moment there was a roar of laughter from all - present. - </p> - <p> - The arrest had been made outside a stonecutter’s railed yard, and the - strange policeman had taken the numerous specimens of the proprietor’s - craft, which were standing around in various stages of progress, for the - <i>bona fide</i> furnishing of a graveyard. - </p> - <p> - He was scarcely to be blamed for his error. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I believe that it was during these riots the story originated—it is - now pretty well known, I think—of the man who had caught a - policeman, and was holding his head down while he battered him, when a - brother rowdy rushed up, crying,— - </p> - <p> - “Who have you there, Bill?” - </p> - <p> - “A policeman.” - </p> - <p> - “Hold on, and let me have a thump at him.” - </p> - <p> - “Git along out of this, and find a policeman for yourself!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Having referred to the Royal Irish Constabulary, I may not perhaps be - regarded as more than usually discursive if I add my expression of - admiration for this splendid Force to the many pages of commendation which - it has received from time to time from those whose opinion carries weight - with it—which mine does not. The men are the flower of the people of - Ireland. They have a <i>sense</i> of discipline—it has not to be - impressed upon them by an occasional “fortnight’s C.B.” Upon one occasion, - I was the witness of the extent to which this innate sense of discipline - will stretch without the breaking strain being reached. One of the most - distinguished officers in the Force was parading about one hundred men - armed with the usual carbine—the handiest of weapons—and with - swords fixed. He was mounted on a charger with some blood in it—you - would not find the same man astride of anything else—and for several - days it had been looking down the muzzles of the rifles of a couple of - regiments of autumn manoeuvrers who had been engaged in a sham fight in - the Park; but it had never shown the least uneasiness, even when the Field - Artillery set about the congenial task of annihilating a skeleton enemy. - It stood patiently while the constabulary “ported,” “carried,” and - “shouldered”; but so soon as the order to “present” was given, a gleam of - sunlight glanced down the long line of fixed swords, and that twinkle was - just what an Irish charger, born and bred among the fogs of the Atlantic - seaboard, could not stand. It whirled round, and went at full gallop - across the springy turf, then suddenly stopped, sending its rider about - twenty yards ahead upon his hands and knees. After this feat, it allowed - itself to be quietly captured by the mounted orderly who had galloped - after it. The orderly dismounted from his horse, and passed it on to the - officer, who galloped back to the long line of men standing at the - “present” just as they had been before he had left them so hurriedly. They - received the order to “shoulder” without emotion, and then the parade went - on as if nothing had happened. Subsequently, the officer remounted his own - charger—which had been led up, and had offered an ample apology—and - in course of time he again gave the order to “present.” The horse’s ears - went back, but it did not move a hoof. After the “shoulder” and “port” the - officer made the men “charge swords,” and did not halt them until they - were within a yard of the horse’s head. The manouvre had no effect upon - the animal. - </p> - <p> - I could not help contrasting the discipline shown by the Irish - Constabulary upon this occasion with the bearing of a company of a - regiment of German Infantry, who were being paraded in the Thiergarten at - Berlin, when I was riding there one day. The captain and lieutenant had - strolled away from the men, leaving them standing, not “at ease,” but at - “attention”—I think the officers were making sure that the carriage - of the Crown Prince was not coming in their direction. But before two - minutes had passed the men were standing as easy as could well be, - chatting together, and suggesting that the officers were awaiting the - approach of certain young ladies, about whose personal traits and whose - profession they were by no means reticent. Of course, when the officers - turned, the men stood at “attention”; but I trotted on to where I lived In - Den Zelten, feeling that there was but little sense of discipline in the - German Army—so readily does a young man arrive at a grossly - erroneous conclusion through generalising from a single instance. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It is difficult to understand how it comes that the splendid services of - the Royal Irish Constabulary have not been recognised by the State. I have - known officers who served on the staff during the Egyptian campaign, but - who confessed to me that they never heard a shot fired except for saluting - purposes, and yet they wore three decorations for this campaign. Surely - those Irish Constabulary officers, who have discharged the most perilous - duties from time to time, as well as daily duties requiring the exercise - of tact, discretion, judgment, and patience, are at least as deserving of - a medal as those soldiers who obtained the maximum of reward at the - minimum of risk in Egypt, South Africa, or Ashantee. The decoration of the - Volunteers was a graceful recognition of the spirit that binds together - these citizen soldiers. Surely the services of some members of the Irish - Constabulary should be similarly recognised. This is a genuine Irish - grievance, and it is one that could be redressed much more easily than the - majority of the ills that the Irish people are heir to. A vote for a - thousand pounds would purchase the requisite number of medals or stars or - crosses—perhaps all three might be provided out of such a fund—for - those members of the Force who have distinguished themselves. The right - adjudication of the rewards presents no difficulty, owing to the “record” - system which prevails in the Force. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV.—IRISH TROTTINGS AND JOTTINGS. - </h2> - <p> - <i>Some Irish hotels—When comfort comes in at the door, humour flies - out by the window—A culinary experience—Plenty of new - sensations—A kitchen blizzard—How to cook corned beef—A - théoriser—Hare soup—A word of encouragement—The result—An - avenue forty-two miles long—Nuda veritas—An uncanny request—A - diabolic lunch—A club dinner—The pièce de resistance—Not - a going concern—A minor prophecy—An easy drainage system—Not - to be worked by an amateur—Après moi, le deluge—Hot water and - its accompaniments—The boots as Atropos—A story of Thackeray—A - young shaver.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN writing for an - Irish newspaper, I took some pains to point out how easily the country - might be made attractive to tourists if only the hotels were improved. I - have had frequent “innings,” and my experiences of Irish hotels in various - districts where I have shot, or fished, or yachted, or boated, would make - a pretty thick volume, if recorded. But while most of these experiences - have some grain of humour in them, that humour is of a type that looks - best when viewed from a distance. When it is first sprung upon him, this - Irish fun is not invariably relished by the traveller. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Max O’Rell told me that he liked the Irish hotels at which he had - sojourned, because he was acknowledged by the <i>maîtres</i> to possess an - identity that could not be adequately expressed by numerals. But on the - whole it is my impression that the numerical system is quite tolerable if - one gets good food and a clean sleeping-place. To be sure there is no - humour in a comfortable dinner, or a bed that does not require a layer of - Keating to be spread as a sedative to the army of occupation; still, - though the story of tough chickens and midnight hunts can be made - genuinely entertaining, I have never found that these actual incidents - were in themselves very inspiriting. - </p> - <p> - A friend of mine who has a capital shooting in a picturesque district, was - compelled to lodge, and to ask his guests to lodge, at the little inn - during his first shooting season. Knowing that the appetite of men who - have been walking over mountains of heather is not usually very - fastidious, he fancied that the inn cook would be quite equal to the - moderate demands made upon her skill. The experiment was a disastrous one. - The more explicit the instructions the woman was given regarding the - preparation of the game, the more mortifying to the flesh were her - achievements. There was, it is true, a certain amount of interest aroused - among us every day as to the form that the culinary whim of the cook would - assume. The monarch that offered a reward for the discovery of a new - sensation would have had a good time with us. We had new sensations at the - dinner hour every day. “Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we - may be,” was an apothegm that found constant illustration when applied to - that woman’s methods: we knew that we gave her salmon, and grouse, and - hare, and snipe; but what was served to us, Heaven and that cook only knew—on - second thoughts I will leave Heaven out of the question altogether. The - monstrous originalities, the appalling novelties, the confounding of - substances, the unnatural daring manifested in every day’s dinner, filled - us with amazement, but, alas! with nothing else. We were living in a sort - of perpetual kitchen blizzard—in the centre of a culinary chaos. The - whirl was too much for us. - </p> - <p> - Our host took upon him to allay the fiend. He sent to the nearest town for - butcher’s supplies. The first joint that arrived was a fine piece of - corned beef. - </p> - <p> - “There, my good woman,” cried our host, putting it into the cook’s hands, - “I suppose you can cook that, if you can’t cook game.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, your honour, it’s misself that can cook it tubbe sure,” she - cried in her lighthearted way. - </p> - <p> - She did cook it. - </p> - <p> - <i>She roasted it for five hours on a spit in front of the kitchen fire.</i> - </p> - <p> - As she laid it on the table, she apologised for the unavoidable absence of - gravy. - </p> - <p> - It was the driest joint she had ever roasted, she said; and I do believe - that it was. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - One of the party, who had theories on the higher education of women, and - other methods of increasing the percentage of unmarriageable females, said - that the cook had never been properly approached. She could not be - expected to know by intuition that the flavour of salmon trout was - impaired by being stewed in a cauldron with a hare and many friends, or - that the prejudices of an effete civilisation did not extend so far as to - make the boiling of grouse in a pot with bacon a necessity of existence. - The woman only needed a hint or two and she would be all right. - </p> - <p> - He said he would give her a hint or two. He made soup the basis of his - first hints. - </p> - <p> - It was so simple, he said. - </p> - <p> - He picked up a couple of hares, an old cock grouse and a few snipe, and - told the woman to put them in a pot, cover them with water, and leave them - to simmer—“Not to boil, mind; you understand?”—“Oh, tubbe - sure, sorr,”—for the six hours that we would be on the mountain. He - showed her how to cut up onions, and they cut up some between them; he - then taught her how to fry an onion in the most delicate of ribbon-like - slices for “browning.” All were added to the pot, and our friend joined us - with a very red face, and carrying about him a flavour of fried onions as - well defined as a saint’s halo by Fra Angelico. The dogs sniffed at him - for a while, and so did the keeper. - </p> - <p> - He declared that the woman was a most intelligent specimen, and quite - ready to learn. We smiled grimly. - </p> - <p> - All that day our friend shot nothing. We could see that, like Eugene Aram, - his thought was otherwhere. We knew that he was thinking over the coming - soup. - </p> - <p> - On returning to the inn after a seven hours’ tramp, he hastened to the - kitchen. A couple of us loitered outside the door, for we felt certain - that a surprise was awaiting our friend—the pot would have leaked, - perhaps; but the savoury smell that filled the kitchen and overflowed into - the lobby and the room where we dined made us aware that everything was - right. - </p> - <p> - Our friend turned a stork’s eye into the pot, and then, with a word of - kind commendation to the cook—“A man’s word of encouragement is - everything to a woman, my lad, with a wink to me—he called for a - pint of port wine and placed it handy. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” said he to the woman, “strain off that soup in a quarter of an - hour, add that wine, and we’ll show these gentlemen that between us we can - cook.” - </p> - <p> - In a quarter of an hour we were sitting round the table. Our friend tried - to look modest and devoid of all self-consciousness as the woman entered - with a glow of crimson triumph on her face, and bearing in her hands an - immense dish with the well-known battered zinc cover concealing the - contents. - </p> - <p> - Down went the dish, and up went the cover, disclosing a rugged, - mountainous heap of the bones of hare, with threads of flesh still - adhering to them, and the skeletons of some birds. - </p> - <p> - “Good Lord!” cried our host. “What’s this anyway? The rags of what was - stewed down for the soup?” - </p> - <p> - Our theorising friend leapt up. - </p> - <p> - “Woman,” he shouted, “where the devil is the soup?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure, didn’t ye bid me strain it off, sorr?” said the woman. - </p> - <p> - “And where the blazes did you strain it off?” he asked, in an awful - whisper. - </p> - <p> - “Why, where should I be after straining it, sorr, but into the bog?” she - replied. - </p> - <p> - The bog was an incident of the landscape at the back of the inn. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I recollect that upon the occasion of this shooting party, a new - under-keeper arrived from Connaught, and I overheard him telling a - colleague who came from the county Clare, that the avenue leading to his - last employer’s residence was forty-two miles long. - </p> - <p> - “By me sowl,” said the Clare man, “it’s not me that would like to be set - down at the lodge gates on an empty stomach within half-an-hour of - dinner-time.” - </p> - <p> - After some further conversation, the Connaught man began to dilate upon - the splendour of his late master’s family. He reached a truly dramatic - climax by saying,— - </p> - <p> - “And every night of their lives at home the ladies strip for dinner.” - </p> - <p> - “Holy Moses!” was the comment. - </p> - <p> - “Do your master’s people at home strip for dinner?” enquired the Connaught - man. - </p> - <p> - “No; but they link in,” was the thoughtful reply. - </p> - <p> - Sometimes, it must be acknowledged, an unreasonable strain is put upon the - resources of an Irish inn by an inconsiderate tourist. Some years ago, my - brother-in-law, Bram Stoker, was spending his holiday in a picturesque - district of the south-west. He put up at the usual inn, and before leaving - for a ramble, oh the morning of his arrival, the cook (and waitress) asked - him what he would like for lunch. The day was a trifle chilly, and, - forgetting for the moment that he was not within the precincts of the - Green-room or the Garrick, he said, “Oh, I think that it’s just the day - for a devil—yes, I’ll cat a devil at two.” - </p> - <p> - “Holy Saints!” cried the woman, as he walked off. “What sort of a man is - that at all, at all? He wants to lunch off the Ould Gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - The landlord scratched his chin and said that this was the most - unreasonable demand that had ever been made upon his house. He expressed - the opinion that the gastronome whose palate was equal to this particular - <i>plat</i> should seek it elsewhere—he even ventured to specify the - <i>locale</i> at which the search might appropriately begin with the best - chances of being realised. His wife, however, took a less despondent view - of the situation, and suggested that as the powers of exorcising the Foul - Fiend were delegated to the priest, it might be only reasonable to assume - that the reverend gentleman would be equal to the much less difficult feat - involved in the execution of the tourist’s order. - </p> - <p> - But before the priest had been sent for, the constabulary officer drove - up, and was consulted on the question that was agitating the household. - With a roar of laughter, the officer called for a couple of chops and the - mustard and cayenne pots—he had been there before—and showed - the cook the way out of her difficulty. - </p> - <p> - But up to the present hour I hear that that landlord says,— - </p> - <p> - “By the powers, it’s misself that never knew what a divil was till Mr. - Stoker came to my house.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - However piquant a comestible the Foul Fiend might be, I believe that in - point of toughness he would compare favourably with a fully-matured swan. - Among the delicacies of the table I fear that the swan will not obtain - great honour, if any dependence may be placed upon a story which was told - to me at a fishing inn in Connemara, regarding an experiment accidentally - tried upon such a bird. I repeat the story in this place, lest any - literary man may be led to pamper a weak digestion by indulging in a swan - supper. The specimen in question was sent by a gentleman, who lived in a - stately home in Lincolnshire, as a gift to the Athenæum club, of which he - was a member. The bird was addressed to the secretary, and that gentleman - without delay handed it over to the cook to be prepared for the table. - There was to be a special dinner at the end of the week, and the committee - thought that a distinctive feature might be made of the swan. They were - not mistaken. As a <i>coup d’oil</i> the swan, resting on a great silver - dish, carried to the table by two servitors, could scarcely have been - surpassed even by the classical peacock or the mediaeval boar’s head. The - croupier plunged a fork with a steady hand into the right part—wherever - that was situated—and then attacked the breast with his knife. Not - the slightest impression could he make upon that portion of the mighty - structure that faced him. The breast turned the edge of the knife; and - when the breast did that the people at the table began to wonder what the - drum-sticks would be like. A stronger blade was sent for, and an athlete—he - was not a member of the Athenæum—essayed to penetrate the skin, and - succeeded too, after a vigorous struggle. When he had wiped the drops from - his brow he went at the flesh with confidence in his own powers. By some - brilliant wrist-practice he contrived to chip a few flakes off, but it - soon became plain that eating any one of them was out of the question. One - might as well submit as a <i>plat</i> a drawer of a collector’s geological - cabinet. The club cook was sent for, and he explained that he had had no - previous experience of swans, but he considered that the thirteen hours’ - boiling to which he had submitted the first specimen that had come under - his notice, all that could reasonably be required by any bird, whether - swan or cassowary. He thought that perhaps with a circular saw, after a - steam roller had been passed a few times over the carcass, it might be - possible.... - </p> - <p> - “Well, I hope you got my swan all right,” said the donor a few days after, - addressing the secretary. - </p> - <p> - “That was a nice joke you played on us,” said the secretary. - </p> - <p> - “Joke? What do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “As if you didn’t know! We had the thing boiled for thirteen hours, and - yet when it was brought to the table we might as well have tried to cut - through the Rock of Gibraltar with a pocket-knife.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean? You don’t mean to say that you had it cooked?” - </p> - <p> - “Didn’t you send it to be cooked?” - </p> - <p> - “Cooked! cooked! Great heavens, man! I sent it to be stuffed and preserved - as a curiosity in the club. That swan has been in my family for two - hundred and eighty years. It was one of the identical birds fed by the - children of Charles I.—you’ve seen the picture of it. My ancestor - held the post of ‘master of the swans and keeper of the king’s cygnets - sure.’ It is said that a swan will live for three hundred years or - thereabouts. And you plucked it, and cooked it! Great heavens! It was a - bit tough, I suppose?” - </p> - <p> - “Tough?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; I daresay you’d be tough, too, about a.d. 2200. And I thought it - would look so well in the hall!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - At the same time that the tale just recorded was told to me, I heard - another Lincolnshire story. I do not suppose that it is new. A certain - church was situated at a place that was within the sphere of influence of - some fens when in flood. The consequence was that during a severe winter, - divine service was held only every second Sunday. Once, however, the - weather was so bad that the parson did not think it worth his while going - near the church for five Sundays. This fact came to the ears of the - Bishop, and he wrote for an explanation. The clergyman replied as follows:— - </p> - <p> - “Your lordship has been quite correctly informed regarding the length of - the interval that has elapsed since my church was open; but the fact is - that the devil himself couldn’t get at my parishioners in the winter, and - I promise your lordship to be before him in the spring.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - That parson took a humbler view of his position and privileges in the - world than did a Presbyterian minister in Ulster whose pompous way of - moving and of speaking drew toward him many admirers and imitators. He - paid a visit to Palestine at one time of his life, and on his return, he - preached a sermon introducing some of his experiences. Now, the only - inhabitants of the Holy Land that the majority of travellers can talk - about are the fleas; but this Presbyterian minister had much to tell about - all that he had seen. It was, however, only when he began to show his - flock how strictly the inspiriting prophecies of Jeremiah and Joel and the - rest had been fulfilled that he proved that he had not visited the country - in vain. - </p> - <p> - “My dear friends,” said he, “I read in the Sacred Book the prophecy that - the land should be in heaps: I looked up from the page, and there, before - my eyes, were the heaps. I read that the bittern should cry there: I - looked up; lo! close at hand stood a bittern. I read that the Minister of - the Lord should mourn there: <i>I was that minister.</i>” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Upon one occasion, when sojourning at a picturesquely situated Connemara - inn, hot water was left outside my bedroom door in a handy soup tureen, in - which there was also a ladle reposing. One morning in the same “hotel” I - called the attention of the official, who discharged (indifferently) the - duties of boots and landlord, to the circumstance that my bath - (recollecting the advertisement of the entertainment which it was possible - to obtain under certain conditions at the Norwegian inn, I had brought the - bath with me) had not been emptied since the previous day. The man said, - “It’s right that you are, sorr,” and forthwith remedied the omission by - throwing the contents of the bath out of the window. - </p> - <p> - I was so struck by the convenience of this system of main drainage, and it - seemed so simple, that the next morning, finding that the bath was in the - same condition as before, I thought to save trouble by performing the - landlord’s operation for myself. I opened the window and tilted over the - bath. In a moment there was a yell from below, and the air became - sulphurous with Celtic maledictions. These were followed by roars of - laughter in the vernacular, so that I thought it prudent to lower both the - window and the blind without delay. - </p> - <p> - “Holy Biddy!” remarked the landlord when I had descended to breakfast—not - failing to observe that a portly figure was standing in a <i>semi-nude</i> - condition in front of the kitchen fire, while on the back of a chair - beside him a black coat was spread-eagled, sending forth a cloud of steam—“Holy - Biddy, sorr, what was that ye did this morning, anyway?” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean, Dennis?” I asked innocently. “I shaved and dressed as - usual.” - </p> - <p> - “Ye emptied the tin tub [<i>i.e</i>., my zinc bath] out of the windy over - Father Conn,” replied the landlord. “It’s himself that’s being dried this - minute before the kitchen fire.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m very sorry,” said I. “You see, I fancied from the way you emptied the - bath yesterday that that was the usual way of doing the business.” - </p> - <p> - “So it is, sorr,” said he. “But you should always be after looking out - first to see that all’s clear below.” - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you have those directions printed and hung up in the bedroom?” - said I, assuming—as I have always found it safe to do upon such - occasions—the aggressive tone of the injured party. - </p> - <p> - “We don’t have so many gentlemen coming here that’s so dirty that they - need to be washed down every blessed marnin’,” he replied; and I thought - it better to draw upon my newspaper experience, and quote the - three-starred admonition, “All communications on this subject must now - cease.” - </p> - <p> - However, the trout which were laid on the table in front of me were so - numerous, and looked so tempting, that I went into the kitchen, and after - making an elaborate apology to Father Conn, the amiable parish priest, for - the mishap he had sustained through my ignorance of the natural - precautions necessary to be taken when preparing my bath, insisted on the - reverend gentleman’s joining me at breakfast while his coat was being - dried. - </p> - <p> - With only a superficial reluctance, he accepted my invitation, remarking,— - </p> - <p> - “I had my own breakfast a couple of hours ago, sir, but in troth I feel - quite hungry again. Faith, it’s true enough that there’s nothing like a - morning swim for giving a man an appetite.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Two lady relatives of mine were on their way to a country house in the - county Galway, and were compelled to stay for a night at the inn, which - was a sort of half-way house between the railway station and their - destination. On being shown to their bedroom while their dinner was being - made ready, they naturally wished to remove from their faces the traces of - their dusty drive of sixteen miles, so one of them bent over the banisters—there - was no bell in the room, of course—and inquired if the servant would - be good enough to carry upstairs some hot water. - </p> - <p> - “Surely, miss,” the servant responded from below. - </p> - <p> - In a few minutes, the door of the bedroom was knocked at, and the woman - entered, bearing in her hand a tray with two glasses, a saucer of loaf - sugar, a lemon, a ladle, and a small jug of hot water. - </p> - <p> - It appeared that in this district the use of hot water is unknown except - as an accompaniment to whisky, a lemon, and a lump of sugar. The - combination of the four is said to be both palatable and popular. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It was at a much larger and more pretentious establishment in the - south-west that I was staying when a box of books arrived for me from the - library of Messrs. Eason & Son. It was tied with stout, tough cord, - about as thick as one’s little finger. I was in the act of dressing when - the boots brought up the box, so I asked him to open it for me. The man - fumbled for some time at the knot, and at last he said he would have to - cut the cord. - </p> - <p> - When I had rubbed the soap out of my eyes, - </p> - <p> - I noticed him in the act of sawing through the tough cord with one of my - razors which I had laid on the dressing-table after shaving. - </p> - <p> - “Stop, stop,” I shouted. “Man, do you know that that’s a razor?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it’ll do well enough for this, sir. I’ve forgot my knife downstairs,” - said the man complacently. - </p> - <p> - If the razor did for the operation, the operation certainly did for the - razor. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - And here I am led to recall a story told to me by the late Dr. George - Crowe, the husband of Miss Bateman, the distinguished actress, and brother - to Mr. Eyre Crowe, A.R.A. It will be remembered by all who are familiar - with the chief incidents in the life of Thackeray, that in 1853 he adopted - Miss Amy Crowe (her father, an historian and journalist of eminence in his - day, had been one of the novelist’s closest friends), and she became one - of the Thackeray household. Her brother George was at school, but he had - “the run of the house,” so to speak, in Onslow Square. Next to the desire - to become an expert smoker, the desire to become an accomplished shaver - is, I think, the legitimate aspiration of boyhood; and George Crowe had - his longings in this direction, when examining Thackeray’s razors with the - other contents of his dressing-room one day. The means of gratifying such - an aspiration are (fortunately) not invariably within the reach of most - boys, and young Crowe was not exceptionally situated in this matter. The - same spirit of earnest investigation, however, which had led him to - discover the razors, caused him to find in one of the garrets an old but - well-preserved travelling trunk, bound with ox-hide, and studded with - brass nails. To spread a copious lather over a considerable part of the - lid, and to set about the removal, by the aid of a razor, of the hair of - the ox-hide, occupied the boy the greater part of an afternoon. Though not - exactly so good as the real operation, this shave was, he considered, a - move in the right direction; and it was certainly better than nothing at - all. By a singular coincidence, it was about this time that Thackeray - began to complain of the difficulty of putting an edge upon his razors, - and to inquire if any one had been at the case where they were kept. Of - course, no one except the boy knew anything about the business, and he, - for prudential reasons, preserved silence. The area of the ox-hide that - still remained hirsute was pretty extensive, and he foresaw many an hour - of fearful joy, such as he had already tasted in the garret. Twice again - he lathered and shaved at the ox-hide; but the third attempt was not a - success, owing to the sudden appearance of the housekeeper, who led the - boy to the novelist’s study and gave evidence against him, submitting as - proofs the razor, the shaving-brush, and a portion of George Crowe’s thumb - which he had inadvertently sliced off. Thackeray rose from his desk and - mounted the stairs to the garret; and when the housekeeper followed, - insisting on the boy’s accompanying her—probably on the French - principle of confronting a murderer with the body of his victim—Thackeray - was found seated on an unshaved portion of the trunk, and roaring with - laughter. - </p> - <p> - So soon as he had recovered, he shook his finger at the delinquent (who, - twenty-five years afterwards, told me the story), and merely said: - </p> - <p> - “George, I see clearly that in future I’ll have to buy my trunks bald.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI.—IRISH TOURISTS AND TRAINS. - </h2> - <p> - <i>The late Emperor of Brazil—An incredulous hotel manager—The - surprised A.R.A.—The Emperor as an early riser—The habits of - the English actor—A new reputation—Signor Ciro Pinsuti—The - Prince of Bohemia—Treatment au prince—The bill—An - Oriental prince—An ideal costume for a Scotch winter—Its - subsequent modification—The royal sleeping-place—Trains and - Irish humour—The courteous station-master—The sarcasm of the - travellers—“Punctually seven minutes late”—Not originally an - Irishman—The time of departure of the 7.45 train—Brahke, - brake, brake—The card-players—Possibility of their - deterioration—The dissatisfied passenger—Being in a hurry he - threatens to walk—He didn’t—He wishes he had.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>NCE I was treated - very uncivilly at an hotel in the North of Ireland, and as the occasion - was one upon which I was, I believed, entitled to be dealt with on terms - of exceptional courtesy, I felt the slight all the more deeply. The late - Emperor of Brazil, in yielding to his desire to see everything in the - world that was worth seeing, had appeared suddenly in Ireland. I had had - the privilege of taking tiffin with His Majesty aboard a man-of-war at Rio - Janeiro some years previously, and on calling upon him in London upon the - occasion of his visit to England, I found to my surprise that he - remembered the incident. He asked me to go with him to the Giant’s - Causeway, and I promised to do so if he did not insist on starting before - sunrise,—he was the earliest riser I ever met. His idea was that we - could leave Belfast in the morning, travel by rail to Portrush - (sixty-seven miles distant), drive along the coast to the Giant’s Causeway - (eight miles), and return to Belfast in time to catch the train which left - for Dublin at three o’clock. - </p> - <p> - This programme was actually carried out. On entering the hotel at Portrush—we - arrived about eight in the morning—I hurried to the manager. - </p> - <p> - “I have brought the Emperor of Brazil to breakfast,” said I, “so that if - you could let us have the dining-room to ourselves I should be much - obliged to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Who is it that you say you’ve brought?” asked the manager sleepily. - </p> - <p> - “The Emperor of Brazil,” I replied promptly. - </p> - <p> - “Come now, clear off out of this, you and your jokes,” said the manager. - “I’ve been taken in before to-day. You’ll need to get up earlier in the - morning if you want to do it again. The Emperor of Brazil indeed! It’ll be - the King of the Cannibal Islands next!” - </p> - <p> - I felt mortified, and so, I fancy, did the manager shortly afterwards. - </p> - <p> - Happily the hotel is now managed by the railway company, and is one of the - best in all Ireland. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I fared better in this matter than the messenger who hurried to the - residence of a painter, who is now a member of the Royal Academy, to - announce his election as Associate in the days of Sir Francis Grant. It is - said that the painter felt himself to be so unworthy of the honour which - was being thrust upon him, that believing that he perceived an attempt on - the part of some of his brother-artists to make him the victim of a - practical joke, he promptly kicked the messenger downstairs. - </p> - <p> - The manager of the hotel did not quite kick me out when I explained to him - that his house was to be honoured by the presence of an Emperor, but he - looked as if he would have liked to do so. - </p> - <p> - Regarding the early rising of the Emperor Dom Pedro II., several amusing - anecdotes were in circulation in London upon the occasion of his first - visit. One morning he had risen, as usual, about four o’clock, and was - taking a stroll through Covent Garden market, when he came face to face - with three well-known actors, who were returning to their rooms after a - quiet little supper at the Garrick Club. The Emperor inquired who the - gentlemen were, and he was told. For years afterwards he was, it is said, - accustomed to declare that the only men he met in England who seemed to - believe with him that the early morning was the best part of the day, were - the actors. The most distinguished members of the profession were, he - said, in the habit of rising between the hours of three and four every - morning during the summer. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - A story which tends to show that in some directions, at any rate, in - Ireland the hotel proprietors are by no means wanting in courtesy towards - distinguished strangers, even when travelling in an unostentatious way, - was told to me by the late Ciro Pinsuti, the well-known song writer, at - his house in Mortimer Street. (When he required any changes in the verses - of mine which he was setting, he invariably anticipated my objections by a - story, told with admirable effect.) It seems that Pinsuti was induced some - years before to take a tour to the Killarney Lakes. On arriving at the - hotel where he had been advised to put up, he found that the house was so - crowded he had to be content with a sort of china closet, into which a - sofa-bed had been thrust. The landlord was almost brusque when he ventured - to protest against the lack of accommodation, but subsequently a - compromise was effected, and Pinsuti strolled away along the lakes. - </p> - <p> - On returning he found in the hall of the hotel the genial nobleman who was - Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and an old London friend of Pinsuti’s. He was - on a visit to the Herberts of Muckross, and attended only by his son and - one aide-de-camp. - </p> - <p> - Now, at one time the same nobleman had been in the habit of contracting - Pinsuti’s name, when addressing him, into “Pince”; in the course of time - this became improved into “Prince”; and for years he was never addressed - except in this way; so that when he entered the hall of the hotel, His - Excellency lifted up his hands and cried,— - </p> - <p> - “Why, Prince, who on earth would have fancied meeting you here of all - places in the world?” - </p> - <p> - Pinsuti explained that he had merely crossed the Channel for a day or two, - and that he was staying at the hotel. - </p> - <p> - “Come along then, and we’ll have lunch together,” said the Lord - Lieutenant; and Pinsuti forthwith joined the Viceregal party. - </p> - <p> - But when luncheon was over, and the Viceroy was strolling through the - grounds for a smoke by the side of the musician, the landlord approached - His Excellency’s son, saying,— - </p> - <p> - “I beg your lordship’s pardon, but may I ask who the Prince is that - lunched with you and His Excellency?” - </p> - <p> - “What Prince?” said Lord Ernest, somewhat puzzled. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, my lord; I heard His Excellency address him as Prince more than - once,” said the landlord. - </p> - <p> - Then Lord Ernest, perceiving the ground for a capital joke, said,— - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the Prince—yes, to be sure; I fancied you knew him. Prince! - yes, that’s the Prince of Bohemia.” - </p> - <p> - “The Prince of Bohemia! and I’ve sent him to sleep on an iron chair-bed in - a china closet!” cried the landlord. - </p> - <p> - Lord Ernest looked grave. - </p> - <p> - “I wouldn’t have done that if I had been you,” he said, shaking his head. - “You must try and do better for him than that, my man.” Shortly afterwards - the Viceregal party drove off, and then the landlord approached Pinsuti, - and bowing to the ground, said,— - </p> - <p> - “I must humbly apologise to your Royal Highness for not having a suitable - room for your Royal Highness in the morning; but now I’m proud to say that - I have had prepared an apartment which will, I trust, give satisfaction.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean by Highnessing me, my good man?” asked Pinsuti. - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said the landlord, smiling and bowing, “though it may please your - Royal Highness to travel <i>incognito</i>, I trust I know what is due to - your exalted station, sir.” - </p> - <p> - For the next two days Pinsuti was, he told me, treated with an amount of - respect such as he had never before experienced. A waiter was specially - told off to attend to him, and every time he passed the landlord the - latter bowed in his best style. - </p> - <p> - It was, however, an American lady tourist who held an informal meeting in - the drawingroom of the hotel, at which it was agreed that no one should be - seated at the <i>table d’hote</i> until the Prince of Bohemia had entered - and taken his place. - </p> - <p> - On the morning of his departure he found, waiting to take him to the - railway station, a carriage drawn by four horses. Out to this he passed - through lines of bowing tourists—especially Americans. - </p> - <p> - “It was all very nice, to be sure,” said Pinsuti, in concluding his - narrative; “but the bill I had to pay was not so gratifying. However, one - cannot be a Prince, even of Bohemia, without paying for it.” - </p> - <p> - This story more than neutralises, I think, the impression likely to be - produced by the account of the insolence of the official at the northern - hotel. Universal civility may be expected even at the largest and - best-appointed hotels in Ireland. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - As I have somehow drifted into these anecdotes about royal personages, at - the risk of being considered digressive—an accusation which I spurn—I - must add one curious experience which some relations of mine had of a - genuine prince. My cousin, Major Wyllie, of the Madras Staff Corps, had - been attached to the prince’s father, who was a certain rajah, and had - been the instrument employed by the Government for giving him some - excellent advice as to the course he should adopt if he were desirous of - getting the Star which it was understood he was coveting. The rajah was - anxious to have his heir, a boy of twelve, educated in England, and he - wished to find for him a place in a family where his morals—the - rajah was great on morals—would be properly looked after; so he - sought the advice of Major Wyllie on this important subject. After some - correspondence and much persuasion on the part of the potentate, my cousin - consented to send the youth to his father’s house near Edinburgh. The - rajah was delighted, and promised to have an outfit prepared for his son - without delay. The result of the consultation which he had with some - learned members of his <i>entourage</i> on the subject of the costume - daily worn in Edinburgh by gentlemen, was peculiar. I am of the opinion - that some of its distinctive features must have been exaggerated, while - the full value of others cannot have been assigned to them; for the young - prince submitted himself for the approval of Major Wyllie, and some other - officers of the Staff, wearing a truly remarkable dress. His boots were of - the old Hessian pattern, with coloured silk tassels all round the uppers. - His knees were bare, but just above them the skirt of a kilt flowed, in - true Scotch fashion, only that the material was not cloth but silk, and - the colours were not those of any known tartan, but simply a brilliant - yellow. The coat was of blue velvet, crusted with jewels, and instead of - the flowing shoulder-pieces, there hung down a rich mantle of gold - brocade. The crowning incident of this ideal costume of an unobtrusive - Scotch gentleman whose aim is to pass through the streets without - attracting attention, was a crimson velvet glengarry cap worn over a white - turban, and containing three very fine ostrich feathers of different, - colours, fastened by a diamond aigrette. - </p> - <p> - Yes, the consensus of opinion among the officers was that the rajah had - succeeded wonderfully in giving prominence to the chief elements of the - traditional Scottish national dress, without absolutely extinguishing - every spark of that orientalism to which the prince had been accustomed. - It was just the sort of costume that a simple body would like to wear - daily, walking down Prince’s Street, during an inclement winter, they - said. There was no attempt at ostentation about it; its beauty consisted - in its almost Puritan simplicity; and there pervaded it a note of that - sternness which marks the character of the rugged North Briton. - </p> - <p> - The rajah was delighted with this essay of his advisers at making a - consistent blend of Calicut and Caledonia in <i>modes</i>; but somehow the - prince arrived in Scotland in a tweed suit. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I afterwards heard that on the first morning after the arrival of the - prince at his temporary home, he was missing. His bed showed no signs of - having been slept in during the night; but the eiderdown quilt was not to - be seen. It was only about the breakfast hour that the butler found His - Highness, wrapped in the eiderdown quilt, <i>under the bed.</i> - </p> - <p> - He had occupied a lower bunk in a cabin aboard the P. & O. steamer on - the voyage to England, and he had taken it for granted that the sleeping - accommodation in the house where he was an honoured guest was of the same - restricted type. He had thus naturally crept under the bed, so that some - one else might enjoy repose in the upper and rather roomier compartment. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The transition from Irish inns to Irish railways is not a violent one. On - the great trunk lines the management is sufficiently good to present no - opportunities for humorous reminiscences. It is with railways as with - hotels: the more perfectly appointed they are, the less humorous are the - incidents associated with them in the recollection of a traveller. It is - safe to assume that, as a general rule, native wit keeps clear of a line - of rails. Mr. Baring Gould is good enough to explain, in his “Strange - Survivals and Superstitions,” that the fairy legend is but a shadowy - tradition of the inhabitants during the Stone Age; and he also explains - how it came about that iron was accepted as a potent agent for driving - away these humorous folk. The iron road has certainly driven the witty - aborigines into the remote districts of Ireland. A railway guard has never - been known to convulse the passengers with his dry wit as he snips their - tickets, nor do the clerks at the pigeon-holes take any particular trouble - to Hash out a <i>bon mot</i> as one counts one’s change. The man who, - after pouring out the thanks of the West for the relief meal given to the - people during the last failure of the potato and every other crop, said, - “Troth, if it wasn’t for the famine we’d all be starving entirely,” lived - far from the sound of the whistle of an engine. - </p> - <p> - Still, I have now and again come upon something on an Irish railway that - was droll by reason of its incongruity. There was a station-master at a - small town on an important line, who seemed a survival of the leisurely - days of our grandfathers. He invariably strolled round the carriages to - ask the passengers if they were quite comfortable, just as the - conscientious head waiter at the “<i>Trois Frères</i>” used to do in - respect of his patrons. He would suggest here and there that a window - might be closed, as the morning air was sometimes very treacherous. He - even pressed foot-warmers upon the occupants of the second-class - carriages. He was the friend of all the matrons who were in the habit of - travelling by the line, and he inquired after their numerous ailments - (including babies), and listened with dignified attention while they told - him all that should be told in public—sometimes a trifle more. A - medical student would learn as much about a very interesting branch of the - profession through paying attention to the exchange of confidences at that - station, as he would by walking the hospitals for a year. The - station-master was greatly looked up to by agriculturists, and it was - commonly reported that there was no better judge of the weather to be - found in the immediate neighbourhood of the station. - </p> - <p> - It was really quite absurd to hear English commercial travellers and other - persons in the train, who had not become aware of the good qualities of - this most estimable man, grumbling because the train usually remained at - this platform for ten minutes instead of the two minutes allotted to it in - the “A B C.” The engine-drivers, it was said, also growled at being forced - to run the twenty miles on either side of this station at as fast a rate - as forty miles an hour, instead of the thirty to which they had accustomed - themselves, to save their time. The cutting remarks of the impatient - passengers made no impression upon him. - </p> - <p> - “Look here, station-master,” cried a commercial gentleman one day when the - official had come across quite an unusual number of acquaintances, “is - there a breakdown on the line?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know indeed, sir, but I’ll try and find out for you,” said the - station-master blandly. He went off hurriedly (for him), and did not - return for five minutes. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve telegraphed up the line, sir,” said he to the gentleman, who only - meant to be delicately sarcastic, “and I’m happy to assure you that no - information regarding a breakdown has reached any of the principal - stations. It has been raining at Ballynamuck, but I don’t think it will - continue long. Can I do anything more for you, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “No, thank you,” said the commercial gentleman meekly. - </p> - <p> - “I can find out for you if the Holyhead steamer has had a good passage, if - you don’t mind waiting for a few minutes,” suggested the official. “What! - you are anxious to get on? Certainly, sir; I’ll tell the guard. Good - morning, sir.” - </p> - <p> - When the train was at last in motion a wiry old man in a corner pulled out - his watch, and then turned to the commercial traveller. - </p> - <p> - “Are you aware, sir,” he said tartly, “that your confounded inquiries kept - us back just seven minutes? You should have some consideration for your - fellow-passengers, let me tell you, sir.” - </p> - <p> - A murmur of assent went round the compartment. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Upon another occasion a passenger, on arriving at the station over whose - destinies this courteous official presided, put his head out of the - carriage window, and inquired if the train had arrived punctually. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” replied the station-master, “very punctually: seven minutes - late to a second.” - </p> - <p> - Upon another occasion I heard him say to an inquirer,— - </p> - <p> - “Oh no, sir; I wasn’t originally an Irishman. I am one now, however.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “By heavens!” said some one at the further end of the compartment, “that - reply removes all doubt on the subject.” - </p> - <p> - Several years ago I was staying at Lord Avonmore’s picturesque lodge at - the head of Lough Dearg. A fellow-guest received a telegram one Sunday - afternoon which compelled his immediate departure, and seeing by the - railway time-table that a train left the nearest station at 7.45, we drove - in shortly before that hour. There was, however, no sign of life on the - little platform up to 7.50. Thereupon my friend became anxious, and we - hunted in every direction for even the humblest official. After some - trouble we found a porter asleep on a pile of cushions in the lamp-room. - We roused him and said,— - </p> - <p> - “There’s a train marked on the time-table to leave here at 7.45, but it’s - now 7.50, and there’s no sign of a train. What time may we expect it?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know, sir, for myself.” said the porter, “but I’ll ask the - station-master.” - </p> - <p> - We followed him down the platform, and then a man, in his shirt sleeves, - came out of an office. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. O’Flaherty,” cried the porter, “here’s two gentlemen that wants to - know, if you please, at what o’clock the 7.45 train leaves.” - </p> - <p> - “It leaves at eight on weekdays and a quarter past eight on Sundays,” was - the thoughtful reply. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It is reported that on the same branch, an engine-driver, on reaching the - station more than usually behind his time, declared that he had never - known “herself”—meaning the engine—to be so sluggish before. - She needed a deal of rousing before he could get any work whatever out of - her, he said; and she had pulled up at the platform without a hand being - put to the brake. When he tried to start the engine again he failed - utterly in his attempt. She had “rusted,” he said, and when an engine - rusted she was more stubborn than any horse. - </p> - <p> - It was a passenger who eventually suggested that perhaps if the brakes - were turned off, the engine might have a better chance of doing its work. - </p> - <p> - This suggestion led to an examination of the brake wheels of the engine. - </p> - <p> - “By me sowl, that’s a joke!” said the engine-driver. “If I haven’t been - driving her through the county Tipperary with the brakes on!” - </p> - <p> - And so he had. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - On a branch line farther north the official staff were said to be so - extremely fond of the Irish National game of cards—it is called - “Spoil Five”—that the guard, engine-driver, and stoker invariably - took a hand at it on the tool-box on the tender—a poor substitute - for a table, the guard explained to an interested passenger who made - inquiries on the subject, but it served well enough at a pinch, and it was - not for him to complain. He was right: it was for the passengers to - complain, and some of them did so; and a remonstrance was sent to the - staff which practically amounted to a prohibition of any game of cards on - the engine when the train was in motion. It was very reasonably pointed - out by the manager that, unless the greatest watchfulness were observed by - the guard, he might, when engaged at the game, allow the train to run past - some station at which it was advertised to stop—as a matter of fact - this had frequently occurred. Besides, the manager said, persistence in - the practice under the conditions just described could not but tend to the - deterioration of the staff as card-players; so he trusted that they would - see that it was advisable to give their undivided attention to their - official duties. - </p> - <p> - The staff cheerfully acquiesced, admitting that now and again it was a - great strain upon them to recollect what cards were out, and at the same - time what was the name of the station just passed. The fact that the guard - had been remiss enough, on throwing down the hand that had just been dealt - to him on the arrival of the train at Ballycruiskeen, to walk down the - platform crying out “Hearts is thrumps!” instead of the name of the - station, helped to make him at least see the wisdom of the manager’s - remonstrance; and no more “Spoil Five” was played while the engine was in - motion. - </p> - <p> - But every time the train made a stoppage, the cards were shuffled on the - engine, and the station-master for the time being took a hand, as well as - any passenger who had a mind to contribute to the pool. Now and again, - however, a passenger turned up who was in a hurry to get to his journey’s - end, and made something of a scene—greatly to the annoyance of the - players, and the couple of policemen, and the porter or two, who had the - <i>entrée</i> to the “table.” Upon one occasion such a passenger appeared, - and, in considerable excitement, pointed out that the train had taken - seventy-five minutes to do eight miles. He declared that this was - insufferable, and that, sooner than stand it any longer, he would walk the - remainder of the distance to his destination. - </p> - <p> - He was actually showing signs of carrying out his threat, when the guard - threw down his hand, dismounted from the engine and came behind him. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, sir, you’ll get into the train again, won’t you?” said he. - </p> - <p> - “No, I’ll be hanged if I will,” shouted the passenger. “I’ve no time to - waste, I’ll walk.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, no, sir; you’ll get into the train. Do, sir; and you’ll be at the end - of the journey every bit as soon as if you walked,” urged the official. - </p> - <p> - His assurance on this point prevailed, and the passenger returned to his - carriage. But unless the speed upon that occasion was a good deal greater - than it was when I travelled over the same line, it is questionable if he - would not have been on the safe side in walking. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII—HONORARY EDITORS AND OTHERS. - </h2> - <p> - <i>Our esteemed correspondent—The great imprinted—Lord - Tennyson’s death—“Crossing the Bar”—Why was it never printed - in its entirety?—The comments on the poem—Who could the Pilot - have been?—Pilot or pilot engine?—A vexed and vexing question—Erroneous - navigation—Tennyson’s voyage with Mr. Gladstone—Its - far-reaching results—Tennyson’s interest in every form of literary - work—“My Official Wife”—Amateur critics—The Royal Dane—Edwin - Booth and his critic—A really comic play—An Irving enthusiast—“Gemini - and Virgo”—“Our sincerest laughter”—The drollest of - soliloquies—“Eugene Aram” for the hilarious—The proof of a - sincere devotion.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE people who - spend their time writing letters to newspapers pointing out mistakes, or - what they imagine to be mistakes, and making many suggestions as to how - the newspaper should be conducted in all its departments, constitute a - branch of the profession of philanthropy, to which sufficient attention - has never been given. - </p> - <p> - I do not, of course, allude to the type whom Mr. George Du Maurier derided - when he put the phrase <i>J’écrirai à le Times</i> into his mouth on being - compelled to pay an extravagant bill at a French hotel; there are people - who have just grievances to expose, and there are newspapers that exist - for the dissemination of those grievances; but it is an awful thought that - at this very moment there are some hundreds—perhaps thousands—of - presumably sane men and women sitting down and writing letters to their - local newspapers to point out to the management that the jeu d’esprit - attributed in yesterday’s issue to Sydney Smith, was one of which Douglas - Jerrold was really the author; or that the quotation about the wind being - tempered to the shorn lamb is not to be found in the Bible, but in “the - works of the late Mr. Sterne”; or perhaps suggesting that no country could - rightly be regarded as exempted from the list of lands forming a - legitimate sphere for missionary labour, whose newspapers give up four - columns daily to an account of the horse-racing of the day before. A book - might easily be written by any one who had some experience, not of the - letters that appear in a newspaper, but of those that are sent to the - editor by enthusiasts on the subject of finance, morality, religion, and - the correct text of some of Burns dialect poems. - </p> - <p> - When Lord Tennyson died, I printed five columns of a biographical and - critical sketch of the great poet. I thought it necessary to quote only a - single stanza of “Crossing the Bar.” During the next clay I received quite - a number of letters asking in what volume of Tennyson’s works the poem was - to be found. In the succeeding issue of the paper I gave the poem in full. - From that day on during the next fortnight, no post arrived without - bringing me a letter containing the same poem, with a request to have it - published in the following issue; and every writer seemed to be under the - impression that he (or she) had just discovered “Crossing the Bar.” Then - the clergymen who forwarded in manuscript the sermons which they had - preached on Tennyson, pointing out the “lessons” of his poems, presented - their compliments and requested the insertion of “Crossing the Bar,” <i>in - its entirety</i>, in the place in the sermons where they had quoted it. - All this time “poems” on the death of Tennyson kept pouring in by the - hundred, and I can safely say that not one came under my notice that did - not begin, - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “Yes, thou hast cross’d the Bar, and face to face - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Thy Pilot seen,” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - or with words to that effect. - </p> - <p> - After this had been going on for some weeks a member of the proprietorial - household came to me with a letter open in his hand. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder how it was that we missed that poem of Tennyson’s.” said he. “It - would have done well, I think, if it had been published in our columns at - his death.” - </p> - <p> - “What poem is that?” I inquired. - </p> - <p> - “This is it,” he replied, offering me the letter which he held. “A - personal friend of my own sends it to me for insertion. It is called - ‘Crossing the Bar.’ Have you ever seen it before?” - </p> - <p> - The aggregate thickness of skull of the proprietorial household was - phenomenal. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - When writing on the subject of this poem I may perhaps be permitted to - express the opinion, that the remarks made about it in some directions - were the most astounding that ever appeared in print respecting a - composition of the character of “Crossing the Bar.” - </p> - <p> - One writer, it may be remembered, took occasion to point out that the - “Pilot” was, of course, the poet’s son, by whom he had been predeceased. - The “thought” was, we were assured, that his son had gone before him to - show him the direction to take, so to speak. Now whatever the “thought” of - the poet was, the thought of this commentator converged not upon a pilot - but a pilot-engine. - </p> - <p> - Then another writer was found anxious to point out that Tennyson’s - navigation was defective. “What would be the use of a pilot when the bar - was already crossed?” was the question asked by this earnest inquirer. - This gentleman’s idea clearly was that Tennyson should have subjected - himself to a course of Mr. Clark Russell before attempting to write such a - poem as “Crossing the Bar.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The fact was that Tennyson knew enough navigation for a poet, just as Mr. - Gladstone knows enough for a premier. When the two most picturesque of - Englishmen (assuming that Mr. Gladstone is an Englishman) took their - cruise together in a steam yacht they kept their eyes open, I have good - reason to know. I question very much if the most ideal salt in the - mercantile marine could make a better attempt to describe some incidents - of the sea than Tennyson did in “Enoch Arden”; and as the Boston gentleman - was doubtful if more than six men in his city could write “Hamlet,” so I - doubt if the same number of able-bodied seamen, whose command of emphatic - language is noted, could bring before our eyes the sight, and send rushing - through our ears the sound, of a breaking wave, with greater emphasis than - Tennyson did when he wrote,— - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “As the crest of some slow-arching wave - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Heard in dead night along that table-shore - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Drops flat; and after the great waters break, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Whitening for half a league, and thin themselves - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - From less and less to nothing.‘’ - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It was after he had returned from his last voyage with Mr. Gladstone that - Tennyson wrote “Crossing the Bar.” - </p> - <p> - It was after Mr. Gladstone had returned from the same voyage that he - consolidated his reputation as a statesman by a translation of “Rock of - Ages” into Italian. He then made Tennyson a peer. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps it may not be considered an impertinence on my part if I give, in - this place, an instance, which came under my notice, of the eclectic - nature of Lord Tennyson’s interest in even the least artistic branches of - literary work. A relative of mine went to Aldworth to lunch with the - family of the poet only a few weeks before his death saddened every home - in England. Lord Tennyson received his guest in his favourite room; he was - seated on a sofa at a window overlooking the autumn russet landscape, and - he wore a black velvet coat, which made his long delicate fingers seem - doubly pathetic in their worn whiteness. He had been reading, and laid - down the book to greet his visitor. This book was “My Official Wife.” - </p> - <p> - Now the author of the story so entitled is not the man to talk of his - “Art,” as so many inferior writers do, in season and out of season. He - knows that his stories are no more deserving of being regarded as - high-class literature than is the scrappy volume at which I am now - engaged. He knows, however, that he is an excellent exponent of a form of - art that interests thousands of people on both sides of the Atlantic; and - the fact that Tennyson was able to read such a story as “My Official Wife” - seems to me to show how much the poet was interested in a very significant - phase of the constantly varying taste of the great mass of English - readers. - </p> - <p> - It is the possession of such a sympathetic nature as this that prevents a - man from ever growing old. Mr. Gladstone also seems to read everything - that comes in his way, and he is never so busy as to be unable to snatch a - moment to write a word of kindly commendation upon an excessively dull - book. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It is not only upon the occasion of the death of a great man or a prince - that some people are obliging enough to give an editor a valuable hint or - two as to the standpoint from which the character of the deceased should - be judged. They now and again express themselves with great freedom on the - subject of living men, and are especially frank in their references to the - private lives of the best-known and most highly respected gentlemen. It - is, however, the performances of actors that form the most fruitful - subject of irresponsible comment for “outsiders.” It has often seemed to - me that every man has his own idea of the way “Hamlet” should be - represented. When I was engaged in newspaper work I found that every new - representation of the play was received by some people as the noblest - effort to realise the character, while others were of the opinion that the - actor might have found a more legitimate subject than this particular play - for burlesque treatment. Mr. Edwin Booth once told me a story—I dare - say it may be known in the United States—that would tend to convey - the impression that the study of Hamlet has made its way among the - coloured population as well as the colourless—if there are any—of - America. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Booth said that he was acting in New Orleans, and when at the hotel, - his wants were enthusiastically attended to by a negro waiter. At every - meal the man showed his zeal in a very marked way, particularly by never - allowing another waiter to come within hailing distance of his chair. Such - attention, the actor thought, should be rewarded, so he asked Caractacus - if he would care to have an order for the theatre. The waiter declared - that if he only had the chance of seeing Mr. Booth on the stage, he (the - waiter) would die happy when his time came. The actor at once gave him an - order for the same night, and the next morning he found the man all teeth - and eyes behind his chair. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Caractacus, did you manage to go to the theatre last night?” asked - Booth. - </p> - <p> - “Didn’t I jus’, Massa Boove,” cried the waiter beaming. - </p> - <p> - “And how did you enjoy the piece?” - </p> - <p> - “Jus’ lubly, sah; nebber onjoyed moself so well—it kep’ me in a roar - o’ larfta de whole ebening, sah. Oh, Massa Boove, you was too funny.” - </p> - <p> - The play that had been performed was <i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I chanced to be residing for a time in a large manufacturing town which - Mr. Irving visited when “touring” some twelve years ago. In that town an - enthusiastic admirer of Mr. Irving’s lived, and he was, with Mr. Irving - and myself, a guest of the mayor’s at a dinner party on one Sunday night. - In the drawing-room of the mayoress the great actor repeated his favourite - poem—“Gemini and Virgo,” from Calverley’s “Verses and Translations,” - dealing with inimitable grace with the dainty humour of this exquisite - trifle; and naturally, every one present was delighted. For myself I may - say that, frequently though I had heard Mr. Irving repeat the verses. - </p> - <p> - I felt that he had never before brought to bear upon them the consummate - art of that high comedy of which he is the greatest living exponent. But I - could not help noticing that the gentleman who had protested so - enthusiastic an admiration for the actor, was greatly puzzled as the - recitation went on, and I came to the conclusion that he had not the - remotest idea what it was all about. When some ladies laughed outright at - the delivery of the lines, with matchless adroitness, - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “I did not love as others do— - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - None ever did that I’ve heard tell of,” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - the man looked angrily round and cried “Hsh!” but even this did not - overawe the young women, and they all laughed again at, - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “One night I saw him squeeze her hand— - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - There was no doubt about the matter. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I said he must resign, or stand - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - My vengeance—and he chose the latter.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - But by this time it had dawned upon the jealous guardian of Mr. Irving’s - professional reputation that the poem was meant to be a trifle humorous, - and so soon as he became convinced of this, he almost interrupted the - reciter with his uproarious hilarity, especially at places where the - humour was far too subtle for laughter; and at the close he wiped his eyes - and declared that the fun was too much for him. - </p> - <p> - I asked a relative of his if he thought that the man had the slightest - notion of what the poem was about, and his relative said,— - </p> - <p> - “It might be in Sanskrit for all he understands of it. He loves Mr. Irving - for himself alone. He has got no idea of art.” - </p> - <p> - Later in the night the conversation turned upon the difference between the - elocutionary modes of expression of the past and the present day. In - illustration of a point associated with the question of effect, Mr. Irving - gave me at least a thrill such as I had never before experienced through - the medium of his art, by repeating,— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “To be or not to be: that is the question.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Before he had reached the words,— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “To die: to sleep: - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - No more,” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I felt that I had suddenly had a revelation made to me of the utmost - limits of art; that I had been permitted a glimpse behind the veil, if I - may be allowed the expression; that I had been permitted to take a single - glance into a world whose very name is a mystery to the sons of men. - </p> - <p> - Every one present seemed spellbound. A commonplace man who sat next to me, - drew a long breath—it was almost a gasp—and said,— - </p> - <p> - “That is too much altogether for such people us we are. My God! I don’t - know what I saw—I don’t know how I come to be here.” - </p> - <p> - He could not have expressed better what my feeling was; and yet I had seen - Mr. Irving’s Hamlet seventeen times, so that I might have been looked upon - as unsusceptible to any further revelation on a point in connection with - the soliloquy. - </p> - <p> - When I glanced round I saw Mr. Irving’s enthusiastic admirer once more - wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. It was not, however, until Mr. - Irving was in the act of reciting “The Dream of Eugene Aram,” that the - same gentleman yielded to what he conceived to be the greatest comic treat - of the evening. - </p> - <p> - Happily he occupied a back seat, and smothered his laughter behind a huge - red handkerchief, which was guffaw-proof. - </p> - <p> - He was a little lower than the negro waiter in his appreciation of the - actor’s art. - </p> - <p> - A year afterwards I met the same gentleman at an hotel in Scotland, and he - reminded me of the dinner-party at the mayor’s. His admiration for Mr. - Irving had in no degree diminished. He was partaking of a simple lunch of - cold beef and pickled onions; and when he began to speak of the talents of - the actor, he was helping himself to an onion, but so excited did he - become that instead of dropping the dainty on his plate, he put it into - his mouth, and after a crunch or two, swallowed it. Then he helped himself - to a second, and crunched and talked away, while my cheeks became wrinkled - merely through watching him. He continued automatically ladling the onions - into his mouth until the jar was nearly empty, and the roof of my mouth - felt crinkly. Fortunately a waiter came up—he had clearly been - watching the man, and perceived that the hotel halfcrown lunch in this - particular case would result in a loss to the establishment—and - politely inquired if he had quite done with the pickle bottle, as another - gentleman was asking for it. - </p> - <p> - I wondered how the man felt after the lapse of an hour or so. I could not - but believe in the sincerity of a devotion that manifested itself in so - striking a manner. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I have mentioned “The Dream of Eugene Aram.” Has any one ever attempted to - identify the “little boy” who was the recipient of the harrowing tale of - the usher? In my mind there is no doubt that the “gentle lad” whom Hood - had in his eye was none other than James Burney, son of Dr. Burney, and - brother of the writer of “Evelina.” He was a pupil at the school near Lynn - which was fortunate enough to obtain the services of Eugene Aram as usher; - and I have no doubt that, when he settled down in London, after joining in - the explorations of Captain Cook, he excited the imagination of his friend - Hood by his reminiscences of his immortal usher. - </p> - <p> - Gessner’s “Death of Abel” was published in England before the edition, - illustrated by Stothard, appeared in 1797. Perhaps, however, young Master - Burney carried his Bible about with him. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII.—OUTSIDE THE LYCEUM BILL. - </h2> - <p> - <i>Mr. Edwin Booth—Othello and Iago at supper—The guest—Mr. - Irving’s little speech—Mr. Booth’s graceful reply—A striking - tableau—A more memorable gathering—The hundredth night of “The - Merchant of Venice”—The guests—Lord Houghton’s speech—Mr. - Irving’s reply—Mr. J: L. Toole supplies an omission—Mr. Dion - Boncicault at the Lyceum—English as she is spoke—“Trippingly - on the tongue”—The man who was born to teach the pronunciation of - English—A Trinity College student—The coveted acorn—A - good word for the English.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> DID not mean to - enter upon a course of theatrical anecdotage in these pages, but having - mentioned the name of a great actor recently dead, I cannot refrain from - making a brief reference to what was certainly one of the most interesting - episodes in his career. I allude to Mr. Edwin Booth’s professional visit - to London in 1881. It may truthfully be said that if Mr. Booth was not - wholly responsible for the financial failure of his abbreviated “season” - at the Princess’s Theatre, neither was he wholly responsible for his - subsequent success at the Lyceum. I should like, however, to have an - opportunity of bearing testimony to his frank and generous appreciation of - the courtesy shown to him by Mr. Henry Irving, in inviting him to play in - <i>Othello</i>. when it became plain that the performances of the American - actor at the Princess’s were not likely to make his reputation in England. - It would be impossible for me to forget the genuine emotion shown by Mr. - Booth when, on the Saturday night that brought to a close the notable - representations of <i>Othello</i> at the Lyceum, he referred to the - kindness which he had received at that theatre. Although the occasion to - which I refer was the most private of private suppers, I do not feel that - I can be accused of transgressing the accepted <i>codex</i> of the - Beefsteak Room in touching upon a matter which is now of public interest. - Early in the week Mr. Irving had been good enough to invite me to meet Mr. - Booth at supper on the Saturday. After the performance, in which Mr. - Irving was Othello and Mr. Booth Iago, I found in the supper-room, in - addition to the host and the guest of the evening, Mr. John McCullough, - who, it will be remembered, paid a visit to England at the same time as - Mr. Booth; and a member of Parliament who subsequently became the Leader - of the House of Commons. Mr. J. L. Toole and Mr. Bram Stoker subsequently - arrived. We found a good deal to talk about, and it was rather late—too - late for the one guest who was unconnected with theatrical matters (at - least, those outside St. Stephen’s)—when Mr. Irving, in a few of - those graceful, informal sentences which he seems always to have at his - command, and only rising to his feet for a moment, asked us to drink to - the health of Mr. Booth. Mr. Irving, I recollect, referred to the fact - that the representations of <i>Othello</i> had filled the theatre nightly, - and that the instant the American actor appeared, the English actor had to - “take a back seat.” - </p> - <p> - The playful tone assumed by him was certainly not sustained by Mr. Booth. - It would be impossible to doubt that he made his reply under the influence - of the deepest feeling. He could scarcely speak at first, and when at last - he found words, they were the words of a man whose eyes are full of tears. - “You all know how I came here,” he said. “You all know that I went to - another theatre in London, and that I was a big failure, although some - newspaper writers on my side of the water had said that I would make Henry - Irving and the other English actors sit up. Well, I didn’t make them sit - up. Yes, I was a big failure. But what happened then? Henry Irving invites - me to act with him at his theatre, and makes me share the success which he - has so well earned. He changes my big failure into a big success. What can - I say about such generosity? Was the like of it ever seen before? I am - left without words. Friend Irving, I have no words to thank you.” The two - actors got upon their feet, and as they clasped hands, both of them - overcome, I could not help feeling that I was looking upon an emblematic - tableau of the artistic union of the Old World and the New. So I was. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I could not help contrasting this graceful little incident with the more - memorable episode which had taken place in the same building some years - previously. On the evening of February 14th, 1880, Mr. Irving gave a - supper on the stage of the Lyceum, to celebrate the hundredth - representation of <i>The Merchant of Venice</i>. I do not suppose that - upon any occasion within the memory of a middle-aged man so remarkable a - gathering had assembled at the bidding of an actor. Every notable man in - every department of literature, art, and science seemed to me to be - present. The most highly representative painters, poets, novelists, - play-writers, actors of plays, composers of operas, singers of operas, - composers of laws, exponents of the meaning of these laws, journalists, - financiers,—all this goodly company attended on that moist Saturday - night to congratulate the actor upon one of the most signal triumphs of - the latter half of the century. Of course it was well understood by Mr. - Irving’s personal friends that an omission of their names from the list of - invitations to this marvellous function was inevitable. Capacious though - the stage of the Lyceum is, it would not meet the strain that would be put - on it if all the personal friends of Mr. Irving were to be invited to the - supper. So soon as I heard, however, that every living author who had - written a play that had been produced at the Lyceum Theatre would be - invited, I knew that, in spite of the fact that I only escaped by the skin - of my teeth being an absolute nonentity—I had only published nine - volumes in those days—I would not be an “outsider” upon this - occasion. Two years previously a comedietta of mine had been played at - this theatre for some hundred nights, while the audience were being shown - to their places and were chatting genially with the friends whom they - recognised three or four seats away. That was my play. No human being - could deprive me of the consciousness of having written a play that was - produced at the Lyceum Theatre. It was not a great feat, but it - constituted a privilege of which I was not slow to avail myself. - </p> - <p> - The invitations were all in the handwriting of Mr. Irving, and the <i>menu</i> - was, in the words of Joseph in “Divorçons,” <i>délicat, distingué—très - distingué</i>. While we were smoking some cigars the merits of which have - never been adequately sung, though they would constitute a theme at least - equal to that of the majority of epics, our host strolled round the - tables, shaking hands and talking with every one in that natural way of - his, which proves conclusively that at least one trait of Garrick’s has - never been shared by him. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “Twas only that when he was off he was acting,” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - wrote Garrick’s—and everybody else’s—friend, Goldsmith. No; - Mr. Irving cannot claim to be the inheritor of all the arts of Garrick. - </p> - <p> - More than an hour had passed before Lord Houghton rose to propose the - toast of the evening. He did so very fluently. He had evidently prepared - his speech with great care; and as the <i>doyen</i> of literature—the - true patron of art and letters during two generations—his right to - speak as one having authority could not be questioned. No one expected a - commonplace speech from Lord Houghton, but few of Mr. Irving’s guests - could have looked for precisely such a speech as he delivered. It struck a - note of far-reaching criticism, and was full of that friendly counsel - which the varied experiences of the speaker made doubly valuable. Its - commendation of the great actor was wholly free from that meaningless - adulation, which is as distasteful to any artist who knows the limitations - of his art, as it is prejudicial to the realisation of his aims. In his - masterly biography of the late Lord Houghton, Mr. Wemyss Reid refers to - the great admiration which Lord Houghton had for Mr. Irving; and this - admiration was quite consistent with the tone of the speech in which he - proposed the health of our host. It was probably Lord Houghton’s sincere - appreciation of the aims of Mr. Irving that caused him to make some - delicate allusion to the dangers of long runs. Considering that we had - assembled on the stage of the Lyceum to celebrate a phenomenal run on that - stage, the difficulty of the course which Lord Houghton had to steer in - order to avoid giving the least offence to even the most susceptible of - his audience, will be easily recognised. There were present several - playwriters who, by the exercise of great dexterity, had succeeded in - avoiding all their lives the pitfall of the long run; and these gentlemen - listened, with mournful acquiescence, while Lord Houghton showed, as he - did quite conclusively, that, on the whole, the interests of dramatic art - are best advanced by adopting the principles which form the basis of the - Théâtre Français. But there were also present some managers who had been - weak enough to allow certain plays which they had produced, to linger on - the stage, evening after evening, so long as the public chose to pay their - money to see them. I glanced at one of these gentlemen while Lord Houghton - was delivering his tactful address, and I cannot say that the result of my - glance was to assure me that the remarks of his lordship were convincing - to that manager. Contrition for those past misdeeds that took the form of - five-hundred-night runs was not the most noticeable expression upon his - features. But then the manager was an actor as well, so that he may only - have been concealing his remorse behind a smiling face. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Irving’s reply was excellent. With amazing good-humour he touched upon - almost every point brought forward by Lord Houghton, referring to his own - position somewhat apologetically. Lord Houghton had, however, made the - apologetic tone inevitable; but after a short time Mr. Irving struck the - note for which his friends had been waiting, and spoke strongly, - earnestly, and eloquently on behalf of the art of which he hoped to be the - exponent. - </p> - <p> - We who knew how splendid were the aims of the hero of a hundred nights, - with what sincerity and at how great self-sacrifice he had endeavoured to - realize them; we who had watched his career in the past, and were - hopefully looking forward to a future for the English drama in a - legitimate home; we who were enthusiastic almost to a point of passion in - our love and reverence for the art of which we believed Irving to be the - greatest interpreter of our generation,—we, I say, felt that we - should not separate before one more word at least was spoken to our friend - whose triumph we regarded as our own. - </p> - <p> - It was Mr. J. L. Toole, our host’s oldest and closest friend, who, in the - Beefsteak Room some hours after midnight, expressed, in a few words that - came from his heart and were echoed by ours, how deeply Mr. Irving’s - triumph was felt by all who enjoyed his friendship—by all who - appreciated the difficulties which he had surmounted, and who, having at - heart the best interests of the drama, stretched forth to him hands of - sympathy and encouragement, and wished him God-speed. - </p> - <p> - Thus closed a memorable gathering, the chief incidents in which I have - ventured to chronicle exactly as they appeared to me. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Only to one more Lyceum performance may I refer in this place. It may be - remembered that ten or eleven years ago the late Mr. Dion Boucicault was - obliging enough to offer to give a lecture to English actors on the - correct pronunciation of their mother-tongue. The offer was, I suppose, - thought too valuable to be neglected, and it was arranged that the lecture - should be delivered from the stage of the Lyceum Theatre. A more - interesting and amusing function I have never attended. It was clear that - the lecturer had formed some very definite ideas as to the way the English - language should be spoken; and his attempts to convey these ideas to his - audience were most praiseworthy. His illustrations of the curiosities of - some methods of pronouncing words were certainly extremely curious. For - instance, he complained bitterly of the way the majority of English actors - pronounced the word “war.” - </p> - <p> - “Ye prenounce the ward as if it wuz spelt w-a-u-g-h,” said the lecturer - gravely. “Ye don’t prenounce it at all as ye shud. The ward rhymes with - ‘par, ‘are,’ and ‘kyar,’ and yet ye will prenounce it as if it rhymed with - ‘saw’ and ‘Paw-’ Don’t ye see the diffurnce?” - </p> - <p> - “We do, we do!” cried the audience; and, thus encouraged by the ready - acquiescence in his pet theories, the lecturer went on to deal with the - gross absurdity of pronouncing the word “grass,” not to rhyme with “lass,” - which of course was the correct way, but almost—not quite—as - if it rhymed with “laws.” - </p> - <p> - “The ward is ‘grass,’ not ‘graws,’” said our lecturer. “It grates on a - sinsitive ear like mine to hear it misprenounced. Then ye will never be - injuced to give the ward ‘Chrischin’ its thrue value as a ward of three - syllables; ye’ll insist on calling it ‘Christyen,’ in place of - ‘Chrischin.’ D’ye persave the diffurnce?” - </p> - <p> - “We do, we do!” cried the audience. - </p> - <p> - “Ay, and ye talk about ‘soots’ of gyar-ments, when everybody knows that ye - shud say ‘shoots’; ye must give the full valye to the letter ‘u’—there’s - no double o in a shoot of clothes. Moreover, ye talk of the mimbers of the - polis force as ‘cunstables,’ but there’s no ‘u’ in the first syllable—it’s - an ‘o,’ and it shud be prenounced to rhyme with ‘gone,’ not with ‘gun.’ - Then I’ve heard an actor who shud know better say, in the part of Hamlet, - ‘wurds, wurds, wurds’; instead of giving that fine letter ‘o’ its full - value. How much finer it sounds to prenounce it as I do, ‘wards, wards, - wards’! But when I say that I’ve heard the ward ‘pull’ prenounced not to - rhyme with ‘dull,’ as ye’ll all admit it shud be, but actually as if it - was within an ace of being spelt ‘p double o l,’ I think yell agree with - me that it’s about time that actors learnt something of the rudiments of - the art of ellycution.” - </p> - <p> - I do not pretend that these are the exact instances given by Mr. - Boucicault of the appalling incorrectness of English pronunciation, but I - know that he began with the word “war,” and that the impression produced - upon my mind by the discourse was precisely as I have recorded it. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - There is a tradition at Trinity College, Dublin, that a student who spoke - with a lovely brogue used every art to conceal it, but with indifferent - success; for however perfect the “English accent” which he flattered - himself he had grafted upon the parent stem indigenous to Kerry may have - been when he was cool and collected, yet in moments of excitement—chiefly - after supper—the old brogue surrounded him like a fog. This was a - great grief to him; but his own weakness in this way caused him to feel a - deep respect for the natives of England. - </p> - <p> - After a visit to London he gave the result of his observations in a few - words to his friends at the College. - </p> - <p> - “Boys,” he cried, the “English chaps are a poor lot, no matter how you - look at them. But I will say this for them,—no matter how drunk any - one of them may be, he never forgets his English accent.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX.—SOME IMPERFECT STUDIES. - </h2> - <p> - <i>A charming theme—The new tints—An almost perfect - descriptive system—An unassailable position—The silver - mounting of the newspaper staff—An unfair correspondcnt—A lady - journalist face to face—The play-hawkers Only in two acts—An - earnest correspondent—A haven at last—Well-earned repose—The - “health columns”—Answers to correspondents—Other medical - advisers—The annual meeting—The largest consultation on record - over one patient—He recovers!—A garden-party—A congenial - locale—The distinguished Teuton—The local medico—Brain - “sells”—A great physician—Advice to a special correspondent—Change - of air—The advantages of travel—The divergence of opinion - among medical men—It is due to their conscientiousness.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>S this rambling - volume does not profess to be a guide to the newspaper press, I have not - felt bound to follow any beaten track in its compilation. But I must - confess that at the outset it was my intention to deal with that agreeable - phase known as the Lady Journalist. Unhappily (or perhaps I should say, - happily), “the extreme pressure on our space” will not permit of my giving - more than a line or two to a theme which could only be adequately treated - in a large volume. It has been my privilege to meet with three lady - journalists, and I am bound to say that every one of the three seemed to - me to combine in herself all the judgment of the trained journalist (male) - with the lightness of touch which one associates with the doings of the - opposite sex. All were able to describe garments in picturesque phrases, - frequently producing by the employment of a single word an effect that a - “gentleman journalist”—this is, I suppose, the male equivalent to a - lady journalist—could not achieve at any price. They wrote of ladies - being “gowned,” and they described the exact tint of the gowns by an - admirable process of comparison with the hue of certain familiar things. - They rightly considered that the mere statement that somebody came to - somebody else’s “At Home” in brown, conveys an inadequate idea of the - colour of a costume: “postman’s bag brown,” however, brings the dress - before one’s eye in a moment. To say that somebody’s daughter appeared in - a grey wrap would sound weak-kneed, but a wrap of <i>eau de Tamise</i> is - something stimulating. A scarlet tea-jacket merely suggests the Book of - Revelation, but a Clark-Russell-sunset jacket is altogether different. - </p> - <p> - They also wrote of “picture hats,” and “smart frocks,” and many other - matters which they understood thoroughly. I do not think that any - newspaper staff that does not include a lady journalist can hope for - popularity, or for the respect of those who read what is written by the - lady journalist, which is much better than popularity. I have got good - reason to know that in every newspaper with which I was associated, the - weekly column contributed by the lady journalist was much more earnestly - read than any that came from another source. - </p> - <p> - Yes, I feel that the position of the lady in modern journalism is - unassailable; and the lady journalists always speak pleasantly about one - another, and occasionally describe each other’s “picture hats.” - </p> - <p> - In brief, the lady journalist is the silver mounting of the newspaper <i>staff</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I once, however, received an application from a lady, offering a weekly - letter on a topic already, I considered, ably dealt with by another lady - in the columns of the newspaper with which I was connected. I wrote - explaining this to my correspondent, and by the next post I got a letter - from her telling me that of course she was aware that a letter purporting - to be on this topic was in the habit of appearing in the paper, but - expressing the hope that I did not fancy that she would contribute “stuff - of that character.” - </p> - <p> - I did not have the faintest hope on the subject. - </p> - <p> - Now it so happened that the lady who wrote to me had some months before - gone to the lady whose weekly letters she had derided, and had begged from - her some suggestions as to the topics most suitable to be dealt with by a - lady journalist, and whatever further hints she might be pleased to offer - on the general subject of lady journalism. In short, all that she had - learned of the profession—it may be acquired in three lessons, most - young women think—she had learned from the lady at whom she pointed - a finger of scorn. - </p> - <p> - This I did not consider either ladylike or journalist-like, so that I can - hardly consider it lady-journalist-like. - </p> - <p> - Lady journalists have recently taken to photographing each other and - publishing the results. - </p> - <p> - This is another step in the right direction. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Once I had an opportunity of talking face to face with a lady journalist. - It happened at the house of a distinguished actress in London. By the - merest chance I had a play which I felt certain would suit the actress, - and I went to make her acquainted with the joyful news. To my great - chagrin I found that I had arrived on a day when she was “receiving.” - Several literary men were present, and on some of their faces. - </p> - <p> - I thought I detected the hang-dog look of the man who carries a play about - with him without a muzzle. I regret to say that they nearly all looked at - me with distrust. - </p> - <p> - I came by chance upon one of them speaking to our charming hostess behind - a <i>portiere</i>. - </p> - <p> - “I think the part would suit you down to the ground.” he was saying. “Yes, - six changes of dress in the four acts, and one of them a ballroom scene.” - </p> - <p> - I walked on. - </p> - <p> - Ten minutes afterwards I overheard a second, who was having a romp with - our hostess’s little girl, say to that lady,— - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, I am very fond of children, when they are as pretty as Pansy - here. By the way, that reminds me that I have in my overcoat pocket a - comedy that I think will give you a chance at last. If you will allow me - when those people go....” - </p> - <p> - I passed on. - </p> - <p> - “The piece I brought with me is very strong. You were always best at - tragedy, and I have frequently said that you are the only woman in London - who can speak blank verse,” were the words that I heard spoken by the - third literary gentleman at the further side of a group of palms on a - pedestal. - </p> - <p> - I thought it better not to say anything about my having a play concealed - about my person. It occurred to me that it might be well to withhold my - good news for a day or two. Meantime I had a delightful chat with the lady - journalist, and confided in her my belief that some of the literary men - present had not come for the sake of the intellectual treat available at - every reception of our hostess’s, but solely to try and palm off on her - some rubbish in the way of a play. - </p> - <p> - She replied that she could scarcely believe that any man could be so base, - and that she feared I was something of a cynic. - </p> - <p> - When she was bidding good-bye to our hostess I distinctly heard the latter - say,— - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry that you have only made it in two acts; however, you may - depend on my reading it carefully, and doing what I can with it for you.” - </p> - <p> - The above story might be looked on as telling against myself in some - measure, so I hasten to obviate its effect by mentioning that the play - which I had in my pocket was acted by the accomplished lady for whom I - designed it, and that it occupied a dignified place among the failures of - the year. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - There was a lady journalist—at least a lady so describing herself—who - sent me long accounts of the picture shows three days after I had received - the telegraphed accounts from the art correspondent employed by the - newspaper. She wanted to get a start, she said; and it was in vain that I - tried to point out to her that it was the other writers who got the start - of her, and that so long as she allowed this to happen she could not - expect anything that she wrote to be inserted. - </p> - <p> - It so happened, however, that her art criticisms were about on a level - with those that a child might pass upon a procession of animals to or from - a Noah’s Ark. Then the lady forwarded me criticisms of books that had not - been sent to me for review, and afterwards an interview or two with - unknown poets. Nothing that she wrote was worth the space it would have - occupied. - </p> - <p> - Only last year I learned with sincere pleasure that this energetic lady - had obtained a permanent place on the staff of a lady’s halfpenny weekly - paper. I could not help wondering on what department she could have been - allowed to work, and made some inquiry on the subject. Then it was I - learned that she had been appointed superintendent of the health columns. - It seems that the readers of this paper are sanguine enough to expect to - get medical advice of the highest order in respect of their ailments for - the comparatively trilling expenditure of one halfpenny weekly. By - forwarding a coupon to show that they have not been mean enough to try and - shirk payment of the legitimate fee, they are entitled to obtain in the - health columns a complete reply as to the treatment of whatever symptoms - they may describe. As this reply is seldom printed in the health columns - until more than a month or six weeks after the coupon has been sent in to - the newspaper, addressed “M.D.,” the extent of the boon that it confers - upon the suffering—the long-suffering—subscribers can easily - be estimated. - </p> - <p> - As the superintendent of the column signed “M.D.,” the lady who had failed - as an art critic, as a reviewer, and as an interviewer, had at last found - a haven of rest. Of course, when she undertook the duties incidental to - the post she knew nothing whatever of medicine. But since then, my - informant assured me that she had been gradually “feeling her way,” and - now, by the aid of a half-crown handbook, she can give the best medical - advice that can be secured in all London for a halfpenny fee. - </p> - <p> - I had the curiosity to glance down one of her columns the other day. It - ran something like this:— - </p> - <p> - “Gladys.—Delighted to hear that you like your new mistress, and that - the cook is not the tyrant that your last was. As scullery-maid I believe - you are entitled to every second evening out. But better apply (enclosing - coupon) to the Superintendent of the Domestic Department. Regarding the - eruptions on the forehead, they may have been caused by the use of too hot - curling tongs on your fringe. Why not try the new magnetic curlers? (see - advertisement, p. 9). It would be hard to be compelled to abandon so - luxurious a fringe for the sake of a pimple or two. Thanks for your kind - wishes. Your handwriting is striking, but I must have an impression of - your palm in wax, or on a piece of paper rubbed with lamp-black, before I - can predict anything certain regarding your chances of a brilliant - marriage.” - </p> - <p> - “Airy Fairy Lilian.—What a pretty pseudonym! Where did you contrive - to find it? Yes, I think that perhaps the doctor who visited you was right - after all. The symptoms were certainly those of typhoid. Have you tried - the new Omniherbal Typhoid Tablets (see advertisement, p. 8). If not too - late they might be of real service to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Harebell.—I should say that if your waist is now forty-two inches, - it would be extremely imprudent for you to try and reduce it by more than - ten or eleven inches. Besides, there is no beauty in a wasp-like waist. - The slight redness on the outside tegument of the nose probably proceeds - from cold, or most likely heat. Try a little <i>poudre des fées</i> (see - advertisement, p. 9).” - </p> - <p> - “Shy Susy.—It is impossible to answer inquiries in this column in - less than a month. (1) If your tooth continues to ache, why not go to Mr. - Hiram P. Prosser, American Dental Surgeon (see advertisement, p. 8), and - have it out. (2) The best volume on Etiquette is by the Countess of D. It - is entitled ‘How to Behave’ (see advertisement outside cover). (3) No; to - change hats in the train does not imply a promise to marry. It would, - however, tell against the defendant in the witness-box. (4) Decidedly not; - you should not allow a complete stranger to see you to your door, unless - he is exceptionally good-looking. (5) Patchouli is the most fashionable - scent.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I do not suppose that this enterprising young woman is an honoured guest - at the annual meeting of the British Medical Association. Certainly no - lady superintendent of the health columns of a halfpenny weekly paper was - pointed out to me at the one meeting of this body which I had the - privilege of attending, and at which, by the way, some rather amusing - incidents occurred. - </p> - <p> - An annual, meeting of the British Medical Association seemed to me to be a - delightful function. For some days there were <i>fêtes</i> (with - fireworks), receptions (with military bands playing), dances (with that - exhilarating champagne that comes from the Saumur districts), excursions - to neighbouring ruins of historic interest, and the common or garden-party - in abundance. In addition to all these, a rumour was circulated that - papers were being read in some out-of-the-way hall—no one seemed to - know where it was situated, and the report was generally regarded as a - hoax—on modern therapeutics, for the entertainment of such visitors - as might be interested in the progress of medical science. - </p> - <p> - No one seemed interested in that particular line. - </p> - <p> - A concert took place one evening, and was largely attended, every seat in - the building being occupied. The local amateur tenor—the microbe of - this malady has not yet been discovered—sang with his accustomed - throaty incorrectness, and immediately afterwards there was a considerable - interval. Then the conductor appeared upon the platform and said that an - unfortunate accident had happened to the gentleman who had just sung, and - he should feel greatly obliged if any medical gentleman who might chance - to be present would kindly come round to the retiring room. - </p> - <p> - It seemed to me that the audience rose <i>en masse</i> and trooped round - to the retiring room. I was one of the few persons who remained in the - hall. - </p> - <p> - “Say, why didn’t some strong man throw himself between the audience and - the door?” a stranger shouted across the hall to me in an American accent. - </p> - <p> - “With what object?” I shouted back. - </p> - <p> - “Wal,” said the stranger, “I opine that if this community is subject to - such visitations as we have just had from that gentleman who sang last, - his destruction should be made a municipal affair.” - </p> - <p> - “We know what we’re about,” said I. “How would you like to look up and - find two hundred and forty-seven fully qualified medical men standing by - your bed-side.” - </p> - <p> - “Not much,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if the story of the opossum that was up a gum tree, and begged a - military man beneath not to fire, as he would come down, had reached the - States before you left,” said I. - </p> - <p> - He said he hadn’t heard tell of it. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said I, “there was an opossum——” - </p> - <p> - But here the hall began to refill, and the concert was proceeded with. The - sufferer had recovered, we heard, in spite of all that was against him. A - humorist said that he had merely slipped from a ladder in endeavouring to - reach down his high C. - </p> - <p> - When he was told that he had to pay two hundred and forty-seven guineas - for medical attendance he nearly had a relapse. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It was at the same meeting of the Medical Association that a garden-party - was given by the Superintendent of the District Lunatic Asylum. This was a - very pleasant affair, and was attended by about five hundred persons. A - detestable man who was present, however, thought fit to make an effort to - give additional spirit to the entertainment by pointing out to some of his - friends the short, ungainly figure of a German <i>savant</i>, who was - wandering about the grounds in a condition of loneliness, and by telling a - story of a homicide of a bloodcurdling type, to account for the - gentleman’s presence at the institution. - </p> - <p> - The jester gave free expression to his doubts as to the wisdom of the - course adopted by the medical superintendent in permitting such freedom to - a man who was supposed to be confined during Her Majesty’s pleasure,—this - was, he said, because of the merciful view taken by the jury before whom - he had been tried. He added, however, that he supposed the superintendent - knew his own business. - </p> - <p> - As this story circulated freely, the German doctor, whose appearance and - dress undoubtedly lent it a certain plausibility, became easily the most - attractive person in view. Young men and maidens paused in the act of - “service” over the lawn tennis nets, to watch the little man whose large - eyes stared at them from beneath a pair of shaggy eyebrows, and whose - ill-cut grey frieze coat suggested the uniform of the Hospital for the - Insane. Strong men grasped their walking sticks more firmly as he passed, - and women, well gowned, and wearing picture hats—I trust I am not - infringing the copyright of the lady journalist—drew back, but still - gazed at him with all the interest that attaches itself to a great - criminal in the eyes of women. - </p> - <p> - The little man could not but feel that he was attracting a great deal of - attention; but being probably well aware of his own attainments, he did - not shrink from any gaze, but smiled complacently on every side. Then a - local medical man, whose self-confidence had never been known to fail him - in an emergency, thought that the moment was an auspicious one for - exhibiting the extent of his researches in cerebral phenomena, beckoned - the German to his side, and, removing the man’s hat, began to prove to the - bystanders that the shape of his head was such as precluded the - possibility of his playing any other part in the world but that of a - distinguished homicide. But the German, who understood English very well, - as he did everything else, turned at this point upon the local - practitioner and asked him what the teuffil he meant. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t be alarmed, ladies,” said the practitioner assuringly, as there was - a movement among his audience. “I know how to treat this form of - aberration. Now then, my good man——” - </p> - <p> - But at this moment a late arrival in the form of a great London surgeon - strolled up accompanied by the medical superintendent of the Asylum, and - with an exclamation of pleasure, pounced upon the subject of the discourse - and shook him warmly by the hand. The Teuton was, however, by no means - disposed to overlook the insult offered to him. He explained in the - expressive German tongue what had occurred, and any one could see that he - was greatly excited. - </p> - <p> - But Sir Gregory, the English surgeon, had probably some experience of - cases like this. He put his hand through the arm of the German, and then - giving a laugh that in an emergency might obviate the use of a lancet, he - said loudly enough to be heard over a considerable area,— - </p> - <p> - “Come along, my dear friend; there is no visiting an hospital for the - insane without coming across a lunatic,—a medical practitioner - without discretion is worse.” - </p> - <p> - The local physician was left standing alone on the lawn. - </p> - <p> - He shortly afterwards went home. - </p> - <p> - If you wish to anger him now you need only talk about brain “sells.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - At the same meeting it was my privilege to be presented to a really great - London physician. He was the medical gentleman who was consulted by a - special correspondent on his return from making a tour with the Marquis of - Lome, when the latter became Viceroy of Canada. The special correspondent - had left for Canada on the very day that he arrived in England from the - Cape, having gone through the Zulu campaign, and he had reached the Cape - direct from the Afghan war. After about two years of these experiences he - felt run down, and acting on the suggestion of a friend, lost no time in - consulting the great physician. - </p> - <p> - On learning that the man was suffering from a curious impression of - weariness for which he could not account, but which he had tried in vain - to shake off, the great physician asked him what was his profession. He - replied that he was a literary man—that he wrote for a newspaper. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I thought so,” cried the great physician. “Your complaint is easily - accounted for. I perceived in a moment that you had been leading a - sedentary life. That is what plays havoc with literary men. What you need - just now is a complete change—no half measures, mind you—a - complete change—a sea voyage would brace you up, or,—let me - see—ah, yes, Margate might do. Try a fortnight at Margate.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I am bound to say that it was another doctor who, when a naval captain who - had been in charge of a corvette on the South Pacific station for five - years, went to him for advice, gravely remarked,— - </p> - <p> - “I wonder, sir, if at any time of your life you got a severe wetting?” - </p> - <p> - The modern physician is most earnest in recommending changes of air and - scene and employment. He is an enemy to the drug system. But the last - enemy that shall be destroyed is the drug system. The “masses” believe in - it as they believe no other system, whether in medicine, religion, or even - gambling. - </p> - <p> - I shall never forget the ring of contempt that there was in the voice of a - servant of mine at the Cape, when, on the army surgeon’s giving him a - prescription to be made up, he found that the whole thing only cost - fourpence, and he said,— - </p> - <p> - “That there coor can’t be much of a coor, sir; only corst fourpence, and - me ready to pay ‘arf-a-crown.” - </p> - <p> - In the smoking-room of an hotel in Liverpool some years ago a rather - self-assertive gentleman was dilating to a group in a cosy corner on the - advantages of travel, not merely as a physical, but as an intellectual - stimulant. - </p> - <p> - “Am I right, sir?” he cried, turning to me. “Have you ever travelled?” - </p> - <p> - I mentioned that I had done a little in that way. - </p> - <p> - “Where do you come from now, sir?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “South America,” said I meekly. - </p> - <p> - “And you, sir,” he cried, turning to another stranger; “have you - travelled?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, a bit,” replied the man. “I was in ‘Frisco this day fortnight, and - I’ll be in Egypt on this day week.” - </p> - <p> - “I knew by the look of those gentlemen that they had travelled,” said the - loud man, turning to his group. “I believe in the value of travel. I - travel myself—just like those gentlemen. Yes; a week ago I was at - Bradford. Here I am at Liverpool to-day, and Heaven knows where I may be - next week—at Manchester, may be.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - So far as I can gather, the impression seems to be pretty general that - some divergence of opinion is by no means impossible among physicians in - their diagnosis of a case. Doctors themselves seem to have at last become - aware of the fact that the possibility of a difference being manifested in - their views on some cases is now and again commented on by the - irresponsible layman. An eminent member of that profession which makes a - larger demand than any other upon the patience, the judgment, and the - self-sacrifice of those who practise it, defended, a short time ago, in - the course of a very witty speech, the apparent want of harmony between - the views of physicians on some technical points. He said that perhaps he - might not be going too far if he remarked that occasionally in a court of - law the technical evidence given by two doctors seemed at first sight not - to agree. This point was readily conceded by the audience; and the - professor then went on to say that surely the absence of this mechanical - agreement on all points should be accepted as powerful testimony to the - conscientiousness of the profession. One of the rarest of charges brought - against physicians was that of collusion. In fact, while he believed that, - if put to it, his memory would be quite equal to recall some instances of - a divergence of opinion between doctors in a witness-box, he did not think - that he could remember a single case in which a charge of collusion - against two members of the profession had been brought home to them. - </p> - <p> - Most sensible people will, I am persuaded, take this view of a matter - which has called for comment in all ages. It is because doctors are so - singularly sensitive that, sooner than run the chance of being accused of - acting in collusion in any case, they now and again have been known to - express views that were—well, not absolutely in harmony the one with - the other. - </p> - <p> - The distinguished physician who made so reasonable a defence of the - profession which he adorns, told me that it was one of his early - instructors who made that excellent summary of the relative values of - medical attendance:— - </p> - <p> - “I have no hesitation in saying that it’s not better to be attended by a - good doctor than a bad doctor; but I won’t go the length of saying that - it’s not better to be attended by no doctor at all than by either.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX.—ON SOME FORMS OF CLEVERNESS. - </h2> - <p> - <i>The British Association—The late Professor Tyndall—His - Belfast address—The centre of strict orthodoxy—The indignation - of the pulpits—Worse than atheism—Biology and blasphemy allied - sciences—The champion of orthodoxy—The town is saved—After - many days—The second visit of Professor Tyndall to Belfast—The - honoured guest of the Presbyterians—Public opinion—Colour - blindness—Another meeting of the British Association—A clever - young man—The secret of the ruin—The revelation of the secret—The - great-grandfather of Queen Boadicea—The story of Antonio Giuseppe—Accepted - as primo tenore—The birthday books—A movable feast—A box - at the opera—Transferable—The discovery of the transfers—An - al fresco operatic entertainment—No harm done.</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE annual meetings - of the British Association for the Advancement of Science can be made - quite as delightful functions as those of the British Medical Association, - if they are not taken too seriously; and I don’t think that there is much - likelihood of that happening. I have had the privilege of taking part in - several of the dances, the garden parties, and the concerts which have - taken place under the grateful protection of science. I have also availed - myself of the courtesy of the railway companies that issued cheap tickets - to the various places of interest in the locality where the annual - festivities took place under the patronage of the British Association. The - only President’s address which I ever heard delivered was, however, that - of Professor Tyndall at Belfast. - </p> - <p> - I was little more than a boy at the time, and that is probably why I was - more deeply interested in Biology and Evolution than I have been in more - recent years. It is scarcely necessary to say that Professor Tyndall’s - utterance would take a very humble place in the heterodoxy of the present - day, for the exponents of theology have found it necessary to enlarge - their borders as the century draws to a close, and I suppose that if poor - Tyndall had offered to lecture in St. Paul’s Cathedral his appearance - under the dome would have been welcomed by the authorities, as it - certainly would have been by the public. But Belfast had for long been the - centre of strict orthodoxy, and so soon as the address of Professor - Tyndall was printed a great cry arose from every pulpit. The excellent - Presbyterians of Ulster were astounded at the audacity of the man in - coming into the midst of such a community as theirs in order to deliver an - address that breathed of something worse than the ancient atheists had - ever dreamed of in their most heterodox moments. If the man had wanted to - blaspheme—and a good <i>primâ facie</i> case was made out in favour - of the assumption that he had—could he not have taken himself off to - some congenial locality for the purpose? Why should he come to Belfast - with such an object? Would the town ever get rid of the stigma that would - certainly be attached to it as the centre from which the blasphemies of - Biology had radiated upon this occasion? - </p> - <p> - These were the questions that afflicted the good people for many days, and - the consensus of opinion seemed to be in favour of the theory that unless - the town should undergo a sort of moral fumigation, it would not be - restored to the position it had previously occupied in the eyes of - Christendom. The general idea is that to slaughter a pig in a Mohammedan - mosque is an act the consequences of which are so far-reaching as to be - practically irreparable; the act of Professor Tyndall at Belfast was of - precisely this nature in the estimation of the inhabitants. - </p> - <p> - Fortunately, however, a champion of orthodoxy appeared in the form of a - Professor at the Presbyterian College who wrote a book—I believe - some copies may still be purchased—to make it impossible for Tyndall - or any other exponent of Evolution to face an audience of intelligent - people. This book was the saving of the town. Belfast was rehabilitated, - and the people breathed again. - </p> - <p> - But the years went by; Darwin’s funeral service was held in Westminster - Abbey, and Professor Tyndall’s voice was now and again heard like an - Alpine echo of his master. In Belfast a University Extension Scheme was - set on foot and promised to be a brilliant success—it collapsed - after a time, but that is not to the point. What is to the point, however, - is the fact that the inaugural lecture of the University Extension series - was on the subject of Biology, and the chosen exponent of the science was - Professor Tyndall. He came to Belfast as the honoured guest of the city—it - had become a city since his memorable visit—and he passed some days - at the official residence of the Presbyterian President of the Queen’s - College, who had been a pupil at the divinity school of the clergyman who - had written the book that was supposed to have re-consecrated, as it were, - the locality defiled by the British Association address of 1874. - </p> - <p> - This incident appears to me to be noteworthy—almost as noteworthy as - the reception given in honour of Monsieur Emile Zola in the Guildhall a - few years after Mr. Vizetelly had been sent to gaol for issuing a purified - translation of a work of Zola’s. - </p> - <p> - I think it was Mr. Forster who, in the spring of 1882, when Mr. Parnell - and his friends were languishing in Kilmainham, said that the Irish - Channel was like the water described by Byron: a palace at one side, a - prison on the other. The Irish members left Kilmainham, and in a few hours - found themselves in Westminster Palace—at least, Westminster Palace - Hotel. - </p> - <p> - Public opinion knows but the two places of residence—a palace and a - prison. When a man leaves the one he is considered fit for the other. - Public opinion knows but black and white, and vacillates from one to the - other with the utmost regularity. - </p> - <p> - The only constant thing in the world is change. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - At another meeting of the British Association I was a witness of a - remarkable piece of cleverness on the part of a young man who has since - proved his claim to be regarded as one of the most adroit men in England. - Among the excursions the chief was to the locality of a ruin, the origin - of which was, like the origin of the De la Pluche family, lost in the - mists of obscurity. The ruin had been frequently visited by distinguished - archæologists, but none had ventured to do more than guess—if one - could imagine guesswork and archaeology associated—what period - should be assigned to the dilapidated towers. It so happened, however, - that an elderly professor at the local college had, by living laborious - days, and mastering the elements of a new language, succeeded in wresting - their secret from the lichened stones, and he made up his mind that when - the British Association had its excursion to the ruin, he would reveal all - that he had discovered regarding it, and by this <i>coup de théâtre</i> - become famous. - </p> - <p> - But the clever young man had an interesting young brother who had gained a - reputation as a poet, and who dressed perhaps a trifle in excess of this - reputation; and when the old professor was about to make his revelation - regarding the ruin, the clever young man put up his brother in another - part of the enclosure to recite one of his own poems on the locality. In a - few moments the professor, who had commenced his discourse, was - practically deserted. Only half a dozen of the excursionists rallied round - him, and permitted themselves to be mystified; the cream of the visitors, - to the number of perhaps a hundred, were around the reciter on an historic - hillock fifty yards away, and his mellow cadences sounded very alluring to - the few people who listened to the jerky delivery of the lecturer in the - ruin. - </p> - <p> - But the clever young man did not yield to the alluring voice of his - brother. He had heard that voice before, and was well acquainted with its - cadences. He was also well acquainted with the poem that was being recited—he - had heard it more than once before. What he was not acquainted with was - the marvellous discovery made by the professor who was in the act of - revealing it to ten ears—that is allowing that only one person of - those around him was deaf. The clever young man sat concealed behind a - wall covered with ivy and listened to every word of the revelation. When - it was over he unostentatiously joined the crowd around his brother, and - heard with pleasure that the delivery of the poem had been very striking. - </p> - <p> - “But we must not waste our time,” said the clever young man, with the air - of authority of a personal conductor. “We have several other interesting - points to dwell upon”—he spoke as if he and his brother owned the - ruins and the natural landscape into the bargain. “Oh, yes, we must hurry - on. I do not suppose there is any lady or gentleman present who is aware - of the fact that we are within a few yards of the place where the - great-grandfather of Queen Boadicea lies buried.” - </p> - <p> - A murmur of negation passed round the crowd. - </p> - <p> - “Follow me,” said the clever young man; and they followed him. - </p> - <p> - He led them to the very place where the professor had made his revelation, - and then, standing on a portion of the ruined structure, he gave in choice - language, and with many inspiring quotations from the literature of the - Ancient Britons, the substance of the professor’s revelation. - </p> - <p> - For half an hour he continued his discourse, and quite delighted every one - who heard him, except, perhaps, the elderly professor. He was among the - audience, and he listened, with staring eyes, to the clever young man’s - delightful mingling of the deepest archaeological facts with fictions that - had a semblance of truth, and he was speechless. The innocent old soul - actually believed that the clever young man had surpassed him, the - professor, in the profundity of his researches into the history of the - ruin; he knew that the face of the clever young man had not been among the - faces of the few people who had heard his revelation, but he did not know - that the clever young man was hidden among the ivy a few yards away. - </p> - <p> - When the people were applauding the delightful discourse, he pressed - forward to the impromptu lecturer and shook him warmly by the hand. - </p> - <p> - “Sir!” he cried, “you have in you the stuff that goes to make a great - archæologist. I have worked at nothing else but this ruin for the last - eight years, and yet I admit that you know more about it than I do.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, my dear sir,” said the clever young man, “the world knows that in - your own path you are without a rival. I am content to sit at your feet. - It is an honourable position. Any time you want to know something of this - locality and its archæology do not hesitate to command me.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The only rival in adroitness to the young man whose feats I have just - recorded was one Antonio Giuseppe. I came upon this person in London, but - only when I was in Milan did I become acquainted with the extent of his - capacity. One of the stories I heard about him is, I think, worth - repeating, illustrating, as it does, the difference between the English - and the Italian systems of imposture. - </p> - <p> - Antonio Giuseppe certainly was attached to the State Opera Company, but it - would be difficult to define with any degree of exactness his duties in - connection with that Institution. He had got not a single note in his - voice, and yet—nay, on this account—he had passed during a - season at Homburg as a distinguished tenor—for Signor Giuseppe was - careful to see that his portmanteau was inscribed in white letters of - considerable size, “Signor Antonio Giuseppe, State Opera Company.” He gave - himself as many airs as a professional—nay, as an amateur, tenor, - and he was thus assigned the most select apartment in the hotel during his - sojourn, and a large folding screen was placed between his seat at the <i>table - d’hote</i> and the window. There was, indeed, every excuse for taking - Signor Giuseppe for a distinguished operatic tenor. He spoke all European - languages with equal impurity, he went about in a waistcoat that - resembled, in combination of colours, the drop scene of a theatre, he wore - a blue velvet tie, made up in a knot to display a carbuncle pin about the - size of a tram-car light, and his generosity in wristband was equalled - only by his prodigality of cigarette paper. These characteristics, coupled - with the fact that he had never been known to indulge in the luxury of a - bath, gave rise to the rumour that he was the greatest tenor in Europe; - consequently he was looked upon with envy by the Dukes with incomes of a - thousand pounds a day, who were accustomed to resort for some months out - of the year to Homburg; while Countesses in their own right sent him daily - missives expressive of their admiration for his talents, and entreating - the favour of his autograph in their birthday books. Poor Signor Giuseppe - was greatly perplexed by the arrival of a birthday book at his apartment - every morning; but so soon as its import was explained to him, he never - failed to respond to the request of the fair owners of the volumes. His - caligraphy did not extend beyond the limits of his autograph, and his - birthday seemed to be with him a movable feast, for in no two of the books - did his name appear on the pages assigned to the same month. As a matter - of fact, it is almost impossible for a man who has never been acquainted - with his father or mother, to know with any degree of accuracy the exact - day on which he was born, so that Signor Giuseppe, who was discovered by a - priest in a shed at the quay at Leghorn on St. Joseph’s day, was not to - blame for his ignorance in respect of his nativity. - </p> - <p> - Of course, when Mr. Fitzgauntlet, the enterprising impresario of the State - Opera, turned up at Homburg in the course of a week or two, it became - known that whatever position Signor Giuseppe might occupy in the State - Opera Company, it was not that of <i>primo tenore</i>, for the most - exacting impresario has never been known to include among the duties of a - <i>primo tenore</i> the unpacking of a portmanteau and the arrangement of - its contents around the dressing room of the impresario. The folding - screen was removed from behind Signor Giuseppe on the day following the - arrival of Mr. Fitzgauntlet at Homburg, and from being <i>feted</i> as - Giuseppe the tenor, he was scorned as Giuseppe the valet. - </p> - <p> - But in regarding Signor Giuseppe as nothing beyond the valet to the - impresario the sojourners at the hotel were as greatly in error as in - accepting him as the tenor. To be sure Signor Giuseppe now and again - discharged the duties that usually devolve upon the valet, but the scope - of his duties extended far beyond these limits. It was his task to arrange - the <i>claque</i> for a new <i>prima donna</i>, and to purchase the - bouquets to be showered upon the stage when the impresario was anxious to - impress upon the public the admirable qualities possessed by a <i>débutante</i> - whose services he had secured for a trifle. It was also Giuseppe’s - privilege to receive the bouquets left at the stage door by the young - gentlemen—or the old gentlemen—who had become struck with the - graceful figure of the <i>premiere danseuse</i> or perhaps <i>cinquantième - danseuse</i>, and the emoluments arising from this portion of his duties - were said to be equal to a liberal income, exclusive of what he made by - the disposal of the bouquets to the florist from whom they had been - originally purchased. This invaluable official also made a little money - for himself by his ingenuity in obtaining the photographs and autographs - of the chief artists of the company, which he distributed for sale every - evening in the stalls; but not quite so profitable was that part of his - business which consisted in inventing stories to account for the absence - of the impresario when tradesmen called at the State theatre with their - bills; still, the thoughtfulness and ingenuity of Signor Giuseppe were - quite equal to the strain put upon them in this direction, and Mr. - Fitzgauntlet had no reason to be otherwise than satisfied. When it is - understood that Giuseppe transacted nearly all their business for the - chief artists in the company, engaged their apartments, and looked after - their luggage when on tour in the provinces, it will readily be believed - that he had, as a rule, more money at his banker’s than any official - connected with the State Opera. - </p> - <p> - The confidence which had always been placed in Signor Giuseppe’s integrity - by the artists of the company was upon one occasion rudely shaken, and the - story of how this disaster occurred is about to be related. Signor - Giuseppe did a little business in wine and cigars, principally of British - manufacture, and he had, with his accustomed dexterity, hitherto escaped a - criminal prosecution under the Sale of Drugs Act for the consequences of - his success in disposing of his commodities in this line of business. He - also did a little in a medical way, a certain bottle containing a bright - crimson liquid with a horrible taste being extremely popular among the - members of the extensive chorus of the State Opera. When a “cyclus” of - modern German opera was contemplated by Mr. Fitzgauntlet, Giuseppe - increased his medical stock, feeling sure that the result of the - performances would occasion a run upon his drugs; but the negotiations - fell through, and it was only by the force of his perseverance and - persuasiveness he contrived to get rid of his surplus to the gentlemen who - played the brass instruments in the orchestra. It was not, however, on - account of his transactions in the medical way that he almost forfeited - the respect in which he was held by the artists, but because of the part - he played with regard to the disposal of a certain box of cigars. After - the production of the opera <i>Le Diamant Noir</i>, Signor Boccalione, the - great basso, went to Giuseppe, saying,— - </p> - <p> - “Giuseppe, I want your advice: you know I have made the success of the - opera, but I do not read music very quickly, and Monsieur Lejeune has had - a good deal of trouble with me. I should like to make him some little - return; what would you suggest?” - </p> - <p> - Giuseppe was lost in thought. He wondered, could he suggest the propriety - of the basso’s offering the <i>maestro di piano</i> a case of Burgundy—Giuseppe - had just received three cases of the finest Burgundy that had ever been - made in the Minories. - </p> - <p> - “A present to the value of how much?” he asked of Signor Boccalione. - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” said the basso airily, and with a gesture of indifference, “about - sixty francs. Monsieur Lejeune had not really so much trouble with me—no - one else in the company would think of acknowledging his services, but - with me it is different—I cannot live without being generous.” - </p> - <p> - Giuseppe mused. - </p> - <p> - “If the signor would only go so far as seventy francs, I could get him a - box of the choicest cigars,” he said after a pause; and then he went on to - explain that the cigars were in the possession of a friend of his own, - whom he had passed into the opera one night, and who consequently owed him - some compliment, so that the box, which in the ordinary way of business - was really worth eighty francs, might be obtained for seventy. The - generosity of the basso, however, was not without its limits; it would, - sustain the tension put upon it by the expenditure of sixty francs, but it - was not sufficiently strong to face the outlay suggested by Giuseppe.. - </p> - <p> - “Sixty francs!” he cried, “sixty francs is a small fortune, and I myself - smoke excellent cigars at thirty. I will give no more than sixty.” - </p> - <p> - Giuseppe did not think the box could be purchased for the money, but he - said he would try and induce his friend to be liberal. The next day he - came to Signor Boccalione with the box containing the hundred cigars of - the choicest brand—the quality of the cigars will be fully - appreciated when it is understood that the hundred cost Giuseppe - originally close upon thirteen shillings. - </p> - <p> - “Per Bacco!” cried the basso, “Monsieur Lejeune should be a happy man—he - had hardly any trouble with me, now that I come to reflect. Oh, I am the - only man in the company who would be so foolish as to think of a present—and - such a present—for him.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Signor!” said Giuseppe, “such a present! The perfume, signor, - wonderful! delicious! celestial!” He then explained how he had persuaded - his friend, by soft words and promises, to part with the box for sixty - francs, and Signor Boccalione listened and laughed; then, on a sheet of - pink notepaper, the basso wrote a dedication, occupying twelve lines, of - the box of cigars to the use of the supremely illustrious <i>maestro di - piano</i>, Lejeune, in token of the invaluable assistance he had afforded - to the most humble and grateful of his friends and servants, Alessandro - Boccalione. - </p> - <p> - When Giuseppe promised to send the box to the maestro on the following day - he meant to keep his word, and he did keep it. On the same evening he was - met by Maestro Lejeune. The maestro looked very pale in the face. - </p> - <p> - “Giuseppe, my friend,” he said with a smile, “you were very good to me - upon our last tour, looking after my luggage with commendable zeal; I have - often thought of making you some little return. You will find a box of - cigars—one hundred all but one—on my dressing table; you may - have them for your own use.” - </p> - <p> - Giuseppe was profuse in his thanks, and, on going to the dressing-room of - the maestro, obtained possession once more of the box of cigars he had - sold to the basso. On the mat was the half-smoked sample which Monsieur - Lejeune had attempted to get through. - </p> - <p> - Not more than a week had passed after this transaction when Signor - Giuseppe was sent for by Madame Speranza, the celebrated soprano. - </p> - <p> - “Giuseppe,” said the lady, “as you have had twenty-seven of my photographs - within the past month, I think you may be able to help me out of a - difficulty in which I find myself.” - </p> - <p> - Giuseppe thought it rather ungenerous for a soprano earning—or at - least getting paid—two hundred pounds a week, to make any reference - to such a paltry matter as photographs; he, however, said nothing on this - subject, but only expressed his willingness to serve the lady. She then - explained to him what he knew already, namely, that she had had a serious - difference with Herr Groschen, the conductor, as to the <i>tempo</i> of a - certain air in <i>Le Diamant Noir</i>, and that the conductor and she had - not been on speaking terms for more than a fortnight. - </p> - <p> - “But now,” said Madame Speranza in conclusion, “now that I have made the - opera so brilliant a success, I should like to make my peace with the poor - old man, who must be miserable in consequence of my treatment of him,—especially - as I got the best of the dispute. I mean to write to him this evening, and - send him some present—something small, you know—not - extravagant.” - </p> - <p> - “What would Madame think of the appropriateness of a box of cigars?” asked - Giuseppe after an interval of thought. “I heard Herr Groschen say that he - had just smoked the last of a box, and meant to purchase another when he - had the money,” he added. - </p> - <p> - “How much would a box of cigars cost?” asked the <i>prima donna</i>. - </p> - <p> - “Madame can have cigars at all prices—even as low as sixty-five - francs,” replied her confidential adviser. - </p> - <p> - “Mon Dieu! what extravagant creatures men are!” cried the lady. - “Sixty-five francs’ worth of cigars would probably not last him more than - a few months. Never mind; I do not want a cheap box,—my soul is a - generous one: procure me a box at sixty-six francs, and we will say - nothing more about the photographs.” - </p> - <p> - Signor Giuseppe said he would try what could be done. A man whom he had - once obliged had a sister married to one of the most intelligent cigar - merchants in the city; but he did not think he had any cigars under - seventy francs. - </p> - <p> - “Not a sou more than sixty-six will I pay,” cried the soprano with - emphasis. Giuseppe gave a shrug and said he would see what could be done. - </p> - <p> - What he saw could be done was to expend the sum of twopence English in the - purchase of a cigar, to put in the centre of the package from which the - maestro had taken his sample, and to bring the box sealed to Madame - Speranza, whom he congratulated on being able to present her late enemy - with a box of cigars of a quality not to be surpassed in the island of - Cuba. The lady put her face down to the box and made a little grimace, and - Giuseppe left her apartment with three guineas English in his pocket. - </p> - <p> - Two days afterwards he encountered Herr Groschen. - </p> - <p> - “Giuseppe,” said the conductor, “you may remember that when you so - cleverly contrived to have my luggage with the fifteen pounds of tobacco - amongst it passed at the Custom House I said I would make you a present. - Forgive me for my negligence all this time, and accept a box of choice - cigars, which you will find on my table. May you be happy, Giuseppe—you - are a worthy fellow.” - </p> - <p> - It is needless to say that Signor Giuseppe recovered his box. On the - hearth-rug lay a half-smoked specimen, and by its side the portion of - Madame Speranza’s letter to the conductor which he had used to light the - one cigar out of the hundred. - </p> - <p> - Before another week had passed, the same box had been sold to the tenor, - to present to Mr. Fitzgauntlet, who, on receiving it, put his nose down to - the package, and threw the lot into a corner among waste papers, and went - on with his writing. The box was rescued by Giuseppe, and presented by him - to the husband of Madame Galatini-Purissi, the contralto, in exchange for - three dozen copies of the fair <i>artiste’s</i> portrait. Then Signor - Purissi sent the box to the flautist in the orchestra, who played the - obbligato to some of the contralto’s arias, and as this gentleman did not - smoke he made it over once more to Signor Giuseppe. As the box had by this - time been in the hands of every one in the company likely to possess a box - of cigars, Giuseppe thought it would show a grasping spirit on his part - were he to attempt to dispose of it again; so he merely made up the - ninety-nine cigars in packages of three, which he sold to thirty-three - members of the chorus at a shilling a head. - </p> - <p> - It so happened, however, that Herr Groschen, Signor Boccalione, and Signor - Purissi met in a tobacconist’s shop about a week after the final - distribution of the cigars, and their conversation turned upon the - comparative ease with which bad cigars could be procured. Herr Groschen - boasted how he had repaid his obligations to Giuseppe with a box of - cigars, which he was certain satisfied the poor devil. - </p> - <p> - “Corpo di Bacco!” cried the basso, “I bought a box from Giuseppe to - present to Maestro Lejeune.” - </p> - <p> - “And I,” said the husband of the contralto, “bought another from him. Can - it have been the same box?” - </p> - <p> - Suspicion being thus aroused, Boccalione sought out Monsieur Lejeune, who - confessed that he had given the box to Giuseppe; and Signor Purissi - learned from the flautist that his gift had been disposed of in the same - direction. The story went round the company, and poor Giuseppe was pounced - upon by his indignant and demonstrative countrymen, and an explanation - demanded of him on the subject of his repeated disposal of the same box. - Giuseppe was quite as demonstrative as the most earnest of his - interrogators in declaring that he had not disposed of the same box. His - friend had obliged him with several boxes, and he had himself been greatly - put about to oblige the ungrateful people who now turned upon him. He - swore by the tomb of his parents that the obligations he had already - discharged towards the ingrates would never be repeated; they might in - future go elsewhere (Signor Giuseppe made a suggestion as to the exact - locality) for their cigars; but for his part he washed his hands clean of - them and their cigars. For three-quarters of an hour the basso-profundo, - the soprano, and the husband of the contralto gesticulated before Giuseppe - in the portico of the Opera House, until a crowd collected, the impression - being general that an animated scene from a new opera was being rehearsed - by the artists of the State Opera. A policeman who arrived on the scene - could not be persuaded to take this view of the matter, and he politely - requested the distinguished members of the State Opera Company either to - move on or to go within the precincts of the building. The basso attempted - to explain to the policeman in very choice Italian what Giuseppe had done, - but he was so demonstrative the officer thought he was threatening the - police force generally, and took his name and address with a view to - issuing a summons for this offence. In the meantime Giuseppe got into a - hansom and drove off, craning his neck round the side of the vehicle to - make a parting allusion to the maternity of the husband of the contralto, - to which the soprano promptly replied by a suggestion which, if true, - would tend to remove the mystery surrounding the origin of Giuseppe. A - week afterwards of course all were once again on the most friendly terms; - but Giuseppe now and again feels that his want of ingenuousness in the - cigar-box transaction well-nigh jeopardised the reputation for integrity - he had previously enjoyed among the principals of the State Opera Company. - He has been much more careful ever since, and flatters himself that not - even the <i>tenore robusto</i>, who is the most suspicious of men, can - discover the points on which he gets the better of him. As a practical - financier Signor Antonio Giuseppe thinks of himself as a success; and - there can hardly be a doubt that he is fully justified in taking such a - view of his career. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI.—“SO CAREFUL OF THE TYPE.” - </h2> - <p> - <i>Why the chapter is a short one—Straw essential to brick-making—A - suggestion regarding the king in “Hamlet”—The Irish attendant—The - overland route—“Susanna and the editors”—“The violets of his - wrath”—The clergyman’s favourite poem—A horticultural feat—A - tulip transformed—The entertainment of an interment—The - autotype of Russia—A remarkable conflagration and a still more - remarkable dance—Paradise and the other place—Why the concert - was a success—The land of Goschcn—A sporting item—A - detective story—The flora and fauna—The Moors dictum—Absit - omen!</i> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F this chapter is - a short one, it is so for the best of reasons: it is meant to record some - blunders of printers and others which impressed themselves upon me. It - would obviously be impossible to make a chapter of the average length out - of such a record. The really humorous faults in the setting up of anything - I have ever written have been very few. In the printing of the original - edition of my novel <i>Daireen</i> one of the most notable occurred in a - first proof. Every chapter of this book is headed with a few lines from <i>Hamlet</i>, - and one of these headings is from the well-known scene with Rosencrantz - and Guildenstern, - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - <i>Gull</i>.—The King, sir—— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - <i>Hamlet</i>.—Ay, sir, what of him? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - <i>Gull</i>.—Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - <i>Hamlet</i>.—With drink, sir? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - <i>Gull</i>.—No, my lord, rather with choler. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - This was the dialogue as I had written it. The humorous printer added a - letter that somewhat changed the sense. He made the line,— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “No, my lord, rather with <i>cholera</i>.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - This was probably an honest attempt on the compositor’s part to work out a - “new reading,” and it certainly did not appear to me to be more - extravagant than the scores of attempts made in the same direction. If - this reading were accepted, the perturbation of Claudius during the - players’ scene, and his hasty Bight before its conclusion, would be - accounted for. - </p> - <p> - Another daring new reading in <i>Hamlet</i> was suggested by a compositor, - through the medium of a comma and a capital. In the course of a magazine - article, he set up a line in the third scene of the third act, in this - way,— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - <i>Hamlet</i>.—Now might I do it, Pat! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It is somewhat curious that some attempt has not been made before now to - justify such a reading. Could it not be suggested that Hamlet had an Irish - servant who was in his confidence? About the time of Hamlet, the Danes had - an important settlement in Ireland, and why might not Hamlet’s father have - brought one of the natives of that island, named Patrick, to be the - personal attendant of the young prince? The whole thing appears so - feasible, it almost approaches the dimensions of an Irish grievance that - no actor has yet had the courage to bring on the Irish servant who was - clearly addressed by Hamlet in the words just quoted. - </p> - <p> - So “readings” are made. - </p> - <p> - Either of those which the compositors suggested is much more worthy of - respect than the late Mr. Barry Sullivan’s,— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “I know a hawk from a heron. Pshaw!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - But if compositors are sometimes earnest and enterprising students of - Shakespeare, I have sometimes found them deficient on the subject of - geography. Upon one occasion, for instance, I accompanied a number of them - on an excursion to the Isle of Man. The day was one of a mighty rushing - wind, and the steamer being a small one, the disasters among the - passengers were numerous. There was not a printer aboard who was not in a - condition the technical equivalent to which is “pie.” I administered - brandy to some of them, telling them to introduce a “turned rule,” which - means, in newspaper instructions, “more to follow.” But all was of no - avail. We reached the island in safety, however, and then one of the - compositors who had been very much discomposed, seeing the train about to - start for Douglas, told me in a confidential whisper that he had suffered - so much on the voyage, he had made up his mind to return to Ireland by - train. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Quite a new reading, not to <i>Hamlet</i>, but to one of the lyrics in <i>The - Princess</i>, was suggested by another compositor. The introduction of a - comma in the first line of the last stanza of “Home they brought her - warrior dead” produced a quaint effect. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “Rose a nurse of ninety years, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Set his child upon her knee,” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - appears in every edition of <i>The Princess</i>. But my friend, by his - timely insertion of a comma, made it read thus: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “Rose, a nurse of ninety years.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Perhaps the nurse’s name was Rose, but Tennyson kept this a secret. - </p> - <p> - One of the loveliest of Irish national melodies is that for which Moore - wrote the stanzas beginning:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “Silent, O Moyle, be the roar of thy waters!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The title of this song appeared in the programme of a St. Patrick’s Day - Concert, which was published in a leading London newspaper, as though the - poem were addressed to one Mr. O’Moyle,—“Silent, O’Moyle.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Another humorist set up a reference to “Susanna and the Elders,” - </p> - <p> - “Susanna and the Editors,” which was not just the same thing. Possibly the - printer had another and equally apocryphal episode in his mind’s eye. - </p> - <p> - I felt a warm personal regard for the man who made a lecturer state that a - critic had “poured out the violets of his wrath upon him.” The criticism - did not, under these circumstances, seem particularly severe. - </p> - <p> - I must frankly confess, however, that I had nothing but reprobation for - the one who made a clergyman state in a lecture to a class of young - ladies, that his favourite poem of Wordsworth’s was “Invitations to - Immorality.” Nor had I the least feeling except of indignation for the one - who set up the title of a picture in which I was interested, “a rare - turnip,” instead of “a rare tulip.” The printer who at the conclusion of - an obituary notice was expected to announce to the readers of the paper - that “the interment will take place on Saturday,” but who, instead, gave - them to understand that “the entertainment will take place on Saturday,” - did not, I think, cause any awkward mishap. He knew that the idea was that - of entertainment, whatever the word employed might be. - </p> - <p> - The compositor who caused an editor to refer to “the autotype of the - Russian people,” when the word <i>autocrat</i> was in the “copy” before - him, was less to be blamed than the reader who allowed such a mistake to - pass without correction. - </p> - <p> - When I read on a proof one night that the most striking scene in <i>The - Dead Heart</i> at the Lyceum was “the burning of the Pastille and the - dance of the Rigmarole,” I asked for the “copy” that had been telegraphed; - and I found that the printer was not responsible for this marvellous - blunder. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It will be remembered that at one of his lectures in the United States, - Mr. Richard A. Proctor remarked that in the course of a few million years - something remarkable would happen, but that its occurrence would not - inconvenience his audience, as he supposed they would all be in Paradise - at that time. - </p> - <p> - In one paper the reporter made him say that he supposed his audience would - all be in Paris at that time. - </p> - <p> - The next evening Mr. Proctor turned the mistake to a good “scoring” - account, by stating that he fancied at first an error had been made; but - that shortly afterwards, he remembered that the tradition was, that all - good Americans go to Paris when they die, so that the reporter clearly - understood his business. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The enterprising correspondent who sows his telegrams broadcast is a - frequent cause of the appearance of mistakes. I recollect that one sent a - hundred words over the wire regarding some village concert, the great - success of which was due to the zeal of the Reverend John Jones, “the <i>locus - standi</i> of the parish.” He had probably heard something at one time of - a <i>pastor loci,</i> and made a brave but unsuccessful attempt to - reproduce the phrase. - </p> - <p> - Another correspondent telegraphed regarding the arrival of two American - cyclists at Queenstown, that their itinerary would be as follows: “They - will travel on their bicycles through Ireland and England, and then - crossing from Dover to Calais they will proceed through Europe, and from - Turkey they will pass through Asia Minor into Xenophon and the Anabasis, - leaving which they will travel to Egypt and the Land of <i>Goschen</i>.” - </p> - <p> - The reference to Xenophon was funny enough, but the spelling of the last - word, identifying the country with the statesman, seemed to me to - represent the highwater mark of the flood-tide of modernism. A few years - before, when the correspondent was doubtless more in touch with the - vicissitudes of the Children of Israel than with the feats of cyclists - from the United States, he would probably have assimilated Mr. Goschen’s - name with the Land of Goshen; but soon the fame of the ex-Chancellor of - the Exchequer had become of more immediate importance to him, and it was - the land that changed its name in his mind to the name of the ex-Finance - Minister. - </p> - <p> - It was probably the influence of the same spirit of modernism that caused - a foreman, in making up the paper for the press, to insert under the title - of “Sporting,” half a column of a report of a lecture by a clergyman on - “The Races of Palestine.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It was, however, the telegraph office that I found to be responsible for a - singular error in the report of the arrest of a certain notorious - criminal. The report should have stated that “a photograph of the prisoner - had been taken by the detective camera,” but the result of the filtration - of the message through a network of telegraph wires was the statement that - the photograph “had been taken by Detective Cameron.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Some years ago a too earnest naturalist was drowned when canoeing on a - lake in the west of Ireland. An enterprising correspondent who clearly - resided near the scene of the accident, forwarded to the newspaper with - which I was connected, a circumstantial account of the finding of the - capsized canoe. In the course of his references to the objects of the - naturalist’s visit to the west, the reporter made the astounding statement - that “he had already succeeded in getting together a practically complete - collection of the <i>flora</i> and <i>fauna</i> of Ireland,”—truly a - “large order.” - </p> - <p> - I feel that I cannot do better than bring to a close with this story my - desultory jottings, which may bear to be regarded as a far from complete - collection of the <i>flora</i> and <i>fauna</i> of journalism. Perhaps my - researches into these highways and byways may induce some more competent - and widely experienced brother to publish his notes on men and matters. - </p> - <p> - “Not a jot, not a jot,” protested the <i>Moor</i>. - </p> - <p> - Am I setting the omen at defiance in publishing these Jottings? Perhaps I - am; though I feel easier in my mind on this point when I recall how, on my - quoting in an article the proverb, “<i>Autres temps, mitres mours”</i> a - wag of a printer caused it to appear, “<i>Autres temps, autres</i> - Moores!” - </p> - <h3> - THE END. - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg’s A Journalists Note-Book, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK *** - -***** This file should be named 51952-h.htm or 51952-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/5/51952/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you’ll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. - -The Foundation’s principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - - </body> -</html> diff --git a/old/51952-h/images/0001.jpg b/old/51952-h/images/0001.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8d9b667..0000000 --- a/old/51952-h/images/0001.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51952-h/images/0008.jpg b/old/51952-h/images/0008.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 97af44e..0000000 --- a/old/51952-h/images/0008.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51952-h/images/0009.jpg b/old/51952-h/images/0009.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 364dfa6..0000000 --- a/old/51952-h/images/0009.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51952-h/images/0092.jpg b/old/51952-h/images/0092.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 193c1aa..0000000 --- a/old/51952-h/images/0092.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51952-h/images/0136.jpg b/old/51952-h/images/0136.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ee2608a..0000000 --- a/old/51952-h/images/0136.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51952-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/51952-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2a91fe7..0000000 --- a/old/51952-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51952-h/images/enlarge.jpg b/old/51952-h/images/enlarge.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5a9bcf3..0000000 --- a/old/51952-h/images/enlarge.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/51952-h.htm.2021-01-24 b/old/old/51952-h.htm.2021-01-24 deleted file mode 100644 index 424ba0b..0000000 --- a/old/old/51952-h.htm.2021-01-24 +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10489 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
-
-<!DOCTYPE html
- PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
- "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
-
-<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
- <head>
- <title>
- A Journalists Note-book, by Frank Frankfort Moore
- </title>
- <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
- <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
-
- body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
- P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
- H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
- hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
- .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;}
- blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
- .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
- .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
- .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;}
- .xx-small {font-size: 60%;}
- .x-small {font-size: 75%;}
- .small {font-size: 85%;}
- .large {font-size: 115%;}
- .x-large {font-size: 130%;}
- .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;}
- .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;}
- .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;}
- .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;}
- .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;}
- .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;}
- div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
- div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
- .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
- .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
- .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em;
- font-variant: normal; font-style: normal;
- text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD;
- border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;}
- .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em;
- border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left;
- text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;
- font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;}
- .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em;
- border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center;
- text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;
- font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;}
- p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0}
- span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 }
- pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
-
-</style>
- </head>
- <body>
-
-
-<pre>
-
-Project Gutenberg's A Journalists Note-Book, by Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: A Journalists Note-Book
-
-Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51952]
-Last Updated: November 16, 2016
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Frank Frankfort Moore
- </h2>
- <h4>
- Author of “Forbid the Banns,” “Daireen,’” “A Gray Eye or So,” etc.
- </h4>
- <h4>
- London: Hutchins On And Co., Paternoster Row
- </h4>
- <h3>
- 1894
- </h3>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I.—PAST AND PRESENT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II.—THE OLD SCHOOL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.—THE EDITOR OF THE PAST. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.—THE UNATTACHED EDITOR. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.—THE SUB-EDITORS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—THE SUB-EDITORS (continued).
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.—SOME EXTINCT TYPES. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.—MEN, MENUS, AND MANNERS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.—ON THE HUMAN IMAGINATION. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—THE VEGETARIAN AND OTHERS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.—ON SOME FORMS OF SPORT. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.—SOME REPORTERS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—THE SUBJECT OF REPORTS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV.—IRELAND AS A FIELD FOR
- REPORTERS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV.—IRISH TROTTINGS AND JOTTINGS.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.—IRISH TOURISTS AND TRAINS.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—HONORARY EDITORS AND OTHERS.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII.—OUTSIDE THE LYCEUM BILL.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX.—SOME IMPERFECT STUDIES. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX.—ON SOME FORMS OF CLEVERNESS.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI.—“SO CAREFUL OF THE TYPE.” </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I.—PAST AND PRESENT.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>Odd lots of journalism—Respectability and its relation to
- journalism—The abuse of the journal—The laudation of the
- journalist—Abuse the consequence of popularity—Popularity the
- consequence of abuse—Drain-work and grey hairs—“Don’t neglect
- your reading for the sake of reviewing”—Reading for pleasure or to
- criticise—Literature—Deterioration—The Civil List
- Pension—In exchange for a soul.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OME years ago
- there was an auction of wine at a country-house in Scotland, the late
- owner of which had taken pains to gain a reputation for judgment in the
- matter of wine-selecting. He had all his life been nearly as intemperate
- as a temperance orator in his denunciation of whisky as a drink, hoping to
- inculcate a taste for vintage clarets upon the Scots; but he that tells
- the tale—it is not a new one—says that the man died without
- seriously jeopardizing the popularity of the native manufacture. The wines
- that he had laid down brought good prices, however; but, at the close of
- the sale, several odd lots were “put up,” and all were bought by a local
- publican. A gentleman who had been present called upon the publican a few
- days afterwards, and found him engaged in mixing into one huge cask all
- the “lots” that he had bought—Larose, Johannisberg, Château Coutet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hallo,” said the visitor, “what’s this mixture going to be, Rabbie?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Weel, sir,” said the publican, looking with one eye into the cask and
- mechanically giving the contents a stir with a bottle of Sauterne which he
- had just uncorked—“Weel, sir, I think it should be port, but I’m no
- sure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- These odd lots of journalistic experiences and recollections may be
- considered a book, “but I’m no sure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- After all, “a book’s a book although”—it’s written by a journalist.
- Nearly every writer of books nowadays becomes a journalist when he has
- written a sufficient number. He is usually encouraged in this direction by
- his publishers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re a literary man, are you not?” a stranger said to a friend of mine.
- </p>
- <p>
- “On the contrary, I’m a journalist,” was the reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I beg your pardon, I’m sure,” said the inquirer, detecting a certain
- indignant note in the disclaimer. “I beg your pardon. What a fool I was to
- ask you such a question!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope he wasn’t hurt,” he added in an anxious voice when we were alone.
- “It was a foolish question; I might have known that he was a journalist,
- <i>he looked so respectable</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- We are all respectable nowadays. We belong to a recognised profession. We
- may pronounce our opinions on all questions of art, taste, religion,
- morals, and even finance, with some degree of diffidence: we are at
- present merely practising our scales, so to speak, upon our various
- “organs,” but there is every reason to believe that confidence will come
- in due time. Are not our ranks being recruited from Oxford? Some years ago
- men drifted into journalism; now it is looked on as a vocation. Journalism
- is taken seriously. In a word, we are respectable. Have we not been
- entertained by the Lord Mayor of London? Have we not entertained Monsieur
- Emile Zola?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- People have ceased to abuse us as they once did with great freedom: they
- merely abuse the journals which support us. This is a healthy sign; for it
- may be taken for granted that people will invariably abuse the paper for
- which they subscribe. They do not seem to feel that they get the worth of
- their subscription unless they do so. It is the same principle that causes
- people to sneer at a dinner at which they have been entertained. If we are
- not permitted to abuse our host, whom may we abuse? The one thing that a
- man abuses more than to-day’s paper is the negligence of the boy who omits
- to deliver it some morning. Only in one town where I lived did I find that
- a newspaper was popular. (It was not the one for which I wrote.) The
- fathers and mothers taught their children to pray, “God bless papa, mamma,
- and the editor of the <i>Clackmannan Standard</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I met that editor some years afterwards. He celebrated a sort of impromptu
- Comminution Service against the people amongst whom he had lived. They had
- never paid for their subscriptions or their advertisements, and they had
- thus lowered the <i>Standard</i> of Clackmannan and of the editor’s
- confidence in his fellow-men.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The only newspaper that is in a hopeless condition is the one which is
- neither blessed at all nor cursed at all. Such a newspaper appeals to no
- section of the public. It has always seemed to me a matter of question
- whether a man is better satisfied with a paper that reflects (so far as it
- is possible for a paper to do so) his own views, or with one that reflects
- the views that he most abhors. I am inclined to believe that a man is in a
- better humour with those of his fellow-men whom he has thoroughly abused,
- than with the one whom he greets every morning on the top of his omnibus.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is quite a simple matter to abuse a newspaper into popularity. One of
- the Georges whose biographies have been so pleasantly and touchingly
- written by Thackeray and Mr. Justin M’Carthy, conferred a lasting
- popularity upon the man whom he told to get out of his way or he would
- kick him out of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The moral of this is, that to be insulted by a monarch confers a greater
- distinction upon a man living in Clapham or even Brixton than to be
- treated courteously by a greengrocer.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- But though people continue to abuse the paper for which they subscribe,
- and for which they are usually some year or two in arrears in the matter
- of payment, still it appears to me that the public are slowly beginning to
- comprehend that newspapers are written (mostly) by journalists. Until
- recently there was, I think, a notion that journalists sat round a
- bar-parlour telling stories and drinking whisky and water while the
- newspapers were being produced. The fact is, that most of the surviving
- anecdotes of the journalists of a past generation smell of the
- bar-parlour. The practical jesters of the fifties and the punsters of the
- roaring forties were tap-room journalists. They died hard. The journalists
- of to-day do not even smile at those brilliant sallies—bequeathed by
- a past generation—about wearing frock-coats and evening dress, about
- writing notices of plays without stirring from the taproom, about the
- mixing up of criticisms of books with police-court reports. Such were the
- humours of journalism thirty or forty years ago. We have formed different
- ideas as to the elements of humour in these days. Whatever we may leave
- undone it is not our legitimate work.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was when journalism was in a state of transition that a youth, waiting
- on a railway platform, was addressed by a stranger (one of those men who
- endeavour to make religious zeal a cloak for impertinence)—“My dear
- young friend, are you a Christian?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said the youth, “I’m a reporter on the <i>Camberwell Chronicle</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- On the other hand, it was a very modern journalist whose room was invaded
- by a number of pretty little girls one day, just to keep him company and
- chat with him for an hour or so, as it was the day his paper—a
- weekly one—went to press. In order to get rid of them, he presented
- each of them with a copy of a little book which he had just published,
- writing on the flyleaf, “With the author’s compliments.” Just as the girls
- were going away, one of them spied a neatly bound Oxford Bible that was
- lying on the desk for editorial notice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should so much like that,” she cried, pouncing upon it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you shall have it, my dear, if you clear off immediately,” said the
- editor; and, turning up the flyleaf, he wrote hastily on it, “<i>With the
- author’s compliments</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, he was a modern journalist, and took a reasonable view of the
- authoritative nature of his calling.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Our position is, I affirm, becoming recognised by the world; but now and
- again I am made to feel that such recognition does not invariably extend
- to all the members of our profession. Some years ago I was getting my hair
- cut in Regent Street, and, as usual, the practitioner remarked in a
- friendly way that I was getting very grey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” I said, “I’ve been getting a grey hair or so for some time. I don’t
- know how it is. I’m not much over thirty.” (I repeat that the incident
- occurred some years ago.)
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, sir, you’re not what might be called old,” said he indulgently.
- “Maybe you’re doing some brain-work?” he suggested, after a pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brain-work?” said I. “Oh no! I work for a daily paper, and usually write
- a column of leading articles every night. I produce a book a year, and a
- play every now and again. But brain-work—oh no!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, in that case, sir, it must be due to something else. Maybe you drink
- a bit, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I did not buy the bottle which he offered me at four-and-nine. I left the
- shop dissatisfied.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is why I hesitate to affirm that modern journalism is wholly
- understanded of the people.
- </p>
- <p>
- But for that matter it is not wholly understanded of the people who might
- be expected to know something about it. The proprietor of a newspaper on
- which I worked some years ago made use of me one day to translate a few
- lines of Greek which appeared on the back of an old print in his
- possession. My powers amazed him. The lines were from an obscure and
- little-known poem called the “Odyssey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must read a great deal, my boy,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- I shook my head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The fact is,” said I, “I’ve lately had so much reviewing to do that I
- haven’t been able to read a single book.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s too hard on you,” said he gravely. “Get some of the others of the
- staff to help you. You mustn’t neglect your reading for the sake of
- reviewing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I didn’t.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon another occasion the son of this gentleman left a message for me that
- he had taken a three-volume novel, the name of which he had forgotten,
- from a parcel of books that had arrived the previous day, but that he
- would like a review of it to appear the next morning, as his wife said it
- was a capital story.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was quite annoyed when the review did not appear.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- But there are, I have reason to know, many people who have got no more
- modern ideas respecting that branch of journalism known as reviewing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you reading that book for pleasure or to criticise it?” I was asked
- not so long ago by a young woman who ought to have known better. “Oh, I
- forgot,” she added, before I could think of anything sharp to say by way
- of reply—“I forgot: if you meant to review it you wouldn’t read it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I thought of the sharp reply two days later.
- </p>
- <p>
- So it is, I say, that some of the people who read what we write from day
- to day, have still got only the vaguest notions of how our work is turned
- out.
- </p>
- <p>
- Long ago I used to wish that the reviewers would only read the books I
- wrote before criticising them; but now my dearest wish is that they will
- review them (favourably) without reading them.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I heard some time ago of a Scot who, full of that brave sturdy spirit of
- self-reliance which is the precious endowment of the race of North
- Britons, came up to London to fight his way in the ranks of literature.
- The grand inflexible independence of the man asserted itself with such
- obstinacy that he was granted a Civil List Pension; and while in receipt
- of this form of out-door relief for poets who cannot sell their poetry, he
- began a series of attacks upon literature as a trade, and gave to the
- world an autobiography in a sentence, by declaring that literature and
- deterioration go hand in hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was surely a very nasty thing for the sturdy Scotchman, who had
- attained to the honourable independence of the national almshouse, to say,
- just as people were beginning to look on literature as a profession.
- </p>
- <p>
- But then he sat down and forthwith reeled off a string of doggerel verses,
- headed “The Dismal Throng.” In this fourth-form satirical jingle he abused
- some of the ablest of modern literary men for taking a pessimistic view of
- life. Now, who on earth can blame literary men for feeling a trifle dismal
- if what the independent pensioner says is true, and success in literature
- can only be obtained in exchange for a soul? The man who takes the most
- pessimistic view of the profession of literature should be the last to
- sneer at a literary man looking sadly on life.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II.—THE OLD SCHOOL.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>The frock-coat and muffler journalist—A doomed race—One of
- the specimens—A masterpiece—-“Stilt your friend”—A
- jaunty emigrant—A thirsty knave—His one rival—Three
- crops—His destination—“The New Grub Street”—A courteous
- friend—Free lodgings—The foreign guest—Outside the hall
- door—The youth who found things—His ring—His watch—The
- fruits of modesty—Not to be imitated—A question for Sherlock
- Holmes—The liberty of the press—Deadheads.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> HAVE come in
- contact with many journalists of the old school—the frock-coat and
- muffler type. The first of the class whom I met was for a few months a
- reporter on a newspaper in Ireland with which I was connected. He had at
- one time been a soldier, and had deserted. I tried, though I was only a
- boy, to get some information from him that I might use afterwards, for I
- recognised his value as the representative of a race that was, I felt,
- certain to become extinct. I talked to him as I talked—with the aid
- of an interpreter—to a Botjesman in the South African veldt: I
- wanted to learn something about the habits of a doomed type. I succeeded
- in some measure.
- </p>
- <p>
- The result of my researches into the nature of both savages was to
- convince me that they were born liars. The reporter carried a pair of
- stage whiskers and a beard with him when sent to do any work in a country
- district; the fact being that the members of the Royal Irish Constabulary
- in the country barracks are the most earnest students of the paper known
- as <i>Hue and Cry</i>, and the man said that, as his description appeared
- in every number of that organ, he should most certainly be identified by a
- smart country policeman if he did not wear a disguise. Years afterwards I
- got a letter from him from one of her Majesty’s gaols. He wanted the loan
- of some money and the gift of a hat.
- </p>
- <p>
- This man wrote shorthand admirably, and an excellent newspaper English.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Another specimen of the race had actually attained to the dizzy eminence
- of editor of a fourth-class newspaper in a town of one hundred thousand
- inhabitants. In those days Mr. Craven Robertson was the provincial
- representative of Captain Hawtree in <i>Caste</i>, and upon the Captain
- Hawtree of Craven Robertson this “journalist” founded his style. He wore
- an eyeglass, a moustache with waxed ends, and a frock coat very carefully
- brushed. His hair was thin on the top—but he made the most of it. He
- was the sort of man whom one occasionally meets on the Promenade at Nice,
- wearing a number of orders on the breast of his coat—the order of Il
- Bacio di St. Judæus, the scarlet riband of Ste. Rahab di Jericho, the
- Brazen Lyre of SS. Ananias and Sapphira. He was the sort of man whom one
- styles “Chevalier” by instinct. He was the most plausible knave in the
- world, though how people allowed him to cheat them was a mystery to me.
- His masterpiece of impudence I have always considered to be a letter which
- he wrote to a brother-editor, from whom he had borrowed a sum of money, to
- be repaid on the first of the next month. When the appointed day came he
- chanced to meet this editor-creditor in the street, and asking him, with a
- smile as if he had been on the lookout for him, to step into the nearest
- shop, he called for a sheet of paper and a pen, and immediately wrote an
- order to the cashier of his paper to pay Mr. G. the sum of five pounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There you are, my dear sir,” said he. “Just send a clerk round to our
- office and hand that to the cashier. Meantime accept my hearty thanks for
- the accommodation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. G. lost no time in presenting the order; but, as might have been
- expected, it was dishonoured by the cashier, who declared that the editor
- was already eight months in advance in drawing his salary. Mr. G. hastened
- back to his own office and forthwith wrote a letter of furious
- upbraidings, in which I have good reason to suspect he expressed his views
- of the conduct of his debtor, and threatened to “take proceedings,” as the
- grammar of the law has it, for the recovery of his money.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day Mr. G. received back his own letter unopened, but inside the
- cover that enclosed it to him was the following:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Mr. G.,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may perhaps be surprised to receive your letter with the seal
- unbroken, but when you come to reflect calmly over the unfortunate
- incident of your sending it to me, I am sure that you will no longer be
- surprised. I am persuaded that you wrote it to me on the impulse of the
- moment, otherwise it would not contain the strong language which, I think
- I may assume, constitutes the major portion of its contents. Knowing your
- natural kindness of disposition, and feeling assured that in after years
- the consciousness of having written such a letter to me would cause you
- many a pang in your secret moments, I am anxious that you should be spared
- much self-reproach, and consequently return your letter unopened. You
- will, I am certain, perceive that in adopting this course I am acting for
- the best. Do not follow the next impulse of your heart and ask my
- forgiveness. I have really nothing to forgive, not having read your
- letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “With kindest regards, I remain
- </p>
- <p>
- “Still your friend
- </p>
- <p>
- “A. Swinne Dell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- If this transaction does not represent the high-water mark of knavery—if
- it does not show something akin to genius in an art that has many
- exponents, I scarcely know where one should look for evidence in this
- direction.
- </p>
- <p>
- Five years after the disappearance of Mr. A. Swinne Dell from the scene of
- this <i>coup</i> of his, I caught a glimpse of him among the steerage
- passengers aboard a steamer that called at Madeira when I was spending a
- holiday at that lovely island. His frock-coat was giving signs (about the
- collar) of wear, and also (under the arms) of tear. I could not see his
- boots, but I felt sure that they were down at the heel. Still, he held his
- head jauntily as he pointed out to a fellow-passenger the natural charms
- of the landscape above Funchal.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another of the old school who pursued a career of knavery by the light of
- the sacred lamp of journalism was, I regret to say, an Irishman. His
- powers of absorbing drink were practically unlimited. I never knew but one
- rival to him in this way, and that was when I was in South Africa. We had
- left our waggon, and were crouching in most uncomfortable postures behind
- a mighty cactus on the bank of a river, waiting for the chance of potting
- a gemsbok that might come to drink. Instead of the graceful gemsbok there
- came down to the water a huge hippopotamus. He had clearly been having a
- good time among the native mealies, and had come for some liquid
- refreshment before returning to his feast. He did not plunge into the
- water, but simply put his head down to it and began to drink. After five
- minutes or so we noticed an appreciable fall in the river. After a quarter
- of an hour great rocks in the river-bed began to be disclosed. At the end
- of twenty minutes the broad stream had dwindled away to a mere trickle of
- water among the stones. At the end of half an hour we began to think that
- he had had as much as was good for him—we wanted a kettleful of
- water for our tea—so I put an elephant cartridge (‘577) into my
- rifle and aimed at the brute’s eye. He lifted up his head out of pure
- curiosity, and perceiving that men with rifles were handy, slouched off,
- grumbling like a professional agitator on being turned out of a public
- house.
- </p>
- <p>
- That hippopotamus was the only rival I ever knew to the old-school
- journalist whose ways I can recall—only he was never known to taste
- water. Like the man in one of H. J. Byron’s plays, he could absorb any
- “given”—I use the word advisedly—any given quantity of liquor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you ever sober, my man?” I asked of him one day.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m sober three times a day,” he replied huskily. “I’m sober now. This is
- one of the times,” he added mournfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were blind drunk this morning—I can swear to that,” said I.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes,” he replied promptly. “But what’se good of raking up the past,
- sir? Let the dead past burits dead.” He took a step or two toward the
- door, and then returned. He carefully brushed a speck of dust off the rim
- of his hat. All such men wear the tallest of silk hats, and seem to feel
- that they would be scandalised by the appearance of a speck of dust on the
- nap. “D’ye know that I can take three crops out of myself in the day?” he
- inquired blandly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three crops?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three crops—I said so, of drunk. I rise in morn’n,—drunk
- before twelve; sleep it off by two, and drunk again by five; sleep it off
- by eight—do my work and go to bed drunk at two a.m. You haven’t such
- a thing as half-a-crown about you, sir? I left my purse on the grand piano
- before I came out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I was under the impression that this particular man was dead years ago;
- and I was thus greatly surprised when, on jumping on a tramcar in a
- manufacturing town in Yorkshire quite recently, I recognised my old friend
- in a man who had just awakened in a corner, and was endeavouring to
- attract the attention of the conductor. When, after much incipient
- whistling and waving of his arms, he succeeded in drawing the conductor to
- his side, he inquired if the car was anywhere near the Wilfrid Lawson
- Temperance Hotel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll let you down when we come to it,” said the conductor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do,” said the other in his old husky tones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lemme down at the Wellfed Laws Tenpence Otell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In another minute he was fast asleep as before.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- At present no penal consequences follow any one who calls himself a
- literary man. It is taken for granted, I suppose, that the crime brings
- its own punishment.
- </p>
- <p>
- One of the most depressing books that any one straying through the King’s
- Highway of literature could read is Mr. George Gissing’s “The New Grub
- Street.” What makes it all the more depressing is the fact of its carrying
- conviction with it to all readers. Every one must feel that the squalor
- described in this book has a real existence. The only consolation that any
- one engaged in a branch of literature can have on reading “The New Grub
- Street,” comes from the reflection that not one of the poor wretches
- described in its pages had the least aptitude for the business.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a town of moderate size in which I lived, there were forty men and
- women who described themselves for directory purposes as “novelists.” Not
- one of them had ever published a volume; but still they all believed
- themselves to be novelists. There are thousands of men who call themselves
- journalists even now, but who are utterly incapable of writing a decent
- “par.” I have known many such men. The most incompetent invariably become
- dissatisfied with life in the provinces, and hurry off to London, having
- previously borrowed their train fare. I constantly stumble upon provincial
- failures in London. Sometimes on the Embankment I literally stumble upon
- them, for I have found them lying in shady nooks there trying to forget
- the world’s neglect in sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- Why on earth such men take to journalism has always been a mystery to me.
- If they had the least aptitude for it they would be earning money by
- journalism instead of trying to borrow half-crowns as journalists.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I knew of one who, several years ago, migrated to London. For a long time
- I heard nothing about him; but one night a friend of mine mentioned his
- name, and asked me if I had ever known him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The fact is,” said he, “I had rather a curious experience of him a few
- months ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were by no means an exception to the general run of people who have
- ever come in contact with him,” said I. “What was your experience?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” replied he, “I came across him casually one night, and as he
- seemed inclined to walk in my direction, I asked him if he would mind
- coming on to my lodgings to have a bottle of beer. He found that his
- engagements for the night permitted of his doing so, and we strolled on
- together. I found that there was supper enough for two adults in the
- locker, and our friend found that his engagements permitted of his taking
- a share in the humble repast. He took fully his share of the beer, and
- then I offered him a pipe, and stirred up the fire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We talked until two o’clock in the morning, and, as he told me he lived
- about five miles away—he didn’t seem quite sure whether it was at
- Hornsey or Clapham—I said he could not do better than occupy a spare
- truckle that was in my bedroom. He said he thought that I was right, and
- we retired. We breakfasted together in the morning, and then we walked
- into Fleet Street, where we parted. That night he overtook me on my way to
- my lodgings, and in the friendliest manner possible accompanied me
- thither. Here the programme of the night before was repeated. The third
- night I quite expected to be overtaken by him; but I was mistaken. I was
- not overtaken by him: he was sitting in my lodgings waiting for me. He
- gave me a most cordial welcome—I will say that for him. The night
- following I had a sort of instinct that I should find him waiting for me
- again in my sitting-room. Once more I was mistaken. He was not waiting for
- me; he had already eaten his supper—<i>my supper</i>, and had gone
- to bed—<i>my bed</i>; but with his usual thoughtfulness, he had left
- a short note for me upbraiding me, but in a genial and quite a gentlemanly
- way, for staying out so late, and begging me not to awake him, as he was
- very tired, and—also genially—inquiring if it was absolutely
- necessary for me to make such a row in my bath in the mornings. He was a
- light sleeper, he said, and a little noise disturbed him. I did not awake
- him; but the next morning I was distinctly cool towards him. I remarked
- that I thought it unlikely that I should be at home that night. He begged
- of me not to allow him to interfere with my plans. When I returned that
- night, I found him sitting at my table playing cards with a bleareyed
- foreigner, whom he courteously introduced as his friend Herr Vanderbosch
- or something.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Draw your chair to the table, old chap, and join in with us. I’ll see
- that you get something to drink in a minute,’ said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thanked him, but remarked that I had a conscientious objection to all
- games of cards.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Soh?’ said the foreigner. ‘Das is yust var yo makes ze mistook. Ze game
- of ze gards it is grand—soblime!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “He added a few well-chosen sentences about sturm und drang or something;
- and in about five minutes I found myself getting a complete slanging for
- my narrow-minded prejudices, and for my attempt to curtail the innocent
- recreation of others. I will say this for our friend, however: he never
- for a moment allowed our little difference on what was after all a purely
- academic question, to interfere with his display of hospitality to myself
- and Herr Vanderbosch. He filled our tumblers, and was lavish with the
- tobacco jar. When I rose to go to bed he called me aside, and said he had
- made arrangements for me to sleep in the truckle for the night, in order
- to admit of his occupying my bed with Herr Vanderbosch—the poor
- devil, he explained to me with many deprecating nods, had not, he feared,
- any place to sleep that night. But at this point I turned. I assured him
- that I was constitutionally unfitted for sleeping in a truckle, or, in
- fact, in any bed but my own.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘All right,’ he cried in a huff, ‘I’ll sleep in the truckle, and I’ll
- make up a good fire for him to sleep before on the sofa.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, we all breakfasted together, and the next night the two gentlemen
- appeared once more at the door of the house. They were walking in as
- usual, when the landlady asked them where they were going.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Why, upstairs, to be sure,’ said our friend. “‘Oh no!’ said the
- landlady, ‘you’re not doing that. Mr. Plantagenet has left his rooms and
- gone to the country for a month—maybe two—and the rooms is let
- to another gent.’ “Well, our friend swore that he had been treated
- infernally, and Herr Vanderbosch alluded to me as a schweinhund—I
- heard him. I fancy the word must be a term of considerable opprobrium in
- the German tongue. Anyhow, they didn’t get past the landlady,—she
- takes a large size in doors,—and after a while our friend’s menaces
- dwindled down to a request to be permitted to remove his luggage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I’ll bring it down to you,’ said the landlady; and she shut the hall
- door very gently, leaving them on the step outside. When she brought down
- the luggage—it consisted of three paper collars and one cuff with a
- fine carbuncle stud in it—they were gone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Our friend told some one the other day of the disgraceful way I had
- treated him and his foreign associate. But he says he would not have
- minded so much if the landlady had not shut the door so gently.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Another remarkable pressman with whom I came in contact several years ago
- was a member of the reporting staff of an Irish newspaper. One day I
- noticed him wearing what appeared to me to be an extremely fine ring. It
- was set with an antique polished intaglio surrounded by diamonds. The ring
- was probably unique, and would be worth perhaps £70 to a collector. I have
- seen very inferior mediaeval intaglios sold for that sum. I examined the
- diamonds with a lens, and then inquired of the youth where he had bought
- it, and if he was anything of a collector.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I picked it up going home one wet night,” he replied. “I advertised for
- the owner in all the papers for a week—it cost me thirty shillings
- in that way,—but no one ever came forward to claim it. I would
- gladly have sold the thing for thirty shillings at the end of a month; but
- then I found that it was worth close upon a hundred pounds.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re the luckiest chap I ever met,” said I.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the course of a short time another of the reporters asked me if I had
- ever seen the watch that the same youth habitually wore. I replied that I
- had never seen it, but should like to do so. The same night I was in the
- reporters’ room, when the one who had mentioned the watch to me asked the
- wearer of the article if ten o’clock had yet struck. The youth forthwith
- drew out of his pocket one of the most charming little watches I ever saw.
- The back was Italian enamel on gold, both outside and within, and the
- outer case was bordered with forty-five rubies. A black pearl about the
- size of a pea was at the bow, right round the edge of the case were
- diamonds, and in the rim for the glass were twenty-five rubies and four
- stones which I fancied at a casual glance were pale sapphires. I examined
- these stones with my magnifier, and I thought I should have fainted when I
- found that they were blue diamonds.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “Le Temps est pour l’Homme,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- L’Eternité est pour l’Amour”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- was the inscription which I managed to make out on the dial.
- </p>
- <p>
- I handed back the watch to the reporter—his salary was £120 per
- annum—and inquired if he had found this article also.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he said, with a laugh. “I picked that up, curiously enough, during
- a trip that I once made to the Scilly Islands. I advertised it in the
- Plymouth papers the next day, for I believed it to have been dropped by
- some wealthy tourist; but I got no applicant for it; and then I came to
- the conclusion that the watch had been among the treasures of some of the
- descendants of the smugglers and wreckers of the old days. It keeps good
- enough time now, though a watchmaker valued the works at five shillings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Any time you want a hundred pounds—a hundred and fifty pounds,”
- said I, “don’t hesitate to bring that watch to me. Have you found many
- other articles in the course of your life?” I asked, as I was leaving the
- room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lots,” he replied. “When I was in Liverpool I lived about two miles from
- my office, and through getting into a habit of keeping my eyes on the
- ground, I used to come across something almost every week. Unfortunately,
- most of my finds were claimed by the owners.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have no reason to complain,” said I.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was set thinking if there might not be the potentialities of wealth in
- the art of walking with one’s eyes modestly directed to the ground; and
- for three nights I was actually idiot enough to walk home from my office
- with looks, not “commercing with the skies,” but—it was purely a
- question of commerce—with the pavements. The first night I nearly
- transfixed a policeman with my umbrella, for the rain was coming down in
- torrents; the second, I got my hat knocked into the mud by coming in
- contact with the branch of a tree overhanging the railings of a square,
- and the third I received the impact of a large-boned tipsy man, who was,
- as the idiom of the country has it, trying to walk on both sides of the
- road at once.
- </p>
- <p>
- I held up my head in future.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reporter left the newspaper in the course of a few months, and I never
- saw him again. But quite recently I was reading Miss Dougall’s novel
- “Beggars All,” and when I came upon the account of the reporter who
- carries out several adroit schemes of burglary, the recollection of the
- remarkable “finds” of the young man whose ring and watch had excited my
- envy, flashed across my mind; and I began to wonder if it was possible
- that he had pursued a similar course to that which Miss Dougall’s hero
- found so profitable. I should like to consult Mr. Sherlock Holmes on this
- point when he returns from Switzerland—we expect him every day.
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate, it is certain that the calling of a reporter would afford
- many opportunities to a clever burglar, or even an adroit pickpocket. A
- reporter can take his walks abroad at any hour of the night without
- exciting the suspicion of a policeman; or, should such suspicion be
- aroused, he has only to say “Press,” and he may go anywhere he pleases.
- The Press rush in where the public dare not tread; and no one need be
- surprised if some day a professional burglar takes to stenography as an
- auxiliary to the realisation of his illegitimate aims.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- One of the countless St. Peter stories has this privilege of the Press for
- its subject, and a reporter for its hero. This gentleman was walking
- jauntily through the gate of him “who keeps the keys,” but was stopped by
- the stern janitor, who inquired if he had a ticket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Press,” said the reporter, trying to pass.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean by that? You know you can’t be admitted anywhere without
- a ticket.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I tell you that I belong to the Press; you don’t expect a reporter to
- pay, do you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not? Why shouldn’t you be treated the same as the rest of the people?
- I can’t make flesh of one and fish of another,” added St. Peter, as if a
- professional reminiscence had occurred to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reporter suddenly brightened up. “I don’t want exceptional treatment,”
- said he. “Now that I come to think of it, aren’t they all <i>deadheads</i>
- who come here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I fancy that reporter was admitted.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III.—THE EDITOR OF THE PAST.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>Proprietary rights—Proprietary wrongs—Exclusive rights—The
- “leaders” of a party—The fossil editor—The man and the dog and
- the boar—An unpublished history—The newspaper hoax—A
- premature obituary notice—The accommodating surgeon—A matter
- of business—The death of Mr. Robinson—The quid pro quo</i>’.
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T is only within
- the past few years that the Editor has obtained public recognition as a
- personality; previously his personality was merged in the proprietor, and
- when his efforts were successful in keeping a Corporation from making
- fools of themselves—this is assuming an extreme case of success—or
- in exposing some attempted fraud that would have ruined thousands of
- people, he was compelled to accept his reward through the person of the
- proprietor. The proprietor was made a J.P., and sometimes even became
- Mayor or Chairman of the Board of Guardians, when the editor succeeded in
- making the paper a power in the county. Latterly, however, the editors of
- some provincial journals have been obtaining recognition.
- </p>
- <p>
- They have been granted the dubious honour of knighthood; and the public
- have discovered that the brains which have dictated a policy that has
- influenced the destinies of a Ministry, may be entrusted with the
- consideration of sewage and main drainage questions on a Town Council, or
- with the question of the relative degrees of culpability of a man who
- jumps upon his wife’s face and is fined ten shillings, and the boy who
- steals a raw turnip and is sent to a reformatory for five years—a
- period quite insufficient for the adequate digestion of that comestible,
- which it would appear boys are ready to sacrifice years of their liberty
- to obtain.
- </p>
- <p>
- I must say that, with one exception, the proprietors whom I have met were
- highly competent business men—men whose judgment and public spirit
- were deserving of that wide recognition which they nearly always obtained
- from their fellow-citizens. One, and one only, was not precisely of this
- type. He used to write with a blue pencil across an article some very
- funny comments.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have before me at this moment a letter in which he asked me to
- abbreviate something; and he gave me an example of how to do it by cutting
- out a letter of the word—he spelt it <i>abrievate</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had a perfect passion for what he called “exclusives.” The most trivial
- incident—the overturning of a costermonger’s barrow, and the number
- of the contents sustaining fatal injuries; the blowing off of a
- clergyman’s hat in the street, with a professional opinion as to the
- damage done; the breaking of a window in a private house—he regarded
- as good foundation for an “exclusive”; and indeed it must be said that the
- information given to the public by the organ of which he was proprietor
- was rarely ever to be found in a rival paper. At the same time, upon no
- occasion of his obtaining a really important piece of news did he succeed
- in keeping it from the others. This annoyed him extremely He was in great
- demand as chairman of amateur reciting classes—a distinction that
- was certainly dearly purchased. I never knew of one of these reciting
- entertainments being refused a full report in his newspaper upon any
- occasion when he presided. He also aspired to the chairmanship of small
- political meetings, and once when he found himself in such a position, he
- said he would sing the audience a song, and he carried out his threat. His
- song was probably more convincing than his speech would have been. He had
- a famous story for platform use. It concerned a donkey that he knew when
- they were both young.
- </p>
- <p>
- He said it made people laugh, and it surely did. At a public dinner he
- formulated the plausible theory that to be a good player of golf was to be
- a gentleman. He was a poor golfer himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, regarding London editors I have not much to say. I am not personally
- acquainted with any one of them. But for twelve years I read every
- political article that appeared in each of the six principal London daily
- papers; I also read a report of every speech made in the House of Commons,
- and of every speech made by a statesman of Cabinet rank outside
- Parliament; and I am prepared to say that the great majority of these
- speeches bore the most unmistakable evidence of being—well, not
- exactly inspired by, but certainly influenced by some leading article. In
- one word, my experience is that what the newspapers say in the morning the
- statesmen say in the evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course Mr. Gladstone must not be included in the statesmen to whom I
- refer. His inspiration comes from another direction. That is how he
- succeeds in startling so many people.
- </p>
- <p>
- The majority of provincial editors include, I have good reason to know,
- some of the best men in the profession. Only here and there does one meet
- with a fossil of journalism who is content to write a column of platitudes
- over a churchwarden pipe and then to go home to sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- With only one such did I come in contact recently. He was connected with a
- newspaper which should have had unbounded influence in its district, but
- which had absolutely none. The “editor” was accustomed to enter his room
- about noon, and he left it between seven and eight in the evening, having
- turned out a column of matter of which he was an earnest reader the next
- morning. And yet this same newspaper received during the night sometimes
- twelve columns of telegraphic news and verbatim reports of the chief
- speeches in Parliament.
- </p>
- <p>
- The poor old gentleman had never been in London, and never could see why I
- should be so constantly going to that city. He was under the impression
- that George Eliot was a man, and he one day asked me what the Royal
- Academy was. Having learned that it was a place where pictures that richly
- deserved exposure were hung, he shortly afterwards assumed that the French
- Academy was a gallery in which naughty French pictures—he assumed
- that everything French was naughty—were exhibited. He occasionally
- referred to the <i>Temps</i> phonetically, and up to the day of his death
- he never knew why I laughed when I first heard his pronunciation of the
- name of that organ.
- </p>
- <p>
- The one dread of his life was that I might some time inadvertently suggest
- that I was the editor of the paper. As if any sane human being would have
- such an aspiration! His opportunity came at last. A cabinet photograph of
- a man and a dog arrived at the office one day addressed to the editor. He
- hastened to the proprietor and “proved” that the photograph represented me
- and my dog, and that it had been addressed “to the editor.” The proprietor
- was not clever enough to perceive that the features of the portrait in no
- way resembled those with which I am obliged to put up, and so I ran a
- chance of being branded as a pretender.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fortunately, however, the fascinating little daughter of the proprietary
- household contrived to see the photograph, and on being questioned as to
- its likeness to a member of the staff, declared that there was no one half
- so goodlooking connected with the paper. On being assured that the
- original had already been identified, she expressed her willingness to
- stake five pounds upon her opinion; and the injured editor accepted her
- offer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, all this time I had never been applied to by the disputants, though I
- might have been expected to know something of the matter,—people
- generally remember a visit to their photographer or their stockbroker,—but
- just as the young lady was about to appeal to me as an unprejudiced
- arbiter on the question at issue, the manager of the advertisement
- department sent to inquire if any one on the editorial staff had come upon
- a photograph of a man and a collie. An advertisement for a lost collie
- had, he said, been appearing in the paper, and a postcard had just been
- received from the owner stating that he had forwarded a photograph of the
- animal, in order that, should any one bring a collie to the office and
- claim the reward, the advertising department would be in a position to see
- that the animal was the right one.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young lady got her five pounds, and, having a considerable interest in
- the stocking of a farm, purchased with it an active young boar which, in
- an impulse of flattery, she named after me, and which, so far as I have
- been able to gather, is doing very well, and has already seen his
- children’s children.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I asked the young lady why she had called the animal after me, she
- said it was because he was a bore. She had a graceful wit.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a weak moment this editor confided to me that he was engaged in writing
- a book—“A History of the Orange” was to be the title, he told me;
- and he added that I could have no idea of the trouble it was causing him;
- but there he was wrong. After this he was in the habit of writing a note
- to me about once a week, asking me if I would oblige him by doing his work
- for him, as all his time was engrossed by his “History.” It appears to me
- rather melancholy that the lack of enterprise among publishers is so great
- that this work has not yet been given a chance of appearing. I looked
- forward to it to clear up many doubtful points of great interest. Up to
- the present, for instance, no intelligent effort has been made to
- determine if it was the introduction of the orange into Great Britain that
- brought about the Sunday-school treat, or if the orange was imported in
- order to meet the legitimate requirements of this entertainment.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Human nature—-and there is a good deal of it in a large
- manufacturing centre—could not be restrained in the neighbourhood of
- such a relic of a past generation, and, consequently, that form of
- pleasantry known as the hoax was constantly attempted upon him. One
- morning the correspondence columns, which he was supposed to edit with
- scrupulous care, appeared headed with an account of the discovery of some
- ancient pottery bearing a Latin inscription—the most venerable and
- certainly the most transparent of newspaper hoaxes.
- </p>
- <p>
- It need scarcely be said that there was an extraordinary demand for copies
- of the issue of that day; but luckily the thing was discovered in time to
- disappoint a large number of those persons who came to the office to mock
- at the simplicity of the good old soul, who fancied he had found a
- congenial topic when he received the letter headed with an appeal to
- archæologists.
- </p>
- <p>
- Is there a more contemptible creature in the world than the newspaper
- hoaxer? The wretch who can see fun in obtaining the publication of some
- filthy phrase in a newspaper that is certain to be read by numbers of
- women, should, in my mind, be treated as the flinger of a dynamite bomb
- among a crowd of innocent people. The sender of a false notice of a
- marriage, a birth, or a death, is usually difficult to bring to justice,
- but when found, he—or she—should be treated as a social leper.
- The pain caused by such heartless hoaxes is incalculable.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Sometimes a careless reporter, or foreman printer, is unwittingly the
- means of causing much annoyance, and even consternation, by allowing an
- obituary notice to appear prematurely. On every well-managed paper there
- is a set of pigeon-holed obituaries of eminent persons, local as well as
- national. When it is almost certain that one of them is at the point of
- death, the sketch is written up to the latest date, and frequently put in
- type, to be ready in case the news of the death should arrive when the
- paper is going to press. Now, I have known of several cases in which the
- “set-up” obituary notice contrived to appear before the person to whom it
- referred had breathed his last. This is undoubtedly a very painful
- occurrence, and in some cases it may actually precipitate the incident
- which it purports to record. Personally, I should not consider myself
- called on to die because a newspaper happened to publish an account of my
- death; but I know of at least one case in which a man actually succumbed
- out of compliment to a newspaper that had accidentally recorded his death.
- </p>
- <p>
- That person was not made of the same fibre as a certain eminent surgeon
- with whom I was well acquainted. He was thoughtful enough to send for a
- reporter on one Monday evening, and said that as he did not wish the pangs
- of death to be increased by the reflection that a ridiculous sketch of his
- career would be published in the newspapers, he thought he would just
- dictate three-quarters of a column of such a character as would allow of
- his dying without anything on his mind. Of course the reporter was
- delighted, and commenced as usual:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is with the deepest regret that we have to announce this morning the
- decease of one of our most eminent physicians, and best-known citizens.
- Dr. Theobald Smith, M.Sc., F.R.C.S.E., passed peacefully away at o’clock
- {last night/this morning} at his residence, Pharmakon House, surrounded by
- the members of the family to whom he was so deeply attached, and to whom,
- though a father, he was still a friend.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, sir,” said the reporter, “I’ve left a space for the hour, and I can
- strike out either ‘last night,’ or ‘this morning,’ when I hear of your
- death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s right,” said the doctor. “Now, I’ll give you some particulars of
- my life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks,” said the reporter. “You will not exceed three-quarters of a
- column, for we’re greatly crushed for space just now. If you could put it
- off till Sunday, I could give you a column with leads, as Parliament
- doesn’t sit on Saturday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed a tempting offer; but the doctor, after pondering for a few
- moments, as if trying to recollect his engagements, shook his head, and
- said he would be glad to oblige, but the matter had really passed beyond
- his control.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there’ll surely be time for you to see a proof?” cried the reporter,
- with some degree of anxiety in his voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll take good care of that,” said the doctor. “You can send it to me in
- the morning. I think I’ll die between eleven and twelve at night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That would suit us exactly,” said the reporter genially. “We could then
- send the obituary away in the first page at one o’clock. The foreman
- grumbles if he has to put obituaries on page 5, which goes down to the
- machine at half-past three.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The doctor said that of course business was business, and he should do his
- best to accommodate the foreman.
- </p>
- <p>
- He died that night at twenty minutes past eleven.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I have suggested the possibility of the record of a death in a public
- print having a disastrous effect upon a sick man, and the certainty of its
- causing pain to his relatives. This view was not taken by the eccentric
- proprietor to whom I have already alluded. Upon one occasion he heard
- casually that a man named Robinson had just died. He hastened to his
- office, found a reporter, and told him to write a paragraph regretting the
- death of Mr. Richard Robinson. He assumed that it was Richard Robinson who
- was dead, but it so happened that it was Mr. Thomas Robinson, although Mr.
- Richard Robinson had been in feeble health for some time. Now, when the
- son of the living Mr. Robinson called upon the proprietor the next day to
- state that his father had read the paragraph recording his death, and that
- the shock had completely prostrated him, the proprietor turned round upon
- him, and said that Mr. Robinson and his family should rather feel
- extremely grateful for the appearance of a paragraph of so complimentary a
- character. Young Mr. Robinson, fearing that the next move on the part of
- the proprietor would be to demand payment for the paragraph at scale
- rates, begged that his intrusion might be pardoned; and hurried away
- congratulating himself at having escaped very easily.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Editors are always supposed to know nearly everything, and they nearly
- always do. In this respect they differ materially from the representatives
- of other professions. If you were to ask the average clergyman—if
- there is such a thing as an average clergyman—what he thought of the
- dramatic construction of a French vaudeville, he would probably feel hurt;
- but if an editor failed to give an intelligent opinion on this subject, as
- well as upon the tendencies to Socinianism displayed in the sermon of an
- eminent Churchman, he would be regarded as unfit for his business. You can
- get an intelligent opinion from an editor on almost any subject; but you
- are lucky if you can get an intelligent opinion on any one subject from
- the average professional man—a lawyer, of course, excepted.
- </p>
- <p>
- But undoubtedly curious specimens of editors might occasionally have been
- found in the smaller newspaper offices in the provinces long ago. More
- than twenty years have passed since the sub-editor of a rather important
- paper in a town in the Midlands interviewed, on a matter of professional
- etiquette, the editor—he was an Irishman—of a struggling organ
- in the same town.
- </p>
- <p>
- It appeared that the chief reporter of the sub-editor’s paper had given
- some paragraph of news to a brother on the second paper, and yet when the
- latter was respectfully asked for an equivalent, he refused it; hence the
- need for diplomatic representations.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say that our reporters must have a <i>quid pro quo</i> in every case
- where they have given a par. to yours,” said the sub-editor, who was
- entrusted with the negotiations.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must have a what?” asked the Irish editor. “A <i>quid pro quo</i>,” said
- the sub-editor. “Now I’ve come here for the <i>quid</i> and I don’t mean
- to go until I get it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The editor looked at him, then felt for something in his waistcoat pocket.
- Producing a piece of that sort of tobacco known as Limerick twist, he bit
- it in two, and offered one portion to the sub-editor, saying, “There’s
- your quid for you; but, so help me Gad, I’ve only got what you see in my
- mouth to last me till morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV.—THE UNATTACHED EDITOR.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>The “casual” word—The mighty hunter—The retort discourteous—How
- the editor’s chair was broken—An explanation on a clove—The
- master of a system—A hitch in the system—The two Alhambras—A
- parallel—The unattached parson—Another system—A father’s
- legacy—The sermon—The imagination and its claims—The
- evening service—Saying a few words—Antique carved oak—How
- the chaplain’s doubts were dispersed—A literary tinker—A
- tinker’s triumph—The two Joneses.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE “scratch”
- editor also may now and again be found to possess some eccentricities. He
- is the man who is taken on a newspaper in an emergency to fill the place
- of an editor who may perhaps be suffering from a serious illness, or who
- may, in an unguarded moment, have died. There is a class of journalists
- with whom being out of employment amounts almost to a profession in
- itself. But the “unattached” editor is usually no more brilliant a man
- than the unattached gentleman “in holy orders”—the clergyman who
- appears suddenly at the vestry door carrying a black bag, and probably
- with his nose a little red (the result of a cold railway journey), and who
- introduces himself to the sexton as ready to do duty for the legitimate,
- but temporarily incapacitated, incumbent, whose telegram he had received
- only the previous day.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the congregation are glad to get any one who can read the prayers with
- an air of authority in the absence of their pastor, so the proprietors of
- a newspaper are sometimes pleased to welcome the “scratch,” or casual,
- editor.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have met with a few of the class, but never with one whose chronic
- unattached condition I could not easily account for, before we had been
- together long. Most of them hated journalism—-and everything else
- (with one important exception). All of them boasted of their feats as
- journalists. A fine crusted specimen was accustomed to declare nightly
- that he had once kept hunters; another that he had not always been
- connected with such a miserable rag as the journal on which he was
- temporarily employed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve been on the best papers in the three kingdoms,” he shouted one
- night.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s only another way of saying that you’ve been kicked off the most
- influential organs in the country,” remarked a bystander.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you don’t look out you’ll soon be kicked off another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- No verbal retort is possible to such brutality of language. None was
- attempted.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I was explaining, the next day, to the proprietor how the chair in
- the editor’s room came to be broken, and also how the silhouette of an
- octopus came to be executed so boldly in ink upon the wall of the same
- apartment, the “scratch” editor (his appellation had a double significance
- this day) entered suddenly. He said he had come to explain something.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now when a literary gentleman appears with long strips of sticking plaster
- loosely adhering to one side of his face, as white caterpillars adhere to
- a garden wall, and when, moreover, the perfume that floats on the air at
- his approach is that of a peppermint lozenge that has been preserved from
- decay in alcohol, any explanation that he may offer in regard to a
- preceding occurrence is likely to be received with suspicion, if not with
- absolute distrust. In this case, however, no opportunity was given the man
- for justifying any claim that he might advance to be credited.
- </p>
- <p>
- The proprietor assured him that he had already received an account of the
- deplorable occurrence of the night before, and that he hoped mutual
- apologies would be made in the course of the day, so that, in diplomatic
- language, the incident might be considered closed before night.
- </p>
- <p>
- The “scratch” man breathed again—heavily, alcoholically,
- peppermintally. And before night I managed to sticking-plaster up a peace
- between the belligerents.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the end of a month some busybody outside the paper had the bad taste to
- point out to the proprietor that one of the leading articles—the one
- contributed by the “scratch” man—in a recent issue of the paper, was
- to a word identical with one which had appeared a fortnight before in a
- Scotch paper of some importance. The “scratch” man explained—on
- alcohol and a clove—that the Scotch paper had copied his article.
- But the proprietor expressed his grave doubts on this point, his chief
- reason for adopting this course being that the Scotch paper with the
- article had appeared ten days previously. Then the “scratch” man said the
- matter was a singular, but by no means unprecedented, coincidence.
- </p>
- <p>
- The proprietor opened the office door.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- One of the most interesting of these “casuals” had been a clergyman (he
- said). I never was quite successful in finding out with what Church he had
- been connected, nor, although pressed for a reply, would he ever reveal to
- me how he came to find himself outside the pale of his Church—whatever
- it was. He had undoubtedly some of the mannerisms of a clergyman who is
- anxious that every one should know his profession, and he could certainly
- look out of the corners of his eyes with the best of them. Like the parson
- who is so very “low” that he steadily refuses to cross his t’s lest he
- should be accused of adopting Romish emblems, he declined to turn his head
- without moving his whole body.
- </p>
- <p>
- He wore rusty cloth gloves.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was also the most adroit thief whom I ever met; and I have lived among
- some adroit ones in my time.
- </p>
- <p>
- I never read such brilliant articles as he wrote nightly—never,
- until I came upon the same articles in old files of the London newspapers,
- where they had originally appeared. The original articles from which his
- were copied <i>verbatim</i> were, I admit, quite as brilliant as his.
- </p>
- <p>
- His <i>modus operandi</i> was simplicity itself. He kept in his desk a
- series of large books for newspaper cuttings, and these were packed with
- articles on all manner of subjects, clipped from the best newspapers.
- Every day he spent an hour making these extracts, by the aid of a pot of
- paste, and indexing them on the most perfect system of double entry that
- could be conceived.
- </p>
- <p>
- At night I frequently came down to my office and found that he had written
- two columns of the most delightful essays. One might, perhaps, be on the
- subject of Moresco-Gothic Architecture and its influence on the genius of
- Velasquez, another on Battueshooting and the Acclimatisation of the Bird
- of Paradise in English coverts; but both were treated with equal grace.
- That such erudition and originality should be associated with cloth gloves
- astonished me. One day, however, the man wrote a column upon the
- decoration of one of the courts of the Alhambra, and a more picturesque
- article I never read—up to a certain point; and this point was
- reached when he commenced a new paragraph as follows:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alas! that so lovely a piece of work should have fallen a prey to the
- devastating element that laid the whole structure in ruins, and eclipsed
- the gaiety, if not of nations, at any rate of the people of London, who
- were wont to resort nightly to this Thespian temple of Leicester Square,
- feeling certain that under the liberal management of its enterprising <i>entrepreneur</i>
- some brilliant stage spectacle would be brought before their eyes. Now,
- however, that the company for the restoration of the building has been
- successfully floated, we may hope for a revival of the ancient glories of
- the Alhambra.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I inquired casually of the perpetrator of the article if he had ever heard
- of the Alhambra?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, I wrote of it yesterday,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve been in it; it’s in Leicester Square.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ever hear of another Alhambra?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I asked blandly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; there’s one in Glasgow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ever hear of one that wasn’t a music-hall?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never. Maybe the temperance people give one of their new-fashioned coffee
- places the name to attract sinners on false pretences.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ever hear of an Alhambra in Spain?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t mean to say that they have music-halls in Spain? But why
- shouldn’t they? Spaniards are fond of dancing, I believe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not indeed?” said I.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day he had an explanation to offer to the chief of the staff. In
- the evening he told me that he was going to leave the paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How is that?” I inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t like it,” he replied. “My ideas are cribbed, cabined, and
- confined here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They are certainly cribbed,” said I. “Did you never hear of the Alhambra
- at Grenada?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never; that’s what played the mischief with the article. You’ll see how
- the mistake arose. There was a capital article in the <i>Telegraph</i>
- about the Alhambra—I see now that it must have referred to the one
- in Spain—about four years ago; well, I cut it out and indexed it. A
- year ago, when the Alhambra in Leicester Square was about to re-open,
- there was an article in the <i>Daily News</i>. I found it in my index
- also, and incorporated the two articles in mine. How the mischief was I to
- know that one referred to Grenada and the other to London? These writer
- chaps should be more explicit. What do they get their salaries for,
- anyway?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I have referred to a certain resemblance existing between the unattached
- parson and the unattached editor. This resemblance is the more impressed
- on me now that, after recalling a memory of an appropriator of another
- man’s literary work by the “casual” editor, I can recollect how I lived
- for some years next door to a “casual” parson, who had annexed a bagful of
- sermons left by his father, one of which he preached whenever he obtained
- an engagement. It was said that on receiving the usual telegram from a
- disabled rector on Saturday evening, he was accustomed to go to the
- sermon-sack, and, putting his hand down the mouth, take out a sermon with
- the same ease and confidence as are displayed by the professional
- rat-catcher in extracting from his bag one of its lively contents for the
- gratification of a terrier. It so happened, however, that upon a fine
- Sunday morning, he set out to do duty for a clergyman at a distance,
- having previously felt about the sermon-sack until he found a good fat
- roll of manuscript, which he stuffed into his pocket. He reached the
- church—in which, it should be mentioned, he had never before
- preached—and, bustling through the service with his accustomed
- celerity, ascended the pulpit and flattened out with a slap or two the
- sermon on the cushion in front of him. The sermon proved to be the
- valedictory one preached by his father in the church of which he had been
- rector for half a century. It was unquestionably a very fine effort, but
- it might seem to some people to lack local colour. Delivered in a church
- to which the preacher was a complete stranger, it had a certain amount of
- inappropriateness about it which might reasonably be expected to diminish
- from its effect.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a solemn moment for us all, my dear, dear friends. It is a solemn
- moment for you, but ah! how much more solemn for me! Sunday after Sunday
- for the past fifty years I have stood in the pulpit where I stand to-day
- to preach the Gospel of Truth. I see before me now the well-known faces of
- my flock. Those who were young when I first came among you are now well
- stricken in years. Some whom I baptised as infants, have brought their
- infants to me to be baptised; these in turn have been spared to bring
- their infants to be admitted into the membership of the Church Militant.
- For fifty years have I not taken part in your joys and your sorrows, and
- now who shall say that the hour of parting should not be bitter? I see
- tears on the faces before me——”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the funny part of the matter was that he did. No one present seemed to
- see anything inappropriate in the sermon; and at the pathetic references
- to the hour of parting, there was not a dry eye in the church—except
- the remarkably bright pair possessed by a female scoffer, who told the
- story to me. It was not to be expected that the clergyman would become
- aware of the mistake—if it was a mistake—that he had made: he
- had for years been a preaching machine, and had become as devoid of
- feeling as a barrel organ; but it seemed to me incredible that only one
- person in the church should discover the ludicrous aspect of the
- situation.
- </p>
- <p>
- So I remarked to my informant, and she said that it was all the same a
- fact that the people were weeping copiously on all sides.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I asked the doctor’s wife the next day what she thought of the sermon,”
- added my informant, “and she replied with a sigh that it was beautifully
- touching; and when I put it straight to her if she did not think it was
- queer for a clergyman who was a total stranger to us to say that he had
- occupied the pulpit for fifty years, she replied, ‘Ah, my dear, you’re too
- matter of fact: sermons should not be taken too literally. <i>You should
- make allowance for the parsons imagination</i>.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- It is told of the same “casual” that an attempt was made to get the better
- of him by a parsimonious set of churchwardens upon the occasion of his
- being engaged to do duty for the regular parson of the parish. The
- contract made with the “casual” was to perform the service and preach the
- sermon in the morning for the sum of two guineas. He turned up in good
- time on the Sunday morning and performed his part of the contract in a
- business-like way. In the vestry, after he had preached the sermon, he was
- waited on by the senior churchwarden, who handed him his fee and expressed
- the great satisfaction felt by the churchwardens at the manner in which
- the work had been executed. He added that as the clergyman’s train would
- not leave the village until half-past eight at night, perhaps the reverend
- gentleman would not mind dining with him, the senior churchwarden, and
- performing a short evening service at six o’clock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That will suit me very well indeed,” said the reverend gentleman. “I
- thank you very much for your hospitable offer. I charge thirty shillings
- for an evening service with sermon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The hospitable churchwarden replied that he feared the resources of the
- church would not be equal to such a strain upon them. He thought that the
- clergyman might not object under the circumstances to give his services
- gratis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you dispose of your excellent cheeses gratis?” asked the clergyman
- courteously. The churchwarden was in the cheese business.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, no, of course not,” laughed the churchwarden. “But still—well,
- suppose we say a guinea for the evening service?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s my charge for the service, leaving out the sermon,” said the
- clergyman.
- </p>
- <p>
- He explained that it was the cheapest thing in the market at the time. It
- was done with only the smallest margin of profit. Allowing for the wear
- and tear, it left hardly anything for himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- The churchwarden shook his head. He feared that they would not be able to
- trade on the terms, he said. Suddenly, however, he brightened up. Could
- the reverend gentleman not give them a good, sound, second quality sermon?
- he inquired. They did not expect an A-1, copper-fastened, platinum-tipped,
- bevelled-edged, full-calf sermon for the money; but hadn’t the reverend
- gentleman a sound, clump-soled, celluloid-faced, nickel-plated sermon—something
- evangelical that would do very well for one evening?
- </p>
- <p>
- The clergyman replied that he had nothing of the sort in stock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, at any rate, you will say a few words to the congregation—not
- a sermon, you know—after the service, for the guinea?” suggested the
- churchwarden.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, I’ll say a few words, if that’s all,” said the clergyman.
- </p>
- <p>
- And he did.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he had got to that grand old Amen which closes the Evening Service,
- he stood up and said,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear brethren, there will be no sermon preached here this evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Having entered upon the perilous path that is strewn with stories of
- clergymen, I cannot leave it without recalling certain negotiations which
- a prelate once opened with me for the purchase of an article of furniture
- that remained at the palace when he was translated (with footnotes in the
- vernacular by local tradesmen) to a new episcopate. I have always had a
- weakness for collecting antique carved oak, and the prelate, being aware
- of this, called my attention to what he termed an “antique carved oak
- cabinet,” which occupied an alcove in the hall. He said he thought that I
- might be glad to have a chance of purchasing it, for he himself did not
- wish to be put to the trouble of conveying it to his new home—if a
- palace can be called a home. Now, there had been a three days’ auction at
- the palace where the antiquity remained, and, apparently, all the dealers
- had managed to resist the temptation that was offered them of acquiring a
- rare specimen of old oak; but, assuming that the dignitary had placed a
- high reserve price upon it from which he might now be disposed to abate, I
- replied that it would please me greatly to buy the cabinet if it was not
- too large. By appointment I accompanied a seemingly meek domestic chaplain
- to the dis-.mantled palace; and there, sure enough, in a dark alcove of
- the long and narrow hall—for the palace was not palatial—I saw
- (dimly) a huge thing like a wardrobe with pillars, or it might have been a
- loose box, or perhaps a bedstead gone wrong, or a dismantled hearse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s a dreadful thing,” I remarked to the meek chaplain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dreadful, indeed,” he replied. “But it’s antique carved oak, so I suppose
- it’s a treasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you a match about you?” I asked, for the place was very dark.
- </p>
- <p>
- The meek chaplain looked scandalised—it was light enough to allow of
- my seeing that—at the suggestion that he carried matches. He said he
- thought he knew where some might be had. He walked to the end of the
- passage, and I saw him take out a box of matches from a pocket. He came
- back, saying he recollected having seen the box on a ledge “down there.” I
- struck a match and held the light close to the fabric. I gave a portion of
- it a little scrape with my knife, and then tested the carving by the same
- implement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How did his lordship describe this?” I inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He said it was antique carved oak,” said the meek chaplain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ever hear of Cuvier and the lobster?” I inquired further.
- </p>
- <p>
- He said he never had.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That being so, I may venture to say that his lordship’s description of
- this thing is an excellent one,” I remarked; “only that it is not antique,
- it is not carved, and it is not oak.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean?” asked the meek chaplain..
- </p>
- <p>
- I struck another match, and showed him the white patch that I had scraped
- with my knife, and he admitted that old oak was not usually white beneath
- the surface. I showed him also where the carving had sprung up before the
- point of my knife, making plain the ‘fact that the carving had been glued
- to the fabric.
- </p>
- <p>
- “His lordship got that made by a local carpenter twenty-five years ago,”
- said I; “and yet he tries to sell it to me for antique carved oak. It
- strikes me that in Wardour Street he would find a congenial episcopate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The meek chaplain stroked his chin reflectively; then, putting his
- umbrella under one arm, he joined the tips of his fingers, saying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whatever unworthy doubts I may once have entertained on the difficult
- subject of Apostolic succession are now, thank God, set at rest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean?” I inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it possible,” he asked, “that you do not perceive how strong an
- argument this incident furnishes in favour of our Church’s claim to the
- Apostolic succession of her bishops?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I shook my head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “St. Peter was a Jew,” said the meek chaplain.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Another of the casual ward of editors who appears on the tablets of my
- memory was a gentleman who came from Wales—and a large number of
- other places. He had a rooted objection to write anything new; but he was
- the best literary tinker I ever met. In Spitzhagen’s story, “Sturmfluth,”
- there is a most amusing account of the sculptor who made the statues of
- distinguished Abstractions, which he had carved in his young days, do duty
- for memorial commissions of lately-departed heroes. A bust of Homer he had
- no difficulty in transforming into one of Germania weeping for her sons
- killed in the war, and so forth. The sculptor’s talent was the same as
- that of the editor. He had the draft of about fifty articles, and three
- obituary notices. These he managed to tinker up, chipping a bit off here
- and there, and giving prominence to other portions, until his purpose of
- the moment was served. I have seen him turn an article that purported to
- show the absurdity of free trade, into an attack upon the Irish policy of
- the Government; and in the twinkling of an eye upon another occasion he
- made one on the Panama swindle do duty for one on the compulsory rescue of
- Emin by Stanley. With only a change of a line or, two, the obituary notice
- of Gambetta was that which he had used for Garibaldi; and yet when the
- Emperor Frederick died, it was the same article that was furbished up for
- the occasion. Every local medical man who died was dealt with in the
- appreciative article which he had written some years before on the death
- of Sir William Gull; and the influence of the career of every just
- deceased local philanthropist was described in the words (slightly altered
- to suit topography) that had been written for the Earl of Shaftesbury.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was really little short of marvellous how this system worked. It was a
- tinker’s triumph.
- </p>
- <p>
- I must supplement my recollections of these worthies by a few lines
- regarding a man of the same type who, I believe, never put pen to paper
- without being guilty of some extraordinary error. A high compliment was
- paid to me, I felt, when I had assigned to me, as part of my duties, the
- reading of his proof sheets nightly. In everyone that I ever read I found
- some monstrous mistake; and as he was old enough to be my grandfather, and
- extremely sensitive besides, I was completely exhausted by my expenditure
- of tact in pointing out to him what I called his “little inaccuracies.”
- One night he laid his proof sheet before me, saying triumphantly, “You’ll
- not find any of the usual slips in that, I’m thinking. I’ve managed to
- write one leader correct at last.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I read the thing he had written. It referred to a letter which Mr. Bence
- Jones had contributed to <i>The Times</i> on the subject of the Irish Land
- League Agitation. After commenting on this letter, he wound up by saying
- that Mr. Bence Jones had proved himself to be as practical an
- agriculturalist as he was an expert painter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you certain that Bence Jones is a painter?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As certain as I can be of anything,” was the reply. “I’ve seen his work
- referred to dozens of times. I believe there’s a picture of his in the
- Grosvenor Gallery this very year. I thought you knew all about
- contemporary art,” he added, with a sneer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Art is long,” said I, searching for a Grosvenor Gallery catalogue, which
- I knew I had thrown among my books. “Now, will you just turn up the
- picture you say you saw noticed, and I’ll admit that you know more than I
- do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I handed him the catalogue. He adjusted his spectacles, looked at the
- index, gave a triumphant “Ha! I have you now,” and forthwith turned up
- “The Golden Stair,” by E. <i>Burne</i> Jones.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V.—THE SUB-EDITORS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>The old and the new—The scissors and paste auxiliaries—A
- night’s work—“A dorg’s life”—How to communicate with the third
- floor—A modern man in the old days—His migration—Other
- migrants—Some provincial correspondents—Forgetful of a Town
- Councillor—The Plymouth Brother as a sub-editor—A vocal effort—“Summary”
- justice—Place aux Dames—A ghost story—Suggestions of the
- Crystal Palace—The presentation.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T would give me no
- difficulty to write a book about sub-editors with illustrations from those
- whom I have met. It is, perhaps, in this department of a newspaper office
- that the change from the old <i>regime</i> is most apparent. The young
- sub-editors are frequently graduates of universities; but, in spite of
- this, most of them are well abreast of French and German as well as
- English literature. They bear out my contention, that journalism is
- beginning to be taken seriously. The new men have chosen journalism as
- their profession; they have not, as was the case with the men of a past
- age, merely drifted into journalism because they were failures in banks,
- in tailors’ shops, in the drapery line, and even in the tobacco business—one
- in which failure is almost impossible.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have met in the old days with specimens of such men—men who
- fancied, and who got their employers to fancy also, that because they had
- failed in occupations that demanded the exercise of no intellectual powers
- for success, they were bound to succeed in something that they termed “a
- literary calling.” They did not succeed as a rule. They glanced over their
- column or two of telegraphic news,—in those days few provincial
- papers contained more than a double column of telegrams,—they
- glanced through the country correspondence and corrected such mistakes in
- grammar as they were able to detect: it was with the scissors and paste,
- however, that their most striking intellectual work was done. In this
- department the brilliancy of the old sub-editor’s genius had a chance of
- being displayed. It coruscated, so to speak, on the rim of the paste pot,
- and played upon the business angle of the scissors, as the St. Elmo’s
- light gleams on the yard-arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah!” said one of them to me, with a glow of proper pride upon his face,
- as he ran the closed scissors between the pages of the <i>Globe</i>. “Ah,
- it’s only when it comes to a question of cutting out that your true
- sub-editor reveals himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And he forthwith annexed the “turn-over,” without so much as acquainting
- himself with the nature of the column.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you never read the thing before you cut it out?” I inquired timidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He smiled the smile of the professor at the innocent question of a tyro.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not likely, young fellow,” he replied. “It’s bad enough to have to read
- all the cuttings when they appear in our next issue, without reading them
- beforehand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then how do you know whether or not the thing that you cut out is
- suitable for the paper?” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s where the instinct of your true subeditor comes in,” said he. “I
- put in the point of the scissors mechanically and the right thing is sure
- to come between the blades.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few minutes he had about thirty columns of cuttings ready for the
- foreman printer.
- </p>
- <p>
- I began to feel that I had never done full justice to the sub-editor or
- the truffle hunter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I have said that in those old days not more than two columns of wired news
- ever came to any provincial paper—<i>The Scotsman</i>, the <i>Glasgow
- Herald</i>, and a Liverpool and Manchester organ excepted. The private
- wire had not yet been heard of. In the present day, however, I have seen
- as many as sixteen columns of telegraphic news in a very ordinary
- provincial paper. I myself have come into my office at ten o’clock to find
- a speech in “flimsy,” of four columns in length, on some burning question
- of the moment. I have read through all this matter, and placing it in the
- printers’ hands by eleven, I have written a column of comment (about one
- thousand eight hundred words), read a proof of this column and started for
- home at half-past one. I may mention that while waiting for the last slips
- of my proof, I also made myself aware of the contents of the <i>Times</i>,
- the <i>Telegraph</i>, the <i>Standard</i>, and the <i>Morning Post</i>,
- which had arrived by the midnight train.
- </p>
- <p>
- I suppose there are hundreds of editors throughout the provinces to whom
- such a programme is habitually no more a thing to shrink from than it was
- to me for several years of my life. But I am sure that if any one of the
- sub-editors of the old days had been required to read even five columns of
- a political speech, and eight of parliament, he would have talked about
- slave-driving and a “dorg’s life” until he had fallen asleep—as he
- frequently did—with his arms on his desk and the “flimsies” on the
- floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some time ago I was in London, and had written an article at my rooms,
- with a view of putting it on the special wire at the Fleet Street end for
- transmission to the newspaper on which I was then employed. It so
- happened, however, that I was engaged at other matters much longer than I
- expected to be that night, so that it was past one o’clock in the morning
- when I drove to the office in Fleet Street. The lower door was shut, and
- no response was given to my ring. I knew that the editor had gone home,
- but of course the telegraph operator was still in his room—I could
- see his light in the topmost window—and I made up my mind to rouse
- him, for I assumed that he was taking his usual sleep. After ringing the
- bell twice without result, it suddenly occurred to me that I might place
- myself in connection with him by some other means than the bell-wire. I
- drove to the Central Telegraph Office, and sent a telegram to the operator
- at the Irish end of the special wire, asking him to arouse the Fleet
- Street operator and tell him to open the street door for me.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I returned to Fleet Street I found the operator waiting for me at the
- open door. In other words, I found that my easiest plan of communicating
- with the third floor from the street was by means of an office in Ireland.
- </p>
- <p>
- I do not think that any of the old-time subeditors would have been likely
- to anticipate the arrival of a day when such an incident would be
- possible.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The only modern man of the old school, so to speak, with whom I came in
- contact at the outset of my journalistic life, now occupies one of the
- highest places on the London Press. I have never met so able a man since I
- worked by his side, nor have I ever met with one who was so accurate an
- observer, or so unerring a judge of men. He was everything that a
- subeditor should be, and if he erred at all it was on the side of
- courtesy. I have known of men coming down to the office with an action for
- libel in their hearts, and bitterness surpassing the bitterness of a
- Thomson whose name has appeared with a p, in the account of the attendance
- at a funeral, and yet going back to their wives and families quite genial,
- owing to the attitude adopted toward them by this subeditor; yes, and
- without any offer being made by him to have the mistake, of which they
- usually complained, altered in the next issue.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was one of the few men whom I have known to go to London from the
- provinces with a doubt on his mind as to his future success. Most of those
- to whom I have said a farewell that, unfortunately, proved to be only
- temporary, had made up their minds to seek the metropolis on account of
- the congenial extent of the working area of that city. A provincial town
- of three hundred thousand inhabitants had a cramping effect upon them,
- they carefully assured me; the fact being that any place except London was
- little better than a kennel—usually a good deal worse..
- </p>
- <p>
- I have come to the conclusion, from thinking over this matter, that,
- although self-confidence may be a valuable quality on the part of a
- pressman, it should not be cultivated to the exclusion of all other
- virtues.
- </p>
- <p>
- The gentleman to whom I refer is now managing editor of his paper, and
- spends a large portion of his hardly-purchased leisure hours answering
- letters that have been written to him by literary aspirants in his native
- town. One of them writes a pamphlet to prove that there never has been and
- never shall be a hell, and he sends it to be dealt with on the following
- morning in a leader in the leading London newspaper. He, it seems, has to
- be written to—kindly, but firmly. Another wishes a poem—not on
- a death in the Royal Family—to be printed, if possible, between the
- summary and the first leader; a third reminds the managing editor that
- when sub-editor of the provincial paper eleven years before, he inserted a
- letter on the disgraceful state of the footpath on one of the local
- thoroughfares, and hopes that, now that the same gentleman is at the head
- of a great metropolitan organ, he will assist him, his correspondent, in
- the good work which has been inaugurated. The footpath is as bad as ever,
- he explains. But it is over courteously repressive letters to such young
- men—and old men too—as hope he may see his way to give them
- immediate and lucrative employment on his staff, that most of his spare
- time and all his spare stamps are spent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Ladies write to him by the hundred—for it seems that any one may
- become a lady journalist—making valuable suggestions to him by means
- of which he may, if he chooses, obtain daily a chatty column with local
- social sketches, every one guaranteed to be taken from life.
- </p>
- <p>
- He doesn’t choose.
- </p>
- <p>
- The consequence is that the ladies write to him again without the loss of
- a post, and assure him that if he fancies his miserable paper is anything
- but the laughing-stock of humanity, he takes an absurdly optimistic view
- of the result of his labours in connection with it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- About five years after he had left the town where we had been located
- together, I met a man who had come upon him in London, and who had
- accepted his invitation to dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We had a long talk together,” said the man, recording the transaction,
- “and I was surprised to find how completely he has severed all his former
- connections and old associations. I mentioned casually the names of some
- of the most prominent of the people here, but he had difficulty in
- recalling them. Why, actually—you’ll scarcely believe it—when
- I spoke of Sir Alexander Henderson, he asked who was he! It’s a positive
- fact!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Now Sir Alexander Henderson was a Town Councillor.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The provincial successor to the sub-editor just referred to was
- undoubtedly a remarkable man. He was a Plymouth Brother, and without
- guile. He was, for some reason or other, very anxious that I should join
- “The Church” also. I might have done so if I had succeeded in discovering
- what were the precise doctrines held by the body. But it would seem that
- the theology of the Plymouth Brethren is not an exact science. A Plymouth
- Brother is one who accepts the doctrines of the Plymouth Brethren. So much
- I learned, and no more.
- </p>
- <p>
- He possessed a certain amount of confidence in the correctness of his
- views—whatever they may have been, and he never allowed any pressman
- to enter his room without writing a summary on some subject; for which, it
- may be mentioned, he himself got credit in the eyes of the proprietor. He
- had no singing voice whatsoever, but his views on the Second Advent were
- so deep as to force him to give vocal expression to them thus:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Parlando. The Lord shall come. Will you write me a bit of a summary?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0092.jpg" alt="0092 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0092.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The request to anyone who chanced to be in the room with him, following so
- hard upon the vocal assertion of the most solemn of his theological
- tenets, had a shocking effect; more especially as the newspaper offices in
- those old days were constantly filled with shallow scoffers and sceptics;
- and, of course, persons were not wanting who endeavoured to evade their
- task by assuring him that the Sacred Event was not one that could be
- legitimately treated within a lesser space than a full column.
- </p>
- <p>
- He usually offered to discuss with me at 2 a.m. such subjects as the
- Immortality of the Soul or the Inspiration of Holy Writ. When he would
- signify his intention of proving both questions, if I would only wait for
- four hours.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was accustomed to adopt the attitude of the schoolboy who, when the
- schoolmaster, after drawing sundry lines on the blackboard, asserted that
- the square described upon the diagonal of a double rectangular
- parallelogram was equal to double the rectangle described upon the other
- two sides, and offered to prove it, said, “Pray don’t trouble yourself,
- sir; I don’t doubt it in the least.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I assured the sub-editor that there was nothing in the somewhat extensive
- range of theological belief that I wouldn’t admit at 2 a.m. after a long
- night’s work.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The most amusing experience was that which I had with the same gentleman
- at the time of the Eastern crises of the spring of 1878. During the
- previous year he had accustomed himself to close his nightly summary of
- the progress of the war between Russia and Turkey and the possibility of
- complications arising with England, with these words:—“Fortunate
- indeed it is that at the present moment we have at our Foreign Office so
- sagacious and far-seeing a statesman as Earl Derby. Every confidence may
- be reposed in his judgment to avert the crisis which in all probability is
- impending.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Certainly once a week did this summary appear in the paper, until I fancy
- the readers began to tire of it. As events developed early in the spring,
- the paragraph was inserted with feverish frequency. He was at it again one
- night—I could hear him murmur the words to himself as he went over
- the thing—but the moment he had given out the copy I threw down in
- front of him a telegram which I had just opened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That will make a good summary,” I said. “The Reserves are called out and
- Lord Derby has resigned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He sprang to his feet, exclaiming, like the blameless George, “What—what—what?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s the flimsy,” said I. “It’s a good riddance. He never was worth
- much. The idea of a conscientious Minister at the Foreign Office! Now
- Beaconsfield will have a free hand. You’d better write that summary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will—I will,” he said. “But I think I’ll ask you to dictate it to
- me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right,” said I. “Heave ahead. ‘The news of the resignation of Earl
- Derby will be received by the public of Great Britain with feelings akin
- to those of relief.... The truth is that for several months past it was
- but too plain to even the least sagacious persons that Lord Derby at the
- Foreign Office was the one weakness in the <i>personnel</i> of the
- Ministry. In colloquial, parlance he was the square peg in the round hole.
- Now that his resignation has been accepted we may say farewell, a long
- farewell, to a feeble and vacillating Minister of whose capacity at such a
- serious crisis we have frequently thought it our duty to express our grave
- doubts.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- He took a shorthand note of this stuff, which he transcribed, and ordered
- to be set up in place of the first summary. For the next three months that
- original metaphor of the square peg and the round hole appeared in
- relation to Lord Derby once a week in the political summary.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Among the minor peculiarities of this subeditor of the old time was an
- apparently irresistible desire for the companionship of his wife at
- nights. Perhaps, however, I am doing him an injustice, and the evidence
- available on this point should only be accepted as indicating the desire
- of his wife for the companionship of her husband. At any rate, for some
- reason or other, the lady occupied an honoured place in her husband’s room
- certainly three nights every week.
- </p>
- <p>
- The pair never exchanged a word for the six or seven hours that they
- remained together. Perhaps here again I am doing one of them an injustice,
- for I now remember that during at least two hours out of every night the
- door of the room was locked on the inside, so they may have been making up
- their arrears of silence by discussing the immortality of the soul, or
- other delicate theological points, during this “close” season.
- </p>
- <p>
- The foreman printer was the only one in the office who was in the habit of
- complaining about the presence of the lady in the sub-editor’s room. He
- was the rudest-voiced man and the most untiring user of oaths ever known
- even among foremen printers, and this is saying a great deal. He explained
- to me in language that was by no means deficient in force, that the
- presence of the lady had a cramping and enervating effect upon him when he
- went to tell the sub-editor that he needn’t send out any more “copy,” as
- the paper was overset. How could any conscientious foreman do himself
- justice under such circumstances? he asked me.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The same sub-editor had a ghost story. He was the only man whom I ever met
- who believed in his own ghost story. I have come in contact with several
- men who had ghost stories in their <i>répertoire</i>, but I never met any
- but this one who was idiot enough to believe in the story that he had to
- tell. I am sorry that I cannot remember its many details. But the truth is
- that it made no more impression on me than the usual ghost story makes
- upon a man with a sound digestion. As a means of earning a livelihood the
- journalistic “spook” occupies a legitimate place among the other devices
- of modern enterprise to effect the same praiseworthy object; but a
- personal and unprofessional belief in the possibility of the existence in
- visible form of a “ghost” is the evidence either of a mind
- constitutionally adapted to the practice of imposture, or of a remarkable
- capacity for being imposed upon. My friend the sub-editor had not a heart
- for falsehood framed, so I believed that he believed that he had seen the
- spirit of his father make an effective exit from the apartment where the
- father had died. This was, I recollect, the foundation of his story. I
- remember also that the spirit took the form of a small but compact ball of
- fire, and that it rolled up the spout—on the outside—and then
- broke into a thousand stars.
- </p>
- <p>
- The description of the incident suggested a lesser triumph of Messrs.
- Brock at the Crystal Palace rather than the account of the solution of the
- greatest mystery that man ever has faced or ever can face. When I had
- heard the story to the end—up to the moment that the old nurse came
- out of the house crying, “He’s gone, he’s gone!” preparatory to throwing
- her apron over her head—I merely asked,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “How many nights did you say you had been watching by your father?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three,” he replied. “But I don’t think that I said anything to you about
- watching.” Neither had he. Like the witness at the mysterious murder trial
- who didn’t think it worth while mentioning to the police that he had seen
- a man, who had a grudge against the deceased, leaving the room where the
- body was found, and carrying in one hand a long knife dripping with blood,
- my friend did not think that the circumstance of his having had no sleep
- for three nights had any bearing upon the question of the accuracy of his
- eyesight.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course I merely said that the story was an extraordinary one.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have noticed that Plymouth Brotherhood, vegetarianism, soft hats, bad
- art, and a belief in at least one ghost usually are found associated.
- </p>
- <p>
- This sub-editor emigrated several years ago to the South Sea Islands with
- evangelistic intentions. On his departure his colleagues made him a
- graceful and appropriate gift which could not fail to cause him to recall
- in after years the many pleasant hours they had spent together.
- </p>
- <p>
- It took the form of an immense marble chimney-piece clock, weighing about
- a hundredweight and a half, and looking uncomfortably like an
- eighteenth-century mural tomb. It was such a nice present to make to an
- evangelist in the neophyte stage, every one thought; for what the gig was
- in the forties as a guarantee of all that was genteel, the massive marble
- clock was in the eyes of the past generation of journalists. I happen to
- know something about the sunny islands of the South Pacific and their
- inhabitants, and it has often occurred to me that the guarantees of
- gentility which find universal acceptance where the hibiscus blooms, may
- not be wholly identical with those that were in vogue among journalists
- long ago. Should these unworthy doubts which now and again occur to me
- when I am alone, be well founded, I fear that the presentation to my
- friend may repose elsewhere than on a chimney-piece of Upolu or Tahiti.
- </p>
- <p>
- As a matter of fact, I read a short time ago an account of a remarkable
- head-dress worn by a native chief, which struck me as having many points
- in common with a massive dining-room marble clock.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI—THE SUB-EDITORS (continued).
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>The opium eater—A babbler o’ green fields—The “Brither
- Scots”—A South Sea idyl—St. Andrew Lang Syne—An
- intelligent community—The arrival of the “Bonnie Doon,” Mackellar,
- master—Captain Mackellar “says a ‘sweer’”—A border raid on a
- Newspaper—It pays—A raid of the wild Irish—Naugay Doola
- as a Newspaper editor—An epic—How the editor came to buy my
- emulsion—The constitutionially quarlsome sub-editor—The
- melancholy man—Not without a cause—The use of the razor.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>NOTHER remarkable
- type of the subeditor of the past was a middle-aged man whom it was my
- privilege to study for some months. No one could account for a curious <i>distrait</i>
- air which he frequently wore; but I had only to look at his eyes to become
- aware of the secret of his life. I had seen enough of opium smokers in the
- East to enable me to pronounce decisively on this “case.” He was a most
- intelligent and widely-read man; but he had wrecked his life over opium.
- He could not live without it, and with it he was utterly unfit for any
- work. Night after night I did the wretched man’s work while he lay in a
- corner of the room wandering through the opium eater’s paradise. After
- some months he vanished, utterly from the town, and I never found a trace
- of him elsewhere.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- He was much to be preferred to a curious Scotsman who succeeded him. It
- was not the effects of opium that caused this person to lie in a corner
- and babble o’ green fields upon certain occasions, such as the anniversary
- of the birth of Robert Burns, the anniversary of the death of the same
- poet, the celebration of the Annual Festival of St. Andrew, the Annual
- Dinner of the Caledonian Society, the Anniversary Supper of the Royal
- Scottish Association, the Banquet and Ball of the Sons of Scotia, the
- “Nicht wi’ Our Ain Kin,” the Ancient Golf Dinner, the Curlers’ Reunion,
- the “Rink and Drink” of the “Free Bowlers”—a local festival—the
- Pipe and Bagpipe of the Clans Awa’ Frae Harne—another local club of
- Caledonians. Each of these celebrations of the representatives of his
- nation, which took place in the town to which he came—I need
- scarcely say it was not in Scotland—was attended by him; hence the
- babbling o’ green fields between the hours of one and three a.m. He
- babbled once too often, and was sent forth to fresh fields by his
- employer, who was not a “brither Scot.” I daresay he is babbling up to the
- present hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- In spite of the well-known and deeply-rooted prejudices of the Scottish
- nation against the spirit of what may be termed racial cohesion, it cannot
- be denied that they have been known now and again to display a tendency—when
- outside Scotland—to localise certain of their national institutions.
- They do so at considerable self-sacrifice, and the result is never
- otherwise than beneficial to the locality operated on. No more adequately
- attested narrative has been recorded than that of the two Shanghai
- merchants—Messrs. Andrew Gareloch and Alexander MacClackan—who
- were unfortunate enough to be wrecked on the voyage to England. They were
- the sole survivors of the ship’s company, and the island upon which they
- found themselves was in the middle of the Pacific, and about six miles
- long by four across. In the lagoon were plenty of fish, and on the ridge
- of the slope cocoanuts, loquats, plantains, and sweet potatoes were
- growing, so that there was no question as to their supplies holding out.
- After a good meal they determined that their first duty was to name the
- island. They called it St. Andrew Lang Syne Island, and became as festive
- and brotherly—they pronounced it “britherly”—as was possible
- over cocoanut milk: it was a long time since either of them had tasted
- milk. The second day they founded a local Benevolent Society of St.
- Andrew, and held the inaugural dinner; the third day they founded a Burns
- Club, and inaugurated the undertaking with a supper; the fourth day they
- started a Scottish Association, and with it a series of monthly reunions
- for the discussion of Scotch ballad literature; the fifth day they laid
- out a golf links with the finest bunkers in the world, and instituted a
- club lunch (strictly non-alcoholic); the sixth day they formed a Curling
- Club—the lagoon would make a braw rink, they said, if it only froze;
- if it didn’t freeze, well, they could still have the annual Curlers’
- supper—and they had it; the Seventh Day they <i>kept</i>. On the
- evening of the same day a vessel was sighted bearing up for the island;
- but, of course, neither of the men would hoist a signal on the Seventh
- Day, and they watched the craft run past the island, though they were
- amazed to find that she had only her courses and a foresail set, in spite
- of the fact that the breeze was a light one. The next morning, when they
- were sitting together at breakfast discussing whether they should lay the
- foundation stone—with a commemorative lunch—of a free kirk, a
- U.P. meeting-house, or an Auld Licht meeting-house—they had been
- fiercely discussing the merits of each at every spare moment during the
- previous twenty years at Shanghai—they saw the vessel returning with
- all sail set and a signal flying. To run up one of their shirts to a pole
- at the entrance to the lagoon was a matter of a moment, and they saw that
- their signal was responded to. Sail was taken off the ship, she was
- steered by signals from the shore through the entrance to the lagoons and
- dropped anchor.
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned out to be the <i>Bonnie Doon</i>, of Dundee, Douglas Mackellar,
- master. He had found portions of wreckage floating at sea, and had thought
- it possible that some of the survivors of the wreck might want passages
- “hame.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nae, nae,” said both the men, “we’re no in need o’ passages hame just the
- noo. But what for did ye no mak’ for the passage yestere’en in the
- gloaming?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay,” said Captain Mackellar, “I ran by aboot the mirk; but hoot awa’—hoot
- awa’, ye wouldn’t hae me come ashore on the Sawbath Day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ye shortened sail, tho’,” remarked Mr. MacClackan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, on Saturday nicht. I never let her do more than just sail on the
- Sawbath. Why the eevil didn’t ye run up a bit signal, ye loons, if ye
- spied me sae weel?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hoot awa’—hoot awa’, ye wouldn’t hae us mak’ a signal on the
- Sawbath day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Na’, na’, no regular signal; but ye might hae run up a wee bittie—just
- eneugh tae catch my e’en. Ay, an’ will ye nae come aboard?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ll hae to talk owre it, Captain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Well; they did talk over the matter, cautiously and discreetly, for a few
- hours, for Captain Mackellar was a hard man at a bargain, and he would not
- agree to give them a passage at anything less than two pound a head. At
- last negotiations were concluded, the men got aboard the <i>Bonnie Doon</i>
- and piloted her out of the lagoon. They reached the Clyde in safety,
- having on the voyage found that Captain Mackellar was a religious man and
- never used any but the most God-fearing of oaths at his crew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Weel, ma freends,” said he, as they approached Greenock—“Weel, I’m
- in hopes that ye’ll be paying me the siller this e’en.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, mon, that we will, certes,” said the passengers. “In the meantime,
- we’d tak’ the liberty o’ calling your attention to a wee bit claim we hae
- japped doon on a bit slip o’ paper. It’s three poon nine for harbour dues
- that ye owe us, Captain Mackellar, and twa poon ten for pilotage—it’s
- compulsory at yon island, so maybe ye’ll mak’ it convenient to hand us
- owre the differs when we land. Ay, Douglas Mackellar, ye shouldn’a try to
- get the better o’ brither Scots.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Captain Douglas Mackellar was a God-fearing man, but he said “Dom!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I once had some traffic with a newspaper office that had suffered from a
- border raid. In the month of June a managing editor had been imported from
- the Clyde, and although previously no “hand” from north of the Tweed had
- ever been located within its walls, yet before December had come, to take
- a stroll through any department of that office was like taking a walk down
- Sauchiehall Street, or the Broomielaw. The foreman printer used weird
- Scotch oaths, and his son was the “devil”—pronounced <i>deevil</i>.
- His brother-in-law was the day foreman, and his brother-in-law’s son was a
- junior clerk. The stereotyper was the stepson of the night foreman’s
- mother, and he had a nephew who was the machinist, with a brother for his
- assistant. The managing editor’s brother was sub-editor, and the man to
- whom his wife had been engaged before she married him, was
- assistant-editor. The assistant-editor’s uncle became the head of the
- advertising department, and he had three sons; two of them became clerks
- with progressive salaries, and the third became the chief reporter, also
- with a progressive salary. In fact, the paper became a one-family show—it
- was like a “nicht wi’ Burns,”—and no paper was ever worked better.
- It never paid less than fifteen per cent.
- </p>
- <p>
- A rather more amusing experience was of the overrunning of a newspaper
- office by the wild Irishry. The organ in question had a somewhat chequered
- career during the ten months that it existed. At one period—for even
- as long as a month—it was understood to pay its expenses; but when
- it failed to pay its expenses, no one else paid them; hence in time it
- came to be looked upon as a rather unsound property. The original editor,
- a man of ability and culture, declined to be dictated to in some delicate
- political question by the proprietor, and took his departure without going
- through the empty formality—it was, after all, only a point of
- etiquette—of asking for the salary that was due to him. For some
- weeks the paper was run—if something that scarcely crawled could be
- said to be run—without an editor; then a red-headed Irishman of the
- Namgay Doola type appeared—like a meteor surrounded by a nimbus of
- brogue—in the editor’s room. His name was O’Keegan, but lest this
- name might be puzzling to the English nation, he weakly gave in to their
- prejudices and simplified it into O’Geogheghoiran. He was a Master of Arts
- of the Royal University in Ireland, and a winner of gold medals for Greek
- composition, as well as philosophy. He said he had passed at one time at
- the head of the list of Indian Civil Service candidates, but was rejected
- by the doctor on account of his weak lungs. When I met him his lungs had
- apparently overcome whatever weakness they may once have had. He had a
- colloquial acquaintance with Sanscrit, and he had also been one of the
- best billiard markers in all Limerick.
- </p>
- <p>
- I fancy he knew something about every science and art, except the art and
- science of editing a daily newspaper on which the payment of salaries was
- intermittent. In the course of a week a man from Galway had taken the
- vacant and slightly injured chair of the sub-editor, a man from Waterford
- said he had been appointed chief of the reporting staff, a man from
- Tipperary said he was the new art editor and musical critic, and a man
- from Kilkenny said he had been invited by his friend Mr. O’Geogheghoiran
- to “do the reviews.” I have the best of reasons for knowing that he
- fancied “doing the reviews” meant going into the park upon military
- field-days, and reporting thereupon.
- </p>
- <p>
- In short, the newspaper <i>staff</i> was an Irish blackthorn.
- </p>
- <p>
- It began to “behave as sich.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The office was situated down a court on my line of route homeward; and one
- morning about three o’clock I was passing the entrance to the court when I
- fancied I heard the sound of singing. I paused, and then, out of sheer
- curiosity, moved in the direction of the newspaper premises. By the time I
- had reached them the singing had broadened into recrimination. I have
- noticed that singing is usually the first step in that direction. The
- members of the literary staff had apparently assembled in the reporters’
- room, and, stealing past the flaring gas jet on the very rickety stairs, I
- reached that window of the apartment which looked upon the lobby. When I
- rubbed as much dust and grime off one of the panes as admitted of my
- seeing into the room, I learned more about fighting in five minutes than I
- had done during a South African campaign.
- </p>
- <p>
- A dozen or so bottles of various breeds lay about the floor, and a variety
- of drinking vessels lay about the long table at the moment of my glancing
- through the window. Only for a moment, however, for in another second the
- editor had leapt upon the table, and with one dexterous kick—a kick
- that no amount of Association play could cause one to acquire; a kick that
- must have been handed down, so to speak, from father to son, unto the
- third and fourth generations of backs—had sent every drinking vessel
- into the air. One—it was a jug—struck the ceiling, and brought
- down a piece of plaster about the size of a cart-wheel; but before the
- mist that followed this transaction had risen to obscure everything, I saw
- that a tumbler had shot out through the window that looked upon the court.
- I heard the crash below a moment afterwards. A mug had caught the
- corresponding portion of the anatomy of the gentleman from Waterford, and
- it irritated him; a cup crashed at the open mouth of the reviewer from
- Kilkenny, and, so far as I could see, he swallowed it; a tin pannikin
- carried away a portion of the ear of the musical critic from Tipperary—it
- was so large that he could easily spare a chip or so of it, though some
- sort of an ear is essential to the conscientious discharge of the duties
- of musical critic.
- </p>
- <p>
- For some time after, I could not see very distinctly what was going on in
- the room, for the dust from the dislodged plaster began to rise, and
- “friend and foe were shadows in the mist.” Now and again I caught a
- glimpse of the red-head of the Master of Arts and Gold Medallist
- permeating the mist, as the western sun permeates the smoke that hangs
- over a battle-field; and wherever that beacon-fire appeared devastation
- was wrought. The subeditor had gone down before him—so much I could
- see; and then all was dimness and yells again—yells that brought
- down more of the plaster and a portion of the stucco cornice; yells that
- chipped flakes off the marble mantelpiece and sent them quivering through
- the room; yells that you might have driven tenpenny nails home with.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the dust-cloud drifted away, and I was able to form a pretty good
- idea of what was going on. The meeting in mid-air of the ten-light
- gasalier, which the dramatic critic had pulled down, and the iron fender,
- which the chief of the reporting staff had picked up when he saw that his
- safety was imperilled, was epic. The legs of chairs and stools flying
- through the air suggested a blackboard illustration of a shower of
- meteors; every now and again one crashed upon a head and cannoned off
- against the wall, where it sometimes lodged and became a bracket that you
- might have hung a coat on, or else knocked a brick into the adjoining
- apartment.
- </p>
- <p>
- The room began to assume an untidy appearance after a while; but I noticed
- that the editor was making praiseworthy efforts to speak. I sympathised
- with the difficulty he seemed to have in that direction. It was not until
- he had folded in two the musical critic and the chief reporter, and had
- seated himself upon them without straightening them out, that his voice
- was heard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boys,” he cried, “if this work goes on much longer I fear there’ll be a
- breach of the peace. Anyhow, I’m thirsty. I’ve a dozen of porter in my
- room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The only serious accident of the evening occurred at this point. The
- reviewer got badly hurt through being jammed in with the other six in the
- door leading to the editor’s room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning the paper came out as usual, and the fact that the
- leaders were those that had appeared on the previous day, and that the
- Parliamentary report had been omitted, was not noticed. I met the
- red-haired editor as he came out of a chemist’s shop that afternoon. I
- asked, as delicately as possible, after his health.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’d be well enough if it wasn’t for the sense of responsibility that
- sometimes oppresses me,” said he. “It’s a terrible weight on a single
- man’s shoulders that a daily paper is, so it is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt,” said I. “Do you feel it on your shoulders now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t I just?” said he. “I’ve been buying some emulsion inside to see if
- that will give me any ease.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He then told me a painfully circumstantial story of how, when walking home
- early in the morning, he was set upon by some desperate miscreant, who had
- struck him twice upon his left eye, which might account, he said, for any
- slight discolouration I might notice in the region of that particular
- organ if I looked closely at it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what’s the matter with your hair?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I inquired. “It looks as if it had been powdered.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blast it!” said he, taking off his hat, and disclosing several hillocks
- of red heather with a patch of white sticking-plaster on their summits—like
- the illustration of the snow line on a geological model of the earth’s
- surface. “Blast it! It must have been the ceiling. It’s a dog’s life an
- editor’s is, anyhow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I never saw him again.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, the foregoing narrative is only illustrative of the exuberance
- of the Irish nature under depressing circumstances; but I have also come
- in contact with sub-editors who were constitutionally quarrelsome. They
- were nearly as disagreeable to work with as those who were perpetually
- standing on their dignity—men who were never without a complaint of
- being insulted. I bore with one of this latter class longer than any one
- else would have done. He was the most incompetent man whom I ever met, so
- that one night when he growled out that he had never been so badly treated
- by his inferiors as he was just at that instant, I had no compunction in
- saying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “By whom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By my inferiors in this office,” he replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’d like to know where your inferiors are,” said I. “They’re not in this
- office—so much I can swear. I doubt if they are in any other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He asked me if I meant to insult him, and I assured him that I invariably
- made my meaning so plain when I had occasion to say anything, there was no
- excuse for asking what I meant.
- </p>
- <p>
- He never talked to me again about being insulted.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Another curious specimen of an extinct animal was subject to remarkable
- fits of depression and moroseness. He offered to make me a bet one night
- that he would not be alive on that day week. I took him up promptly, and
- offered to stake a five-pound note on the issue, provided that he did the
- same. He said he hadn’t a five-pound note in the world, though he had been
- toiling like a galley slave for twenty years. I pitied the poor fellow,
- though it was not until I saw his wife—a mass of black beads and
- pomatum—that I recognised his right to the consolation of pessimism.
- I believe that he was only deterred from suicide by an irresistible belief
- in a future state. He had heard a well-meant but injudicious sermon in
- which the statement was made that husband and wife, though parted by
- death, would one day be reunited. Believing this he lived on. What was the
- use of doing anything else?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I met with another sub-editor on whom for a period I looked with some
- measure of awe, being <i>in statu pupillari</i> at the time.
- </p>
- <p>
- Every night he used to take a razor out of his press and lay it beside his
- desk, having opened it with great deliberation and a hard look upon his
- haggard face. I believed that he was possessed of strong suicidal
- impulses, and that he was placing the razor where it would be handy in
- case he should find it necessary to make away with himself some night or
- in the early hours of the morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- I held him in respect for just one month. At the end of that time I saw
- him sharpening his pencil with the razor, and I ventured to inquire if he
- usually employed the instrument for that purpose.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do,” he replied. “I lost six penknives in this room within a fortnight;
- those blue-pencilled reporters use up a lot of knives, and they never buy
- any, so I brought down this old razor. They’ll not steal that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And they didn’t.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I lost all respect for that sub-editor.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII.—SOME EXTINCT TYPES.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>A perturbed spirit—The loss of a fortune—A broken bank—A
- study in bimetallism—Auri sacra fames—A rough diamond—A
- friend of the peerage—And of Dublin stout—His weaknesses—The
- Quarterly Review—The dilemma—An amateur hospital nurse—A
- terrible night—Benvenuto Cellini—A subtle jest—The
- disappearance of the jester—An appropriated leaderette—An
- appropriated anecdote—An appropriated quatrain.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>NCE I saw a
- sub-editor actually within easy reach of suicide. It was not the
- duplicating of a five-column speech in flimsy, nor was it that the foreman
- printer had broken his heart. It was that he had been the victim of a
- heartless theft. His savings of years had been carried off in the course
- of a single night. So he explained to me with “tears in his eyes,
- distraction in’s aspect,” when I came down to the office one evening. He
- was walking up and down his room, with three hours’ arrears of unopened
- telegrams on his desk and a <i>p.p.c.</i> note from the foreman beneath a
- leaden “rule,” used as a paper weight; for the foreman, being, as usual, a
- conscientious man, invariably promised to hand in his notice at sundown if
- kept waiting for copy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What on earth is the matter?” I inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it neuralgia or——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s worse—worse!” he moaned. “I’ve lost all my money—all—all!
- there’s the tin I kept it in—see for yourself if there’s a penny
- left in it.” He threw himself into his chair and bowed down his head upon
- his hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- Far off a solitary (speaking) trumpet blew.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the hands are to go home you’ve only got to say so and I release
- them,” was the message that was delivered into my ear when I went to the
- end of the tube communicating with the foreman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three columns will be out inside half an hour,” I replied. Then I turned
- to the sobbing sub-editor. “Come,” said I, “bear it like a man. It’s a
- terrible thing, of course, but still it must be faced. Tell me how many
- pounds you’ve lost, and I’ll put the matter into the hands of the police.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked up with a vacant white face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How many—there were a hundred and forty pence in the tin when I
- went home last night. See if there’s a penny left.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A cursory glance at the chocolate tin that lay on the table was quite
- sufficient to convince me that it was empty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cheer up,” I said. “A hundred and forty pence. It sounds large in pence,
- to be sure, but when you think of it from the standard of the silver
- currency it doesn’t seem so formidable. Eleven and eightpence. Of course
- it’s a shocking thing. Was it all in pence?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All—all—every penny of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Keep up your heart. We may be able to trace the money. I suppose you are
- prepared to identify the coins?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He ran his fingers through his hair, and I could see that he was striving
- manfully to collect his thoughts.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Identify? I could swear to them if I saw them in the lump—one
- hundred and forty—one—hundred—and—forty—pence!
- Yes, I’ll swear that I could swear to them in the lump. But singly—oh,
- I’ll never see them again!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me how it came about that you had so much money in this room,” said
- I, beginning to open the telegrams. “Man, did you not think of the
- terrible temptation that you were placing in the way of the less opulent
- members of the staff? Eleven and eight in a disused chocolate tin! It’s a
- temptation like this that turns honest men into thieves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then it was that he informed me on the point upon which I confess I was
- curious—namely, how he came to have this fortune in copper.
- </p>
- <p>
- His wife, he said, was in the habit of giving him a penny every rainy
- night, this being his tramcar fare from his house to his office. But—he
- emphasised this detail—she was usually weak enough not to watch to
- see whether he got into the tramcar or not, and the consequence was that,
- unless the night was very wet indeed, he was accustomed to walk the whole
- way and thus save the penny, which he nightly deposited in the chocolate
- tin: he could not carry it home with him, he said, for his wife would be
- certain to find it when she searched his waistcoat pockets before he arose
- in the morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For a hundred and forty times you persevered in this course of duplicity
- for the sake of the temporary gain!” said I. “It is this craving to become
- quickly rich that is the curse of the nineteenth century. I thought that
- journalists were free from it; I find that they are as bad as Stock
- Exchange gamblers or magazine proprietors. Oh, gold! gold! Go on with your
- work or there’ll be a blue-pencilled row to-morrow. Don’t fancy you’ll
- obtain the sympathy of any human being in your well-earned misfortune. You
- don’t deserve to have so good a wife. A penny every rainy night—a
- penny! Oh, I lose all patience when I think of your complaining. Go on
- with your work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He went on with his work.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some months after this incident he thought it necessary to tell me that he
- was a Scotchman.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not necessary; but I asked him if his wife was one too.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not exactly,” said he argumentatively. “But she’s a native of Scotland—I’ll
- say that much for her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I afterwards heard that he had become the proprietor of that very journal
- upon which he had been sub-editor.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was not surprised.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- My memories of the sub-editor’s room include a three months’ experience of
- a remarkable man. He imposed upon me for nearly a week, telling me
- anecdotes of the distinguished persons whom he had met in the course of
- his career. It seemed to me—for a week—that he was the darling
- of the most exclusive society in Europe. He talked about noble lords by
- their Christian names, and of noble ladies with equal breezy freedom. Many
- of his anecdotes necessitated a verbatim report of the replies made by
- marquises and countesses to his playful sallies; and I noticed that, so
- far as his recollection served him, they had always addressed him as
- George; sometimes—but only in the case of over-familiar daughters of
- peers—Georgie. I felt—for a week—that journalism had
- made a sensible advance socially when such things were possible. Perhaps,
- I thought, some day the daughter of a peer may distort my name, so that I
- may not die undistinguished.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have seen a good many padded peeresses and dowdy duchesses since those
- days, and my ambition has somehow drifted into other channels; but while
- the man talked of his intimacies with peers, and his friendship—he
- assured me on his sacred word of honour (whatever that meant) that it was
- perfectly Platonic—with peeresses.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was carried away—for a week.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was an undersized man, with a rooted prejudice against soap and the
- comb. He spoke like a common man, and wore clothes that were clearly
- second-hand. He posed as the rough diamond, the untamed literary lion, the
- genius who refuses to be trammelled by the usages—most of them
- purely artificial—of society, and on whom society consequently
- dotes.
- </p>
- <p>
- What he doted on was Dublin stout. If he had acquired during his
- intercourse with the aristocracy their effete taste in the way of
- drinking, he certainly managed to chasten it. He drank six bottles of
- stout in the course of a single night, and regretted that there was not a
- seventh handy.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a month he did his work moderately well, but at the end of that time
- he began to put it upon other people. He made excuse after excuse to shirk
- his legitimate duties. One night he came down with a swollen face. He was
- suffering inexpressible agony from toothache, he said, and if he were to
- sit down to his desk he really would not guarantee that some shocking
- mistake would not occur. He would, he declared, be serving the best
- interests of the paper if he were to go home to his bed. He only waited to
- drink a bottle of stout before going.
- </p>
- <p>
- A few days after his return to work he entered the office enveloped in an
- odoriferous muffler, and speaking hoarsely. He had, he said, caught so
- severe a cold that the doctor was not going to allow him to leave his
- house; but so soon as he got his back turned, he had run down to tell us
- that it was impossible for him to do anything for a night or two. He
- wanted to bind us down in the most solemn way not to let the doctor know
- that he came out, and we promised to let no one know except the manager.
- This assurance somehow did not seem to satisfy him. But he drank a bottle
- of porter and went away.
- </p>
- <p>
- The very next week he came to me in confidence, telling me that he had
- just received the proofs of his usual political article in the <i>Quarterly</i>,
- and that the editor had taken the trouble to telegraph to him to return
- the proofs for press without fail the next day. Now, the only question
- with him was, should he chuck up the <i>Quarterly</i>, for which he had
- written for many years, or the humble daily paper in the office of which
- he was standing.
- </p>
- <p>
- I did not venture to suggest a solution of the problem.
- </p>
- <p>
- He did.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Maybe you wouldn’t mind taking a squint”—his phraseology was that
- of the rough genius—“through the telegrams for to-night,” said he.
- “I don’t like to impose on a good-natured sonny like you, but you see how
- I’m situated. Confound that <i>Quarterly!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you do the political article for the <i>Quarterly?</i>” I asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Man, I’ve done it for the past eleven years,” said he. “I thought every
- one knew that. It’s editor of the <i>Quarterly</i> that I should be to-day
- if William Smith hadn’t cut me out of the job. But I bear him no malice—bless
- your soul, not I. You’ll go over the flimsies?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I said I would, and he wiped a bath sponge of porter-froth off his beard
- in order to thank me.
- </p>
- <p>
- I knew that he was telling me a lie about the <i>Quarterly</i>, but I did
- his work.
- </p>
- <p>
- Less than a week after, he entered my room to express the hope that I
- would be able to make arrangements to have his work done for him once
- again, the fact being that he had just received a message from Mrs.
- Thompson—the wife of young Thompson, the manager for Messrs. Gibson,
- the shippers—to ask him for heaven’s sake to help her to look after
- her husband that night. Young Thompson had been behaving rather wildly of
- late, it appeared, and was suffering from an attack of that form of
- heredity known as <i>delirium tremens</i>. He had been held down in the
- bed by three men and Mrs. Thompson the previous night, my informant said,
- and added that he himself would probably be one of a fresh batch on whom a
- similar duty would devolve inside an hour or so.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had scarcely left the office—after refreshing himself by the
- artificial aid of Guinness—before a knock came to my door, and the
- next moment Mr. Thompson himself quietly entered. I saw that the poker was
- within easy reach, and then asked him how he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m all right,” he replied. “I merely dropped in to borrow the <i>Glasgow
- Herald</i> for a few minutes. I heard to-day that a ship of ours was
- reported as spoken, but I can’t find it in any paper that has come to us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can have the <i>Herald</i> with pleasure,” said I. “You didn’t go to
- the concert last night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said he. “You see it was the night of our choir practice, and I had
- to attend it to keep the others up to their work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The next night I asked the sub-editor how his friend Mr. Thompson was, and
- if he had experienced much difficulty in keeping him from making an
- onslaught upon the snakes.
- </p>
- <p>
- He shook his head solemnly, as if his experiences of the previous night
- were too terrible to be expressed in ordinary colloquialisms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sonny,” said he, “pray that you may never see all that I saw last night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Or all that Thompson saw,” said I. “Was he very bad?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As bad as they make them,” he replied. “I sat on his head for hours at a
- stretch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When he was off his head you were on it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay; but every now and again he would, by an almost superhuman effort,
- toss me half way up to the ceiling. Man, it was an awful night! It’s
- heartless of me not being with the poor woman now; but I said I’d do a
- couple of hours’ work before going.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right,” said I. “Maybe Thompson will call here and you can walk up
- with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thompson call? What the blue pencil do you mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just what I say. If you had waited for five minutes last night you might
- have had his company up to that pleasant little <i>séance</i> in which you
- turned his head into a chair. He called to see the <i>Glasgow Herald</i>
- before you could have reached the end of the street.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He gave a little gasp.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t say Thompson, did I?” he asked, after a pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You certainly did,” said I.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll be forgetting my own name next,” said he. “The man’s name is
- Johnston—he lives in the corner house of the row I lodge in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Anyhow, you’ll not see him to-night,” said I.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The fellow failed to exasperate me even then. But he succeeded early the
- next month. He came to me one night with a magazine in his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if the boss”—I think I mentioned that he was a rough
- diamond—“would mind my inserting a column or so of extracts from
- this paper of mine in the <i>Drawing Room</i> on Benvenuto Cellini?” He
- pronounced the name “Selliny.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On whom is the paper?” I inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Selliny—Benvenuto Selliny. I’ve made Selliny my own—no man
- living can touch me there. I knocked off the thing in a hurry, but it
- reads very well, though I say it who shouldn’t.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why shouldn’t you say it?” I inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well when you’ve written as much as me,”—he was a rough diamond—“maybe
- you’ll be as modest,” he cried, gaily. “When you can knock off a paper——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s one paper that you’ll not knock off, but that you’ll be pretty
- soon knocked off,” said I; “and that paper is the one that you are
- connected with just now. If lies were landed property you’d be one of the
- largest holders of real estate in the world. I never met such a liar as
- you are. You never wrote that article on Benvenuto Cellini—you don’t
- even know how to pronounce the man’s name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The boy’s mad—mad!” he cried, with a laugh that was not a laugh.
- “Mr. Barton,”—the managing editor had entered the room,—“this
- fair-haired young gentleman is a bit off his head, I’m thinking.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m not off my head in the least,” said I. “Do you mean to say, in the
- presence of Mr. Barton, that you wrote that paper in the <i>Drawing Room</i>
- on Benvenuto Cellini?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you want me to take my oath that I wrote it?” said he. “What makes you
- think that I didn’t write it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing beyond the fact that I wrote it myself, and that this slip of
- paper which I hold in my hand is the cheque that was sent to me in payment
- for it, and that this other slip is the usual form of acknowledgment—you
- see the title of the article on the side—which I have to post
- to-morrow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a silence in the room. The managing editor had seated himself in
- my chair and was scribbling something at the desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My fair-haired friend,” said the sub-editor, “I thought that you would
- have seen from the first the joke I was playing on you. Why, man, the
- instant I read the paper I knew it was by you. Don’t you fancy that I know
- your fluent style by this time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I fancy that there’s no greater liar on earth than yourself,” said I.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here,” he cried, assuming a menacing attitude. “I can stand a lot,
- but——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so can I,” said the managing editor, “but at last the breaking strain
- is reached. That paper will allow of your drawing a month’s salary
- to-morrow,”—he handed him the paper which he had scribbled,—“and
- I think that as this office has done without you for eleven nights during
- the past month, it will do without you for the twelfth. Don’t let me find
- you below when I am going away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He didn’t.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I cannot say that I ever met another man connected with a newspaper quite
- so unscrupulous as the man with whom I have just dealt. I can certainly
- safely say that I never again knew of a journalist laying claim to the
- authorship of anything that I wrote, either in a daily paper, where
- everything is anonymous, or in a magazine, where I employed a pseudonym.
- No one thought it worth his while doing so. A man who was not a
- journalist, however, took to himself the honour and glory associated with
- the writing of a leaderette of mine on the excellent management of a local
- library. The man who was idiot enough to do so was a theological student
- in the Presbyterian interest. He began to frequent the library without
- previously having paid his fare, and on being remonstrated with mildly by
- the young librarian, said that surely it was not a great concession on the
- part of the committee to allow him the run of the building after the
- article he had written in the leading newspaper on the manner in which the
- institution was conducted. It so happened, however, that the librarian
- had, at my request, furnished me with the statistics that formed the basis
- of the leaderette, and he had no hesitation in saying of the divinity
- student at his leisure what David said of all men in his haste. But after
- being thrust out of the library and called an impostor, the divinity
- student went home and wrote a letter signed “Theologia,” in which he made
- a furious onslaught upon the management of the library, and had the
- effrontery to demand its insertion in the newspaper the next day.
- </p>
- <p>
- He is now a popular and deservedly respected clergyman, and I hear that
- his sermon on Acts v., 1-11 is about to be issued in pamphlet form.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Curiously enough quite recently a man in whose chambers I was
- breakfasting, pointed out to me what he called a good story that had
- appeared in a paper on the previous evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- The paragraph in which it was included was as follows:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “A rather amusing story is told by the <i>Avilion Gazettes</i> Special
- Commissioner in his latest article on ‘Ireland as it is and as it would
- be.’ It is to the effect that some of the Irish members recently wished to
- cross the Channel for half-a-crown each, and to that end called on a boat
- agent, a Tory, who knew them, when the following conversation took place:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Can we go across for half-a-crown each?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘No, ye can’t, thin.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘An’ why not?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Because’tis a cattle boat.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Nevermind that, sure we’re not particular.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘No, but the cattle are.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- That was the entire paragraph..
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s a bit rough on your compatriots,” said my host. “You look as if you
- feel it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do,” said I; “I feel it to be rather sad that a story that a fellow
- takes the trouble to invent and to print in a pamphlet, should be picked
- up by an English correspondent in Dublin, printed in one of his letters
- from Ireland, and afterwards published in a London evening paper without
- any acknowledgment being made of the source whence it was derived.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And that is my opinion still. The story was a pure invention of my own,
- and it was printed in an anonymous skit, only without the brogue. It was
- left for the English Special Commissioner to make a feature of the brogue,
- of which, of course, he had become a master, having been close upon two
- days in Dublin.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the most amusing thing to me was to find that the sub-editor of the
- newspaper with which I was connected had actually cut the paragraph out of
- the London paper and inserted it in our columns. He pointed it out to me
- on my return, and asked me if I didn’t think it a good story.
- </p>
- <p>
- I said it was first rate, and inquired if he had ever heard the story
- before. He replied that he never had.
- </p>
- <p>
- That was, I repeat, the point of the whole incident which amused me most;
- for I had made the sub-editor a present of the original pamphlet, and he
- said he had enjoyed it immensely.
- </p>
- <p>
- He also hopes to be one day an ordained clergyman.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- When in Ireland during the General Election of 1892, I got a telegram one
- night informing me that Mr. Justin M’Carthy had been defeated in Derry
- that day by Mr. Ross, Q.C.
- </p>
- <p>
- It occurred to me that if a quatrain could be made upon the incident it
- might be read the next day. The following was the result of the great
- mental effort necessary to bring to bear upon the task:—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “That the Unionists Derry can win
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Is a matter to-day beyond doubt;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- For Ross the Q.C. is just in,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And the one that’s Justin is just out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I put my initials to this masterpiece, and I need scarcely say that I was
- dizzy with pride when it appeared at the head of a column the next
- morning. Now, that thing kept staring me in the face out of every
- newspaper, English as well as Irish, that I picked up during the next
- fortnight, only it appeared without my initials, but in compensation bore
- as preface, lest the reader might be amazed at coming too suddenly upon
- such subtle humour, these words:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “The following epigram by a Dublin wit is being widely circulated in the
- Irish metropolis.” Some months afterwards, when I chanced to pay a visit
- to Dublin, the author of the epigram was pointed out to me.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it was he who wrote that thing about just in and just out?” I
- remarked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was,” said my friend. “I’d introduce you to him only, between
- ourselves, though a nice enough fellow before he wrote that, <i>he hasn’t
- been very approachable since</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I felt extremely obliged to the gentleman. I thought of Mary Barton, the
- heroic lady represented by Miss Bateman long ago, who had accused herself
- of the crime committed by another.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII.—MEN, MENUS, AND MANNERS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>A humble suggestion—The reviewer from Texas—His treatment
- of the story of Joseph and his Brethren—A few flare-up headings—The
- Swiss pastor—Some musical critics—“Il Don Giovanni”—A
- subtle point—Newspaper suppers—Another suggestion—The
- bitter cry of the journalist—The plurality of porridge—An
- object lesson superior to grammatical rules—The bloater as a supper
- dish—Scarcely an unequivocal success.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> HOPE I may not be
- going too far when I express the hope in this place that any critic who
- finds out that some of my jottings are ancient will do me the favour to
- state where the originals are to be found. I have sufficient curiosity to
- wish to see how far the jottings deviate from the originals.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the preparation of stories for the Press it is, I feel more impressed
- every day, absolutely necessary to bear in mind the authentic case of the
- young sailor’s mother who abused him for telling her so palpably
- impossible a yarn about his having seen fish rise from the water and fly
- along like birds, but who was quite ready to accept his account of the
- crimson expanse of the Red Sea. Some of the most interesting incidents
- that have actually come under my notice could not possibly be published if
- accuracy were strictly observed as to the details. They are “owre true” to
- obtain credence..
- </p>
- <p>
- In this category, however, I do not include the story about the gentleman
- from Texas who, after trying various employments in Boston to gain a
- dishonest livelihood, represented himself at a newspaper office as a
- journalist, and only asked for a trial job. The editor, believing he saw
- an excellent way of getting rid of a parcel of books that had come for
- review, flung him the lot and told him to write three-quarters of a column
- of flare-up head-lines, and a quarter of reviews, and maybe some fool
- might be attracted to the book column. Now, at the top of the batch there
- chanced to be the first instalment of a new Polyglot Bible, after the plan
- so successfully adopted by Messrs. Bagster, about to be issued in parts,
- and the reviewer failed to recognise the Book of Genesis, which he
- accordingly read for fetching head-lines. The result of his labours by
- some oversight appeared in the next issue of the paper, and attracted a
- considerable amount of interest in religious circles in Boston.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0136.jpg" alt="0136 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0136.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The remaining quarter of a column was occupied by a circumstantial and
- highly colloquial account of the incidents recorded in the Book of
- Genesis, and it very plainly suggested that the work had been published by
- Messrs. Hoskins as a satire upon the success of the Hebrew race in the New
- England States. The reviewer even made an attempt to identify Joseph with
- a prominent Republican politician, and Potiphar’s wife with the Democratic
- party, who were alleged to be making overtures to the same gentleman.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I really did once meet with a sub-editor who had reviewed “The Swiss
- Family Robinson” as a new work. He commenced by telling the readers of the
- newspaper that the book was a wholesome story of a worthy Swiss pastor,
- and so forth.
- </p>
- <p>
- I also knew a musical critic who, on being entrusted with the duty of
- writing a notice of <i>Il Don Giovanni</i>, as performed by the Carl Rosa
- Company, began as follows: “Don Giovanni, the gentleman from whom the
- opera takes its name, was a licentious Spanish nobleman of the past
- century.” The notice gave some account of the <i>affaires</i> of this
- newly-discovered reprobate, glossing over the Zerlina business rather more
- than Mozart thought necessary to do, but being very bitter against
- Leporello, “his valet and confidant,” and finally expressing the opinion
- somewhat dogmatically that “few of the public would be disposed to say
- that the fate which overtook this callous scoundrel was not well earned by
- his persistence in a course of unjustifiable vice. The music is tuneful
- and was much encored.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon the occasion of this particular representation I recollect that I
- wrote, “An Italian version of a Spanish story, set to music by a German,
- conducted by a Frenchman, and interpreted by a Belgian, a Swiss, an
- Irishman and a Canadian—this is what is meant by English Opera.”
- </p>
- <p>
- My notice gave great offence; but the other was considered excellent.
- </p>
- <p>
- The moral tone that pervaded it was most praiseworthy, the people said.
- </p>
- <p>
- And so it was.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have got about five hundred musical jottings which, if provoked, I may
- one day publish; but, meantime, I cannot refrain from giving one
- illustration of the way in which musical notices were managed long ago.
- </p>
- <p>
- Madame Adelina Patti had made her first (and farewell) appearance in the
- town where I was located. I was engaged about two o’clock in the morning
- putting what I considered to be the finishing touches to the column which
- I had written about the diva’s concert, when the reporter of the leading
- paper burst into the room in which I was writing. He was in rather a
- dishevelled condition, and he approached me and whispered that he wanted
- to ask me a question outside—there were others in the room. I went
- through the door with him and inquired what I could do for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was marked for that blessed concert, and I went too, and now I’m
- writing the notice,” said he. “But what I want to know is this—<i>Is
- Patti a soprano or a contralto?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I have just now discovered that it would be unwise for me to continue very
- much farther these reminiscences of editors and sub-editors, the fact
- being that I have some jottings about every one of the race whom I have
- ever met, and when one gets into a desultory vein of anecdotage like that
- in which I now find myself for the first time in my life, one is liable to
- exhaust a reader’s forbearance before one’s legitimate subject has become
- exhausted. I think it may be prudent to make a diversion at this period
- from the sub-editors of the past to the suppers of the newspaper office.
- Gastronomy as a science is not drawn out to its finest point within these
- precincts. There is still something left to be desired by such persons as
- are fastidious. I have for long thought that it would be by no means
- extravagant to expect every newspaper office to be supplied with a
- kitchen, properly furnished, and with the “good plain cook,” who so
- constantly figures in the columns (advertising), at hand to turn out the
- suppers for all departments engaged in the production of the paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is inconvenient for an editor to be compelled to cook his own supper at
- his gas stove, while the flimsies of the speech upon which he is writing
- are being laid on his desk by the sub-editor, and the foreman’s messenger
- is asking for them almost before they have ceased to flutter in the
- cooling draught created by opening the door. Equally inconvenient is it
- for the sub-editor and the reporters to get something to prevent them from
- succumbing to starvation. The compositors in some offices have lately
- instituted a rule by which they “knock off” for supper at half-past ten;
- but what sort of a meal do they get to sustain them until four in the
- morning? I have no hesitation in pronouncing it to be almost as
- indifferent as that upon which the editor is forced to subsist for,
- perhaps, the same period. I have seen the compositors—some of them
- earning £5 a week—crouching under their cases, munching hunches (the
- onomatopæia is Homeric) of bread, while their cans of tea—that
- abomination of cold tea warmed up—were stewing over their gas
- burners.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the sub-editors’ room, and the reporters’ room, tea was also being
- cooked, or bottles of stout drunk, the accompanying, comestibles being
- bread or biscuits. After swallowing tea that has been stewing on its
- leaves for half-an-hour, and eating a slab of office bread out of one hand
- while the other holds the pen, the editor writes an article on the
- grievances of shopmen who are only allowed an hour for dinner and
- half-an-hour for tea; or, upon the slavery of a barmaid; or, perhaps,
- composes a nice chatty half-column on the progress of dyspepsia and the
- necessity for attending carefully to one’s diet.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, I affirm that no newspaper office should be without a kitchen. The
- compositors should be given a chance of obtaining all the comforts of home
- at a lesser cost than they could be provided at home; and later on in the
- night the reporters, sub-editors, and editor should be able to send up
- messages as to the hour they mean to take supper, and the dish which they
- would like to have. Here is an opportunity for the Institute of
- Journalists. Let them take sweet counsel together on the great kitchen
- question, and pass a resolution “that in the opinion of the Institute a
- kitchen in complete working order should form part of every morning
- newspaper office; and that a cook, holding a certificate from South
- Kensington, or, better still, Mrs. Marshall, should be regarded as
- essential to the working staff as the editor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I do not say that a box of Partagas, or Carolinas, should be provided by
- the management for every room occupied by the literary staff; though
- undoubtedly a move in the right direction, yet I fear that public feeling
- has not yet been sufficiently aroused by the bitter cry of the journalist,
- to make the cigar-box and the club chair probable; but I do say that since
- journalism has become a profession, those who practise it should be
- treated as if they were as deserving of consideration as the salesmen in
- drapers’ shops. Surely, as we have sent the bitter cry into all the ends
- of the earth on behalf of others, we might be permitted the luxury of a
- little bitter cry on our own account.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- This brings me down to the recollections I retain of the strange ideas
- that some of the staff of journals with which I have been connected,
- possessed as to the most appropriate menu for supper. One of these
- gentlemen, for instance, was accustomed to make oatmeal porridge in a
- saucepan for himself about two o’clock in the morning. When accused of
- being a Scotchman, he indignantly denied that he was one. He admitted,
- however, that he was an Ulsterman, and this was considered even worse by
- his accusers. He invariably alluded to the porridge in the plural, calling
- it “them.” I asked him one night why the thing was entitled to a plural,
- and he said it was because no one but a blue-pencilled fool would allude
- to it as otherwise. I had the curiosity to inquire farther how much
- porridge was necessary to be in the saucepan before it became entitled to
- a plural; if, for instance, there was only a spoonful, surely it would be
- rather absurd to still speak of it as “them.” He replied, after some
- thought, that though he had never considered the matter in all its
- bearings, yet his impression was that even a spoonful was entitled to a
- plural.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ever hear any one allude to brose as ‘it’?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- I admitted that I never had.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then if you call brose ‘them,’ why shouldn’t you call stirabout ‘them’?”
- he asked, triumphantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must confess that I never had the matter brought so forcibly before
- me,” said I.
- </p>
- <p>
- As he was going to “sup them,” as he termed the operation of ladling the
- contents of the saucepan into his mouth, I hastily left the room. I have
- eaten tiffin within easy reach of a dozen lepers on Robben Island in Table
- Bay, I have taken a hearty supper in a tent through which a camel every
- now and again thrust its nose, I have enjoyed a biltong sandwich on the
- seat of an African bullock waggon with a Kaffir beside me, I have even
- eaten a sausage snatched by the proprietor from the seething panful in the
- window of a shop in the Euston Road—I did so to celebrate the
- success of a play of mine at the Grand Theatre—but I could not
- remain in the room while that literary gentleman partook of that simple
- supper of his.
- </p>
- <p>
- On my return when he had finished I never failed to allow in the most
- cordial way the right of the preparation to a plural. It was to be found
- in every part of the room; the table, the chairs, the floor, the
- fireplace, the walls, the ceiling—all bore token to the fact that it
- was not one but many.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the hands of a true Ulsterman stirabout “are” a terrible weapon.
- </p>
- <p>
- As a mural decorative medium “they” leave much to be desired.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Only one man connected with the Press did
- </p>
- <p>
- I ever know addicted to the bloater as a supper dish. The man came among
- us like a shadow and disappeared as such, after a week of incompetence;
- but he left a memory behind him that not all the perfumes of Arabia can
- neutralise. It was about one o’clock in the morning—he had come on
- duty that night—that there floated through the newspaper office a
- dense blue smoke and a smell—such a smell! It was of about the same
- density as an ironclad. One felt oneself struggling through it as though
- it were a mass of chilled steel plates, backed with soft iron. On the
- upper floor we were built in by it, so to speak. It arose on every side of
- us like the wall of a prison, and we kept groping around it for a hole
- large enough to allow of our crawling through. Two of us, after battering
- at that smell for a quarter of an hour, at last discovered a narrow
- passage in it made by a current of air from an open window, and having
- squeezed ourselves through, we ran downstairs to the sub-editors’ room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Through the crawling blue smoke we could just make out the figure of a man
- standing in his shirt sleeves in front of the fire using a large
- two-pronged iron fork as a toothpick. On a plate on the table lay the
- dislocated backbone of a red herring (<i>harengus rufus</i>).
- </p>
- <p>
- The man was perfectly self-possessed. We questioned him closely about the
- origin of the smoke and the smell, and he replied that, without going so
- far as to pronounce a dogmatic opinion on the subject, and while he was
- quite ready to accept any reasonable suggestion on the matter from either
- of us, he, for his part, would not be at all surprised if it were found on
- investigation that both smoke and smell were due to his having openly
- cooked a rather bloated specimen of the Yarmouth bloater. He always had
- one for his supper, he said; critically, when not too pungent—he
- disliked them too pungent—he considered that a full-grown bloater,
- well preserved for its years and considering the knocking about that it
- must have had, was fully equal to a beefsteak. There was much more
- practical eating in it, he should say, speaking as man to man. And it was
- so very simple—that was its great charm.
- </p>
- <p>
- For himself, he never could bear made-up dishes; they were, he thought,
- usually rich, and he had a poor-enough digestion, so that he could not
- afford to trifle with it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just then the foreman loomed through the dense smoke, and, being
- confronted with the hydra-headed smell, he boldly grappled with it, and
- after a fierce contest, he succeeded in strangling one of the heads and
- then set his foot on it. He hurriedly explained to the subeditor that all
- the hands who had lifted the copy that had been sent out were setting it
- up with bowls of water beside them to save themselves the trouble of going
- to the water-tap for a drink.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day the clerks in the mercantile department were working with
- bottles of carbolic under their noses, and every now and again a note
- would be brought in from a subscriber ordering his paper to be stopped
- until a new consignment of printers’ ink should arrive, in which the chief
- ingredient was not so pungent.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the end of a week the sub-editor was given a month’s salary and an
- excellent testimonial, and was dismissed. The proprietor of the journal
- had the sub-editors’ room freshly painted and papered, and made the
- assistant-editor a present of two pounds to buy a new coat to replace the
- one which, having hung in the room for an entire night, had to be burnt,
- no cleaner being found who would accept the risk of purifying it. The
- cleaners all said that they would not run the chance of having all the
- contents of their vats left on their hands. They weren’t as a rule
- squeamish in the matter of smells; they only drew the line at creosote,
- and the coat was a long way on the other side.
- </p>
- <p>
- Seven years have passed since that sub-editor partook of that simple
- supper, and yet I hear that every night drag-hounds howl at the door of
- the room, and strangers on entering sniff, saying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whew! there’s a barrel of red herrings somewhere about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX.—ON THE HUMAN IMAGINATION.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>Mr. Henry Irving and the Stag’s Head—The sense of smell—A
- personal recollection—Caught “tripping”—The German band—In
- the pre-Wagnerian days—Another illustration of a too-sensitive
- imagination—The doctor’s letter—Its effects—A sudden
- recovery—The burial service is postponed indefinitely</i>.
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T might be as
- well, I fancy, to accept with caution the statement made in the last lines
- of the foregoing chapter. At any rate, I may frankly confess that I have
- always done so, knowing how apt one is to be carried away by one’s
- imagination in some matters. Mr. Henry Irving told me several years ago a
- curious story on this very point, and in regard also to the way in which
- the imagination may be affected through the sense of smell.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he was very young he was living at a town in the west of England, and
- in one of the streets there was a hostelry which bore a swinging sign with
- a stag’s head painted upon it, with a sufficient degree of legibility to
- enable casual passers-by to know what it was meant to simulate. But every
- time he saw this sign, he had a feeling of nausea that he could overcome
- only by hurrying on down the street. Mr. Irving explained to me that it
- did not appear to him that this nausea was the result of an offended
- artistic perception owing to any indifferent draughtsmanship or defective
- <i>technique</i> in the production of the sign. It actually seemed to him
- that the painted stag possesses some influence akin to the evil eye, and
- it was altogether very distressing to him. After a short time he left the
- town, and did not revisit it until he had attained maturity; and then,
- remembering the stag’s head and the curious way in which it had affected
- him long before, he thought he would look up the old place, if it still
- existed, and try if the evil charm of the sign had ceased to retain its
- potency upon him. He walked down the street; there the sign was swinging
- as of old, and the moment he saw it he had a feeling of nausea. Now,
- however, he had become so impregnated with the investigating spirit of the
- time, that he determined to search out the origin of the malign influence
- of the neighbourhood; and then he discovered that the second house from
- the hostelry was a soap and candle factory, on a sufficiently extensive
- scale to make a daily “boiling” necessary. It was the odour arising from
- this enterprise that induced the disagreeable sensation which he had
- experienced years before, and from which few persons are free when in the
- neighbourhood of tallow in a molten state.
- </p>
- <p>
- I do not think that this story has been published. But even if it has
- appeared elsewhere it scarcely requires an apology.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Though wandering even more widely than usual from my text—after all,
- my texts are only pretexts for unlimited ramblings—I will give
- another curious but perfectly authentic case of the force of imagination.
- In this case the imagination was reached through the sense of hearing.
- </p>
- <p>
- At one time I lived in a town at the extremity of a very fine bay, at the
- entrance to which there was a small village with a little bay of its own
- and a long stretch of sand, the joy of the “tripper.” I was a “tripper” of
- six in those days, and during the summer months an excursion by steamer on
- the bay was one of the most joyous of experiences. But the steamer was a
- very small one, and apt to yield rather more than is consistent with
- modern ideas of marine stability to the pressure of the waves, which in a
- north-easterly wind—the prevailing one—were pretty high in our
- bay. The effect of this instability was invariably disastrous to a maiden
- aunt who was supposed to share with me the enjoyment of being caught
- “tripping.” With the pertinacity of a man of six carrying a model of a
- cutter close to his bosom, I refused to “go below” under the
- circumstances, with my groaning but otherwise august relative, and she was
- usually extremely unwell. It so happened, however, that the proprietors of
- the steamboat were sufficiently enterprising to engage—perhaps I
- should say, to permit—a German band to drown the groans of the
- sufferers in the strains of the beautiful “Blue Danube,” or whatever the
- waltz of the period may have been—the “Blue Danube” is the oldest
- that I can remember. Now, when the “season” was over, and the steamer was
- laid up for the winter, the Germans were accustomed to give open-air
- performances in the town; so that during the winter months we usually had
- a repetition on land of the summer’s <i>répertoire</i> at sea. The first
- bray that was given by the trombone in the region of the square where we
- lived was, however, quite enough to make my aunt give distinct evidence of
- feeling “a little squeamish”; by the time the oboe had joined hands, so to
- speak, with the parent of all evil, the trombone, she had taken out her
- handkerchief and was making wry faces beneath her palpably false scalpet.
- But when the wry-necked fife, and the serpent—the sea-serpent it was
- to her—were doing their worst in league with, but slightly
- indifferent to, the cornet and the Saxe-horn, my aunt retired from the
- apartment amid the derisive yells of the young demons in the schoolroom,
- and we saw her no more until the master of the music had pulled the bell
- of the hall-door, and we had insulted him in his own language by shouting
- through the blinds “schlechte musik!—sehr schlechte musik!” We were
- ready enough to learn a language for insulting purposes, just as a parrot
- which declines to acquire the few refined words of its mistress, will, if
- left within the hearing of a groom, repeat quite glibly and joyously,
- phrases which make it utterly useless as a drawing-room bird in a house
- where a clergyman makes an occasional call. For years my aunt could never
- hear a German band without emotion, since the crazy little steamer had
- danced to their strains. In this case, it must also be remarked, the
- feeling was not the result of a highly-developed artistic temperament. The
- blemishes of the musical performances were in no way accountable for my
- relative’s emotions, though I believe that the average German band
- frequenting what theatrical-touring companies call “B. towns,” might
- reasonably be regarded as sufficient to precipitate an incipient disorder.
- No, it was the force of imagination that brought about my aunt’s disaster,
- which, I regret to say, I occasionally purchased, when I felt that I owed
- myself a treat, for a penny, for this was the lowest sum that the <i>impresario</i>
- would take to come round our square and make my aunt sick. The sum was so
- absurdly low, considering the extent of the results produced, I am now
- aware that no really cultured musician, no <i>impresario</i> with any
- self-respect, would have accepted it to bring his band round the corner;
- but when one reflects that the sum on the original <i>scrittura</i> was
- invariably doubled—for my aunt sent a penny out when her sufferings
- became intense, to induce the band to go away—the transaction
- assumes another aspect.
- </p>
- <p>
- We hear of the enormous increase in the salaries paid to musical artists
- nowadays, and as an instance of this I may mention that a friend of mine a
- few months ago, having occasion for the services of a German band—not
- for medicinal purposes but for a philological reason—was forced to
- pay two shillings before he could effect his object! Truly the conditions
- under which art is pursued have undergone a marvellous change within a
- quarter of a century. I could have made my aunt sick twenty-four times for
- the sum demanded for a single performance nowadays. And in the sixties, it
- must also be remembered, Wagner had not become a power.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Strong-minded persons, such as the first Lord Brougham, may take a
- sardonic delight in reading their own obituary notices, and such persons
- would probably scoff at the suggestion made in an earlier chapter, that
- the shock of reading the record of his death in a newspaper might have a
- disastrous effect upon a man, but there is surely no lack of evidence to
- prove the converse of “<i>mentem mortalia tangunt</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I heard when in India a story which seemed to me to be, as an illustration
- of the effects of imagination, quite as curious as the well-known case of
- the sailor who became cured of scurvy through fancying that the clinical
- thermometer with which the surgeon took his temperature was a drastic
- remedy. A young civil servant at Colombo felt rather fagged after an
- unusually long stretch of work, and made up his mind to consult the best
- doctor in the place. He did so, and the doctor went through the usual
- probings and stethoscopings, and then looked grave and went over half the
- surface again. He said he thought that on the whole he had better write
- his opinion of the “case” in all its particulars and send it to the
- patient.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next morning the patient received the following letter:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Sir,—I think it only due to the confidence which you have
- placed in me to let you know in the plainest words what is the result of
- my diagnosis of your condition. Your left lung is almost gone, but with
- care you might survive its disappearance. Unhappily, however, the cardiac
- complications which I suspected are such as preclude the possibility of
- your recovery. In brief, I consider it to be my duty to advise you to lose
- no time in carrying out any business arrangements that demand your
- personal attention. You may of course live for some weeks; but I think you
- would do wisely to count only on days.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Meantime, I would suggest no material change in your diet, except the
- reduction of your brandy pegs to seven per diem.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This letter was put into the hands of the unfortunate man when he returned
- from his early ride the next morning. Its effect was to diminish to an
- appreciable degree his appetite for breakfast. He sat motionless on his
- chair out on the verandah and stared at the letter—it was his
- death-warrant. After an hour he felt a difficulty in breathing. He
- remembered now that he had always been uneasy about his lungs—his
- left in particular. He put his hand over the place where he supposed his
- heart to lie concealed. How could he have lived so many years in the world
- without becoming aware of the fact that as an every-day sort of an organ—leaving
- the higher emotions out of the question altogether—his heart was a
- miserable failure? Sympathy, friendship, love, emotion,—he would not
- have minded if his heart were incapable of these, if it only did its
- business as a blood pump; but it was perfectly plain from the manner in
- which it throbbed beneath his hand, that it was deserving of all the
- reprobation the doctor had heaped upon it.
- </p>
- <p>
- His difficulty of respiration increased, and with this difficulty he
- became conscious of an acute pain under his ribs. He found when he
- attempted to rise that he could only do so with an effort. He managed to
- totter into his bedroom, and when he threw himself on his bed, it was with
- the feeling that he should never rise from it again.
- </p>
- <p>
- His faithful Khânsâmah more than once inquired respectfully if the
- Preserver of the Poor would like to have the Doctor Sahib sent for, and if
- the Joy of the Whole World would in the meantime drink a peg. But the
- Preserver of the Poor had barely strength to express the hope that the
- disappearance of the Doctor Sahib might be effected by a supernatural
- agency, and the Joy of the Whole World could only groan at the suggestion
- of a peg. The pain under his ribs was increasing, and he had a general
- nightmare feeling upon him. Toward evening he sank into a lethargy, and at
- this point the Khânsâmah made up his mind that the time for action had
- come; he went for the doctor himself, and was fortunate enough to meet him
- going out in his buggy to dine.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What on earth have you been doing with yourself?” he inquired, when he
- had felt the pulse of the patient. “Why, you’ve no pulse to speak of, and
- your skin—What the mischief have you been doing since yesterday?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How can you expect a chap’s pulse to be anything particular when he has
- no heart worth speaking of?” gasped the patient.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who has no heart worth speaking of?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The patient looked piteously up at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s kicking a man when he’s down,” he murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s the matter with you anyway?” said the doctor. “Your heart’s all
- right, I know—at least, it was all right yesterday. Is it your
- liver? Let me have a look at your eyes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He certainly did let the doctor have a look at his eyes. He lay staring at
- the good physician for some minutes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, your liver is no worse than it was yesterday,” said the doctor,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you mean to say that your letter was only a joke?” said the patient,
- still staring.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A joke? Don’t be a fool. Do you fancy that I play jokes upon my patients?
- I wrote to you what was the exact truth. I flatter myself I always tell
- the truth even to my patients.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh,” groaned the patient. “And after telling me that I hadn’t more than a
- few days to live you now say my heart’s all right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re mad, my good fellow, mad! I said that you must go without the
- delay of a day for a change—a sea voyage if possible—and that
- in a week you’d be as well as you ever were. Where’s the letter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was lying on the side of the bed. The patient had read it again after
- he had thrown himself down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My God!” cried the doctor, when he had brought it over to the lamp. “An
- awful thing has happened. This is the letter that I wrote to Lois Perez,
- the diamond merchant, who visited me yesterday just before you came. My
- assistant must have put the letter that was meant for Perez into the
- envelope addressed to you, and your letter into the other cover. Great
- heavens!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The patient was sitting up in the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean to say that—that—I’m all right?” he gasped.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course you’re all right. You told me you wanted a sea voyage, and
- naturally I prescribed one for you to give you a chance of getting your
- leave without any trouble.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The patient stared at the doctor for another minute and then fell back
- upon his pillow, turned his face to the wall, and wept.
- </p>
- <p>
- Only for a few minutes, however; then he suddenly sprang from the bed,
- caught the doctor by the collar of his coat, looked around for a weapon of
- percussion, picked up the pillow and forthwith began to belabour the
- physician with such vehemence that the Khânsâmah, who hurried into the
- room hearing the noise of the scuffle, fled from the compound, being
- certain that the Joy of the Whole World had become a maniac.
- </p>
- <p>
- After the lapse of about a minute the doctor was lying on the floor with
- the tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks and on to his disordered
- shirt-front, while the patient sat limp on a chair yelling with laughter—a
- trifle hysterically, perhaps. At the end of five minutes both were sitting
- over a bottle of champagne—not too dry—discussing the
- extraordinary effect of the imagination upon the human frame.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, by Jingo! I mustn’t forget poor Lois Perez,” cried the doctor,
- starting up. “You may guess what a condition he is in when you know that
- the letter you read was meant for him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By heavens, I can make a good guess as to his condition,” said the
- patient. “I was within measurable distance of that condition half an hour
- ago. But I’m hanged if you are going to make any other poor devil as
- miserable as you made me. Let the chap die in peace.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s something in what you say,” said the doctor. “I believe that I’ll
- take your advice; only I must rescue your letter from him. If it were
- found among his effects after his death next week, I’d be set down as
- little better than a fool for writing that he was generally sound but in
- need of a long sea voyage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He drove off to the house of the Portuguese dealer in precious stones, and
- on inquiring for him, learned that he had left in the afternoon by the
- mail steamer to take the voyage that the doctor had recommended. He meant
- to call at the Andamans, and then go on to Rangoon, the man in charge of
- the house said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’ll be an impressive burial service aboard that steamer before it
- arrives at the Andaman Islands,” said the doctor to his wife as he told
- her what had occurred. The doctor was in a very anxious state lest the
- letter which the Portuguese had received should be found among his papers.
- His wife, however, took a more optimistic view of the situation. And she
- was right; for Lois Perez returned in due course from Rangoon with a very
- fine collection of rubies; and five years afterwards he had still
- sufficient strength left to get the better of me in the sale of a
- cat’s-eye to which he perceived I had taken a fancy that was not to be
- controlled.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X—THE VEGETARIAN AND OTHERS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>“Benjamin’s mess”—An alluring name—Scarcely accurate—A
- frugal supper—Why the sub-editor felt rather unwell—“A man
- should stick to plain homely fare”—Two Sybarites—The stewed
- lemon as a comestible—The midnight apple—The roasted crabs—The
- Zenana mission—The pibroch as a musical instrument—A curious
- blunder—The river Deccan—Frankenstein as the monster—The
- outside critics—A critical position—The curate as critic—A
- liberal-minded clergyman—Bound to be a bishop—The joy-bells.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>O return to the
- sub-editors and their suppers, I may say that I never met but one
- vegetarian pressman. He was particularly fond of a supper dish to which
- the alluring name of Benjamin’s Mess was given by the artful inventor. I
- do not know if the editor of this compilation had any authority—Biblical
- or secular—for assuming that its ingredients were identical with
- those with which Joseph, with the best of intentions, no doubt, but with
- very questionable prudence, heaped upon the dish of his youngest brother.
- I am not a profound Egyptologist, but I have a distinct recollection of
- hearing something about the fleshpots of Egypt, and the longing that the
- mere remembrance of these receptacles created in the hearts of the
- descendants of Joseph and his Brethren, when undergoing a course of
- enforced vegetarianism, though somewhat different in character from that
- to which, at a later period, Nebuchadnezzar—the most distinguished
- vegetarian that the world has ever known—was subjected. Therefore, I
- think it is only scriptural to assume that the original mess of Benjamin
- was something like a glorified Irish stew, or perhaps what yachtsmen call
- “lobscouce,” and that it contained at least a neck of mutton and a knuckle
- of ham—the prohibition did not exist in those days, and if the stew
- did not contain either ham or corned beef it would not be worth eating.
- But the compilation of which my friend was accustomed to partake nightly,
- and to which the vegetarian cookery book arrogates the patriarchal title,
- was wholly devoid of flesh-meat. It consisted, I believe, of some lentils,
- parsnips, a turnip, a head of cabbage or so, a dozen of leeks, a quart of
- split peas, a few vegetable marrows, a cucumber, a handful of green
- gooseberries, and a diseased potato to give the whole a piquancy that
- could not be derived from the other simple ingredients.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was frequently invited by the sub-editor to join him in his frugal
- supper, but invariably declined. I told him that I had no desire to
- convert my frame into a costermonger’s barrow.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon one occasion the man failed to come down to the office when he was
- due. He appeared an hour later, looking very pale. His features suggested
- those of an overboiled cauliflower that has not been sufficiently strained
- after being removed from the saucepan. He explained to me the reason of
- his delay and of his overboiled appearance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The fact is,” said he, “that I did not feel at all well this morning. For
- my breakfast I could only eat one covered dishful of peasepudding, a head
- or two of celery and a few carrots, with a tureen of lentil soup and a raw
- potato salad; so my wife thought she would tempt me with a delicacy for my
- dinner. She made me a bran pie all for myself—thirty-two Spanish
- onions and four Swedish turnips, with a beetroot or two for colouring, and
- a thick paste of oatmeal and bran—that’s why it’s called a bran pie.
- Confound the thing! It’s too fascinating. I can never resist eating it
- all, and scraping the stable bucket in which it is cooked. I did so
- to-day, and that’s why I’m late. Well, well, perhaps I’ll gain sense late
- in life. I don’t feel quite myself even yet. Oh, confound all those dainty
- dishes! A man should stick to plain homely fare when he has work to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But on reflection I think that the most peculiar supper menus of the
- sub-editorial staff were those partaken of by two journalists who occupied
- the same room for close upon a year—a room to which I had access
- occasionally. One of these gentlemen was accustomed to place in a saucepan
- on the fire a number of unpeeled lemons with as much water as just covered
- them. After four hours’ stewing, this dainty midnight supper was supposed
- to be cooked. It certainly was eaten, and with very few indications, all
- things considered, of abhorrence, by the senior occupant of the
- sub-editor’s room. He told me once in confidence that he really did not
- dislike the stewed lemons very much. He had heard that they were conducive
- to longevity, and in order to live long he was prepared to make many
- sacrifices. There could be little doubt, he said, that the virtue
- attributed to them was real, for he had been partaking of them for supper
- for over three years, and he had never suffered from anything worse than
- acute dyspepsia. I congratulated him. Nothing worse than acute dyspepsia!
- </p>
- <p>
- His stable companion, so to speak, did not believe in heavy hot suppers
- such as his colleague indulged in. He said it was his impression that no
- more light and salutary supper could be imagined than a single apple, not
- quite ripe.
- </p>
- <p>
- He acted manfully up to his belief, for every night I used to see him
- eating his apple shortly after midnight, and without offering the fruit
- the indignity of a paring. The spectacle was no more stimulating than that
- of the lemon-eater. My mouth invariably became so puckered up through
- watching the midnight banquets of these Sybarites, it was only with
- difficulty that I could utter a word or two of weak acquiescence in their
- views on a question of recognised difficulty.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is somewhat remarkable that the apple-eating sub-editor should be the
- one who was guilty of the most remarkable error I ever knew in connection
- with an attempted display of erudition. He had set out to write a lively
- little quarter-of-a-column leaderette on a topic which was convulsing
- society in those days—namely, the cruelty of boiling lobsters alive.
- I am not quite certain that the question has even yet been decided to the
- satisfaction either of the humanitarian who likes lobster salad, or of the
- lobster that finds itself potted. Perhaps the latter may some day come out
- of its shell and give us its views on the question.
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate, in the year of which I write, the topic was almost a burning
- one: the month was September, Parliament had risen, and as yet the
- sea-serpent had not appeared on the horizon. The apple-eating sub-editor
- was doing duty for the assistant-editor, who was on his holidays; and as
- evidence of his light and graceful erudition, he asserted in his article
- that, however inhuman modern cooks might be in their preparation of
- Crustacea for the fastidious palates of their patrons, quite as great
- cruelty—assuming that it was cruelty—was in the habit of being
- perpetrated in cookery in the days of Shakespeare. “Readers of the
- immortal bard of Avon,” he wrote, “will recollect how, in one of the
- charming lyrics to ‘Love’s Labour’s Lost,’ among the homely pleasures of
- winter it is stated that ‘roasted crabs hiss in the bowl.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “This reference to the preparation of crabs for the table makes it
- perfectly plain that it was quite common to cook them alive, for were it
- otherwise, how could they hiss? That listening to the expression of the
- suffering of the crabs should be regarded by Shakespeare as one of the
- joys of a household, casts a somewhat lurid light upon the condition of
- English Society in the sixteenth century.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the lemon-eating sub-editor who, on being requested by the editor
- to write something about the Zenana Mission, pointing out the great good
- that it was achieving, and the necessity there was for maintaining it in
- an efficient condition, produced a neat little article on the subject. He
- assured the readers of the paper that, among the many scenes of missionary
- labour, none had of late attracted more attention than the Zenana mission,
- and assuredly none was more deserving of this attention. Comparatively few
- years had passed since Zenana had been opened up to British trade, but
- already, owing to the devotion of a handful of men and women, the nature
- of the inhabitants had been almost entirely changed. The Zenanese, from
- being a savage people, had become, in a wonderfully short space of time,
- practically civilised; and recent travellers to Zenana had returned with
- the most glowing accounts of the continued progress of the good work in
- that country. The writer of the article then branched off into the
- “labourer-worthy-of-his-hire” side of this great evangelisation question—in
- most questions of missionary enterprise this side has a special interest
- attached to it—and the question was aptly asked if the devoted
- labourers in that remote vineyard were not deserving of support. Were
- civilisation and Christianity to be snatched from the Zenanese just when
- both were within their grasp? So on for nearly half a column the writer
- meandered in the most orthodox style, just as he had done scores of times
- before when advocating certain missions.
- </p>
- <p>
- I found him the next day running his finger down the letter Z, in the
- index to the Handy Atlas, with a puzzled look upon his face. I knew then
- that he had received a letter from the editor, advising him to look out
- Zenana in the Atlas before writing anything further about so ticklish a
- region.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I also knew a sub-editor who fancied that the pibroch was a musical
- instrument widely circulated in the Highlands.
- </p>
- <p>
- But who can blame a humble provincial journalist for making an odd blunder
- occasionally, when a leading London newspaper, in announcing the death,
- some years ago, of Captain Wallace, son of Sir Richard Wallace, stated
- that the sad event had occurred while he was “playing at bagatelle in the
- Bois de Boulogne”? It might reasonably have been expected, I think, that
- the sub-editor of the foreign news should know of the existence of the
- historic mansion Bagatelle, which the Marquis of Hertford left to Sir
- Richard Wallace with the store of art treasures that it contained.
- </p>
- <p>
- What excuse, one may also ask, can be made for the Dublin Professor who
- referred in print “to those populous districts of Hindostan, watered by
- the Ganges and the Deccan”?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- In alluding to Frankenstein as the monster, and not merely the maker of
- the monster, the mistakes made by provincial journalists of the old school
- may certainly also be condoned, when we find the same ridiculous
- hallucination maintained by one of the most highly representative of
- modern journalists, as-well as by the editor of a weekly paper of large
- circulation, who enshrined it in the preface to a book for which he was
- responsible. In this case the writer could not have been pressed for time.
- But the marvel is, not that so many errors are run into by provincial
- journalists, but that so few can be laid to their charge. With telegrams
- pouring in by private wire, as well as by the P.A. and C.N., to say
- nothing of Baron Reuter’s and Messrs, Dalziel’s special services; with the
- foreman printer, too, appearing like a silent spectre and departing like
- one that is not silent, leaving the impression behind him that no
- newspaper, except that composed by a hated rival, can possibly be produced
- the next morning;—with all these drags upon the chariot wheels of
- composition, how can it be reasonably expected that an editor or a
- sub-editor will become Academic in his erudition? When, however, it is
- discovered the next day by some tenth-rate curate, who probably gets a
- free copy of the paper, that the quotation “<i>O tempora! O mores!</i>” is
- attributed to Virgil instead of Cicero, in a leading article a column in
- length, written upon a speech of seven columns, the writer is at once
- referred to as an ignorant boor, and an invitation is given to all that
- curate’s friends to point the finger of scorn at the journalist.
- </p>
- <p>
- A long experience has convinced me that the curate who gets a free copy of
- the paper, and who is most velvet-gloved in approaching any member of the
- staff when he wants a favour, such as a leaderette on the Zenana Mission,
- in which several of his lady friends are deeply interested, or a paragraph
- regarding a forthcoming bazaar, or the insertion of a letter signed
- “Churchman,” calling attention to some imaginary reform which he himself
- has instituted—this very curate is the person who sends the marked
- copies of the paper to the proprietor with a gigantic <i>Sic</i> opposite
- every mistake, even though it be only a turned letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- I put a stop to the tricks of one of the race who had annoyed me
- excessively. I simply inserted verbatim a long letter that he wrote on
- some subject. It was full of mistakes, and to these the next day, in a
- letter which he meant to be humorous, he referred as “printer’s errors.” I
- took the liberty of appending an editorial note to this communication,
- mentioning that the mistakes existed in the original letter, and adding
- that I trusted the writer would not think it necessary to attribute to the
- printer the further blunders which appeared in the humorous communication
- to which my note was appended.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fellow sought an interview with me the next day, and found it. He was
- furiously indignant at the course which I had adopted, and said I had
- taken advantage of the haste in which he had written both letters. I
- brought out of my desk forthwith a paper which he had taken the trouble to
- re-edit with red ink for the benefit of the proprietor, who had,
- naturally, handed it to me. I recognised the handwriting of the red-ink
- editor the moment I received the first of his letters.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you make any allowance for the haste of the writers of these passages
- that you took the trouble to mark and send to the proprietor?” I inquired
- blandly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He said he did not know what it was that I referred to; and added that it
- was a gratuitous assumption on my part to say that he had marked and sent
- the paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well,” said I. “I’ll assume that you deny having done so. May I do
- so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly you may,” he replied. “I have something else to do beside
- pointing out the blunders of your staff.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I ask your pardon for having assumed that you marked the paper,”
- said I. “I was too hasty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were—quite too hasty,” said he, going to the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve acknowledged it,” said I. “And therefore I’ll not go to your rector
- until to-morrow evening to prove to him that his curate is a sneak and a
- liar as well as an extremely ignorant person.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He returned as I sat down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What paper is it that you allude to?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I showed it to you,” said I. “It was the paper that you re-edited in red
- ink and posted anonymously to the proprietor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, that?” said he. “Why on earth didn’t you say so at once? Of course I
- sent that paper. My dear fellow, it was only my little joke. I meant to
- have a little chaff with you about the mistakes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go away—go away,” said I. “Go away, <i>Stiggins</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And he went away.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I need scarcely say that such clergymen are not to be interviewed every
- day. Equally exceptional, I think, was the clergyman who was good enough
- to pay me a visit a few months after I had joined the editorial staff of a
- daily paper. Although I had never exactly been the leader of the coughers
- in church, yet on the other hand I had never been a leader of the scoffers
- outside it; and somehow the parson had come to miss me. I had an uneasy
- feeling when he entered my room that he had come on business—that he
- might possibly have fancied I was afflicted with doubts on, say, the right
- of unbaptised infants to burial in consecrated ground, and that he had
- come prepared to lift the burden from my soul; but he never so much as
- spoke of business until he had picked up his hat and gloves, and had said
- a cheerful farewell. Only then he remarked, as if the thing had occurred
- to him quite suddenly,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, by the way, I don’t think I noticed you in church during the past few
- Sundays. I was afraid that you were indisposed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no,” said I. “I was all right; but the fact is, you see, that I’ve
- become a sort of editor, and as I can never get to bed before three or
- four in the morning, it would be impossible for me to rise before eleven.
- To be sure I’m not on duty on Saturday nights, but the force of habit is
- so great that, though I may go to bed in decent time on that night, I
- cannot sleep until my usual hour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I see, I see,” said he, beginning to draw on his gloves. “Well,
- perhaps on the whole—all things considered—the—ah—”
- here he was seized with a fit of coughing, and when he recovered he said
- he had always been an admirer of old Worcester, and he rather thought that
- some cups which I had on a shelf were, on the whole, the most
- characteristic as regards shape that he had ever seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he went away, and I perceived from the appearance that his back
- presented to me, that he would one day become a bishop. A clergyman with
- such tact as he exhibited can no more avoid being made a bishop than the
- young seal can avoid taking to the water.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before five years had passed he was, sure enough, raised to the Bench, and
- every one is delighted with him. The celery from the Palace garden
- invariably takes the first prize at the local shows; his lordship smiles
- when you congratulate him on his repeated successes with celery, but when
- you talk about chrysanthemums he becomes grave and shakes his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is his tact.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The church of which he was rector was situated in a fashionable suburb of
- the town, and it possessed one of the noisiest peals of bells possible to
- imagine. They were the terror of the neighbourhood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon one occasion an elderly gentleman living close to the church
- contracted some malady which necessitated, the doctor said, the observance
- of the strictest quiet, even on Sundays. A message was sent to the chief
- of the bellringers to this effect, the invalid’s wife expressing the hope
- that for a Sunday or two the bells might be permitted to remain silent. Of
- course her very reasonable wish was granted. The chief of the ringers
- thoughtfully called every Sunday morning to inquire after the sufferer’s
- condition, and for three weeks he learned that it was unchanged, and the
- bells consequently remained silent. On the fourth Sunday, he was told that
- the man had died during the night. He immediately hastened off to the
- other seven bellringers, worse than the first, and telling them that their
- prohibition was removed, they climbed the belfry and rang forth the most
- joyous peal that had ever annoyed the neighbourhood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,” said the lady with whom I lodged, “there are the joy bells once
- more. Poor Mr. Jenkins must be dead at last.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI.—ON SOME FORMS OF SPORT.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>An invitation to shoot rooks—The sub-editors gun—A
- quotation from “The Rivals”—The rook in repose—How the gun
- came to be smashed—Recollections of the Spanish Main—A greatly
- overrated sport—The story of Jack Burnaby’s dogs—A fastidious
- man—His keeper’s remonstrance—The Australian visitor—-A
- kind offer—Over-willing dogs—The story of a muzzle-loader—How
- Mr. Egan came to be alive—Why Patsy Muldoon smiled—The moral—Degrees
- of dampness—Below the surface—The chameleon blackberry—A
- superlative degree of thirst.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> FRIEND of mine
- once came to my office to invite me to an afternoon’s rook-shooting. I was
- not in my room and he found me in the sub-editor’s. I inquired about the
- trains to the place where the slaughter was to be done, and finding that
- they were satisfactory, agreed to join him on the following afternoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he turned to the sub-editor—a pleasant young fellow who had
- ideas of going to the bar—and asked him if he would care to come
- also. At first the sub-editor said he did not think he would be able to
- come, though he would like very much to do so. A little persuasion was
- sufficient to make him agree to be one of our party. He had not a gun of
- his own, he said, but a friend had frequently offered to lend him one, so
- that there would be no difficulty so far as that matter was concerned.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day I managed, as usual, just to catch the train as it began to
- move-away from the platform. My colleague on the newspaper had the door of
- the compartment open for me, and I could see the leather of his gun-case
- under the seat. I put my rook rifle—it was not in a case—in
- the network, and we had a delightful run through the autumn landscape to
- the station—it seemed miles from any village—where my friend
- was awaiting us in his dogcart, driving tandem. The drive of three miles
- to the rook-wood was exhilarating, and as we skirted some lines of old
- gnarled oaks, I perceived in a moment that we could easily fill a railway
- truck with birds, they were so plentiful. I made a remark to this effect
- to my friend, who was driving, and he said that when we arrived at the
- shooting ground and gave the birds the chance to which they were entitled
- we mightn’t get more than a couple of hundred all told.
- </p>
- <p>
- The shooting ground was under a straggling tree about fifty yards from the
- ruin of an old castle, said to have been built by the Knights Templar.
- Here we dismounted from the dogcart, sending it a mile or two farther
- along the road in charge of the man, and got ready our rifles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What on earth have you got there?” my friend inquired of the sub-editor,
- who was working at the gun-case.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the gun and cartridges,” replied the young man; “but I’m not quite
- certain how to make fast the barrels to the stock.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great heavens!” cried my friend. “You’ve brought a double-barrelled
- sporting gun to shoot rooks!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And so he had.
- </p>
- <p>
- We tried to explain to him that for any human being to point such a weapon
- at a rook would be little short of murder, but he utterly failed to see
- the force of our arguments. He very good-humouredly said that, as we had
- come out to shoot rooks, he couldn’t see how it mattered—especially
- to the rooks—whether they were shot with his gun or with our rook
- rifles. He added that he thought the majority of the birds were like Bob
- Acres, and would as lief be shot in an ungentlemanly as a gentlemanly
- attitude.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course it is impossible to argue with such a man. We only said that he
- must accept the responsibility for the butchery, and in this he cheerfully
- acquiesced, slipping cartridges into both barrels—the friend from
- whom he had borrowed the weapon had taught him how to do this.
- </p>
- <p>
- We soon found that at this point the breaking-strain of his information
- was reached. He had no more idea of sport than a butcher, or the <i>Sonttag
- jager</i> of the <i>Oberlander Blatter.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- As the rooks flew from the ruins to the belt of trees my friend and I
- brought down one each, and by the time we had reloaded, we were ready for
- two more, but I fired too soon, so that only one bird dropped. I saw the
- eyes of the man with the shot-gun gleam, “his heart with lust of slaying
- strong,” and he forthwith fired first one barrel and then the other at an
- old rook that cursed us by his gods, sitting on a branch of a tree ten
- yards off.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bird flapped heavily away, becoming more vituperative every moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here,” I shouted, “you mustn’t shoot at a bird that’s sitting on a
- branch.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh. yes,” said my friend, with a grim smile. “Oh, yes, he may. It’ll do
- him no more harm than the birds.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Not a bird did that young sportsman fire at except such as had assumed a
- sitting posture, and, incredible though it may seem, he only succeeded in
- killing one. But from the moment that his skill was rewarded by witnessing
- the downward flap of this one, the lust for blood seemed to take
- possession of him, as it does the young soldiers when their officers have
- succeeded in preventing them from blazing away at the enemy while still a
- mile off. He continued to load and fire at birds that were swaying on the
- trees beside us.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s a chance for you,” said my friend, “sarkastik-like,” pointing to
- a rook that had flapped into a branch just above our heads.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young man, his face pale and his teeth set, was in no mood for
- distinguishing between one tone of voice and another. He simply took half
- a dozen steps into the open and, aiming steadily at the bird, fired both
- barrels simultaneously. Down came the rook in the usual way, clawing from
- branch to branch. It remained, however, for several seconds on a bough
- about eight feet from the ground; then we had a vision of the sportsman
- clubbing his gun, and making a wild rush at his prey—and then came a
- crash and a cheer. The sportsman held aloft in one hand the tattered rook
- and in the other a double-barrelled gun with a broken stock.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had never fired a shot in his life before this day, and all his ideas
- of musketry were derived from the stories of pirates and buccaneers of the
- Spanish Main—wherever that may be—which had come to him for
- review. He thought that the clubbing of his weapon, in order to prevent
- the escape of the rook, quite a brilliant thing to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had, however, completely smashed the gun, and that, my friend said, was
- a step in the right direction. He could not do any more butchery with it
- that day.
- </p>
- <p>
- It cost him four pounds getting that gun repaired, and he confessed to me
- that, according to his experience, fowling was a greatly overrated sport.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was while we were driving to the train that my friend told me the story
- of Jack Burnaby’s dogs—a story which he frankly confessed he had
- never yet got any human being to believe, but which was accurate in all
- its details, and could be fully verified by affidavit. He did not succeed
- in obtaining my credence for it. There are other forms of falsehood
- besides those verified by an affidavit, and I could not have given more
- implicit disbelief than I did to the story, even if it had formed the
- subject of this legal method of embodying a fiction.
- </p>
- <p>
- It appeared that never was there a more fastidious man in the matter of
- his sporting dogs than one Algy Grafton. Pointers that called for
- outbursts of enthusiasm on the part of other men—quite as good
- sportsmen as Algy—failed to obtain more than a complimentary word
- from him, and even this word of praise was grudgingly given and invariably
- tempered by many words which were certainly not susceptible of a
- eulogistic meaning.
- </p>
- <p>
- Among his friends—such as declined to resent the insults which he
- put upon their dogs—there was a consensus of opinion that the animal
- which would satisfy him would not be born—allowing a reasonable time
- for the various processes of evolution—for at least a thousand
- years, and then, taking into consideration the growth of radical ideas,
- and the decay of the English sport, there would be little or no demand for
- a first-class dog in the British Islands.
- </p>
- <p>
- Algy Grafton had just acquired the Puttick-Foozler moor, and almost every
- post brought him a letter from his head-keeper describing the condition of
- the birds and the prospects of the Twelfth. Though the letters were
- written on a phonetic principle, the correctness of which was, of course,
- proportionate to the accuracy of a Scotchman’s ear, and though the
- head-keeper was scarcely an optimist, still there was no mistaking the
- general tone of the information which Algy received through this source
- from the north: he gathered that he might reasonably look forward to the
- finest shoot on record.
- </p>
- <p>
- Every letter which he got from the moor, however, contained the expression
- of the keeper’s hope that his master would succeed in his search for a
- couple of good dogs. The keeper’s hope was shared by Algy; and he did
- little else during the month of July except interview dogs that had been
- recommended to him. He travelled north and south, east and west, to
- interview dogs; but so ridiculously fastidious was he that at the close of
- the first week in August he was still without a dog. He was naturally at
- his wit’s end by this time, for as the Twelfth approached there was not a
- dog in the market. He telegraphed in all directions in the endeavour to
- secure some of the animals which he had rejected during the previous
- month, but, as might have been expected, the dogs were no longer to be
- disposed of: they had all been sold within a day or two after their
- rejection by Mr. Grafton. It was on the seventh of August that he got a
- letter from his correspondent on the moor, and in this letter the tone of
- mild remonstrance which the keeper had hitherto adopted in referring to
- his master’s extravagant ideas on the dog question, was abandoned in
- favour of one of stern reprimand; in fact, some sentences were almost
- abusive. Mr. Donald MacKilloch professed to be anxious to know what was
- the good of his wearing out his life on the moor if his master did not
- mean to shoot on it. He hoped he would not be thought wanting in respect
- if he doubted the sanity of the policy of waiting without a dog until it
- pleased Providence—Mr. MacKilloch was a very religious man—to
- turn angels into pointers and saints into setters, a period which, it
- seemed to Mr. MacKilloch, his master was rather oversanguine in
- anticipating.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not surprising that, after receiving this letter from the
- Highlands, Algy Grafton was somewhat moody as he strolled about his
- grounds on the morning of the eighth, nor was it remarkable that, when the
- rectory boy appeared with a letter stating that the Reverend Septimus
- Burnaby was anxious for him to run across in time to lunch at the rectory,
- to meet Jack Burnaby, who had just returned from Australia, Algy said that
- the rector and his brother Jack and all the squatters in the Australian
- colonies might be hanged together. Mrs. Grafton, however, whose life had
- not been worth a month’s purchase since the dog problem had presented
- itself for solution, insisted on his going to the rectory to lunch, and he
- went. It was while smoking a cigar in the rectory garden with Jack
- Burnaby, who had spent all his life squatting, but with no apparent
- inconvenience to himself, that Algy mentioned that he was broken-hearted
- on account of his dogs. He gave a brief summary of his travels through
- England in search of trustworthy animals, and lamented his failure to
- obtain anything that could be depended on to do a day’s work.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By George! you don’t mean to say there’s not a good dog in the market
- now?” said Mr. Burnaby, the squatter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But that’s just what I do mean to say,” cried Algy, so plaintively that
- even the stern and unbending MacKilloch might have pitied him. “That’s
- just what I do mean to say. I’d give fifty pounds to-day for a pair of
- dogs that I wouldn’t have given ten pounds for a month ago. I’m
- heart-broken—that’s what I am!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cheer up!” said Mr. Burnaby. “I have a couple of sporting dogs that I’ll
- lend to you until I return to the Colony in February next—the best
- dogs I ever worked with, and I’ve had some experience.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was Providence that caused you to come across to me to-day, Grafton,”
- said the rector piously, as Algy stood speechless among the trim rosebeds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re sure they’re good?” said Algy, his old suspicions returning.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good?—am I sure?—oh, you needn’t have them if you don’t
- like,” said the Australian.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon a thousand times,” cried Algy. “Don’t fancy that I
- suggest that the dogs are not first rate. Oh, my dear fellow, I don’t know
- how to thank you. I am—well, my heart is too full for words.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s not a man in England except yourself that I’d lend them to,” said
- Mr. Burnaby. “I give you my word that I’ve been offered forty pounds for
- each of them. Oh, there isn’t a fault between them. They’re just perfect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Algy was delighted, and for the remainder of the evening he kept assuring
- his poor wife that he was not quite such a fool as some people, including
- the Scotch keeper, seemed to fancy that he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had felt all along, he said, that just such a piece of luck as had
- occurred was in store for him, and it was on this account he had steadily
- refused to be gulled into buying any of the inferior animals that had been
- offered to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Oh, yes, he assured her, he knew what he was about, and he’d let
- MacKilloch know who it was that he had to deal with.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Australian’s dogs were in the custody of a man at Southampton, but he
- promised to have them sent northward in good time. It was the evening of
- the eleventh when they arrived at the lodge. They were strange wiry
- brutes, and like no breed that Algy had ever seen. The head-keeper looked
- at them critically, and made some observations regarding them that did not
- seem grossly flattering. It was plain that if Mr. MacKilloch had conceived
- any sudden admiration for the dogs he contrived to conceal it. Algy said
- all that he could say, which was that Mr. Burnaby knew perfectly well what
- a dog was, and that a dog should be proved before it was condemned. Mr.
- MacKilloch, hearing this excellent sentiment, grunted.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day was a splendid Twelfth so far as the weather was concerned.
- Algy and his two friends were on the moor at dawn. At a signal from the
- head-keeper the dogs were put to their work. They seemed willing enough to
- work. Under their noses rose an old cock. To the horror of every one they
- made a snap for him, and missing him they rushed full speed through the
- heather in the direction he had taken, setting up birds right and left,
- and driving them by the score into the next moor. Algy stood aghast and
- speechless. It would be inaccurate to describe the attitude of Donald
- MacKilloch as passive. He was not silent. But in spite of his shouts—in
- spite of a fusi-lade of the strongest “sweers” that ever came from a
- God-fearing Scotchman with well-defined views of his own on the Free Kirk
- question, the two dogs romped over the moor, and the air was thick with
- grouse of all sorts and conditions, from the wary cocks to the incipient
- cheepers.
- </p>
- <p>
- To the credit of Algy Grafton it must be stated that he resolutely refused
- to allow a gun to be put into the hands of Donald MacKilloch. There was a
- blood-thirsty look in the keeper’s eyes as now and again one of the dogs
- appeared among the clumps of purple heather. When they were tired out
- toward evening they were captured by one of the keepers, and led off the
- moor, Algy following them, for he feared that they might meet with an
- accident. He sent a telegram that night to their owner, and the next
- morning received the following reply:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “The infernal idiot at Southampton sent you the wrong dogs. The right ones
- will reach you to-morrow. You have got a pair of the best kangaroo hounds
- in the world—worth five hundred guineas. Take care of them.—Burnaby.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Kangaroo hounds! kangaroo hounds!</i>” murmured Algy with a far-away
- look in his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seems that he is not quite so fastidious about dogs as he used to be.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- When in the west of Ireland some years ago, pretending to be on the
- look-out for “local colour” for a novel, I heard, with about ten thousand
- others, a very amusing story regarding a gun. It was told to me by a man
- who was engaged in grazing a cow along the side of a ditch where I sat
- while partaking of a sandwich, fondly hoping that at sundown I might be
- able to look a duck or two straight in the face as the “fly” came over the
- smooth surface of the glorious lake along which the road skirted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your honour,” said the narrator—he pronounced the words something
- like “yer’an’r,” but the best attempts to reproduce a brogue are
- ineffective—“Your honour will mind how Mr. Egan was near having an
- accident just as he drew by the bit of stone wall beyond the entrance to
- his own gates?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” I replied, “I remember hearing that he was fired at by some
- ruffian, and that his horse ran away with him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s likely that that’s the same story only told different. Maybe you
- never heard tell that it was Patsy Muldoon that was bid to do the job for
- Mr. Egan, God save him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never heard that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Maybe not, sir. Ay, Patsy has repented for that shot, for it knocked the
- eye of him that far into the inside of his head that the doctors had no
- machine long enough to drag for it in the depths of his ould skull. Patsy
- wasn’t a well-favoured boy before that night, and with the loss of his ear
- and the misplacement of his eye—it’s not lost that it is, for it’s
- somewhere in the inside of his head—he’s not a beauty just now. You
- see, sir, Patsy Muldoon, Conn Moriarty, Jim Tuohy, and Tim Gleeson was all
- consarned in the business. They got the lend of a loan of ould Gleeson’s
- gun, and the powder was in a half-pint whisky-bottle with a roll of paper
- for a cork, and every boy was supposed to bring his own bullets. Well,
- sir, ould Gleeson, before going quiet to his bed, had put a full charge of
- powder and a bullet down the throat of the gun, and had left her handy for
- Tim in the turf stack. But when Tim got a hoult of the wippon, he didn’t
- know that the ould man had loaded her, and so he put another charge in
- her, and rammed it home to make sure. Then he slipped the bottle with the
- rest of the powder into his pocket and strolled down to the bit of dead
- wall—I suppose they call them dead walls, sir, because they’re so
- convanient for such-like jobs. Anyhow, he laid down herself and the
- powder-bottle handy among the grass, and went back to the cabin, so as not
- to be suspected by the polis of interferin’ with the job that was Patsy’s
- by right. Well, sir, my brave Conn was the next to come to the place, just
- to see that Tim hadn’t played a thrick on him. He knew that it was all
- right when he saw herself lying among the grass, and as he didn’t know
- that Tim had loaded her, he gave her a mouthful of powder himself and
- rammed down the lead. After him came my bould Tuohy, and, by the Powers,
- if he didn’t load herself in proper style too. Last of all came Patsy that
- was to do the job—he’d been consalin’ himself in the plantation, and
- it was barely time he had to put another charge into the ould gun, when
- Mr. Egan came up on his horse. Patsy slipped a cap on the nipple, and took
- a good aim from the side of the wall. When he pulled the trigger it’s a
- dead corp that the gentleman would ha’ been only for the accident that
- occurred just then, for by some reason or other that nobody can account
- for, herself burst—a thing she’d never done before—and Patsy’s
- eye was druv into his head, and he was left searching by the aid of the
- other for the half of his ear, while Mr. Egan was a mile away on a mad
- horse. That’s the story, your honour, only nobody can account to this day
- for the quare way that Patsy smiles when he sees a single barr’l gun with
- the barr’l a bit rusty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was, I recollect, on the day following the rehearsal of this pretty
- little tale—the moral of which is that no man should shoot at a
- fellow man from the shelter of a crumbling wall, without having
- ascertained the exact numerical strength of the charges already within the
- barrel of the gun—that I was caught on the mountain in a shower of
- rain which penetrated my two coats within half-an-hour, leaving me in the
- condition of a bath sponge that awaits squeezing. While I was trickling
- down to the plains I met with the narrator of the story just recorded, and
- to him I explained that I was wet to the skin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And if your honour’s wet to the skin, and you with an overcoat on, how
- much worse amn’t I that was out through all the shower with only a rag on
- my back?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It is said that it was in this neighbourhood that the driver of one of the
- “long cars,” on being asked by a tourist what was the name of a berry
- growing among the hedges, replied, “Oh, them’s blackberries, your honour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blackberries?” said the tourist. “But these are not black, but pink.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, sir; but blackberries is always pink when they’re green,” was
- the ready explanation.
- </p>
- <p>
- I cannot guarantee the novelty of this story; but I can certainly affirm
- that it is far more reasonable than the palpable invention regarding the
- nervous curate who is said to have announced that, “next Tuesday, being
- Easter Monday, an open air meeting will be held in the vestry, to
- determine what colour the interior of the schoolhouse shall be whitewashed
- outside.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- “Am I dhry? Is it am I dhry, that you’re afther askin’ me?” said a car
- driver to a couple of country solicitors, whom he was “conveying” to a
- court-house at a distant town on a summer’s day. “Dhry? By the Powers! I’m
- that dhry that if you was to jog up against me suddint-like, the dust
- would fly out of my mouth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII.—SOME REPORTERS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>An important person—The mayor-maker—Two systems—The
- puff and the huff—“Oh that mine enemy were reported verbatim!”—Errors
- of omission—Summary justice—An example—The abatement of
- a nuisance—The testimony of the warm-hearted—The fixed rate—A
- possible placard—A gross insult—Not so bad as it might have
- been—The subdivision of an insult—An inadequate assessment—The
- Town Councillor’s bribe—Birds of a feather—A handbook needed—An
- outburst of hospitality—Never again—The reporters “gloom”—The
- March lion—The popularity of the coroner.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE chief of the
- reporting staff is usually the most important person connected with a
- provincial newspaper. It is not too much to say that it is in his power to
- make or to annihilate the reputation of a Town Councillor, or even a Poor
- Law Guardian. He may do so by the adoption of either of two systems: the
- first is persistent attention, the second is persistent neglect. He may
- either puff a man into a reputation, or puff him out of it. There are some
- men who become universally abhorred through being constantly alluded to as
- “our respected townsman”; such a distinction seems an invidious one to the
- twenty thousand townsmen who have never been so referred to. If a reporter
- persists in alluding to a certain person as “our respected townsman,” he
- will eventually succeed in making him the most highly disrespected burgess
- in the municipality, if he was not so before.’ On the other hand a
- reporter may, by judicious neglect of a burgess who burns for distinction,
- destroy his chances of becoming a Town Councillor; and, perhaps, before he
- dies, Mayor. But my experience leads me to believe that if a reporter has
- a grudge against a Town Councillor, a Poor Law Guardian, or a Borough
- Magistrate, and if he is really vindictive, the most effective course of
- vengeance that he can adopt is to record verbatim all that his enemy
- utters in public. The man who exclaimed, at a period of the world’s
- history when the publishing business had not attained its present
- proportions, “Oh that mine enemy had written a book!” knew what he was
- talking about. “Oh that mine enemy were reported verbatim!” would
- assuredly be the modern equivalent of the bitter cry of the patriarch. The
- stutterings, the vain repetitions, and the impossible grammar which
- accompany the public utterances—imbecile only when they are not
- commonplace—of the average Town Councillor or Poor Law Guardian,
- would require the aid of the phonograph to admit of their being anly when
- they are not commonplace—of the average Town Councillor or Poor Law
- Guardian, would require the aid of the phonograph to admit of their being
- adequately depreciated by the public.
- </p>
- <p>
- The worst offenders are those men who are loudest in their complaints
- against the reporters, and who are constantly writing to correct what they
- call “errors” in the summary of their speeches. A reporter puts in a
- grammatical and a moderately reasonable sentence or two the ridiculous
- maunderings and wanderings of one of these “public men,” and the only
- recognition he obtains assumes the form of a letter to the editor,
- pointing out the “omissions” made in the summary. Omissions! I should
- rather think there were omissions.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have no hesitation in affirming that the verbatim reporting of their
- speeches would mean the annihilation of ninety-nine out of every hundred
- of these municipal orators.
- </p>
- <p>
- Only once, on a paper with which I was connected, had a reporter the
- courage to try the effect of a literal report of the speech of a man who
- was greatly given to complaining of the injustice done to him in the
- published accounts of his deliverances. Every “haw,” “hum,” “ah,” “eh—eh;”
- every repetition, every reduplication of a repetition, every unfinished
- sentence, every singular nominative to a plural verb, every artificial
- cough to cover a retreat from an imbecile statement, was reported. The
- result was the complete abatement of this nuisance. A considerable time
- elapsed before another complaint as to omissions in municipal speeches was
- made.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- To my mind, the ability and the judgment shown by the members of the
- reporting staff cannot be too warmly commended. It is not surprising that
- occasionally attempts should be made by warm-hearted persons to express in
- a substantial way their recognition of the talents of this department of a
- newspaper. I have several times known of sums of money being offered to
- reporters in the country, with a view of obtaining the insertion of
- certain paragraphs or the omission of others. Half-a-crown was invariably
- the figure at which the value of such services was assessed. I am still of
- the opinion that this was not an extravagant sum to offer a presumably
- educated man for running the risk of losing his situation. Curiously
- enough, the majority of these offers of money came from competitors at
- ploughing matches, at exhibitions of oxen and swine, and at flower shows.
- Why agriculturalists should be more zealous to show their appreciation of
- literary work than the rest of the population it would be difficult to
- say; but at one time—a good many years ago—I heard so much
- about the attempted distribution of half-crowns in agricultural districts,
- I began to fear that at the various shows it would be necessary to have a
- placard posted, bearing the words: “GRATUITIES TO REPORTERS STRICTLY
- PROHIBITED.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Many years ago I was somewhat tired of hearing about the numerous insults
- offered to reporters in this way. A head-reporter once told me that a
- junior member of his staff had come to him after a day in the country,
- complaining bitterly that he had been grossly insulted by an offer of
- money.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what did you say to him?” I inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I asked him how much he had been offered,” replied the head-reporter,
- “and when he said, ‘Half-a-crown,’ I said, ‘Pooh! half-a-crown! that
- wasn’t much of an insult. How would you like to be offered a sovereign, as
- I was one day in the same neighbourhood? You might talk of your insults
- then.’ That shut him up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I did not doubt it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You think the juniors protest too much?” said I.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reporter laughed shrewdly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You remember <i>Punch’s</i> picture of the man lying drunk on the
- pavement, and the compassionate lady in the crowd who asked if the poor
- fellow was ill, at which a man says, ‘Ill? ‘im ill? I only wish I’d alf
- his complaint’?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I admitted that I had a vivid recollection of the picture; but I added
- that I could not see what it had to say to the subject we were discussing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the reporter smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you had seen the chap’s face to-day when I talked of the sovereign you
- would know what I meant; his face said quite plainly, ‘I wish I had half
- of that insult.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- That view was quite intelligible to me some time after, when a reporter,
- whose failings were notorious, came to me with the old story. He had been
- offered half-a-crown by a man in a good social position who had been fined
- at the police court that day for being drunk and assaulting a constable,
- and who was anxious that no record of the transaction should appear in the
- newspaper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great heavens!” said I, “he had the face to offer you half-a-crown?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He had,” said the reporter, indignantly. “Half-a-crown! The low hound! He
- knew that if I included his case in to-morrow’s police news he would lose
- his situation, and yet he had the face to offer me half-a-crown. What
- hounds there are in the world! Two pounds would have been little enough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I never heard of a Town Councillor offering a bribe to a reporter; but I
- have heard of something more phenomenal—a Town Councillor
- indignantly rejecting what he conceived to be a bribe. He took good care
- to boast of it afterwards to his constituents. It happened that this
- Councillor was the leader of a select faction of three on the Corporation,
- whose <i>métier</i> consisted in opposing every scheme that was brought
- forward by the Town Clerk, and supported by the other members of the
- Corporation. Now the Town Clerk had hired a shooting one autumn, and as
- the birds were plentiful, he thought that it would be a graceful act on
- his part to send a brace of grouse to every Alderman and every Councillor.
- He did so, and all the members of the Board accepted the transaction in a
- right spirit—all, except the leader of the opposition faction. He
- explained his attitude to his constituents as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gentlemen, you’ll all be glad to hear that I’ve made myself formidable to
- our enemies. I’ve brought the so-called Town Clerk down on his knees to
- me. An attempt was made to bribe me last week, which I am determined to
- expose. One night when I came home from my work, I found waiting for me a
- queer pasteboard box with holes in it. I opened it, and inside I found a
- couple of fat <i>brown pigeons</i>, and on their legs a card printed ‘With
- Mr. Samuel White’s compliments.’ ‘Mr. Samuel White! That’s the Town
- Clerk,’ says I, ‘and if Mr. Samuel White thinks to buy my silence by
- sending me a pair of brown pigeons with Mr. Samuel White’s compliments,
- Mr. Samuel White is a bit mistaken;’ so I just put the pigeons back into
- their box, and redirected them to Mr. Samuel White, and wrote him a polite
- note to let him know that if I wanted a pair of pigeons I could buy them
- for myself. That’s what I did.” (Loud cheers.)
- </p>
- <p>
- When it was explained to him some time after that the birds were grouse,
- and not pigeons, he asked where was the difference. The principle would be
- precisely the same, he declared, if the birds were eagles or ostriches.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It has often occurred to me that for the benefit of such men, a complete
- list should be made out of such presents as may be legitimately received
- from one’s friends, and of those that should be regarded as insultive in
- their tendency. It must puzzle a good many people to know where the line
- should be drawn. Why should a brace of grouse be looked on as a graceful
- gift, while a pair of fowl—a “yoke,” they are called in the West of
- Ireland—can only be construed as an affront? Why should a haunch of
- venison (when not over “ripe”) constitute an acceptable gift, while a
- sirloin of prime beef could only be regarded as having an eleemosynary
- signification? Why may a lover be permitted to offer the object of his
- attachment a fan, but not a hat? a dozen of gloves, but not a pair of
- boots? These problems would tax a much higher intelligence—if it
- would be possible to imagine such—than that at the command of the
- average Town Councillor.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the same member of the Corporation who, one day, having succeeded—greatly
- to his astonishment—in carrying a resolution which he had proposed
- at a meeting, found that custom and courtesy necessitated his providing
- refreshment for the dozen of gentlemen who had supported him. His ideas of
- refreshment revolved round a public-house as a centre; but when it was
- explained to him that the occasion was one that demanded a demonstration
- on a higher level, and with a wider horizon, he declared, in the
- excitement of the moment, that he was as ready as any of his colleagues to
- discharge the duties of host in the best style. He took his friends to a
- first-class restaurant, and at a hint from one of them, promptly ordered a
- couple of bottles of champagne. When these had been emptied, the host gave
- the waiter a shilling, telling him in a lordly way to keep the change. The
- waiter was, of course, a German, and, with a smile and a bow, he put the
- coin into his pocket, and hastened to help the gentlemen on with their
- overcoats. When they were trooping out, he ventured to enquire whom the
- champagne was to be charged to.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hospitable Councillor stared at the man, and then expressed the
- opinion that all Frenchmen, and perhaps Italians, were the greatest rogues
- unhung.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You savey!” he shouted at the waiter—for like many persons on the
- social level of Town Councillors, he assumed that all foreigners are a
- little deaf,—“You savey, I give you one shilling—one bob—you
- savey!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The waiter said he was “much oblige,” but who was to pay for the
- champagne?
- </p>
- <p>
- The gentlemen who had partaken of the champagne nudged one another, but
- one of them was compassionate, and explained to the Councillor that the
- two bottles involved the expenditure of twenty-four shillings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty-eight shillings,” the waiter murmured in a submissive,
- subject-to-the-correction-of-the-Court tone. The wine was Heidsieck of
- ‘74, he explained.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Councillor gasped, and then smiled weakly. He had been made the
- subject of a jest more than once before, and he fancied he saw in the
- winks of the men around him, a loophole of escape from an untenable
- position.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, come,” said he, “I’ve no more time to waste. Don’t you flatter
- yourselves that I can’t see this is a put-up job between you all and the
- waiter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pay the man the money and be hanged to you!” said an impetuous member of
- the party.
- </p>
- <p>
- Just then the manager of the restaurant strolled up, and received with a
- polite smile the statement of the hospitable. Councillor regarding what he
- termed the barefaced attempt to swindle on the part of the German waiter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the manager, “the price of the wine is on the card. Here it
- is,”—he whipped a card out of his pocket. “‘Heidsieck—1874—14s.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- The generous host fell back on a chair speechless.
- </p>
- <p>
- Had any of his friends ever read Hamlet they would certainly not have
- missed quoting the lines:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “Indeed this (Town) Councillor
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Who was in life—”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Well—otherwise. However, <i>Hamlet</i> remained unquoted.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a long pause he recovered his powers of speech.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that’s champagne—that’s champagne!” he said in a weak voice,
- “Champagne! By the Lord Harry, I’ve tasted better ginger-beer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He has lately been very cautious in bringing forward any resolutions at
- the Corporation. He is afraid that another of them may chance to be
- carried.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The reporter who told me the story which I have just recorded, was an
- excellent specimen of the class—shrewd, a capital judge of
- character, and a good organiser. He had, however, never got beyond the
- stereotyped phrases which appear in every newspaper—indeed, there
- was no need for him to get beyond them. Every death “cast a gloom” over
- the locality where it occurred; and a chronicle of the weather at any time
- during the month of March caused him to let loose the journalist’s lion
- upon an unsuspecting public.
- </p>
- <p>
- Once it occurred to me that he went a little too far with the gloom that
- he kept, as Captain Mayne Reid’s Mexicans kept their lassoes, ready to
- cast at a moment’s notice.
- </p>
- <p>
- He wrote an account of a fire which had caused the death of two persons,
- and concluded as follows:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “The conflagration, which was visible at a distance of four miles, and was
- not completely subjugated until a late hour, cast a gloom over the entire
- quarter of the town, that will be felt for long, more especially as the
- premises were wholly uninsured.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, I thought that this was carrying the gloom a little too far.
- </p>
- <p>
- I will say this for him, however: it was not he who wrote: “A tall but
- well-dressed man was yesterday arrested on suspicion of being concerned in
- a recent robbery.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Nor was it he who headed a paragraph, “Fatal Death by Drowning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- In a town in which I once resided the coroner died, and there was quite a
- brisk competition for the vacant office. The successful candidate was a
- gentleman whose claims had been supported by a newspaper with which I was
- connected. Three months afterwards the proofreader brought under the
- notice of the sub-editor in my presence a paragraph which had come from
- the reporter’s room, and which had already been “set up.” So nearly as I
- can remember, it was something like this:—“Yesterday, no fewer than
- three inquests were held in various parts of this town by our highly
- respected coroner. Indeed, any doubts that may possibly have existed as to
- the qualification of this gentleman for the coronership, among those
- narrowminded persons who opposed his selection, must surely be dispelled
- by reference to the statistics of inquests held during the three months
- that he has been in office. The increase upon the corresponding quarter
- last year is thirteen, or no less than 9.46 per cent. Compared with the
- immediately preceding quarter the figures are no less significant,
- showing, as they do, an increase of seventeen, or 12.18 per cent. In other
- words, the business of the coroner has been augmented by one-eighth since
- he came into office. This fact speaks volumes for the enterprise and
- ability of the gentleman whose candidature it was our privilege to
- support.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course this paragraph was suppressed. The sub-editor told me the next
- day that it had been written by a junior reporter, who had misunderstood
- the instructions of his chief. The fact was that the coroner wanted an
- increase of remuneration,—he was paid by a fixed salary, not by
- “piece work,” so to speak,—and he had suggested to the chief
- reporter that a paragraph calling attention to the increase of inquests in
- the town might have a good effect. The chief reporter had given the
- figures to a junior, with a few hasty instructions, which he had somehow
- misinterpreted.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII—THE SUBJECT OF REPORTS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>The lecture society—“Early Architecture”—The professional
- consultation—Its result—“Un verre d’eau”—Its story—Lyrics
- as an auxiliary to the lecture—The lecture in print—A
- well-earned commendation—The preservation of ancient ruins—The
- best preservative—“Stone walls do not a prison make”—The
- Parnell Commission—A remarkable visitor—A false prophet—Sir
- Charles Russell—A humble suggestion—The bashful young man—Somewhat
- changed—“Ireland a Nation”—Some kindly hints—The
- “Invincibles” in court—The strange advertisement—How it was
- answered—Earl Spencer as a patron—“No kindly act was ever done
- in vain!”</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> REPORTER is now
- and again compelled to exercise other powers than those which are
- generally supposed to be at the command of the writer of shorthand and the
- paragraphist. I knew a very clever youth who in a crisis showed of what he
- was capable. There was, in the town where we lived, a society of very
- learned men and equally learned women. Once a fortnight a paper was read,
- usually on some point of surpassing dulness—this was in the good old
- days, when lectures were solemn and theatres merry. Just at present, I
- need scarcely say, the position of the two is reversed: the theatres are
- solemn (the managers, becoming pessimistic by reason of their losses,
- endeavour to impress their philosophy upon the public), but the
- lecture-room rings with laughter as some <i>savant</i> treats of the
- “Loves of Coleoptera” with limelight illustrations, or “The Infant
- Bacillus.” The society which I have mentioned had engaged as lecturer for
- a certain evening a local architect, who had largely augmented his
- professional standing by a reputation for conviviality; and the subject
- with which he was to deal was “Early Architecture.” A brother professional
- man, whose sympathies were said to extend in many directions, had promised
- to take the chair upon this occasion. It so happened, however, that, owing
- to his pressing but unspecified engagements, the lecturer found himself,
- on the day for which the lecture was announced, still in doubt as to the
- sequence that his views should assume when committed to paper. About noon
- on this day he strolled into the office of the gentleman who was
- advertised to take the chair in the evening, and explained that he should
- like to discuss with him the various aspects of the question of Early
- Architecture, so that his mind might be at ease on appearing before the
- audience.
- </p>
- <p>
- They accordingly went down the street, and made an earnest inspection of
- the interior of a cave-dwelling in the neighbourhood—it was styled
- “The Cool Grot,” and tradition was respected by the presence therein of
- shell-fish, oat-cake, and other elementary foods, with various samples of
- alcohol in a rudimentary form. In this place the brother architects
- discussed the subject of Early Architecture until, as a reporter would
- say, “a late hour.” The result was not such as would have a tendency to
- cause an unprejudiced person to accept without some reserve the theory
- that on a purely æsthetic question, a just conclusion can most readily be
- arrived at by a friendly discussion amid congenial surroundings.
- </p>
- <p>
- A small and very solemn audience had assembled some twenty minutes or so
- before the lecturer and chairman put in an appearance, and then no time
- was lost in commencing the business of the meeting. The one architect was
- moved to the chair, and seconded, and he solemnly took it. Having
- explained that he occupied his position with the most pleasurable
- feelings, he poured himself out a glass of water with a most unreasonable
- amount of steadiness, and laid the carafe exactly on the spot—he was
- most scrupulous on this point—it had previously occupied. He drank a
- mouthful of the water, and then looked into the tumbler with the shrewd
- eye of the naturalist searching for infusoria. Then he laughed, and told a
- story that amused himself greatly about a friend of his who had attended a
- temperance lecture, and declared that it would have been a great success
- if the lecturer had not automatically attempted to blow the froth off the
- glass of water with which he refreshed himself. Then he sat down and fell
- asleep, before the lecturer had been awakened by the secretary to the
- committee, and had opened his notes upon the desk. For about ten minutes
- the lecturer made himself quite as unintelligible as the most erudite of
- the audience could have desired; but then he suddenly lapsed into
- intelligibility—he had reached that section of his subject which
- necessitated the recitation of a poem said to be in a Scotch dialect,
- every stanza of which terminated with the words, “A man’s a man for a’
- that!” He then bowed, and, recovering himself by a grasp of the desk,
- which he shook as though it were the hand of an old schoolfellow whom he
- had not met for years, he retired with an almost supernatural erectness to
- his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a moment the chairman was on his feet—the sudden silence had
- awakened him. In a few well-chosen phrases he thanked the audience for the
- very hearty manner in which they had drunk his health. He then told them a
- humorous story of his boyhood, and concluded by a reference to one “Mr.
- Vice,” whom he trusted frequently to see at the other end of the table,
- preparatory to going beneath it. He hoped there was no objection to his
- stating that he was a jolly good fellow. No absolute objection being made,
- he ventured on the statement—in the key of B flat; the lecturer
- joined in most heartily, and the solemn audience went to their homes,
- followed by the apologies of the secretary to the committee.
- </p>
- <p>
- The chairman and the lecturer were then shaken up by the old man who came
- to turn out the lights. He turned them out as well.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, the reporter who had been “marked” for that lecture found that he had
- some much more important business to attend to. He did not reach the
- newspaper office until late, and then he seated himself, and thoughtfully
- wrote out the remarks which nine out of every ten chairmen would have
- made, attributing them to the gentleman who presided at the lecture; and
- then gave a general summary of the lecture on “Early Architecture” which
- ninety-nine out of every hundred working architects would deliver if
- called on. He concluded by stating that the usual vote of thanks was
- conveyed to the lecturer, and suitably acknowledged by him, and that the
- audience was “large, representative, and enthusiastic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The secretary called upon the proprietor of the paper the next day, and
- expressed his high appreciation of the tact and judgment of the reporter;
- and the proprietor, who was more accustomed to hear comments on the
- display of very different attainments on the part of his staff, actually
- wrote a letter of commendation to the reporter, which I think was well
- earned.
- </p>
- <p>
- The most remarkable point in connection with this occurrence was the
- implicit belief placed in the statements of the newspaper, not only by the
- public—for the public will believe anything—but also by the
- architect-lecturer and the architect-chairman. The professional standing
- of the former was certainly increased by the transaction, and till the day
- of his death he was accustomed to allude to his lecture on “Early
- Architecture.” The secretary to the committee, for his own credit’s sake,
- said nothing about the fiasco, and the solemn members of the audience were
- so accustomed to listen to incomprehensible lectures in the same room that
- they began to think that the performance at which they had “assisted” was
- only another of the usual type, so they also held their peace on the
- matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Having introduced this society, I cannot refrain from telling the story of
- another transaction in which it was concerned. The ramifications of the
- society extended in many directions, and a more useful organisation could
- scarcely be imagined. It was like an elephant’s trunk, which can uproot a
- tree—if the elephant is in a good humour—but which does not
- disdain to pick up a pin—like the boy who afterwards became Lord
- Mayor of London. The society did not shrink from discussing the question
- “Is a Monarchy or a Republic the right form of Government?” on the same
- night that it dealt with a new stopper for soda-water bottles. The
- Carboniferous Future of England was treated of upon the same evening as
- the Immortality of the Soul; perhaps there is a closer connection than at
- first meets the eye between the two subjects. It took ancient buildings
- under its protection, as well as the most recently fabricated pre-historic
- axe-head; and it was the discharge of its functions in regard to ancient
- buildings that caused the committee to pass a resolution one day, calling
- on their secretary to communicate with the owner of a neighbouring
- property, in the midst of which a really fine ruin of an ancient castle,
- with many interesting associations, was situated, begging him to order a
- wall to be built around the ruins, so as to prevent them from continuing
- to be the resort of cows with a fine taste in archaeology, when the summer
- days were warm and they wanted their backs scratched.
- </p>
- <p>
- The property was in Ireland, consequently the landlord lived in England,
- and had never so much as seen the ruins. It was news to him that anything
- of interest was to be found on his Irish estates; but as his son was
- contemplating the possibility of entering Parliament as the representative
- of an Irish borough, he at once crossed the Channel, had an interview with
- the society’s secretary, and, with the president, visited the old castle,
- and was delighted with it. He sent for his bailiff, and told him that he
- wanted a wall four feet high to be built round the field in the centre of
- which the ruins lay—he even went so far as to “peg out,” so to
- speak, the course that he wished the wall to take.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Irish bailiff stared at his master, but expressed the delight it would
- give him to carry out his wishes.
- </p>
- <p>
- The owner crossed to England, promising to return in three months to see
- how the work had been done.
- </p>
- <p>
- He kept his word. He returned in three months, and found, sure enough,
- that an excellent wall had been built on the exact lines he had laid down,
- but every stone of the ruins of the ancient castle had disappeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bailiff stood by with a beaming face as he explained how the ruins had
- gone.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>He had caused the wall to be built out of the stones of the ancient
- castle, to save expense.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- If reporters were only afforded a little leisure, any one of them who has
- lived in a large town could compile an interesting volume of his
- experiences. I have often regretted that I could never master the art of
- shorthand. I worked at it for months when a boy, and made sufficient
- progress to be able to write it pretty fairly; but writing is not
- everything. The capacity for transcribing one’s notes is something to be
- taken into account; and it was at this point that I broke down, and was
- forced to become a novelist—a sort of novelist. The first time that
- I went up country in Africa, my stock of paper being limited, I carried
- only two pocket-books, and economised my space by taking my notes in
- shorthand. I had no occasion to refer to these notes until I was writing
- my novel “Daireen,” and then I found myself face to face with a hundred
- pages of hieroglyphs which were utterly unintelligible to me. In despair I
- brought them to a reporter, and he read them off for me much more rapidly
- than he or anyone else could read my ordinary handwriting to-day. In fact,
- he read just a little too fast,—I was forced to beg him to stop.
- There are some occurrences of which one takes a note in shorthand in one’s
- youth in a strange country, but which one does not wish particularly to
- offer to the perusal of strangers years afterwards.
- </p>
- <p>
- But although I could never be a reporter, I now and again availed myself
- of a reporter’s privileges, when I wished to be present at a trial that
- promised some interesting features to a student of good and evil. It
- seemed to me that the Parnell Commission was an epitome of the world’s
- history from the earliest date. No writer has yet done justice to that
- extraordinary incident. I have asked some reporters, who were present day
- after day, if they intended writing a real history of the Commission; not
- the foolish political history of the thing, but the story of all that was
- laid bare to their eyes hour after hour,—the passions of patriotism,
- of power, of hate, of revenge; the devotion to duty, the dogged heroism,
- the religious fervour; every day brought to light such examples of these
- varied attributes of the Irish nature as the world had never previously
- known.
- </p>
- <p>
- The reporters said they had no time to devote to such thankless work; and,
- besides, every one was sick of the Commission.
- </p>
- <p>
- Often as I went into the court and faced the scene, it never lost its
- glamour for me. Every day I seemed to be wandering through a world of
- romance. I could not sleep at night, so deeply impressed was I with the
- way certain witnesses returned the scrutiny of Sir Charles Russell; with
- the way Mr. Parnell hypnotised others; with the stories of the awful
- struggle of which Ireland was the centre.
- </p>
- <p>
- Going out of the courts one evening, I came upon an old man standing with
- his hat off and with one arm uplifted in an attitude of denunciation that
- was tragic beyond description. He was a handsome old man, very tall, but
- slightly stooped, and he clearly occupied a good position in the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- We were alone just outside the courts. I pretended that I had suddenly
- missed something. I stood thrusting my hands into my pockets and feeling
- between the buttons of my coat, for I meant to watch him. At last I pulled
- out my cigarette-case and strolled on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You were in that court?” the old man said, in a tone that assured me I
- had not underestimated his social position.
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not wait for me to reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You saw that man sitting with his cold impassive face while the tears
- were on the cheeks of every one else? Listen to me, sir! I called upon the
- Most High to strike him down—to strike him down—and my prayer
- was heard. I saw him lying, disgraced, deserted, dead, before my eyes; and
- so I shall see him before a year has passed. ‘Mene, mene, tekel,
- upharsin.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again he raised his arm in the direction of the court, and when I saw the
- light in his eyes I knew that I was looking at a prophet.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly he seemed to recover himself. He put on his hat and turned round
- upon me with something like angry surprise. I raised my hat. He did the
- same. He went in one direction and I went in the opposite.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a false prophet. Mr. Parnell was not dead within the year. In fact,
- he was not dead until two years and two months had passed. In accordance
- with the thoughtful provisions of the Mosaic code, that old gentleman
- deserved to be stoned for prophesying falsely. But his manner would almost
- have deceived a reporter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Having introduced the subject of the Parnell Commission, I may perhaps be
- permitted to express the hope that Sir Charles Russell will one day find
- sufficient leisure to give us a few chapters of his early history. I
- happen to know something of it. I am fully acquainted with the nature of
- some of its incidents, which certainly would be found by the public to
- possess many interesting and romantic elements; though, unlike the
- romantic episodes in the career of most persons, those associated with the
- early life of Sir Charles Russell reflect only credit upon himself. Every
- one should know by this time that the question of what is Patriotism and
- what is not is altogether dependent upon the nature of the Government of
- the country. In order to prolong its own existence for six months, a
- Ministry will take pains to alter the definition of the word Patriotism,
- and to prosecute every one who does not accept the new definition. Forty
- years ago the political lexicon was being daily revised. I need say no
- more on this point; only, if Sir Charles Russell means to give us some of
- the earlier chapters of his life he should lose no time in setting about
- the task. A Lord Chief Justice of England cannot reasonably be expected to
- deal with any romantic episodes in his own career, however important may
- be the part which he feels himself called on now and again to take in the
- delimitation of the romantic elements (of a different type) in the careers
- of others of Her Majesty’s subjects.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It may surprise some of those persons who have been unfortunate enough to
- find themselves witnesses for the prosecution in cases where Sir Charles
- Russell has appeared for the defence, to learn that in his young days he
- was exceedingly shy. He has lost a good deal of his early diffidence, or,
- at any rate, he manages to prevent its betraying itself in such a way as
- might tend to embarrass a hostile witness. As a rule, the witnesses do not
- find that bashfulness is the most prominent characteristic of his
- cross-examination. But I learned from an early associate of Sir Charles’s,
- that when his name appeared on the list to propose or to respond to a
- toast at one of the dinners of a patriotic society of which my informant
- as well as Sir Charles was a member, he would spend the day nervously
- walking about the streets, and apparently quite unable to collect his
- thoughts. Upon one occasion the proud duty devolved upon him of responding
- to the toast, “Ireland a Nation!” Late in the afternoon my informant, who
- at that time was a small shopkeeper—he is nothing very considerable
- to-day—found him in a condition of disorderly perturbation, and
- declaring that he had no single idea of what he should say, and he felt
- certain that unless he got the help of the man who afterwards became my
- informant he must inevitably break down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I laughed at him,” said the gentleman who had the courage to tell the
- story which I have the courage to repeat, “and did my best to give him
- confidence. ‘Sure any fool could respond to “Ireland a Nation!”’ said I;
- ‘and you’ll do it as well as any other.’ But even this didn’t give him
- courage,” continued my informant, “and I had to sit down and give him the
- chief points to touch on in his speech. He wrung my hand, and in the
- evening he made a fine speech, sir. Man, but it was a pity that there
- weren’t more of the party sober enough to appreciate it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I tell this tale as it was told to me, by a respectable tradesman whose
- integrity has never been questioned.
- </p>
- <p>
- It occurred to me that that quality in which, according to his interesting
- reminiscence of forty years ago, his friend Russell was deficient, is not
- one that could with any likelihood of success be attributed to the
- narrator.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- If any student of good and evil—the two fruits, alas! grow upon the
- same tree—would wish for a more startling example of the effect of a
- strong emotion upon certain temperaments than was afforded the people
- present in the Dublin Police Court on the day that Carey left the dock and
- the men he was about to betray to the gallows, that student would indeed
- be exacting.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had been told by a constabulary officer what was coming, so that, unlike
- most persons in the court, I was not too startled to be able to observe
- every detail of the scene. Carey was talking to a brother ruffian named
- Brady quite unconcernedly, and Brady was actually smiling, when an officer
- of constabulary raised his finger and the informer stepped out of the
- dock, and two policemen in plain clothes moved to his side. Carey glanced
- back at his doomed accomplices, and muttered some words to Brady. I did
- not quite catch them, but I thought the words were, “It’s half an hour
- ahead of you that I am, Joe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brady simply looked at his betrayer, whom it seems he had been anxious to
- betray. There was absolutely no expression upon his face. Some of the
- others of the same murderous gang seemed equally unaffected. One of them
- turned and spat on the floor. But upon the faces of at least two of the
- men there was a look of malignity that transformed them into fiends. It
- was the look that accompanies the stab of the assassin. Another of them
- gave a laugh, and said something to the man nearest to him; but the laugh
- was not responded to.
- </p>
- <p>
- The youngest of the gang stared at one of the windows of the court-house
- in a way that showed me he had not been able to grasp the meaning of
- Carey’s removal from the dock.
- </p>
- <p>
- In half-an-hour every expression worn by the faces of the men had changed.
- They all had a look that might almost have been regarded as jocular. There
- can be no doubt that when a man realises that he has been sentenced to
- death, his first feeling is one of relief. His suspense is over—so
- much is certain. He feels that—and that only—for an hour or
- so. I could see no change on the faces of these poor wretches whom the
- Mephistophelian fun of Fate had induced to call themselves Invincible, in
- order that no devilish element might be wanting in the tragedy of the
- Phoenix Park.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I do not suppose that many persons are acquainted with the secret history
- of the detection of the “Invincibles.” I think I am right in stating that
- it has never yet been made public. I am not at liberty to mention the
- source whence I derived my knowledge of some of the circumstances that led
- to the arrest of Carey, but there is no doubt in my mind as to the
- accuracy of my “information received” on this matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- It may, perhaps, be remembered that, some months after the date of the
- murders, a strange advertisement appeared in almost every newspaper in
- Great Britain. It stated that if the man who had told another, on the
- afternoon of May 6th, 1882, that he had once enjoyed a day’s skating on
- the pond at the Viceregal Lodge, would communicate with the Chief of the
- Detective Department at Dublin Castle, he would be thanked. Now beyond the
- fact that May 6th was the date of the murders, and that they had taken
- place in the Phoenix Park, there was nothing in this advertisement to
- suggest that it had any bearing upon the shocking incident; still there
- was a general feeling that it had a very intimate connection with the
- efforts that the police were making to unravel the mystery of the outrage;
- and this impression was well founded.
- </p>
- <p>
- I learned that the strangely-worded advertisement had been inserted in the
- newspapers at the instigation of a constabulary officer, who had, in many
- disguises, been endeavouring to find some clue to the assassins in Dublin.
- One evening he slouched into a public-house bespattered as a bricklayer,
- and took a seat in a box, facing a pint of stout. He had been in
- public-house after public-house every Saturday night for several weeks
- without obtaining the slightest suggestion as to the identity of the
- murderers, and he was becoming discouraged; but on this particular evening
- he had his reward, for he overheard a man in the next box telling some
- others, who were drinking with him, that Lord Spencer was not such a bad
- sort of man as might be supposed from the mere fact of his being
- Lord-Lieutenant. He (the narrator) had been told by a man in the Phoenix
- Park on the very evening of the murders that he (the man) had not been
- ashamed to cheer Lord Spencer on his arrival at Dublin that day, for when
- he had last been in Dublin he had allowed him to skate upon the pond in
- the Viceregal grounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- The officer dared not stir from his place: he knew that if he were at all
- suspected of being a detective, his life would not be worth five minutes’
- purchase. He could only hope to catch a glimpse of some of the party when
- they were leaving the place. He failed to do so, for some cause—I
- cannot remember what it was—nor could the barmaid give any
- satisfactory reply to his cautiously casual enquiries as to the names of
- any of the men who had occupied the box.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was then that the advertisement was inserted in the various newspapers;
- and, after the lapse of some weeks, a man presented himself to the Chief
- of the Criminal Investigation Department, saying that he believed the
- advertisement referred to him. The man seemed a respectable artisan, and
- his story was that one day during the last winter that Earl Spencer had
- been in Ireland, he (the man) had left his work in order to have a few
- hours’ skating on the ponds attached to the Zoological Gardens in the
- Phoenix Park, but on arriving at the ponds he found that the ice had been
- broken. “I was just going away,” the man said, “when a gentleman with a
- long beard spoke to me, and enquired if I had had a good skate. I told him
- that I was greatly disappointed, as the ice had all been broken, and I
- would lose my day’s pay. He took a card out of his pocket, and wrote
- something on it,” continued the man, “and then handed it to me, saying,
- ‘Give that to the porter at the Viceregal Lodge, and you’ll have the best
- day’s skating you have had in all your life.’ He said what was true: I
- handed in the card and told the porter that a tall gentleman with a beard
- had given it to me. ‘That was His Excellency himself,’ said the porter, as
- he brought me down to the pond, where, sure enough, I had such a day’s
- skating as I’ve never had before or since.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you were in the Phoenix Park on the evening of the murders?” said the
- Chief of the Department.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must have been there within half-an-hour of the time they were
- committed,” replied the man. “But I know nothing of them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m convinced of it,” said the officer. “But I should like to hear if you
- met any one you knew in the Park as you were coming away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I only met one man whose name I knew,” said the other, “and that was a
- builder that I have done some jobs for: James Carey is his name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was precisely the one bit of evidence that was required for the
- committal of Carey.
- </p>
- <p>
- An hour afterwards he offered to turn Queen’s Evidence.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV.—IRELAND AS A FIELD FOR REPORTERS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>The humour of the Irish Bench—A circus at Bombay—Mr.
- Justice Lawson—The theft of a pig—“Reasonably suspected”—A
- prima facie case for the prosecution—The defence—The judge’s
- charge—The scope of a judge’s duties in Ireland—Collaring a
- prisoner—A gross contempt of court—How the contempt was purged—The
- riotous city—The reporter as a war correspondent—“Good mixed
- shooting”—The tram-car driver cautioned—The “loot” mistaken
- for a violin—The arrest in the cemetery—Pommelling a policeman—A
- treat not to be shared—A case of discipline—The German
- infantry—A real grievance—“Palmam qui meruit ferat.”</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE is plenty of
- light as well as gloom to be found in the law courts, especially in
- Ireland. Until recently, the Irish Bench included many humorists. Perhaps
- the last of the race was Mr. Baron Dowse. Reporters were constantly giving
- me accounts of the brilliant sallies of this judge; but I must confess it
- seemed to me that most of the examples which I heard were susceptible of
- being regarded as evidence of the judge’s good memory rather than of his
- original powers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon one occasion, he complained of the misprints in newspapers, and
- stated that some time before, he had made the quotation in court, “Better
- fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay,” but the report of the case
- in the newspaper attributed to him the statement, “Better fifty years of
- Europe than a circus at Bombay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He omitted giving the name of the paper that had so ill-treated him and
- Lord Tennyson. He had not been a judge for fifteen years without becoming
- acquainted with the rudiments of story-telling.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Justice Lawson was another Irish judge with a strong vein of humour
- which he sometimes repressed, for I do not think that he took any great
- pleasure in listening to that hearty, spontaneous, and genial outburst of
- laughter that greets every attempt at humour on the part of a judge. It is
- a nasty thing to say, but I do believe that he now and again doubted the
- sincerity of the appreciation of even the junior counsel. A reporter who
- was present at one Cork Assizes when Lawson was at his best, told me a
- story of his charge to a jury which conveys a very good idea of what his
- style of humour was.
- </p>
- <p>
- A man was indicted for stealing a pig—an animal common in some parts
- of Ireland. He was found driving it along, with no more than the normal
- amount of difficulty which such an operation involves; and on being spoken
- to by the sergeant of constabulary, he stated that he had bought the pig
- in a neighbouring town, and that he had paid a certain specified sum for
- it. On the same evening, however, a report reached the police barrack that
- a pig, the description of which corresponded with the recollection which
- the sergeant retained of the one which he had seen some hours before, had
- been stolen from its home in the neighbourhood. The owner was brought face
- to face with the animal that the sergeant had met, and it was identified
- as the one that had been stolen. The man in whose possession the pig was
- found was again very frank in stating where he had bought it; but his
- second account of the transaction was not on all fours with his first, and
- the person from whom he said he had purchased it, denied all knowledge of
- the sale—in fact, he was able to show that he was at Waterford at
- the time he was alleged to be disposing of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- All these facts were clearly proved; and no attempt was made to controvert
- them in the defence. The counsel for the prisoner admitted that the police
- had a good <i>prima facie</i> case for the arrest of his client; there
- were, undoubtedly, some grounds for suspecting that the animal had
- disappeared from the custody of its owner through the instrumentality of
- the prisoner; but he felt sure that when the jury had heard the witnesses
- for the defence, they would admit that it was utterly impossible to
- conceive the notion that he had had anything whatever to do with the
- matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- The parish priest was the first witness called, and he stated that he had
- known the prisoner for several years, and had always regarded him as a
- thrifty, sober, hard-working man, adding that he was most regular in his
- attendance to his religious duties. Then the episcopal clergyman was
- examined, and stated that the prisoner was an excellent father and a
- capital gardener; he also knew something about the care of poultry.
- Several of the prisoner’s neighbours testified to his respectability and
- his readiness to oblige them, even at considerable personal inconvenience.
- </p>
- <p>
- After the usual speeches, the judge summed up as follows:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the evidence in the case, and it’s
- not for me to say that any of it is false. The police sergeant met the
- prisoner driving the stolen pig, and the prisoner gave two different
- accounts as to how it had come into his possession, but neither of these
- accounts could be said to have a particle of truth in it. On the other
- hand, however, you have heard the evidence of the two clergymen, to whom
- the prisoner was well known. Nothing could be more satisfactory than the
- character they gave him. Then you heard the evidence given by the
- neighbours of the prisoner, and I’m sure you’ll agree with me that nothing
- could be more gratifying than the way they all spoke of his neighbourly
- qualities. Now, gentlemen, although no attempt whatever has been made by
- the defence to meet the evidence given for the prosecution, yet I feel it
- necessary to say that it is utterly impossible that you should ignore the
- testimony given as to the character of the prisoner by so many witnesses
- of unimpeachable integrity; therefore, gentlemen, I think that the only
- conclusion you can come to is that the pig was stolen by the prisoner and
- that he is the most amiable man in the County Cork.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Justice Lawson used to boast that he was the only judge on the Bench
- who had ever arrested a man with his own hand. The circumstances connected
- with this remarkable incident were related to me by a reporter who was
- present in the court when the judge made the arrest.
- </p>
- <p>
- The <i>locale</i> was the court-house of an assize town in the South of
- Ireland. For several days the Crown had failed to obtain a conviction,
- although in the majority of the cases the evidence was practically
- conclusive; and as each prisoner was either sent back or set free, the
- crowds of sympathisers made an uproar that all the ushers in attendance
- were powerless to suppress. On the fourth day the judge, at the opening of
- the court, called for the County Inspector of Constabulary, and, when the
- officer was brought from the billiard-room of the club, and bustled in,
- all sabre and salute, the judge, in his quiet way, remarked to him, “I’m
- sorry for troubling you, sir, but I just wished to say that as the court
- has been turned into a bear-garden for some hours during the past three
- days, I intend to hold you responsible for the maintenance of perfect
- order to-day. Your duty is to arrest every man, woman, or child that makes
- any demonstration of satisfaction or dissatisfaction at the result of the
- hearing of a case, and to put them in the dock, and give evidence as to
- their contempt of court. I’ll deal with them after that.” The officer went
- down, and orders were given to his men, of whom there were about fifty in
- the court, to arrest any one expressing his feelings. The first prisoner
- to be tried was a man named O’Halloran, and his case excited a great deal
- of interest. The court was crowded to a point of suffocation while the
- judge was summing up, which he did with a directness that left nothing to
- be desired. In five minutes the jury had returned a verdict of “Not
- Guilty.” At that instant a wild “Hurroo!” rang through the court. It came
- from a youth who had climbed a pillar at a distance of about a yard from
- the Bench. In a moment the judge had put out his hand and grasped the
- fellow by the collar; and then, of course, the policemen crushed through
- the crowd, and about a dozen of them seized the prehensible legs of the
- prisoner Stylites.
- </p>
- <p>
- “One of you will be ample,” said the judge. “Don’t pull the boy to pieces;
- let him down gently.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This operation was carried out, and the excitable youth was placed in the
- dock, whence the prisoner just tried had stepped.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” said the judge, “I’m going to make an example of you. You heard
- what I said to the Inspector of Constabulary, and yet I arrested you with
- my own hand in the very act of committing a gross contempt of court. I’ll
- make an example of you for the benefit of others. What’s your name?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “O’Halloran, yer honour,” said the trembling youth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Isn’t that the name of the prisoner who has just been tried?” said the
- judge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is, my lord,” replied the registrar.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is the last prisoner any relation of yours?” the judge asked of the youth
- in the dock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s me brother, yer honour,” was the reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Release the boy, and go on with the business of the court,” said the
- judge.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I chanced to be in Belfast at the time of the riots in 1886, and my
- experience of the incidents of every day and every night led me to believe
- that British troops have been engaged in some campaigns that were a good
- deal less risky to war correspondents than the riots were to the local
- newspaper reporters. Six of them were more or less severely wounded in the
- course of a week. I found it necessary, more than once, to go through the
- localities of the disturbances, and I must confess that I was always glad
- when I found myself out of the line of fire. I am strongly of the opinion
- that the reporters should have been paid at the ratio of war
- correspondents at that time. When they engaged themselves they could not
- have contemplated the possibility of being forced daily for several weeks
- to stand up before a fusilade of stones weighing a pound or so each, and
- Martini-Henry bullets, with an occasional iron “nut” thrown in to make up
- weight, as it were. In the words of the estate agents’ advertisements,
- there was a great deal of “good mixed shooting” in the streets almost
- nightly for a month.
- </p>
- <p>
- Several ludicrous incidents took place while the town was crowded with
- constabulary who had been brought hastily from the country districts. A
- reporter told me that he was the witness of an earnest remonstrance on the
- part of a young policeman with a tram-car driver, whom he advised to take
- his “waggon” down some of the side streets, in order to escape the angry
- crowd that had assembled farther up the road. Upon another occasion, a
- grocer’s shop had been looted by the mob at night, and a man had been
- fortunate enough to secure a fine ham which he was endeavouring, but with
- very partial success, to secrete beneath his coat. A whole ham takes a
- good deal of secreting. The police had orders to clear the street, and
- they were endeavouring to obey these orders. The man with the ham received
- a push on his shoulder, and the policeman by whom it was dealt, shouted
- out in a fine, rich Southern brogue (abhorred in Belfast), “Git along wid
- ye, now thin, you and yer violin. Is this any toime for ye to be after
- lookin’ to foind an awjence? Ye’ll get that violin broke, so ye will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man was only too glad to hurry on with his “Strad.” of fifteen pounds’
- weight, mild-cured. He did not wait to explain that there is a difference
- between the viol and “loot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- One of the country policemen made an arrest of a man whom he saw in the
- act of throwing a stone, and the next day he gave his evidence at the
- Police Court very clearly. He had ascertained that the scene of the arrest
- was York Street, and he said so; but the street is about a mile long, and
- the magistrate wished to know at what part of it the incident had
- occurred.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was just outside the cimitery, yer wash’p,” replied the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The cemetery?” said the magistrate. “But there’s no cemetery in York
- Street.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, yer wash’p—there’s a foine cimitery there,” said the
- policeman. “It was was just outside the cimitery I arrested the prisoner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the first I’ve heard of a cemetery in that neighbourhood,” said the
- Bench. “Don’t you think the constable is mistaken, sergeant?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The sergeant put a few questions to the witness, and asked him how he knew
- that the place was a cemetery.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, how would anybody know a cimitery except by the tombstones?” said
- the witness. “I didn’t go for to dig up a corp or two, but there was the
- foinest array of tombstones I ever clapt oyes on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the stonecutter’s yard the man means,” came a voice from the body of
- the court; and in another moment there was a roar of laughter from all
- present.
- </p>
- <p>
- The arrest had been made outside a stonecutter’s railed yard, and the
- strange policeman had taken the numerous specimens of the proprietor’s
- craft, which were standing around in various stages of progress, for the
- <i>bona fide</i> furnishing of a graveyard.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was scarcely to be blamed for his error.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I believe that it was during these riots the story originated—it is
- now pretty well known, I think—of the man who had caught a
- policeman, and was holding his head down while he battered him, when a
- brother rowdy rushed up, crying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who have you there, Bill?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A policeman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hold on, and let me have a thump at him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Git along out of this, and find a policeman for yourself!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Having referred to the Royal Irish Constabulary, I may not perhaps be
- regarded as more than usually discursive if I add my expression of
- admiration for this splendid Force to the many pages of commendation which
- it has received from time to time from those whose opinion carries weight
- with it—which mine does not. The men are the flower of the people of
- Ireland. They have a <i>sense</i> of discipline—it has not to be
- impressed upon them by an occasional “fortnight’s C.B.” Upon one occasion,
- I was the witness of the extent to which this innate sense of discipline
- will stretch without the breaking strain being reached. One of the most
- distinguished officers in the Force was parading about one hundred men
- armed with the usual carbine—the handiest of weapons—and with
- swords fixed. He was mounted on a charger with some blood in it—you
- would not find the same man astride of anything else—and for several
- days it had been looking down the muzzles of the rifles of a couple of
- regiments of autumn manoeuvrers who had been engaged in a sham fight in
- the Park; but it had never shown the least uneasiness, even when the Field
- Artillery set about the congenial task of annihilating a skeleton enemy.
- It stood patiently while the constabulary “ported,” “carried,” and
- “shouldered”; but so soon as the order to “present” was given, a gleam of
- sunlight glanced down the long line of fixed swords, and that twinkle was
- just what an Irish charger, born and bred among the fogs of the Atlantic
- seaboard, could not stand. It whirled round, and went at full gallop
- across the springy turf, then suddenly stopped, sending its rider about
- twenty yards ahead upon his hands and knees. After this feat, it allowed
- itself to be quietly captured by the mounted orderly who had galloped
- after it. The orderly dismounted from his horse, and passed it on to the
- officer, who galloped back to the long line of men standing at the
- “present” just as they had been before he had left them so hurriedly. They
- received the order to “shoulder” without emotion, and then the parade went
- on as if nothing had happened. Subsequently, the officer remounted his own
- charger—which had been led up, and had offered an ample apology—and
- in course of time he again gave the order to “present.” The horse’s ears
- went back, but it did not move a hoof. After the “shoulder” and “port” the
- officer made the men “charge swords,” and did not halt them until they
- were within a yard of the horse’s head. The manouvre had no effect upon
- the animal.
- </p>
- <p>
- I could not help contrasting the discipline shown by the Irish
- Constabulary upon this occasion with the bearing of a company of a
- regiment of German Infantry, who were being paraded in the Thiergarten at
- Berlin, when I was riding there one day. The captain and lieutenant had
- strolled away from the men, leaving them standing, not “at ease,” but at
- “attention”—I think the officers were making sure that the carriage
- of the Crown Prince was not coming in their direction. But before two
- minutes had passed the men were standing as easy as could well be,
- chatting together, and suggesting that the officers were awaiting the
- approach of certain young ladies, about whose personal traits and whose
- profession they were by no means reticent. Of course, when the officers
- turned, the men stood at “attention”; but I trotted on to where I lived In
- Den Zelten, feeling that there was but little sense of discipline in the
- German Army—so readily does a young man arrive at a grossly
- erroneous conclusion through generalising from a single instance.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It is difficult to understand how it comes that the splendid services of
- the Royal Irish Constabulary have not been recognised by the State. I have
- known officers who served on the staff during the Egyptian campaign, but
- who confessed to me that they never heard a shot fired except for saluting
- purposes, and yet they wore three decorations for this campaign. Surely
- those Irish Constabulary officers, who have discharged the most perilous
- duties from time to time, as well as daily duties requiring the exercise
- of tact, discretion, judgment, and patience, are at least as deserving of
- a medal as those soldiers who obtained the maximum of reward at the
- minimum of risk in Egypt, South Africa, or Ashantee. The decoration of the
- Volunteers was a graceful recognition of the spirit that binds together
- these citizen soldiers. Surely the services of some members of the Irish
- Constabulary should be similarly recognised. This is a genuine Irish
- grievance, and it is one that could be redressed much more easily than the
- majority of the ills that the Irish people are heir to. A vote for a
- thousand pounds would purchase the requisite number of medals or stars or
- crosses—perhaps all three might be provided out of such a fund—for
- those members of the Force who have distinguished themselves. The right
- adjudication of the rewards presents no difficulty, owing to the “record”
- system which prevails in the Force.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV.—IRISH TROTTINGS AND JOTTINGS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>Some Irish hotels—When comfort comes in at the door, humour flies
- out by the window—A culinary experience—Plenty of new
- sensations—A kitchen blizzard—How to cook corned beef—A
- théoriser—Hare soup—A word of encouragement—The result—An
- avenue forty-two miles long—Nuda veritas—An uncanny request—A
- diabolic lunch—A club dinner—The pièce de resistance—Not
- a going concern—A minor prophecy—An easy drainage system—Not
- to be worked by an amateur—Après moi, le deluge—Hot water and
- its accompaniments—The boots as Atropos—A story of Thackeray—A
- young shaver.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN writing for an
- Irish newspaper, I took some pains to point out how easily the country
- might be made attractive to tourists if only the hotels were improved. I
- have had frequent “innings,” and my experiences of Irish hotels in various
- districts where I have shot, or fished, or yachted, or boated, would make
- a pretty thick volume, if recorded. But while most of these experiences
- have some grain of humour in them, that humour is of a type that looks
- best when viewed from a distance. When it is first sprung upon him, this
- Irish fun is not invariably relished by the traveller.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Max O’Rell told me that he liked the Irish hotels at which he had
- sojourned, because he was acknowledged by the <i>maîtres</i> to possess an
- identity that could not be adequately expressed by numerals. But on the
- whole it is my impression that the numerical system is quite tolerable if
- one gets good food and a clean sleeping-place. To be sure there is no
- humour in a comfortable dinner, or a bed that does not require a layer of
- Keating to be spread as a sedative to the army of occupation; still,
- though the story of tough chickens and midnight hunts can be made
- genuinely entertaining, I have never found that these actual incidents
- were in themselves very inspiriting.
- </p>
- <p>
- A friend of mine who has a capital shooting in a picturesque district, was
- compelled to lodge, and to ask his guests to lodge, at the little inn
- during his first shooting season. Knowing that the appetite of men who
- have been walking over mountains of heather is not usually very
- fastidious, he fancied that the inn cook would be quite equal to the
- moderate demands made upon her skill. The experiment was a disastrous one.
- The more explicit the instructions the woman was given regarding the
- preparation of the game, the more mortifying to the flesh were her
- achievements. There was, it is true, a certain amount of interest aroused
- among us every day as to the form that the culinary whim of the cook would
- assume. The monarch that offered a reward for the discovery of a new
- sensation would have had a good time with us. We had new sensations at the
- dinner hour every day. “Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we
- may be,” was an apothegm that found constant illustration when applied to
- that woman’s methods: we knew that we gave her salmon, and grouse, and
- hare, and snipe; but what was served to us, Heaven and that cook only knew—on
- second thoughts I will leave Heaven out of the question altogether. The
- monstrous originalities, the appalling novelties, the confounding of
- substances, the unnatural daring manifested in every day’s dinner, filled
- us with amazement, but, alas! with nothing else. We were living in a sort
- of perpetual kitchen blizzard—in the centre of a culinary chaos. The
- whirl was too much for us.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our host took upon him to allay the fiend. He sent to the nearest town for
- butcher’s supplies. The first joint that arrived was a fine piece of
- corned beef.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There, my good woman,” cried our host, putting it into the cook’s hands,
- “I suppose you can cook that, if you can’t cook game.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, your honour, it’s misself that can cook it tubbe sure,” she
- cried in her lighthearted way.
- </p>
- <p>
- She did cook it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>She roasted it for five hours on a spit in front of the kitchen fire.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- As she laid it on the table, she apologised for the unavoidable absence of
- gravy.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the driest joint she had ever roasted, she said; and I do believe
- that it was.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- One of the party, who had theories on the higher education of women, and
- other methods of increasing the percentage of unmarriageable females, said
- that the cook had never been properly approached. She could not be
- expected to know by intuition that the flavour of salmon trout was
- impaired by being stewed in a cauldron with a hare and many friends, or
- that the prejudices of an effete civilisation did not extend so far as to
- make the boiling of grouse in a pot with bacon a necessity of existence.
- The woman only needed a hint or two and she would be all right.
- </p>
- <p>
- He said he would give her a hint or two. He made soup the basis of his
- first hints.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was so simple, he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- He picked up a couple of hares, an old cock grouse and a few snipe, and
- told the woman to put them in a pot, cover them with water, and leave them
- to simmer—“Not to boil, mind; you understand?”—“Oh, tubbe
- sure, sorr,”—for the six hours that we would be on the mountain. He
- showed her how to cut up onions, and they cut up some between them; he
- then taught her how to fry an onion in the most delicate of ribbon-like
- slices for “browning.” All were added to the pot, and our friend joined us
- with a very red face, and carrying about him a flavour of fried onions as
- well defined as a saint’s halo by Fra Angelico. The dogs sniffed at him
- for a while, and so did the keeper.
- </p>
- <p>
- He declared that the woman was a most intelligent specimen, and quite
- ready to learn. We smiled grimly.
- </p>
- <p>
- All that day our friend shot nothing. We could see that, like Eugene Aram,
- his thought was otherwhere. We knew that he was thinking over the coming
- soup.
- </p>
- <p>
- On returning to the inn after a seven hours’ tramp, he hastened to the
- kitchen. A couple of us loitered outside the door, for we felt certain
- that a surprise was awaiting our friend—the pot would have leaked,
- perhaps; but the savoury smell that filled the kitchen and overflowed into
- the lobby and the room where we dined made us aware that everything was
- right.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our friend turned a stork’s eye into the pot, and then, with a word of
- kind commendation to the cook—“A man’s word of encouragement is
- everything to a woman, my lad, with a wink to me—he called for a
- pint of port wine and placed it handy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” said he to the woman, “strain off that soup in a quarter of an
- hour, add that wine, and we’ll show these gentlemen that between us we can
- cook.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In a quarter of an hour we were sitting round the table. Our friend tried
- to look modest and devoid of all self-consciousness as the woman entered
- with a glow of crimson triumph on her face, and bearing in her hands an
- immense dish with the well-known battered zinc cover concealing the
- contents.
- </p>
- <p>
- Down went the dish, and up went the cover, disclosing a rugged,
- mountainous heap of the bones of hare, with threads of flesh still
- adhering to them, and the skeletons of some birds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good Lord!” cried our host. “What’s this anyway? The rags of what was
- stewed down for the soup?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Our theorising friend leapt up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Woman,” he shouted, “where the devil is the soup?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sure, didn’t ye bid me strain it off, sorr?” said the woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And where the blazes did you strain it off?” he asked, in an awful
- whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, where should I be after straining it, sorr, but into the bog?” she
- replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bog was an incident of the landscape at the back of the inn.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I recollect that upon the occasion of this shooting party, a new
- under-keeper arrived from Connaught, and I overheard him telling a
- colleague who came from the county Clare, that the avenue leading to his
- last employer’s residence was forty-two miles long.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By me sowl,” said the Clare man, “it’s not me that would like to be set
- down at the lodge gates on an empty stomach within half-an-hour of
- dinner-time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After some further conversation, the Connaught man began to dilate upon
- the splendour of his late master’s family. He reached a truly dramatic
- climax by saying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “And every night of their lives at home the ladies strip for dinner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holy Moses!” was the comment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do your master’s people at home strip for dinner?” enquired the Connaught
- man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No; but they link in,” was the thoughtful reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sometimes, it must be acknowledged, an unreasonable strain is put upon the
- resources of an Irish inn by an inconsiderate tourist. Some years ago, my
- brother-in-law, Bram Stoker, was spending his holiday in a picturesque
- district of the south-west. He put up at the usual inn, and before leaving
- for a ramble, oh the morning of his arrival, the cook (and waitress) asked
- him what he would like for lunch. The day was a trifle chilly, and,
- forgetting for the moment that he was not within the precincts of the
- Green-room or the Garrick, he said, “Oh, I think that it’s just the day
- for a devil—yes, I’ll cat a devil at two.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holy Saints!” cried the woman, as he walked off. “What sort of a man is
- that at all, at all? He wants to lunch off the Ould Gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The landlord scratched his chin and said that this was the most
- unreasonable demand that had ever been made upon his house. He expressed
- the opinion that the gastronome whose palate was equal to this particular
- <i>plat</i> should seek it elsewhere—he even ventured to specify the
- <i>locale</i> at which the search might appropriately begin with the best
- chances of being realised. His wife, however, took a less despondent view
- of the situation, and suggested that as the powers of exorcising the Foul
- Fiend were delegated to the priest, it might be only reasonable to assume
- that the reverend gentleman would be equal to the much less difficult feat
- involved in the execution of the tourist’s order.
- </p>
- <p>
- But before the priest had been sent for, the constabulary officer drove
- up, and was consulted on the question that was agitating the household.
- With a roar of laughter, the officer called for a couple of chops and the
- mustard and cayenne pots—he had been there before—and showed
- the cook the way out of her difficulty.
- </p>
- <p>
- But up to the present hour I hear that that landlord says,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the powers, it’s misself that never knew what a divil was till Mr.
- Stoker came to my house.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- However piquant a comestible the Foul Fiend might be, I believe that in
- point of toughness he would compare favourably with a fully-matured swan.
- Among the delicacies of the table I fear that the swan will not obtain
- great honour, if any dependence may be placed upon a story which was told
- to me at a fishing inn in Connemara, regarding an experiment accidentally
- tried upon such a bird. I repeat the story in this place, lest any
- literary man may be led to pamper a weak digestion by indulging in a swan
- supper. The specimen in question was sent by a gentleman, who lived in a
- stately home in Lincolnshire, as a gift to the Athenæum club, of which he
- was a member. The bird was addressed to the secretary, and that gentleman
- without delay handed it over to the cook to be prepared for the table.
- There was to be a special dinner at the end of the week, and the committee
- thought that a distinctive feature might be made of the swan. They were
- not mistaken. As a <i>coup d’oil</i> the swan, resting on a great silver
- dish, carried to the table by two servitors, could scarcely have been
- surpassed even by the classical peacock or the mediaeval boar’s head. The
- croupier plunged a fork with a steady hand into the right part—wherever
- that was situated—and then attacked the breast with his knife. Not
- the slightest impression could he make upon that portion of the mighty
- structure that faced him. The breast turned the edge of the knife; and
- when the breast did that the people at the table began to wonder what the
- drum-sticks would be like. A stronger blade was sent for, and an athlete—he
- was not a member of the Athenæum—essayed to penetrate the skin, and
- succeeded too, after a vigorous struggle. When he had wiped the drops from
- his brow he went at the flesh with confidence in his own powers. By some
- brilliant wrist-practice he contrived to chip a few flakes off, but it
- soon became plain that eating any one of them was out of the question. One
- might as well submit as a <i>plat</i> a drawer of a collector’s geological
- cabinet. The club cook was sent for, and he explained that he had had no
- previous experience of swans, but he considered that the thirteen hours’
- boiling to which he had submitted the first specimen that had come under
- his notice, all that could reasonably be required by any bird, whether
- swan or cassowary. He thought that perhaps with a circular saw, after a
- steam roller had been passed a few times over the carcass, it might be
- possible....
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I hope you got my swan all right,” said the donor a few days after,
- addressing the secretary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was a nice joke you played on us,” said the secretary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Joke? What do you mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As if you didn’t know! We had the thing boiled for thirteen hours, and
- yet when it was brought to the table we might as well have tried to cut
- through the Rock of Gibraltar with a pocket-knife.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean? You don’t mean to say that you had it cooked?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn’t you send it to be cooked?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cooked! cooked! Great heavens, man! I sent it to be stuffed and preserved
- as a curiosity in the club. That swan has been in my family for two
- hundred and eighty years. It was one of the identical birds fed by the
- children of Charles I.—you’ve seen the picture of it. My ancestor
- held the post of ‘master of the swans and keeper of the king’s cygnets
- sure.’ It is said that a swan will live for three hundred years or
- thereabouts. And you plucked it, and cooked it! Great heavens! It was a
- bit tough, I suppose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tough?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; I daresay you’d be tough, too, about a.d. 2200. And I thought it
- would look so well in the hall!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same time that the tale just recorded was told to me, I heard
- another Lincolnshire story. I do not suppose that it is new. A certain
- church was situated at a place that was within the sphere of influence of
- some fens when in flood. The consequence was that during a severe winter,
- divine service was held only every second Sunday. Once, however, the
- weather was so bad that the parson did not think it worth his while going
- near the church for five Sundays. This fact came to the ears of the
- Bishop, and he wrote for an explanation. The clergyman replied as follows:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your lordship has been quite correctly informed regarding the length of
- the interval that has elapsed since my church was open; but the fact is
- that the devil himself couldn’t get at my parishioners in the winter, and
- I promise your lordship to be before him in the spring.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- That parson took a humbler view of his position and privileges in the
- world than did a Presbyterian minister in Ulster whose pompous way of
- moving and of speaking drew toward him many admirers and imitators. He
- paid a visit to Palestine at one time of his life, and on his return, he
- preached a sermon introducing some of his experiences. Now, the only
- inhabitants of the Holy Land that the majority of travellers can talk
- about are the fleas; but this Presbyterian minister had much to tell about
- all that he had seen. It was, however, only when he began to show his
- flock how strictly the inspiriting prophecies of Jeremiah and Joel and the
- rest had been fulfilled that he proved that he had not visited the country
- in vain.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear friends,” said he, “I read in the Sacred Book the prophecy that
- the land should be in heaps: I looked up from the page, and there, before
- my eyes, were the heaps. I read that the bittern should cry there: I
- looked up; lo! close at hand stood a bittern. I read that the Minister of
- the Lord should mourn there: <i>I was that minister.</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon one occasion, when sojourning at a picturesquely situated Connemara
- inn, hot water was left outside my bedroom door in a handy soup tureen, in
- which there was also a ladle reposing. One morning in the same “hotel” I
- called the attention of the official, who discharged (indifferently) the
- duties of boots and landlord, to the circumstance that my bath
- (recollecting the advertisement of the entertainment which it was possible
- to obtain under certain conditions at the Norwegian inn, I had brought the
- bath with me) had not been emptied since the previous day. The man said,
- “It’s right that you are, sorr,” and forthwith remedied the omission by
- throwing the contents of the bath out of the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was so struck by the convenience of this system of main drainage, and it
- seemed so simple, that the next morning, finding that the bath was in the
- same condition as before, I thought to save trouble by performing the
- landlord’s operation for myself. I opened the window and tilted over the
- bath. In a moment there was a yell from below, and the air became
- sulphurous with Celtic maledictions. These were followed by roars of
- laughter in the vernacular, so that I thought it prudent to lower both the
- window and the blind without delay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holy Biddy!” remarked the landlord when I had descended to breakfast—not
- failing to observe that a portly figure was standing in a <i>semi-nude</i>
- condition in front of the kitchen fire, while on the back of a chair
- beside him a black coat was spread-eagled, sending forth a cloud of steam—“Holy
- Biddy, sorr, what was that ye did this morning, anyway?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean, Dennis?” I asked innocently. “I shaved and dressed as
- usual.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ye emptied the tin tub [<i>i.e</i>., my zinc bath] out of the windy over
- Father Conn,” replied the landlord. “It’s himself that’s being dried this
- minute before the kitchen fire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m very sorry,” said I. “You see, I fancied from the way you emptied the
- bath yesterday that that was the usual way of doing the business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it is, sorr,” said he. “But you should always be after looking out
- first to see that all’s clear below.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why don’t you have those directions printed and hung up in the bedroom?”
- said I, assuming—as I have always found it safe to do upon such
- occasions—the aggressive tone of the injured party.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We don’t have so many gentlemen coming here that’s so dirty that they
- need to be washed down every blessed marnin’,” he replied; and I thought
- it better to draw upon my newspaper experience, and quote the
- three-starred admonition, “All communications on this subject must now
- cease.”
- </p>
- <p>
- However, the trout which were laid on the table in front of me were so
- numerous, and looked so tempting, that I went into the kitchen, and after
- making an elaborate apology to Father Conn, the amiable parish priest, for
- the mishap he had sustained through my ignorance of the natural
- precautions necessary to be taken when preparing my bath, insisted on the
- reverend gentleman’s joining me at breakfast while his coat was being
- dried.
- </p>
- <p>
- With only a superficial reluctance, he accepted my invitation, remarking,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had my own breakfast a couple of hours ago, sir, but in troth I feel
- quite hungry again. Faith, it’s true enough that there’s nothing like a
- morning swim for giving a man an appetite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Two lady relatives of mine were on their way to a country house in the
- county Galway, and were compelled to stay for a night at the inn, which
- was a sort of half-way house between the railway station and their
- destination. On being shown to their bedroom while their dinner was being
- made ready, they naturally wished to remove from their faces the traces of
- their dusty drive of sixteen miles, so one of them bent over the banisters—there
- was no bell in the room, of course—and inquired if the servant would
- be good enough to carry upstairs some hot water.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely, miss,” the servant responded from below.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few minutes, the door of the bedroom was knocked at, and the woman
- entered, bearing in her hand a tray with two glasses, a saucer of loaf
- sugar, a lemon, a ladle, and a small jug of hot water.
- </p>
- <p>
- It appeared that in this district the use of hot water is unknown except
- as an accompaniment to whisky, a lemon, and a lump of sugar. The
- combination of the four is said to be both palatable and popular.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was at a much larger and more pretentious establishment in the
- south-west that I was staying when a box of books arrived for me from the
- library of Messrs. Eason & Son. It was tied with stout, tough cord,
- about as thick as one’s little finger. I was in the act of dressing when
- the boots brought up the box, so I asked him to open it for me. The man
- fumbled for some time at the knot, and at last he said he would have to
- cut the cord.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I had rubbed the soap out of my eyes,
- </p>
- <p>
- I noticed him in the act of sawing through the tough cord with one of my
- razors which I had laid on the dressing-table after shaving.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stop, stop,” I shouted. “Man, do you know that that’s a razor?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it’ll do well enough for this, sir. I’ve forgot my knife downstairs,”
- said the man complacently.
- </p>
- <p>
- If the razor did for the operation, the operation certainly did for the
- razor.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- And here I am led to recall a story told to me by the late Dr. George
- Crowe, the husband of Miss Bateman, the distinguished actress, and brother
- to Mr. Eyre Crowe, A.R.A. It will be remembered by all who are familiar
- with the chief incidents in the life of Thackeray, that in 1853 he adopted
- Miss Amy Crowe (her father, an historian and journalist of eminence in his
- day, had been one of the novelist’s closest friends), and she became one
- of the Thackeray household. Her brother George was at school, but he had
- “the run of the house,” so to speak, in Onslow Square. Next to the desire
- to become an expert smoker, the desire to become an accomplished shaver
- is, I think, the legitimate aspiration of boyhood; and George Crowe had
- his longings in this direction, when examining Thackeray’s razors with the
- other contents of his dressing-room one day. The means of gratifying such
- an aspiration are (fortunately) not invariably within the reach of most
- boys, and young Crowe was not exceptionally situated in this matter. The
- same spirit of earnest investigation, however, which had led him to
- discover the razors, caused him to find in one of the garrets an old but
- well-preserved travelling trunk, bound with ox-hide, and studded with
- brass nails. To spread a copious lather over a considerable part of the
- lid, and to set about the removal, by the aid of a razor, of the hair of
- the ox-hide, occupied the boy the greater part of an afternoon. Though not
- exactly so good as the real operation, this shave was, he considered, a
- move in the right direction; and it was certainly better than nothing at
- all. By a singular coincidence, it was about this time that Thackeray
- began to complain of the difficulty of putting an edge upon his razors,
- and to inquire if any one had been at the case where they were kept. Of
- course, no one except the boy knew anything about the business, and he,
- for prudential reasons, preserved silence. The area of the ox-hide that
- still remained hirsute was pretty extensive, and he foresaw many an hour
- of fearful joy, such as he had already tasted in the garret. Twice again
- he lathered and shaved at the ox-hide; but the third attempt was not a
- success, owing to the sudden appearance of the housekeeper, who led the
- boy to the novelist’s study and gave evidence against him, submitting as
- proofs the razor, the shaving-brush, and a portion of George Crowe’s thumb
- which he had inadvertently sliced off. Thackeray rose from his desk and
- mounted the stairs to the garret; and when the housekeeper followed,
- insisting on the boy’s accompanying her—probably on the French
- principle of confronting a murderer with the body of his victim—Thackeray
- was found seated on an unshaved portion of the trunk, and roaring with
- laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- So soon as he had recovered, he shook his finger at the delinquent (who,
- twenty-five years afterwards, told me the story), and merely said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “George, I see clearly that in future I’ll have to buy my trunks bald.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI.—IRISH TOURISTS AND TRAINS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>The late Emperor of Brazil—An incredulous hotel manager—The
- surprised A.R.A.—The Emperor as an early riser—The habits of
- the English actor—A new reputation—Signor Ciro Pinsuti—The
- Prince of Bohemia—Treatment au prince—The bill—An
- Oriental prince—An ideal costume for a Scotch winter—Its
- subsequent modification—The royal sleeping-place—Trains and
- Irish humour—The courteous station-master—The sarcasm of the
- travellers—“Punctually seven minutes late”—Not originally an
- Irishman—The time of departure of the 7.45 train—Brahke,
- brake, brake—The card-players—Possibility of their
- deterioration—The dissatisfied passenger—Being in a hurry he
- threatens to walk—He didn’t—He wishes he had.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>NCE I was treated
- very uncivilly at an hotel in the North of Ireland, and as the occasion
- was one upon which I was, I believed, entitled to be dealt with on terms
- of exceptional courtesy, I felt the slight all the more deeply. The late
- Emperor of Brazil, in yielding to his desire to see everything in the
- world that was worth seeing, had appeared suddenly in Ireland. I had had
- the privilege of taking tiffin with His Majesty aboard a man-of-war at Rio
- Janeiro some years previously, and on calling upon him in London upon the
- occasion of his visit to England, I found to my surprise that he
- remembered the incident. He asked me to go with him to the Giant’s
- Causeway, and I promised to do so if he did not insist on starting before
- sunrise,—he was the earliest riser I ever met. His idea was that we
- could leave Belfast in the morning, travel by rail to Portrush
- (sixty-seven miles distant), drive along the coast to the Giant’s Causeway
- (eight miles), and return to Belfast in time to catch the train which left
- for Dublin at three o’clock.
- </p>
- <p>
- This programme was actually carried out. On entering the hotel at Portrush—we
- arrived about eight in the morning—I hurried to the manager.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have brought the Emperor of Brazil to breakfast,” said I, “so that if
- you could let us have the dining-room to ourselves I should be much
- obliged to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who is it that you say you’ve brought?” asked the manager sleepily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Emperor of Brazil,” I replied promptly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come now, clear off out of this, you and your jokes,” said the manager.
- “I’ve been taken in before to-day. You’ll need to get up earlier in the
- morning if you want to do it again. The Emperor of Brazil indeed! It’ll be
- the King of the Cannibal Islands next!”
- </p>
- <p>
- I felt mortified, and so, I fancy, did the manager shortly afterwards.
- </p>
- <p>
- Happily the hotel is now managed by the railway company, and is one of the
- best in all Ireland.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I fared better in this matter than the messenger who hurried to the
- residence of a painter, who is now a member of the Royal Academy, to
- announce his election as Associate in the days of Sir Francis Grant. It is
- said that the painter felt himself to be so unworthy of the honour which
- was being thrust upon him, that believing that he perceived an attempt on
- the part of some of his brother-artists to make him the victim of a
- practical joke, he promptly kicked the messenger downstairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- The manager of the hotel did not quite kick me out when I explained to him
- that his house was to be honoured by the presence of an Emperor, but he
- looked as if he would have liked to do so.
- </p>
- <p>
- Regarding the early rising of the Emperor Dom Pedro II., several amusing
- anecdotes were in circulation in London upon the occasion of his first
- visit. One morning he had risen, as usual, about four o’clock, and was
- taking a stroll through Covent Garden market, when he came face to face
- with three well-known actors, who were returning to their rooms after a
- quiet little supper at the Garrick Club. The Emperor inquired who the
- gentlemen were, and he was told. For years afterwards he was, it is said,
- accustomed to declare that the only men he met in England who seemed to
- believe with him that the early morning was the best part of the day, were
- the actors. The most distinguished members of the profession were, he
- said, in the habit of rising between the hours of three and four every
- morning during the summer.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- A story which tends to show that in some directions, at any rate, in
- Ireland the hotel proprietors are by no means wanting in courtesy towards
- distinguished strangers, even when travelling in an unostentatious way,
- was told to me by the late Ciro Pinsuti, the well-known song writer, at
- his house in Mortimer Street. (When he required any changes in the verses
- of mine which he was setting, he invariably anticipated my objections by a
- story, told with admirable effect.) It seems that Pinsuti was induced some
- years before to take a tour to the Killarney Lakes. On arriving at the
- hotel where he had been advised to put up, he found that the house was so
- crowded he had to be content with a sort of china closet, into which a
- sofa-bed had been thrust. The landlord was almost brusque when he ventured
- to protest against the lack of accommodation, but subsequently a
- compromise was effected, and Pinsuti strolled away along the lakes.
- </p>
- <p>
- On returning he found in the hall of the hotel the genial nobleman who was
- Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and an old London friend of Pinsuti’s. He was
- on a visit to the Herberts of Muckross, and attended only by his son and
- one aide-de-camp.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, at one time the same nobleman had been in the habit of contracting
- Pinsuti’s name, when addressing him, into “Pince”; in the course of time
- this became improved into “Prince”; and for years he was never addressed
- except in this way; so that when he entered the hall of the hotel, His
- Excellency lifted up his hands and cried,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, Prince, who on earth would have fancied meeting you here of all
- places in the world?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Pinsuti explained that he had merely crossed the Channel for a day or two,
- and that he was staying at the hotel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come along then, and we’ll have lunch together,” said the Lord
- Lieutenant; and Pinsuti forthwith joined the Viceregal party.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when luncheon was over, and the Viceroy was strolling through the
- grounds for a smoke by the side of the musician, the landlord approached
- His Excellency’s son, saying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your lordship’s pardon, but may I ask who the Prince is that
- lunched with you and His Excellency?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What Prince?” said Lord Ernest, somewhat puzzled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, my lord; I heard His Excellency address him as Prince more than
- once,” said the landlord.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Lord Ernest, perceiving the ground for a capital joke, said,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, the Prince—yes, to be sure; I fancied you knew him. Prince!
- yes, that’s the Prince of Bohemia.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Prince of Bohemia! and I’ve sent him to sleep on an iron chair-bed in
- a china closet!” cried the landlord.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Ernest looked grave.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wouldn’t have done that if I had been you,” he said, shaking his head.
- “You must try and do better for him than that, my man.” Shortly afterwards
- the Viceregal party drove off, and then the landlord approached Pinsuti,
- and bowing to the ground, said,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must humbly apologise to your Royal Highness for not having a suitable
- room for your Royal Highness in the morning; but now I’m proud to say that
- I have had prepared an apartment which will, I trust, give satisfaction.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean by Highnessing me, my good man?” asked Pinsuti.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,” said the landlord, smiling and bowing, “though it may please your
- Royal Highness to travel <i>incognito</i>, I trust I know what is due to
- your exalted station, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For the next two days Pinsuti was, he told me, treated with an amount of
- respect such as he had never before experienced. A waiter was specially
- told off to attend to him, and every time he passed the landlord the
- latter bowed in his best style.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was, however, an American lady tourist who held an informal meeting in
- the drawingroom of the hotel, at which it was agreed that no one should be
- seated at the <i>table d’hote</i> until the Prince of Bohemia had entered
- and taken his place.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the morning of his departure he found, waiting to take him to the
- railway station, a carriage drawn by four horses. Out to this he passed
- through lines of bowing tourists—especially Americans.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was all very nice, to be sure,” said Pinsuti, in concluding his
- narrative; “but the bill I had to pay was not so gratifying. However, one
- cannot be a Prince, even of Bohemia, without paying for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This story more than neutralises, I think, the impression likely to be
- produced by the account of the insolence of the official at the northern
- hotel. Universal civility may be expected even at the largest and
- best-appointed hotels in Ireland.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- As I have somehow drifted into these anecdotes about royal personages, at
- the risk of being considered digressive—an accusation which I spurn—I
- must add one curious experience which some relations of mine had of a
- genuine prince. My cousin, Major Wyllie, of the Madras Staff Corps, had
- been attached to the prince’s father, who was a certain rajah, and had
- been the instrument employed by the Government for giving him some
- excellent advice as to the course he should adopt if he were desirous of
- getting the Star which it was understood he was coveting. The rajah was
- anxious to have his heir, a boy of twelve, educated in England, and he
- wished to find for him a place in a family where his morals—the
- rajah was great on morals—would be properly looked after; so he
- sought the advice of Major Wyllie on this important subject. After some
- correspondence and much persuasion on the part of the potentate, my cousin
- consented to send the youth to his father’s house near Edinburgh. The
- rajah was delighted, and promised to have an outfit prepared for his son
- without delay. The result of the consultation which he had with some
- learned members of his <i>entourage</i> on the subject of the costume
- daily worn in Edinburgh by gentlemen, was peculiar. I am of the opinion
- that some of its distinctive features must have been exaggerated, while
- the full value of others cannot have been assigned to them; for the young
- prince submitted himself for the approval of Major Wyllie, and some other
- officers of the Staff, wearing a truly remarkable dress. His boots were of
- the old Hessian pattern, with coloured silk tassels all round the uppers.
- His knees were bare, but just above them the skirt of a kilt flowed, in
- true Scotch fashion, only that the material was not cloth but silk, and
- the colours were not those of any known tartan, but simply a brilliant
- yellow. The coat was of blue velvet, crusted with jewels, and instead of
- the flowing shoulder-pieces, there hung down a rich mantle of gold
- brocade. The crowning incident of this ideal costume of an unobtrusive
- Scotch gentleman whose aim is to pass through the streets without
- attracting attention, was a crimson velvet glengarry cap worn over a white
- turban, and containing three very fine ostrich feathers of different,
- colours, fastened by a diamond aigrette.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, the consensus of opinion among the officers was that the rajah had
- succeeded wonderfully in giving prominence to the chief elements of the
- traditional Scottish national dress, without absolutely extinguishing
- every spark of that orientalism to which the prince had been accustomed.
- It was just the sort of costume that a simple body would like to wear
- daily, walking down Prince’s Street, during an inclement winter, they
- said. There was no attempt at ostentation about it; its beauty consisted
- in its almost Puritan simplicity; and there pervaded it a note of that
- sternness which marks the character of the rugged North Briton.
- </p>
- <p>
- The rajah was delighted with this essay of his advisers at making a
- consistent blend of Calicut and Caledonia in <i>modes</i>; but somehow the
- prince arrived in Scotland in a tweed suit.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I afterwards heard that on the first morning after the arrival of the
- prince at his temporary home, he was missing. His bed showed no signs of
- having been slept in during the night; but the eiderdown quilt was not to
- be seen. It was only about the breakfast hour that the butler found His
- Highness, wrapped in the eiderdown quilt, <i>under the bed.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- He had occupied a lower bunk in a cabin aboard the P. & O. steamer on
- the voyage to England, and he had taken it for granted that the sleeping
- accommodation in the house where he was an honoured guest was of the same
- restricted type. He had thus naturally crept under the bed, so that some
- one else might enjoy repose in the upper and rather roomier compartment.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The transition from Irish inns to Irish railways is not a violent one. On
- the great trunk lines the management is sufficiently good to present no
- opportunities for humorous reminiscences. It is with railways as with
- hotels: the more perfectly appointed they are, the less humorous are the
- incidents associated with them in the recollection of a traveller. It is
- safe to assume that, as a general rule, native wit keeps clear of a line
- of rails. Mr. Baring Gould is good enough to explain, in his “Strange
- Survivals and Superstitions,” that the fairy legend is but a shadowy
- tradition of the inhabitants during the Stone Age; and he also explains
- how it came about that iron was accepted as a potent agent for driving
- away these humorous folk. The iron road has certainly driven the witty
- aborigines into the remote districts of Ireland. A railway guard has never
- been known to convulse the passengers with his dry wit as he snips their
- tickets, nor do the clerks at the pigeon-holes take any particular trouble
- to Hash out a <i>bon mot</i> as one counts one’s change. The man who,
- after pouring out the thanks of the West for the relief meal given to the
- people during the last failure of the potato and every other crop, said,
- “Troth, if it wasn’t for the famine we’d all be starving entirely,” lived
- far from the sound of the whistle of an engine.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still, I have now and again come upon something on an Irish railway that
- was droll by reason of its incongruity. There was a station-master at a
- small town on an important line, who seemed a survival of the leisurely
- days of our grandfathers. He invariably strolled round the carriages to
- ask the passengers if they were quite comfortable, just as the
- conscientious head waiter at the “<i>Trois Frères</i>” used to do in
- respect of his patrons. He would suggest here and there that a window
- might be closed, as the morning air was sometimes very treacherous. He
- even pressed foot-warmers upon the occupants of the second-class
- carriages. He was the friend of all the matrons who were in the habit of
- travelling by the line, and he inquired after their numerous ailments
- (including babies), and listened with dignified attention while they told
- him all that should be told in public—sometimes a trifle more. A
- medical student would learn as much about a very interesting branch of the
- profession through paying attention to the exchange of confidences at that
- station, as he would by walking the hospitals for a year. The
- station-master was greatly looked up to by agriculturists, and it was
- commonly reported that there was no better judge of the weather to be
- found in the immediate neighbourhood of the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was really quite absurd to hear English commercial travellers and other
- persons in the train, who had not become aware of the good qualities of
- this most estimable man, grumbling because the train usually remained at
- this platform for ten minutes instead of the two minutes allotted to it in
- the “A B C.” The engine-drivers, it was said, also growled at being forced
- to run the twenty miles on either side of this station at as fast a rate
- as forty miles an hour, instead of the thirty to which they had accustomed
- themselves, to save their time. The cutting remarks of the impatient
- passengers made no impression upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here, station-master,” cried a commercial gentleman one day when the
- official had come across quite an unusual number of acquaintances, “is
- there a breakdown on the line?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know indeed, sir, but I’ll try and find out for you,” said the
- station-master blandly. He went off hurriedly (for him), and did not
- return for five minutes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve telegraphed up the line, sir,” said he to the gentleman, who only
- meant to be delicately sarcastic, “and I’m happy to assure you that no
- information regarding a breakdown has reached any of the principal
- stations. It has been raining at Ballynamuck, but I don’t think it will
- continue long. Can I do anything more for you, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, thank you,” said the commercial gentleman meekly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can find out for you if the Holyhead steamer has had a good passage, if
- you don’t mind waiting for a few minutes,” suggested the official. “What!
- you are anxious to get on? Certainly, sir; I’ll tell the guard. Good
- morning, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- When the train was at last in motion a wiry old man in a corner pulled out
- his watch, and then turned to the commercial traveller.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you aware, sir,” he said tartly, “that your confounded inquiries kept
- us back just seven minutes? You should have some consideration for your
- fellow-passengers, let me tell you, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A murmur of assent went round the compartment.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon another occasion a passenger, on arriving at the station over whose
- destinies this courteous official presided, put his head out of the
- carriage window, and inquired if the train had arrived punctually.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir,” replied the station-master, “very punctually: seven minutes
- late to a second.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon another occasion I heard him say to an inquirer,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh no, sir; I wasn’t originally an Irishman. I am one now, however.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- “By heavens!” said some one at the further end of the compartment, “that
- reply removes all doubt on the subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Several years ago I was staying at Lord Avonmore’s picturesque lodge at
- the head of Lough Dearg. A fellow-guest received a telegram one Sunday
- afternoon which compelled his immediate departure, and seeing by the
- railway time-table that a train left the nearest station at 7.45, we drove
- in shortly before that hour. There was, however, no sign of life on the
- little platform up to 7.50. Thereupon my friend became anxious, and we
- hunted in every direction for even the humblest official. After some
- trouble we found a porter asleep on a pile of cushions in the lamp-room.
- We roused him and said,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s a train marked on the time-table to leave here at 7.45, but it’s
- now 7.50, and there’s no sign of a train. What time may we expect it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know, sir, for myself.” said the porter, “but I’ll ask the
- station-master.”
- </p>
- <p>
- We followed him down the platform, and then a man, in his shirt sleeves,
- came out of an office.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. O’Flaherty,” cried the porter, “here’s two gentlemen that wants to
- know, if you please, at what o’clock the 7.45 train leaves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It leaves at eight on weekdays and a quarter past eight on Sundays,” was
- the thoughtful reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It is reported that on the same branch, an engine-driver, on reaching the
- station more than usually behind his time, declared that he had never
- known “herself”—meaning the engine—to be so sluggish before.
- She needed a deal of rousing before he could get any work whatever out of
- her, he said; and she had pulled up at the platform without a hand being
- put to the brake. When he tried to start the engine again he failed
- utterly in his attempt. She had “rusted,” he said, and when an engine
- rusted she was more stubborn than any horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a passenger who eventually suggested that perhaps if the brakes
- were turned off, the engine might have a better chance of doing its work.
- </p>
- <p>
- This suggestion led to an examination of the brake wheels of the engine.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By me sowl, that’s a joke!” said the engine-driver. “If I haven’t been
- driving her through the county Tipperary with the brakes on!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And so he had.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- On a branch line farther north the official staff were said to be so
- extremely fond of the Irish National game of cards—it is called
- “Spoil Five”—that the guard, engine-driver, and stoker invariably
- took a hand at it on the tool-box on the tender—a poor substitute
- for a table, the guard explained to an interested passenger who made
- inquiries on the subject, but it served well enough at a pinch, and it was
- not for him to complain. He was right: it was for the passengers to
- complain, and some of them did so; and a remonstrance was sent to the
- staff which practically amounted to a prohibition of any game of cards on
- the engine when the train was in motion. It was very reasonably pointed
- out by the manager that, unless the greatest watchfulness were observed by
- the guard, he might, when engaged at the game, allow the train to run past
- some station at which it was advertised to stop—as a matter of fact
- this had frequently occurred. Besides, the manager said, persistence in
- the practice under the conditions just described could not but tend to the
- deterioration of the staff as card-players; so he trusted that they would
- see that it was advisable to give their undivided attention to their
- official duties.
- </p>
- <p>
- The staff cheerfully acquiesced, admitting that now and again it was a
- great strain upon them to recollect what cards were out, and at the same
- time what was the name of the station just passed. The fact that the guard
- had been remiss enough, on throwing down the hand that had just been dealt
- to him on the arrival of the train at Ballycruiskeen, to walk down the
- platform crying out “Hearts is thrumps!” instead of the name of the
- station, helped to make him at least see the wisdom of the manager’s
- remonstrance; and no more “Spoil Five” was played while the engine was in
- motion.
- </p>
- <p>
- But every time the train made a stoppage, the cards were shuffled on the
- engine, and the station-master for the time being took a hand, as well as
- any passenger who had a mind to contribute to the pool. Now and again,
- however, a passenger turned up who was in a hurry to get to his journey’s
- end, and made something of a scene—greatly to the annoyance of the
- players, and the couple of policemen, and the porter or two, who had the
- <i>entrée</i> to the “table.” Upon one occasion such a passenger appeared,
- and, in considerable excitement, pointed out that the train had taken
- seventy-five minutes to do eight miles. He declared that this was
- insufferable, and that, sooner than stand it any longer, he would walk the
- remainder of the distance to his destination.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was actually showing signs of carrying out his threat, when the guard
- threw down his hand, dismounted from the engine and came behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sir, you’ll get into the train again, won’t you?” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I’ll be hanged if I will,” shouted the passenger. “I’ve no time to
- waste, I’ll walk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, no, sir; you’ll get into the train. Do, sir; and you’ll be at the end
- of the journey every bit as soon as if you walked,” urged the official.
- </p>
- <p>
- His assurance on this point prevailed, and the passenger returned to his
- carriage. But unless the speed upon that occasion was a good deal greater
- than it was when I travelled over the same line, it is questionable if he
- would not have been on the safe side in walking.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII—HONORARY EDITORS AND OTHERS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>Our esteemed correspondent—The great imprinted—Lord
- Tennyson’s death—“Crossing the Bar”—Why was it never printed
- in its entirety?—The comments on the poem—Who could the Pilot
- have been?—Pilot or pilot engine?—A vexed and vexing question—Erroneous
- navigation—Tennyson’s voyage with Mr. Gladstone—Its
- far-reaching results—Tennyson’s interest in every form of literary
- work—“My Official Wife”—Amateur critics—The Royal Dane—Edwin
- Booth and his critic—A really comic play—An Irving enthusiast—“Gemini
- and Virgo”—“Our sincerest laughter”—The drollest of
- soliloquies—“Eugene Aram” for the hilarious—The proof of a
- sincere devotion.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE people who
- spend their time writing letters to newspapers pointing out mistakes, or
- what they imagine to be mistakes, and making many suggestions as to how
- the newspaper should be conducted in all its departments, constitute a
- branch of the profession of philanthropy, to which sufficient attention
- has never been given.
- </p>
- <p>
- I do not, of course, allude to the type whom Mr. George Du Maurier derided
- when he put the phrase <i>J’écrirai à le Times</i> into his mouth on being
- compelled to pay an extravagant bill at a French hotel; there are people
- who have just grievances to expose, and there are newspapers that exist
- for the dissemination of those grievances; but it is an awful thought that
- at this very moment there are some hundreds—perhaps thousands—of
- presumably sane men and women sitting down and writing letters to their
- local newspapers to point out to the management that the jeu d’esprit
- attributed in yesterday’s issue to Sydney Smith, was one of which Douglas
- Jerrold was really the author; or that the quotation about the wind being
- tempered to the shorn lamb is not to be found in the Bible, but in “the
- works of the late Mr. Sterne”; or perhaps suggesting that no country could
- rightly be regarded as exempted from the list of lands forming a
- legitimate sphere for missionary labour, whose newspapers give up four
- columns daily to an account of the horse-racing of the day before. A book
- might easily be written by any one who had some experience, not of the
- letters that appear in a newspaper, but of those that are sent to the
- editor by enthusiasts on the subject of finance, morality, religion, and
- the correct text of some of Burns dialect poems.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Lord Tennyson died, I printed five columns of a biographical and
- critical sketch of the great poet. I thought it necessary to quote only a
- single stanza of “Crossing the Bar.” During the next clay I received quite
- a number of letters asking in what volume of Tennyson’s works the poem was
- to be found. In the succeeding issue of the paper I gave the poem in full.
- From that day on during the next fortnight, no post arrived without
- bringing me a letter containing the same poem, with a request to have it
- published in the following issue; and every writer seemed to be under the
- impression that he (or she) had just discovered “Crossing the Bar.” Then
- the clergymen who forwarded in manuscript the sermons which they had
- preached on Tennyson, pointing out the “lessons” of his poems, presented
- their compliments and requested the insertion of “Crossing the Bar,” <i>in
- its entirety</i>, in the place in the sermons where they had quoted it.
- All this time “poems” on the death of Tennyson kept pouring in by the
- hundred, and I can safely say that not one came under my notice that did
- not begin,
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Yes, thou hast cross’d the Bar, and face to face
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Thy Pilot seen,”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- or with words to that effect.
- </p>
- <p>
- After this had been going on for some weeks a member of the proprietorial
- household came to me with a letter open in his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder how it was that we missed that poem of Tennyson’s.” said he. “It
- would have done well, I think, if it had been published in our columns at
- his death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What poem is that?” I inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is it,” he replied, offering me the letter which he held. “A
- personal friend of my own sends it to me for insertion. It is called
- ‘Crossing the Bar.’ Have you ever seen it before?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The aggregate thickness of skull of the proprietorial household was
- phenomenal.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- When writing on the subject of this poem I may perhaps be permitted to
- express the opinion, that the remarks made about it in some directions
- were the most astounding that ever appeared in print respecting a
- composition of the character of “Crossing the Bar.”
- </p>
- <p>
- One writer, it may be remembered, took occasion to point out that the
- “Pilot” was, of course, the poet’s son, by whom he had been predeceased.
- The “thought” was, we were assured, that his son had gone before him to
- show him the direction to take, so to speak. Now whatever the “thought” of
- the poet was, the thought of this commentator converged not upon a pilot
- but a pilot-engine.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then another writer was found anxious to point out that Tennyson’s
- navigation was defective. “What would be the use of a pilot when the bar
- was already crossed?” was the question asked by this earnest inquirer.
- This gentleman’s idea clearly was that Tennyson should have subjected
- himself to a course of Mr. Clark Russell before attempting to write such a
- poem as “Crossing the Bar.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The fact was that Tennyson knew enough navigation for a poet, just as Mr.
- Gladstone knows enough for a premier. When the two most picturesque of
- Englishmen (assuming that Mr. Gladstone is an Englishman) took their
- cruise together in a steam yacht they kept their eyes open, I have good
- reason to know. I question very much if the most ideal salt in the
- mercantile marine could make a better attempt to describe some incidents
- of the sea than Tennyson did in “Enoch Arden”; and as the Boston gentleman
- was doubtful if more than six men in his city could write “Hamlet,” so I
- doubt if the same number of able-bodied seamen, whose command of emphatic
- language is noted, could bring before our eyes the sight, and send rushing
- through our ears the sound, of a breaking wave, with greater emphasis than
- Tennyson did when he wrote,—
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “As the crest of some slow-arching wave
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Heard in dead night along that table-shore
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Drops flat; and after the great waters break,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Whitening for half a league, and thin themselves
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- From less and less to nothing.‘’
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was after he had returned from his last voyage with Mr. Gladstone that
- Tennyson wrote “Crossing the Bar.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was after Mr. Gladstone had returned from the same voyage that he
- consolidated his reputation as a statesman by a translation of “Rock of
- Ages” into Italian. He then made Tennyson a peer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps it may not be considered an impertinence on my part if I give, in
- this place, an instance, which came under my notice, of the eclectic
- nature of Lord Tennyson’s interest in even the least artistic branches of
- literary work. A relative of mine went to Aldworth to lunch with the
- family of the poet only a few weeks before his death saddened every home
- in England. Lord Tennyson received his guest in his favourite room; he was
- seated on a sofa at a window overlooking the autumn russet landscape, and
- he wore a black velvet coat, which made his long delicate fingers seem
- doubly pathetic in their worn whiteness. He had been reading, and laid
- down the book to greet his visitor. This book was “My Official Wife.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Now the author of the story so entitled is not the man to talk of his
- “Art,” as so many inferior writers do, in season and out of season. He
- knows that his stories are no more deserving of being regarded as
- high-class literature than is the scrappy volume at which I am now
- engaged. He knows, however, that he is an excellent exponent of a form of
- art that interests thousands of people on both sides of the Atlantic; and
- the fact that Tennyson was able to read such a story as “My Official Wife”
- seems to me to show how much the poet was interested in a very significant
- phase of the constantly varying taste of the great mass of English
- readers.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is the possession of such a sympathetic nature as this that prevents a
- man from ever growing old. Mr. Gladstone also seems to read everything
- that comes in his way, and he is never so busy as to be unable to snatch a
- moment to write a word of kindly commendation upon an excessively dull
- book.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It is not only upon the occasion of the death of a great man or a prince
- that some people are obliging enough to give an editor a valuable hint or
- two as to the standpoint from which the character of the deceased should
- be judged. They now and again express themselves with great freedom on the
- subject of living men, and are especially frank in their references to the
- private lives of the best-known and most highly respected gentlemen. It
- is, however, the performances of actors that form the most fruitful
- subject of irresponsible comment for “outsiders.” It has often seemed to
- me that every man has his own idea of the way “Hamlet” should be
- represented. When I was engaged in newspaper work I found that every new
- representation of the play was received by some people as the noblest
- effort to realise the character, while others were of the opinion that the
- actor might have found a more legitimate subject than this particular play
- for burlesque treatment. Mr. Edwin Booth once told me a story—I dare
- say it may be known in the United States—that would tend to convey
- the impression that the study of Hamlet has made its way among the
- coloured population as well as the colourless—if there are any—of
- America.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Booth said that he was acting in New Orleans, and when at the hotel,
- his wants were enthusiastically attended to by a negro waiter. At every
- meal the man showed his zeal in a very marked way, particularly by never
- allowing another waiter to come within hailing distance of his chair. Such
- attention, the actor thought, should be rewarded, so he asked Caractacus
- if he would care to have an order for the theatre. The waiter declared
- that if he only had the chance of seeing Mr. Booth on the stage, he (the
- waiter) would die happy when his time came. The actor at once gave him an
- order for the same night, and the next morning he found the man all teeth
- and eyes behind his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Caractacus, did you manage to go to the theatre last night?” asked
- Booth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn’t I jus’, Massa Boove,” cried the waiter beaming.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how did you enjoy the piece?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jus’ lubly, sah; nebber onjoyed moself so well—it kep’ me in a roar
- o’ larfta de whole ebening, sah. Oh, Massa Boove, you was too funny.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The play that had been performed was <i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I chanced to be residing for a time in a large manufacturing town which
- Mr. Irving visited when “touring” some twelve years ago. In that town an
- enthusiastic admirer of Mr. Irving’s lived, and he was, with Mr. Irving
- and myself, a guest of the mayor’s at a dinner party on one Sunday night.
- In the drawing-room of the mayoress the great actor repeated his favourite
- poem—“Gemini and Virgo,” from Calverley’s “Verses and Translations,”
- dealing with inimitable grace with the dainty humour of this exquisite
- trifle; and naturally, every one present was delighted. For myself I may
- say that, frequently though I had heard Mr. Irving repeat the verses.
- </p>
- <p>
- I felt that he had never before brought to bear upon them the consummate
- art of that high comedy of which he is the greatest living exponent. But I
- could not help noticing that the gentleman who had protested so
- enthusiastic an admiration for the actor, was greatly puzzled as the
- recitation went on, and I came to the conclusion that he had not the
- remotest idea what it was all about. When some ladies laughed outright at
- the delivery of the lines, with matchless adroitness,
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “I did not love as others do—
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- None ever did that I’ve heard tell of,”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- the man looked angrily round and cried “Hsh!” but even this did not
- overawe the young women, and they all laughed again at,
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “One night I saw him squeeze her hand—
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- There was no doubt about the matter.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I said he must resign, or stand
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- My vengeance—and he chose the latter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- But by this time it had dawned upon the jealous guardian of Mr. Irving’s
- professional reputation that the poem was meant to be a trifle humorous,
- and so soon as he became convinced of this, he almost interrupted the
- reciter with his uproarious hilarity, especially at places where the
- humour was far too subtle for laughter; and at the close he wiped his eyes
- and declared that the fun was too much for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- I asked a relative of his if he thought that the man had the slightest
- notion of what the poem was about, and his relative said,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “It might be in Sanskrit for all he understands of it. He loves Mr. Irving
- for himself alone. He has got no idea of art.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Later in the night the conversation turned upon the difference between the
- elocutionary modes of expression of the past and the present day. In
- illustration of a point associated with the question of effect, Mr. Irving
- gave me at least a thrill such as I had never before experienced through
- the medium of his art, by repeating,—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “To be or not to be: that is the question.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Before he had reached the words,—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “To die: to sleep:
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- No more,”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I felt that I had suddenly had a revelation made to me of the utmost
- limits of art; that I had been permitted a glimpse behind the veil, if I
- may be allowed the expression; that I had been permitted to take a single
- glance into a world whose very name is a mystery to the sons of men.
- </p>
- <p>
- Every one present seemed spellbound. A commonplace man who sat next to me,
- drew a long breath—it was almost a gasp—and said,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is too much altogether for such people us we are. My God! I don’t
- know what I saw—I don’t know how I come to be here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He could not have expressed better what my feeling was; and yet I had seen
- Mr. Irving’s Hamlet seventeen times, so that I might have been looked upon
- as unsusceptible to any further revelation on a point in connection with
- the soliloquy.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I glanced round I saw Mr. Irving’s enthusiastic admirer once more
- wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. It was not, however, until Mr.
- Irving was in the act of reciting “The Dream of Eugene Aram,” that the
- same gentleman yielded to what he conceived to be the greatest comic treat
- of the evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- Happily he occupied a back seat, and smothered his laughter behind a huge
- red handkerchief, which was guffaw-proof.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a little lower than the negro waiter in his appreciation of the
- actor’s art.
- </p>
- <p>
- A year afterwards I met the same gentleman at an hotel in Scotland, and he
- reminded me of the dinner-party at the mayor’s. His admiration for Mr.
- Irving had in no degree diminished. He was partaking of a simple lunch of
- cold beef and pickled onions; and when he began to speak of the talents of
- the actor, he was helping himself to an onion, but so excited did he
- become that instead of dropping the dainty on his plate, he put it into
- his mouth, and after a crunch or two, swallowed it. Then he helped himself
- to a second, and crunched and talked away, while my cheeks became wrinkled
- merely through watching him. He continued automatically ladling the onions
- into his mouth until the jar was nearly empty, and the roof of my mouth
- felt crinkly. Fortunately a waiter came up—he had clearly been
- watching the man, and perceived that the hotel halfcrown lunch in this
- particular case would result in a loss to the establishment—and
- politely inquired if he had quite done with the pickle bottle, as another
- gentleman was asking for it.
- </p>
- <p>
- I wondered how the man felt after the lapse of an hour or so. I could not
- but believe in the sincerity of a devotion that manifested itself in so
- striking a manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I have mentioned “The Dream of Eugene Aram.” Has any one ever attempted to
- identify the “little boy” who was the recipient of the harrowing tale of
- the usher? In my mind there is no doubt that the “gentle lad” whom Hood
- had in his eye was none other than James Burney, son of Dr. Burney, and
- brother of the writer of “Evelina.” He was a pupil at the school near Lynn
- which was fortunate enough to obtain the services of Eugene Aram as usher;
- and I have no doubt that, when he settled down in London, after joining in
- the explorations of Captain Cook, he excited the imagination of his friend
- Hood by his reminiscences of his immortal usher.
- </p>
- <p>
- Gessner’s “Death of Abel” was published in England before the edition,
- illustrated by Stothard, appeared in 1797. Perhaps, however, young Master
- Burney carried his Bible about with him.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII.—OUTSIDE THE LYCEUM BILL.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>Mr. Edwin Booth—Othello and Iago at supper—The guest—Mr.
- Irving’s little speech—Mr. Booth’s graceful reply—A striking
- tableau—A more memorable gathering—The hundredth night of “The
- Merchant of Venice”—The guests—Lord Houghton’s speech—Mr.
- Irving’s reply—Mr. J: L. Toole supplies an omission—Mr. Dion
- Boncicault at the Lyceum—English as she is spoke—“Trippingly
- on the tongue”—The man who was born to teach the pronunciation of
- English—A Trinity College student—The coveted acorn—A
- good word for the English.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> DID not mean to
- enter upon a course of theatrical anecdotage in these pages, but having
- mentioned the name of a great actor recently dead, I cannot refrain from
- making a brief reference to what was certainly one of the most interesting
- episodes in his career. I allude to Mr. Edwin Booth’s professional visit
- to London in 1881. It may truthfully be said that if Mr. Booth was not
- wholly responsible for the financial failure of his abbreviated “season”
- at the Princess’s Theatre, neither was he wholly responsible for his
- subsequent success at the Lyceum. I should like, however, to have an
- opportunity of bearing testimony to his frank and generous appreciation of
- the courtesy shown to him by Mr. Henry Irving, in inviting him to play in
- <i>Othello</i>. when it became plain that the performances of the American
- actor at the Princess’s were not likely to make his reputation in England.
- It would be impossible for me to forget the genuine emotion shown by Mr.
- Booth when, on the Saturday night that brought to a close the notable
- representations of <i>Othello</i> at the Lyceum, he referred to the
- kindness which he had received at that theatre. Although the occasion to
- which I refer was the most private of private suppers, I do not feel that
- I can be accused of transgressing the accepted <i>codex</i> of the
- Beefsteak Room in touching upon a matter which is now of public interest.
- Early in the week Mr. Irving had been good enough to invite me to meet Mr.
- Booth at supper on the Saturday. After the performance, in which Mr.
- Irving was Othello and Mr. Booth Iago, I found in the supper-room, in
- addition to the host and the guest of the evening, Mr. John McCullough,
- who, it will be remembered, paid a visit to England at the same time as
- Mr. Booth; and a member of Parliament who subsequently became the Leader
- of the House of Commons. Mr. J. L. Toole and Mr. Bram Stoker subsequently
- arrived. We found a good deal to talk about, and it was rather late—too
- late for the one guest who was unconnected with theatrical matters (at
- least, those outside St. Stephen’s)—when Mr. Irving, in a few of
- those graceful, informal sentences which he seems always to have at his
- command, and only rising to his feet for a moment, asked us to drink to
- the health of Mr. Booth. Mr. Irving, I recollect, referred to the fact
- that the representations of <i>Othello</i> had filled the theatre nightly,
- and that the instant the American actor appeared, the English actor had to
- “take a back seat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The playful tone assumed by him was certainly not sustained by Mr. Booth.
- It would be impossible to doubt that he made his reply under the influence
- of the deepest feeling. He could scarcely speak at first, and when at last
- he found words, they were the words of a man whose eyes are full of tears.
- “You all know how I came here,” he said. “You all know that I went to
- another theatre in London, and that I was a big failure, although some
- newspaper writers on my side of the water had said that I would make Henry
- Irving and the other English actors sit up. Well, I didn’t make them sit
- up. Yes, I was a big failure. But what happened then? Henry Irving invites
- me to act with him at his theatre, and makes me share the success which he
- has so well earned. He changes my big failure into a big success. What can
- I say about such generosity? Was the like of it ever seen before? I am
- left without words. Friend Irving, I have no words to thank you.” The two
- actors got upon their feet, and as they clasped hands, both of them
- overcome, I could not help feeling that I was looking upon an emblematic
- tableau of the artistic union of the Old World and the New. So I was.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I could not help contrasting this graceful little incident with the more
- memorable episode which had taken place in the same building some years
- previously. On the evening of February 14th, 1880, Mr. Irving gave a
- supper on the stage of the Lyceum, to celebrate the hundredth
- representation of <i>The Merchant of Venice</i>. I do not suppose that
- upon any occasion within the memory of a middle-aged man so remarkable a
- gathering had assembled at the bidding of an actor. Every notable man in
- every department of literature, art, and science seemed to me to be
- present. The most highly representative painters, poets, novelists,
- play-writers, actors of plays, composers of operas, singers of operas,
- composers of laws, exponents of the meaning of these laws, journalists,
- financiers,—all this goodly company attended on that moist Saturday
- night to congratulate the actor upon one of the most signal triumphs of
- the latter half of the century. Of course it was well understood by Mr.
- Irving’s personal friends that an omission of their names from the list of
- invitations to this marvellous function was inevitable. Capacious though
- the stage of the Lyceum is, it would not meet the strain that would be put
- on it if all the personal friends of Mr. Irving were to be invited to the
- supper. So soon as I heard, however, that every living author who had
- written a play that had been produced at the Lyceum Theatre would be
- invited, I knew that, in spite of the fact that I only escaped by the skin
- of my teeth being an absolute nonentity—I had only published nine
- volumes in those days—I would not be an “outsider” upon this
- occasion. Two years previously a comedietta of mine had been played at
- this theatre for some hundred nights, while the audience were being shown
- to their places and were chatting genially with the friends whom they
- recognised three or four seats away. That was my play. No human being
- could deprive me of the consciousness of having written a play that was
- produced at the Lyceum Theatre. It was not a great feat, but it
- constituted a privilege of which I was not slow to avail myself.
- </p>
- <p>
- The invitations were all in the handwriting of Mr. Irving, and the <i>menu</i>
- was, in the words of Joseph in “Divorçons,” <i>délicat, distingué—très
- distingué</i>. While we were smoking some cigars the merits of which have
- never been adequately sung, though they would constitute a theme at least
- equal to that of the majority of epics, our host strolled round the
- tables, shaking hands and talking with every one in that natural way of
- his, which proves conclusively that at least one trait of Garrick’s has
- never been shared by him.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Twas only that when he was off he was acting,”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- wrote Garrick’s—and everybody else’s—friend, Goldsmith. No;
- Mr. Irving cannot claim to be the inheritor of all the arts of Garrick.
- </p>
- <p>
- More than an hour had passed before Lord Houghton rose to propose the
- toast of the evening. He did so very fluently. He had evidently prepared
- his speech with great care; and as the <i>doyen</i> of literature—the
- true patron of art and letters during two generations—his right to
- speak as one having authority could not be questioned. No one expected a
- commonplace speech from Lord Houghton, but few of Mr. Irving’s guests
- could have looked for precisely such a speech as he delivered. It struck a
- note of far-reaching criticism, and was full of that friendly counsel
- which the varied experiences of the speaker made doubly valuable. Its
- commendation of the great actor was wholly free from that meaningless
- adulation, which is as distasteful to any artist who knows the limitations
- of his art, as it is prejudicial to the realisation of his aims. In his
- masterly biography of the late Lord Houghton, Mr. Wemyss Reid refers to
- the great admiration which Lord Houghton had for Mr. Irving; and this
- admiration was quite consistent with the tone of the speech in which he
- proposed the health of our host. It was probably Lord Houghton’s sincere
- appreciation of the aims of Mr. Irving that caused him to make some
- delicate allusion to the dangers of long runs. Considering that we had
- assembled on the stage of the Lyceum to celebrate a phenomenal run on that
- stage, the difficulty of the course which Lord Houghton had to steer in
- order to avoid giving the least offence to even the most susceptible of
- his audience, will be easily recognised. There were present several
- playwriters who, by the exercise of great dexterity, had succeeded in
- avoiding all their lives the pitfall of the long run; and these gentlemen
- listened, with mournful acquiescence, while Lord Houghton showed, as he
- did quite conclusively, that, on the whole, the interests of dramatic art
- are best advanced by adopting the principles which form the basis of the
- Théâtre Français. But there were also present some managers who had been
- weak enough to allow certain plays which they had produced, to linger on
- the stage, evening after evening, so long as the public chose to pay their
- money to see them. I glanced at one of these gentlemen while Lord Houghton
- was delivering his tactful address, and I cannot say that the result of my
- glance was to assure me that the remarks of his lordship were convincing
- to that manager. Contrition for those past misdeeds that took the form of
- five-hundred-night runs was not the most noticeable expression upon his
- features. But then the manager was an actor as well, so that he may only
- have been concealing his remorse behind a smiling face.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Irving’s reply was excellent. With amazing good-humour he touched upon
- almost every point brought forward by Lord Houghton, referring to his own
- position somewhat apologetically. Lord Houghton had, however, made the
- apologetic tone inevitable; but after a short time Mr. Irving struck the
- note for which his friends had been waiting, and spoke strongly,
- earnestly, and eloquently on behalf of the art of which he hoped to be the
- exponent.
- </p>
- <p>
- We who knew how splendid were the aims of the hero of a hundred nights,
- with what sincerity and at how great self-sacrifice he had endeavoured to
- realize them; we who had watched his career in the past, and were
- hopefully looking forward to a future for the English drama in a
- legitimate home; we who were enthusiastic almost to a point of passion in
- our love and reverence for the art of which we believed Irving to be the
- greatest interpreter of our generation,—we, I say, felt that we
- should not separate before one more word at least was spoken to our friend
- whose triumph we regarded as our own.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Mr. J. L. Toole, our host’s oldest and closest friend, who, in the
- Beefsteak Room some hours after midnight, expressed, in a few words that
- came from his heart and were echoed by ours, how deeply Mr. Irving’s
- triumph was felt by all who enjoyed his friendship—by all who
- appreciated the difficulties which he had surmounted, and who, having at
- heart the best interests of the drama, stretched forth to him hands of
- sympathy and encouragement, and wished him God-speed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus closed a memorable gathering, the chief incidents in which I have
- ventured to chronicle exactly as they appeared to me.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Only to one more Lyceum performance may I refer in this place. It may be
- remembered that ten or eleven years ago the late Mr. Dion Boucicault was
- obliging enough to offer to give a lecture to English actors on the
- correct pronunciation of their mother-tongue. The offer was, I suppose,
- thought too valuable to be neglected, and it was arranged that the lecture
- should be delivered from the stage of the Lyceum Theatre. A more
- interesting and amusing function I have never attended. It was clear that
- the lecturer had formed some very definite ideas as to the way the English
- language should be spoken; and his attempts to convey these ideas to his
- audience were most praiseworthy. His illustrations of the curiosities of
- some methods of pronouncing words were certainly extremely curious. For
- instance, he complained bitterly of the way the majority of English actors
- pronounced the word “war.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ye prenounce the ward as if it wuz spelt w-a-u-g-h,” said the lecturer
- gravely. “Ye don’t prenounce it at all as ye shud. The ward rhymes with
- ‘par, ‘are,’ and ‘kyar,’ and yet ye will prenounce it as if it rhymed with
- ‘saw’ and ‘Paw-’ Don’t ye see the diffurnce?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We do, we do!” cried the audience; and, thus encouraged by the ready
- acquiescence in his pet theories, the lecturer went on to deal with the
- gross absurdity of pronouncing the word “grass,” not to rhyme with “lass,”
- which of course was the correct way, but almost—not quite—as
- if it rhymed with “laws.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The ward is ‘grass,’ not ‘graws,’” said our lecturer. “It grates on a
- sinsitive ear like mine to hear it misprenounced. Then ye will never be
- injuced to give the ward ‘Chrischin’ its thrue value as a ward of three
- syllables; ye’ll insist on calling it ‘Christyen,’ in place of
- ‘Chrischin.’ D’ye persave the diffurnce?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We do, we do!” cried the audience.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, and ye talk about ‘soots’ of gyar-ments, when everybody knows that ye
- shud say ‘shoots’; ye must give the full valye to the letter ‘u’—there’s
- no double o in a shoot of clothes. Moreover, ye talk of the mimbers of the
- polis force as ‘cunstables,’ but there’s no ‘u’ in the first syllable—it’s
- an ‘o,’ and it shud be prenounced to rhyme with ‘gone,’ not with ‘gun.’
- Then I’ve heard an actor who shud know better say, in the part of Hamlet,
- ‘wurds, wurds, wurds’; instead of giving that fine letter ‘o’ its full
- value. How much finer it sounds to prenounce it as I do, ‘wards, wards,
- wards’! But when I say that I’ve heard the ward ‘pull’ prenounced not to
- rhyme with ‘dull,’ as ye’ll all admit it shud be, but actually as if it
- was within an ace of being spelt ‘p double o l,’ I think yell agree with
- me that it’s about time that actors learnt something of the rudiments of
- the art of ellycution.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I do not pretend that these are the exact instances given by Mr.
- Boucicault of the appalling incorrectness of English pronunciation, but I
- know that he began with the word “war,” and that the impression produced
- upon my mind by the discourse was precisely as I have recorded it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- There is a tradition at Trinity College, Dublin, that a student who spoke
- with a lovely brogue used every art to conceal it, but with indifferent
- success; for however perfect the “English accent” which he flattered
- himself he had grafted upon the parent stem indigenous to Kerry may have
- been when he was cool and collected, yet in moments of excitement—chiefly
- after supper—the old brogue surrounded him like a fog. This was a
- great grief to him; but his own weakness in this way caused him to feel a
- deep respect for the natives of England.
- </p>
- <p>
- After a visit to London he gave the result of his observations in a few
- words to his friends at the College.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boys,” he cried, the “English chaps are a poor lot, no matter how you
- look at them. But I will say this for them,—no matter how drunk any
- one of them may be, he never forgets his English accent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX.—SOME IMPERFECT STUDIES.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>A charming theme—The new tints—An almost perfect
- descriptive system—An unassailable position—The silver
- mounting of the newspaper staff—An unfair correspondcnt—A lady
- journalist face to face—The play-hawkers Only in two acts—An
- earnest correspondent—A haven at last—Well-earned repose—The
- “health columns”—Answers to correspondents—Other medical
- advisers—The annual meeting—The largest consultation on record
- over one patient—He recovers!—A garden-party—A congenial
- locale—The distinguished Teuton—The local medico—Brain
- “sells”—A great physician—Advice to a special correspondent—Change
- of air—The advantages of travel—The divergence of opinion
- among medical men—It is due to their conscientiousness.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>S this rambling
- volume does not profess to be a guide to the newspaper press, I have not
- felt bound to follow any beaten track in its compilation. But I must
- confess that at the outset it was my intention to deal with that agreeable
- phase known as the Lady Journalist. Unhappily (or perhaps I should say,
- happily), “the extreme pressure on our space” will not permit of my giving
- more than a line or two to a theme which could only be adequately treated
- in a large volume. It has been my privilege to meet with three lady
- journalists, and I am bound to say that every one of the three seemed to
- me to combine in herself all the judgment of the trained journalist (male)
- with the lightness of touch which one associates with the doings of the
- opposite sex. All were able to describe garments in picturesque phrases,
- frequently producing by the employment of a single word an effect that a
- “gentleman journalist”—this is, I suppose, the male equivalent to a
- lady journalist—could not achieve at any price. They wrote of ladies
- being “gowned,” and they described the exact tint of the gowns by an
- admirable process of comparison with the hue of certain familiar things.
- They rightly considered that the mere statement that somebody came to
- somebody else’s “At Home” in brown, conveys an inadequate idea of the
- colour of a costume: “postman’s bag brown,” however, brings the dress
- before one’s eye in a moment. To say that somebody’s daughter appeared in
- a grey wrap would sound weak-kneed, but a wrap of <i>eau de Tamise</i> is
- something stimulating. A scarlet tea-jacket merely suggests the Book of
- Revelation, but a Clark-Russell-sunset jacket is altogether different.
- </p>
- <p>
- They also wrote of “picture hats,” and “smart frocks,” and many other
- matters which they understood thoroughly. I do not think that any
- newspaper staff that does not include a lady journalist can hope for
- popularity, or for the respect of those who read what is written by the
- lady journalist, which is much better than popularity. I have got good
- reason to know that in every newspaper with which I was associated, the
- weekly column contributed by the lady journalist was much more earnestly
- read than any that came from another source.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, I feel that the position of the lady in modern journalism is
- unassailable; and the lady journalists always speak pleasantly about one
- another, and occasionally describe each other’s “picture hats.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In brief, the lady journalist is the silver mounting of the newspaper <i>staff</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I once, however, received an application from a lady, offering a weekly
- letter on a topic already, I considered, ably dealt with by another lady
- in the columns of the newspaper with which I was connected. I wrote
- explaining this to my correspondent, and by the next post I got a letter
- from her telling me that of course she was aware that a letter purporting
- to be on this topic was in the habit of appearing in the paper, but
- expressing the hope that I did not fancy that she would contribute “stuff
- of that character.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I did not have the faintest hope on the subject.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now it so happened that the lady who wrote to me had some months before
- gone to the lady whose weekly letters she had derided, and had begged from
- her some suggestions as to the topics most suitable to be dealt with by a
- lady journalist, and whatever further hints she might be pleased to offer
- on the general subject of lady journalism. In short, all that she had
- learned of the profession—it may be acquired in three lessons, most
- young women think—she had learned from the lady at whom she pointed
- a finger of scorn.
- </p>
- <p>
- This I did not consider either ladylike or journalist-like, so that I can
- hardly consider it lady-journalist-like.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady journalists have recently taken to photographing each other and
- publishing the results.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is another step in the right direction.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Once I had an opportunity of talking face to face with a lady journalist.
- It happened at the house of a distinguished actress in London. By the
- merest chance I had a play which I felt certain would suit the actress,
- and I went to make her acquainted with the joyful news. To my great
- chagrin I found that I had arrived on a day when she was “receiving.”
- Several literary men were present, and on some of their faces.
- </p>
- <p>
- I thought I detected the hang-dog look of the man who carries a play about
- with him without a muzzle. I regret to say that they nearly all looked at
- me with distrust.
- </p>
- <p>
- I came by chance upon one of them speaking to our charming hostess behind
- a <i>portiere</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think the part would suit you down to the ground.” he was saying. “Yes,
- six changes of dress in the four acts, and one of them a ballroom scene.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I walked on.
- </p>
- <p>
- Ten minutes afterwards I overheard a second, who was having a romp with
- our hostess’s little girl, say to that lady,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, I am very fond of children, when they are as pretty as Pansy
- here. By the way, that reminds me that I have in my overcoat pocket a
- comedy that I think will give you a chance at last. If you will allow me
- when those people go....”
- </p>
- <p>
- I passed on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The piece I brought with me is very strong. You were always best at
- tragedy, and I have frequently said that you are the only woman in London
- who can speak blank verse,” were the words that I heard spoken by the
- third literary gentleman at the further side of a group of palms on a
- pedestal.
- </p>
- <p>
- I thought it better not to say anything about my having a play concealed
- about my person. It occurred to me that it might be well to withhold my
- good news for a day or two. Meantime I had a delightful chat with the lady
- journalist, and confided in her my belief that some of the literary men
- present had not come for the sake of the intellectual treat available at
- every reception of our hostess’s, but solely to try and palm off on her
- some rubbish in the way of a play.
- </p>
- <p>
- She replied that she could scarcely believe that any man could be so base,
- and that she feared I was something of a cynic.
- </p>
- <p>
- When she was bidding good-bye to our hostess I distinctly heard the latter
- say,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sorry that you have only made it in two acts; however, you may
- depend on my reading it carefully, and doing what I can with it for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The above story might be looked on as telling against myself in some
- measure, so I hasten to obviate its effect by mentioning that the play
- which I had in my pocket was acted by the accomplished lady for whom I
- designed it, and that it occupied a dignified place among the failures of
- the year.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a lady journalist—at least a lady so describing herself—who
- sent me long accounts of the picture shows three days after I had received
- the telegraphed accounts from the art correspondent employed by the
- newspaper. She wanted to get a start, she said; and it was in vain that I
- tried to point out to her that it was the other writers who got the start
- of her, and that so long as she allowed this to happen she could not
- expect anything that she wrote to be inserted.
- </p>
- <p>
- It so happened, however, that her art criticisms were about on a level
- with those that a child might pass upon a procession of animals to or from
- a Noah’s Ark. Then the lady forwarded me criticisms of books that had not
- been sent to me for review, and afterwards an interview or two with
- unknown poets. Nothing that she wrote was worth the space it would have
- occupied.
- </p>
- <p>
- Only last year I learned with sincere pleasure that this energetic lady
- had obtained a permanent place on the staff of a lady’s halfpenny weekly
- paper. I could not help wondering on what department she could have been
- allowed to work, and made some inquiry on the subject. Then it was I
- learned that she had been appointed superintendent of the health columns.
- It seems that the readers of this paper are sanguine enough to expect to
- get medical advice of the highest order in respect of their ailments for
- the comparatively trilling expenditure of one halfpenny weekly. By
- forwarding a coupon to show that they have not been mean enough to try and
- shirk payment of the legitimate fee, they are entitled to obtain in the
- health columns a complete reply as to the treatment of whatever symptoms
- they may describe. As this reply is seldom printed in the health columns
- until more than a month or six weeks after the coupon has been sent in to
- the newspaper, addressed “M.D.,” the extent of the boon that it confers
- upon the suffering—the long-suffering—subscribers can easily
- be estimated.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the superintendent of the column signed “M.D.,” the lady who had failed
- as an art critic, as a reviewer, and as an interviewer, had at last found
- a haven of rest. Of course, when she undertook the duties incidental to
- the post she knew nothing whatever of medicine. But since then, my
- informant assured me that she had been gradually “feeling her way,” and
- now, by the aid of a half-crown handbook, she can give the best medical
- advice that can be secured in all London for a halfpenny fee.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had the curiosity to glance down one of her columns the other day. It
- ran something like this:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gladys.—Delighted to hear that you like your new mistress, and that
- the cook is not the tyrant that your last was. As scullery-maid I believe
- you are entitled to every second evening out. But better apply (enclosing
- coupon) to the Superintendent of the Domestic Department. Regarding the
- eruptions on the forehead, they may have been caused by the use of too hot
- curling tongs on your fringe. Why not try the new magnetic curlers? (see
- advertisement, p. 9). It would be hard to be compelled to abandon so
- luxurious a fringe for the sake of a pimple or two. Thanks for your kind
- wishes. Your handwriting is striking, but I must have an impression of
- your palm in wax, or on a piece of paper rubbed with lamp-black, before I
- can predict anything certain regarding your chances of a brilliant
- marriage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Airy Fairy Lilian.—What a pretty pseudonym! Where did you contrive
- to find it? Yes, I think that perhaps the doctor who visited you was right
- after all. The symptoms were certainly those of typhoid. Have you tried
- the new Omniherbal Typhoid Tablets (see advertisement, p. 8). If not too
- late they might be of real service to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Harebell.—I should say that if your waist is now forty-two inches,
- it would be extremely imprudent for you to try and reduce it by more than
- ten or eleven inches. Besides, there is no beauty in a wasp-like waist.
- The slight redness on the outside tegument of the nose probably proceeds
- from cold, or most likely heat. Try a little <i>poudre des fées</i> (see
- advertisement, p. 9).”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Shy Susy.—It is impossible to answer inquiries in this column in
- less than a month. (1) If your tooth continues to ache, why not go to Mr.
- Hiram P. Prosser, American Dental Surgeon (see advertisement, p. 8), and
- have it out. (2) The best volume on Etiquette is by the Countess of D. It
- is entitled ‘How to Behave’ (see advertisement outside cover). (3) No; to
- change hats in the train does not imply a promise to marry. It would,
- however, tell against the defendant in the witness-box. (4) Decidedly not;
- you should not allow a complete stranger to see you to your door, unless
- he is exceptionally good-looking. (5) Patchouli is the most fashionable
- scent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I do not suppose that this enterprising young woman is an honoured guest
- at the annual meeting of the British Medical Association. Certainly no
- lady superintendent of the health columns of a halfpenny weekly paper was
- pointed out to me at the one meeting of this body which I had the
- privilege of attending, and at which, by the way, some rather amusing
- incidents occurred.
- </p>
- <p>
- An annual, meeting of the British Medical Association seemed to me to be a
- delightful function. For some days there were <i>fêtes</i> (with
- fireworks), receptions (with military bands playing), dances (with that
- exhilarating champagne that comes from the Saumur districts), excursions
- to neighbouring ruins of historic interest, and the common or garden-party
- in abundance. In addition to all these, a rumour was circulated that
- papers were being read in some out-of-the-way hall—no one seemed to
- know where it was situated, and the report was generally regarded as a
- hoax—on modern therapeutics, for the entertainment of such visitors
- as might be interested in the progress of medical science.
- </p>
- <p>
- No one seemed interested in that particular line.
- </p>
- <p>
- A concert took place one evening, and was largely attended, every seat in
- the building being occupied. The local amateur tenor—the microbe of
- this malady has not yet been discovered—sang with his accustomed
- throaty incorrectness, and immediately afterwards there was a considerable
- interval. Then the conductor appeared upon the platform and said that an
- unfortunate accident had happened to the gentleman who had just sung, and
- he should feel greatly obliged if any medical gentleman who might chance
- to be present would kindly come round to the retiring room.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed to me that the audience rose <i>en masse</i> and trooped round
- to the retiring room. I was one of the few persons who remained in the
- hall.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say, why didn’t some strong man throw himself between the audience and
- the door?” a stranger shouted across the hall to me in an American accent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “With what object?” I shouted back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wal,” said the stranger, “I opine that if this community is subject to
- such visitations as we have just had from that gentleman who sang last,
- his destruction should be made a municipal affair.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We know what we’re about,” said I. “How would you like to look up and
- find two hundred and forty-seven fully qualified medical men standing by
- your bed-side.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not much,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if the story of the opossum that was up a gum tree, and begged a
- military man beneath not to fire, as he would come down, had reached the
- States before you left,” said I.
- </p>
- <p>
- He said he hadn’t heard tell of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well,” said I, “there was an opossum——”
- </p>
- <p>
- But here the hall began to refill, and the concert was proceeded with. The
- sufferer had recovered, we heard, in spite of all that was against him. A
- humorist said that he had merely slipped from a ladder in endeavouring to
- reach down his high C.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he was told that he had to pay two hundred and forty-seven guineas
- for medical attendance he nearly had a relapse.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was at the same meeting of the Medical Association that a garden-party
- was given by the Superintendent of the District Lunatic Asylum. This was a
- very pleasant affair, and was attended by about five hundred persons. A
- detestable man who was present, however, thought fit to make an effort to
- give additional spirit to the entertainment by pointing out to some of his
- friends the short, ungainly figure of a German <i>savant</i>, who was
- wandering about the grounds in a condition of loneliness, and by telling a
- story of a homicide of a bloodcurdling type, to account for the
- gentleman’s presence at the institution.
- </p>
- <p>
- The jester gave free expression to his doubts as to the wisdom of the
- course adopted by the medical superintendent in permitting such freedom to
- a man who was supposed to be confined during Her Majesty’s pleasure,—this
- was, he said, because of the merciful view taken by the jury before whom
- he had been tried. He added, however, that he supposed the superintendent
- knew his own business.
- </p>
- <p>
- As this story circulated freely, the German doctor, whose appearance and
- dress undoubtedly lent it a certain plausibility, became easily the most
- attractive person in view. Young men and maidens paused in the act of
- “service” over the lawn tennis nets, to watch the little man whose large
- eyes stared at them from beneath a pair of shaggy eyebrows, and whose
- ill-cut grey frieze coat suggested the uniform of the Hospital for the
- Insane. Strong men grasped their walking sticks more firmly as he passed,
- and women, well gowned, and wearing picture hats—I trust I am not
- infringing the copyright of the lady journalist—drew back, but still
- gazed at him with all the interest that attaches itself to a great
- criminal in the eyes of women.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little man could not but feel that he was attracting a great deal of
- attention; but being probably well aware of his own attainments, he did
- not shrink from any gaze, but smiled complacently on every side. Then a
- local medical man, whose self-confidence had never been known to fail him
- in an emergency, thought that the moment was an auspicious one for
- exhibiting the extent of his researches in cerebral phenomena, beckoned
- the German to his side, and, removing the man’s hat, began to prove to the
- bystanders that the shape of his head was such as precluded the
- possibility of his playing any other part in the world but that of a
- distinguished homicide. But the German, who understood English very well,
- as he did everything else, turned at this point upon the local
- practitioner and asked him what the teuffil he meant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t be alarmed, ladies,” said the practitioner assuringly, as there was
- a movement among his audience. “I know how to treat this form of
- aberration. Now then, my good man——”
- </p>
- <p>
- But at this moment a late arrival in the form of a great London surgeon
- strolled up accompanied by the medical superintendent of the Asylum, and
- with an exclamation of pleasure, pounced upon the subject of the discourse
- and shook him warmly by the hand. The Teuton was, however, by no means
- disposed to overlook the insult offered to him. He explained in the
- expressive German tongue what had occurred, and any one could see that he
- was greatly excited.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Sir Gregory, the English surgeon, had probably some experience of
- cases like this. He put his hand through the arm of the German, and then
- giving a laugh that in an emergency might obviate the use of a lancet, he
- said loudly enough to be heard over a considerable area,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come along, my dear friend; there is no visiting an hospital for the
- insane without coming across a lunatic,—a medical practitioner
- without discretion is worse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The local physician was left standing alone on the lawn.
- </p>
- <p>
- He shortly afterwards went home.
- </p>
- <p>
- If you wish to anger him now you need only talk about brain “sells.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same meeting it was my privilege to be presented to a really great
- London physician. He was the medical gentleman who was consulted by a
- special correspondent on his return from making a tour with the Marquis of
- Lome, when the latter became Viceroy of Canada. The special correspondent
- had left for Canada on the very day that he arrived in England from the
- Cape, having gone through the Zulu campaign, and he had reached the Cape
- direct from the Afghan war. After about two years of these experiences he
- felt run down, and acting on the suggestion of a friend, lost no time in
- consulting the great physician.
- </p>
- <p>
- On learning that the man was suffering from a curious impression of
- weariness for which he could not account, but which he had tried in vain
- to shake off, the great physician asked him what was his profession. He
- replied that he was a literary man—that he wrote for a newspaper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, I thought so,” cried the great physician. “Your complaint is easily
- accounted for. I perceived in a moment that you had been leading a
- sedentary life. That is what plays havoc with literary men. What you need
- just now is a complete change—no half measures, mind you—a
- complete change—a sea voyage would brace you up, or,—let me
- see—ah, yes, Margate might do. Try a fortnight at Margate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I am bound to say that it was another doctor who, when a naval captain who
- had been in charge of a corvette on the South Pacific station for five
- years, went to him for advice, gravely remarked,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder, sir, if at any time of your life you got a severe wetting?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The modern physician is most earnest in recommending changes of air and
- scene and employment. He is an enemy to the drug system. But the last
- enemy that shall be destroyed is the drug system. The “masses” believe in
- it as they believe no other system, whether in medicine, religion, or even
- gambling.
- </p>
- <p>
- I shall never forget the ring of contempt that there was in the voice of a
- servant of mine at the Cape, when, on the army surgeon’s giving him a
- prescription to be made up, he found that the whole thing only cost
- fourpence, and he said,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “That there coor can’t be much of a coor, sir; only corst fourpence, and
- me ready to pay ‘arf-a-crown.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In the smoking-room of an hotel in Liverpool some years ago a rather
- self-assertive gentleman was dilating to a group in a cosy corner on the
- advantages of travel, not merely as a physical, but as an intellectual
- stimulant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Am I right, sir?” he cried, turning to me. “Have you ever travelled?”
- </p>
- <p>
- I mentioned that I had done a little in that way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where do you come from now, sir?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “South America,” said I meekly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you, sir,” he cried, turning to another stranger; “have you
- travelled?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, a bit,” replied the man. “I was in ‘Frisco this day fortnight, and
- I’ll be in Egypt on this day week.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I knew by the look of those gentlemen that they had travelled,” said the
- loud man, turning to his group. “I believe in the value of travel. I
- travel myself—just like those gentlemen. Yes; a week ago I was at
- Bradford. Here I am at Liverpool to-day, and Heaven knows where I may be
- next week—at Manchester, may be.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- So far as I can gather, the impression seems to be pretty general that
- some divergence of opinion is by no means impossible among physicians in
- their diagnosis of a case. Doctors themselves seem to have at last become
- aware of the fact that the possibility of a difference being manifested in
- their views on some cases is now and again commented on by the
- irresponsible layman. An eminent member of that profession which makes a
- larger demand than any other upon the patience, the judgment, and the
- self-sacrifice of those who practise it, defended, a short time ago, in
- the course of a very witty speech, the apparent want of harmony between
- the views of physicians on some technical points. He said that perhaps he
- might not be going too far if he remarked that occasionally in a court of
- law the technical evidence given by two doctors seemed at first sight not
- to agree. This point was readily conceded by the audience; and the
- professor then went on to say that surely the absence of this mechanical
- agreement on all points should be accepted as powerful testimony to the
- conscientiousness of the profession. One of the rarest of charges brought
- against physicians was that of collusion. In fact, while he believed that,
- if put to it, his memory would be quite equal to recall some instances of
- a divergence of opinion between doctors in a witness-box, he did not think
- that he could remember a single case in which a charge of collusion
- against two members of the profession had been brought home to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Most sensible people will, I am persuaded, take this view of a matter
- which has called for comment in all ages. It is because doctors are so
- singularly sensitive that, sooner than run the chance of being accused of
- acting in collusion in any case, they now and again have been known to
- express views that were—well, not absolutely in harmony the one with
- the other.
- </p>
- <p>
- The distinguished physician who made so reasonable a defence of the
- profession which he adorns, told me that it was one of his early
- instructors who made that excellent summary of the relative values of
- medical attendance:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no hesitation in saying that it’s not better to be attended by a
- good doctor than a bad doctor; but I won’t go the length of saying that
- it’s not better to be attended by no doctor at all than by either.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XX.—ON SOME FORMS OF CLEVERNESS.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>The British Association—The late Professor Tyndall—His
- Belfast address—The centre of strict orthodoxy—The indignation
- of the pulpits—Worse than atheism—Biology and blasphemy allied
- sciences—The champion of orthodoxy—The town is saved—After
- many days—The second visit of Professor Tyndall to Belfast—The
- honoured guest of the Presbyterians—Public opinion—Colour
- blindness—Another meeting of the British Association—A clever
- young man—The secret of the ruin—The revelation of the secret—The
- great-grandfather of Queen Boadicea—The story of Antonio Giuseppe—Accepted
- as primo tenore—The birthday books—A movable feast—A box
- at the opera—Transferable—The discovery of the transfers—An
- al fresco operatic entertainment—No harm done.</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE annual meetings
- of the British Association for the Advancement of Science can be made
- quite as delightful functions as those of the British Medical Association,
- if they are not taken too seriously; and I don’t think that there is much
- likelihood of that happening. I have had the privilege of taking part in
- several of the dances, the garden parties, and the concerts which have
- taken place under the grateful protection of science. I have also availed
- myself of the courtesy of the railway companies that issued cheap tickets
- to the various places of interest in the locality where the annual
- festivities took place under the patronage of the British Association. The
- only President’s address which I ever heard delivered was, however, that
- of Professor Tyndall at Belfast.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was little more than a boy at the time, and that is probably why I was
- more deeply interested in Biology and Evolution than I have been in more
- recent years. It is scarcely necessary to say that Professor Tyndall’s
- utterance would take a very humble place in the heterodoxy of the present
- day, for the exponents of theology have found it necessary to enlarge
- their borders as the century draws to a close, and I suppose that if poor
- Tyndall had offered to lecture in St. Paul’s Cathedral his appearance
- under the dome would have been welcomed by the authorities, as it
- certainly would have been by the public. But Belfast had for long been the
- centre of strict orthodoxy, and so soon as the address of Professor
- Tyndall was printed a great cry arose from every pulpit. The excellent
- Presbyterians of Ulster were astounded at the audacity of the man in
- coming into the midst of such a community as theirs in order to deliver an
- address that breathed of something worse than the ancient atheists had
- ever dreamed of in their most heterodox moments. If the man had wanted to
- blaspheme—and a good <i>primâ facie</i> case was made out in favour
- of the assumption that he had—could he not have taken himself off to
- some congenial locality for the purpose? Why should he come to Belfast
- with such an object? Would the town ever get rid of the stigma that would
- certainly be attached to it as the centre from which the blasphemies of
- Biology had radiated upon this occasion?
- </p>
- <p>
- These were the questions that afflicted the good people for many days, and
- the consensus of opinion seemed to be in favour of the theory that unless
- the town should undergo a sort of moral fumigation, it would not be
- restored to the position it had previously occupied in the eyes of
- Christendom. The general idea is that to slaughter a pig in a Mohammedan
- mosque is an act the consequences of which are so far-reaching as to be
- practically irreparable; the act of Professor Tyndall at Belfast was of
- precisely this nature in the estimation of the inhabitants.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fortunately, however, a champion of orthodoxy appeared in the form of a
- Professor at the Presbyterian College who wrote a book—I believe
- some copies may still be purchased—to make it impossible for Tyndall
- or any other exponent of Evolution to face an audience of intelligent
- people. This book was the saving of the town. Belfast was rehabilitated,
- and the people breathed again.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the years went by; Darwin’s funeral service was held in Westminster
- Abbey, and Professor Tyndall’s voice was now and again heard like an
- Alpine echo of his master. In Belfast a University Extension Scheme was
- set on foot and promised to be a brilliant success—it collapsed
- after a time, but that is not to the point. What is to the point, however,
- is the fact that the inaugural lecture of the University Extension series
- was on the subject of Biology, and the chosen exponent of the science was
- Professor Tyndall. He came to Belfast as the honoured guest of the city—it
- had become a city since his memorable visit—and he passed some days
- at the official residence of the Presbyterian President of the Queen’s
- College, who had been a pupil at the divinity school of the clergyman who
- had written the book that was supposed to have re-consecrated, as it were,
- the locality defiled by the British Association address of 1874.
- </p>
- <p>
- This incident appears to me to be noteworthy—almost as noteworthy as
- the reception given in honour of Monsieur Emile Zola in the Guildhall a
- few years after Mr. Vizetelly had been sent to gaol for issuing a purified
- translation of a work of Zola’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- I think it was Mr. Forster who, in the spring of 1882, when Mr. Parnell
- and his friends were languishing in Kilmainham, said that the Irish
- Channel was like the water described by Byron: a palace at one side, a
- prison on the other. The Irish members left Kilmainham, and in a few hours
- found themselves in Westminster Palace—at least, Westminster Palace
- Hotel.
- </p>
- <p>
- Public opinion knows but the two places of residence—a palace and a
- prison. When a man leaves the one he is considered fit for the other.
- Public opinion knows but black and white, and vacillates from one to the
- other with the utmost regularity.
- </p>
- <p>
- The only constant thing in the world is change.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- At another meeting of the British Association I was a witness of a
- remarkable piece of cleverness on the part of a young man who has since
- proved his claim to be regarded as one of the most adroit men in England.
- Among the excursions the chief was to the locality of a ruin, the origin
- of which was, like the origin of the De la Pluche family, lost in the
- mists of obscurity. The ruin had been frequently visited by distinguished
- archæologists, but none had ventured to do more than guess—if one
- could imagine guesswork and archaeology associated—what period
- should be assigned to the dilapidated towers. It so happened, however,
- that an elderly professor at the local college had, by living laborious
- days, and mastering the elements of a new language, succeeded in wresting
- their secret from the lichened stones, and he made up his mind that when
- the British Association had its excursion to the ruin, he would reveal all
- that he had discovered regarding it, and by this <i>coup de théâtre</i>
- become famous.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the clever young man had an interesting young brother who had gained a
- reputation as a poet, and who dressed perhaps a trifle in excess of this
- reputation; and when the old professor was about to make his revelation
- regarding the ruin, the clever young man put up his brother in another
- part of the enclosure to recite one of his own poems on the locality. In a
- few moments the professor, who had commenced his discourse, was
- practically deserted. Only half a dozen of the excursionists rallied round
- him, and permitted themselves to be mystified; the cream of the visitors,
- to the number of perhaps a hundred, were around the reciter on an historic
- hillock fifty yards away, and his mellow cadences sounded very alluring to
- the few people who listened to the jerky delivery of the lecturer in the
- ruin.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the clever young man did not yield to the alluring voice of his
- brother. He had heard that voice before, and was well acquainted with its
- cadences. He was also well acquainted with the poem that was being recited—he
- had heard it more than once before. What he was not acquainted with was
- the marvellous discovery made by the professor who was in the act of
- revealing it to ten ears—that is allowing that only one person of
- those around him was deaf. The clever young man sat concealed behind a
- wall covered with ivy and listened to every word of the revelation. When
- it was over he unostentatiously joined the crowd around his brother, and
- heard with pleasure that the delivery of the poem had been very striking.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But we must not waste our time,” said the clever young man, with the air
- of authority of a personal conductor. “We have several other interesting
- points to dwell upon”—he spoke as if he and his brother owned the
- ruins and the natural landscape into the bargain. “Oh, yes, we must hurry
- on. I do not suppose there is any lady or gentleman present who is aware
- of the fact that we are within a few yards of the place where the
- great-grandfather of Queen Boadicea lies buried.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A murmur of negation passed round the crowd.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Follow me,” said the clever young man; and they followed him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He led them to the very place where the professor had made his revelation,
- and then, standing on a portion of the ruined structure, he gave in choice
- language, and with many inspiring quotations from the literature of the
- Ancient Britons, the substance of the professor’s revelation.
- </p>
- <p>
- For half an hour he continued his discourse, and quite delighted every one
- who heard him, except, perhaps, the elderly professor. He was among the
- audience, and he listened, with staring eyes, to the clever young man’s
- delightful mingling of the deepest archaeological facts with fictions that
- had a semblance of truth, and he was speechless. The innocent old soul
- actually believed that the clever young man had surpassed him, the
- professor, in the profundity of his researches into the history of the
- ruin; he knew that the face of the clever young man had not been among the
- faces of the few people who had heard his revelation, but he did not know
- that the clever young man was hidden among the ivy a few yards away.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the people were applauding the delightful discourse, he pressed
- forward to the impromptu lecturer and shook him warmly by the hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” he cried, “you have in you the stuff that goes to make a great
- archæologist. I have worked at nothing else but this ruin for the last
- eight years, and yet I admit that you know more about it than I do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, my dear sir,” said the clever young man, “the world knows that in
- your own path you are without a rival. I am content to sit at your feet.
- It is an honourable position. Any time you want to know something of this
- locality and its archæology do not hesitate to command me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The only rival in adroitness to the young man whose feats I have just
- recorded was one Antonio Giuseppe. I came upon this person in London, but
- only when I was in Milan did I become acquainted with the extent of his
- capacity. One of the stories I heard about him is, I think, worth
- repeating, illustrating, as it does, the difference between the English
- and the Italian systems of imposture.
- </p>
- <p>
- Antonio Giuseppe certainly was attached to the State Opera Company, but it
- would be difficult to define with any degree of exactness his duties in
- connection with that Institution. He had got not a single note in his
- voice, and yet—nay, on this account—he had passed during a
- season at Homburg as a distinguished tenor—for Signor Giuseppe was
- careful to see that his portmanteau was inscribed in white letters of
- considerable size, “Signor Antonio Giuseppe, State Opera Company.” He gave
- himself as many airs as a professional—nay, as an amateur, tenor,
- and he was thus assigned the most select apartment in the hotel during his
- sojourn, and a large folding screen was placed between his seat at the <i>table
- d’hote</i> and the window. There was, indeed, every excuse for taking
- Signor Giuseppe for a distinguished operatic tenor. He spoke all European
- languages with equal impurity, he went about in a waistcoat that
- resembled, in combination of colours, the drop scene of a theatre, he wore
- a blue velvet tie, made up in a knot to display a carbuncle pin about the
- size of a tram-car light, and his generosity in wristband was equalled
- only by his prodigality of cigarette paper. These characteristics, coupled
- with the fact that he had never been known to indulge in the luxury of a
- bath, gave rise to the rumour that he was the greatest tenor in Europe;
- consequently he was looked upon with envy by the Dukes with incomes of a
- thousand pounds a day, who were accustomed to resort for some months out
- of the year to Homburg; while Countesses in their own right sent him daily
- missives expressive of their admiration for his talents, and entreating
- the favour of his autograph in their birthday books. Poor Signor Giuseppe
- was greatly perplexed by the arrival of a birthday book at his apartment
- every morning; but so soon as its import was explained to him, he never
- failed to respond to the request of the fair owners of the volumes. His
- caligraphy did not extend beyond the limits of his autograph, and his
- birthday seemed to be with him a movable feast, for in no two of the books
- did his name appear on the pages assigned to the same month. As a matter
- of fact, it is almost impossible for a man who has never been acquainted
- with his father or mother, to know with any degree of accuracy the exact
- day on which he was born, so that Signor Giuseppe, who was discovered by a
- priest in a shed at the quay at Leghorn on St. Joseph’s day, was not to
- blame for his ignorance in respect of his nativity.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, when Mr. Fitzgauntlet, the enterprising impresario of the State
- Opera, turned up at Homburg in the course of a week or two, it became
- known that whatever position Signor Giuseppe might occupy in the State
- Opera Company, it was not that of <i>primo tenore</i>, for the most
- exacting impresario has never been known to include among the duties of a
- <i>primo tenore</i> the unpacking of a portmanteau and the arrangement of
- its contents around the dressing room of the impresario. The folding
- screen was removed from behind Signor Giuseppe on the day following the
- arrival of Mr. Fitzgauntlet at Homburg, and from being <i>feted</i> as
- Giuseppe the tenor, he was scorned as Giuseppe the valet.
- </p>
- <p>
- But in regarding Signor Giuseppe as nothing beyond the valet to the
- impresario the sojourners at the hotel were as greatly in error as in
- accepting him as the tenor. To be sure Signor Giuseppe now and again
- discharged the duties that usually devolve upon the valet, but the scope
- of his duties extended far beyond these limits. It was his task to arrange
- the <i>claque</i> for a new <i>prima donna</i>, and to purchase the
- bouquets to be showered upon the stage when the impresario was anxious to
- impress upon the public the admirable qualities possessed by a <i>débutante</i>
- whose services he had secured for a trifle. It was also Giuseppe’s
- privilege to receive the bouquets left at the stage door by the young
- gentlemen—or the old gentlemen—who had become struck with the
- graceful figure of the <i>premiere danseuse</i> or perhaps <i>cinquantième
- danseuse</i>, and the emoluments arising from this portion of his duties
- were said to be equal to a liberal income, exclusive of what he made by
- the disposal of the bouquets to the florist from whom they had been
- originally purchased. This invaluable official also made a little money
- for himself by his ingenuity in obtaining the photographs and autographs
- of the chief artists of the company, which he distributed for sale every
- evening in the stalls; but not quite so profitable was that part of his
- business which consisted in inventing stories to account for the absence
- of the impresario when tradesmen called at the State theatre with their
- bills; still, the thoughtfulness and ingenuity of Signor Giuseppe were
- quite equal to the strain put upon them in this direction, and Mr.
- Fitzgauntlet had no reason to be otherwise than satisfied. When it is
- understood that Giuseppe transacted nearly all their business for the
- chief artists in the company, engaged their apartments, and looked after
- their luggage when on tour in the provinces, it will readily be believed
- that he had, as a rule, more money at his banker’s than any official
- connected with the State Opera.
- </p>
- <p>
- The confidence which had always been placed in Signor Giuseppe’s integrity
- by the artists of the company was upon one occasion rudely shaken, and the
- story of how this disaster occurred is about to be related. Signor
- Giuseppe did a little business in wine and cigars, principally of British
- manufacture, and he had, with his accustomed dexterity, hitherto escaped a
- criminal prosecution under the Sale of Drugs Act for the consequences of
- his success in disposing of his commodities in this line of business. He
- also did a little in a medical way, a certain bottle containing a bright
- crimson liquid with a horrible taste being extremely popular among the
- members of the extensive chorus of the State Opera. When a “cyclus” of
- modern German opera was contemplated by Mr. Fitzgauntlet, Giuseppe
- increased his medical stock, feeling sure that the result of the
- performances would occasion a run upon his drugs; but the negotiations
- fell through, and it was only by the force of his perseverance and
- persuasiveness he contrived to get rid of his surplus to the gentlemen who
- played the brass instruments in the orchestra. It was not, however, on
- account of his transactions in the medical way that he almost forfeited
- the respect in which he was held by the artists, but because of the part
- he played with regard to the disposal of a certain box of cigars. After
- the production of the opera <i>Le Diamant Noir</i>, Signor Boccalione, the
- great basso, went to Giuseppe, saying,—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Giuseppe, I want your advice: you know I have made the success of the
- opera, but I do not read music very quickly, and Monsieur Lejeune has had
- a good deal of trouble with me. I should like to make him some little
- return; what would you suggest?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Giuseppe was lost in thought. He wondered, could he suggest the propriety
- of the basso’s offering the <i>maestro di piano</i> a case of Burgundy—Giuseppe
- had just received three cases of the finest Burgundy that had ever been
- made in the Minories.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A present to the value of how much?” he asked of Signor Boccalione.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh,” said the basso airily, and with a gesture of indifference, “about
- sixty francs. Monsieur Lejeune had not really so much trouble with me—no
- one else in the company would think of acknowledging his services, but
- with me it is different—I cannot live without being generous.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Giuseppe mused.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the signor would only go so far as seventy francs, I could get him a
- box of the choicest cigars,” he said after a pause; and then he went on to
- explain that the cigars were in the possession of a friend of his own,
- whom he had passed into the opera one night, and who consequently owed him
- some compliment, so that the box, which in the ordinary way of business
- was really worth eighty francs, might be obtained for seventy. The
- generosity of the basso, however, was not without its limits; it would,
- sustain the tension put upon it by the expenditure of sixty francs, but it
- was not sufficiently strong to face the outlay suggested by Giuseppe..
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sixty francs!” he cried, “sixty francs is a small fortune, and I myself
- smoke excellent cigars at thirty. I will give no more than sixty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Giuseppe did not think the box could be purchased for the money, but he
- said he would try and induce his friend to be liberal. The next day he
- came to Signor Boccalione with the box containing the hundred cigars of
- the choicest brand—the quality of the cigars will be fully
- appreciated when it is understood that the hundred cost Giuseppe
- originally close upon thirteen shillings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Per Bacco!” cried the basso, “Monsieur Lejeune should be a happy man—he
- had hardly any trouble with me, now that I come to reflect. Oh, I am the
- only man in the company who would be so foolish as to think of a present—and
- such a present—for him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Signor!” said Giuseppe, “such a present! The perfume, signor,
- wonderful! delicious! celestial!” He then explained how he had persuaded
- his friend, by soft words and promises, to part with the box for sixty
- francs, and Signor Boccalione listened and laughed; then, on a sheet of
- pink notepaper, the basso wrote a dedication, occupying twelve lines, of
- the box of cigars to the use of the supremely illustrious <i>maestro di
- piano</i>, Lejeune, in token of the invaluable assistance he had afforded
- to the most humble and grateful of his friends and servants, Alessandro
- Boccalione.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Giuseppe promised to send the box to the maestro on the following day
- he meant to keep his word, and he did keep it. On the same evening he was
- met by Maestro Lejeune. The maestro looked very pale in the face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Giuseppe, my friend,” he said with a smile, “you were very good to me
- upon our last tour, looking after my luggage with commendable zeal; I have
- often thought of making you some little return. You will find a box of
- cigars—one hundred all but one—on my dressing table; you may
- have them for your own use.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Giuseppe was profuse in his thanks, and, on going to the dressing-room of
- the maestro, obtained possession once more of the box of cigars he had
- sold to the basso. On the mat was the half-smoked sample which Monsieur
- Lejeune had attempted to get through.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not more than a week had passed after this transaction when Signor
- Giuseppe was sent for by Madame Speranza, the celebrated soprano.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Giuseppe,” said the lady, “as you have had twenty-seven of my photographs
- within the past month, I think you may be able to help me out of a
- difficulty in which I find myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Giuseppe thought it rather ungenerous for a soprano earning—or at
- least getting paid—two hundred pounds a week, to make any reference
- to such a paltry matter as photographs; he, however, said nothing on this
- subject, but only expressed his willingness to serve the lady. She then
- explained to him what he knew already, namely, that she had had a serious
- difference with Herr Groschen, the conductor, as to the <i>tempo</i> of a
- certain air in <i>Le Diamant Noir</i>, and that the conductor and she had
- not been on speaking terms for more than a fortnight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But now,” said Madame Speranza in conclusion, “now that I have made the
- opera so brilliant a success, I should like to make my peace with the poor
- old man, who must be miserable in consequence of my treatment of him,—especially
- as I got the best of the dispute. I mean to write to him this evening, and
- send him some present—something small, you know—not
- extravagant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What would Madame think of the appropriateness of a box of cigars?” asked
- Giuseppe after an interval of thought. “I heard Herr Groschen say that he
- had just smoked the last of a box, and meant to purchase another when he
- had the money,” he added.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How much would a box of cigars cost?” asked the <i>prima donna</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madame can have cigars at all prices—even as low as sixty-five
- francs,” replied her confidential adviser.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mon Dieu! what extravagant creatures men are!” cried the lady.
- “Sixty-five francs’ worth of cigars would probably not last him more than
- a few months. Never mind; I do not want a cheap box,—my soul is a
- generous one: procure me a box at sixty-six francs, and we will say
- nothing more about the photographs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Signor Giuseppe said he would try what could be done. A man whom he had
- once obliged had a sister married to one of the most intelligent cigar
- merchants in the city; but he did not think he had any cigars under
- seventy francs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not a sou more than sixty-six will I pay,” cried the soprano with
- emphasis. Giuseppe gave a shrug and said he would see what could be done.
- </p>
- <p>
- What he saw could be done was to expend the sum of twopence English in the
- purchase of a cigar, to put in the centre of the package from which the
- maestro had taken his sample, and to bring the box sealed to Madame
- Speranza, whom he congratulated on being able to present her late enemy
- with a box of cigars of a quality not to be surpassed in the island of
- Cuba. The lady put her face down to the box and made a little grimace, and
- Giuseppe left her apartment with three guineas English in his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two days afterwards he encountered Herr Groschen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Giuseppe,” said the conductor, “you may remember that when you so
- cleverly contrived to have my luggage with the fifteen pounds of tobacco
- amongst it passed at the Custom House I said I would make you a present.
- Forgive me for my negligence all this time, and accept a box of choice
- cigars, which you will find on my table. May you be happy, Giuseppe—you
- are a worthy fellow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It is needless to say that Signor Giuseppe recovered his box. On the
- hearth-rug lay a half-smoked specimen, and by its side the portion of
- Madame Speranza’s letter to the conductor which he had used to light the
- one cigar out of the hundred.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before another week had passed, the same box had been sold to the tenor,
- to present to Mr. Fitzgauntlet, who, on receiving it, put his nose down to
- the package, and threw the lot into a corner among waste papers, and went
- on with his writing. The box was rescued by Giuseppe, and presented by him
- to the husband of Madame Galatini-Purissi, the contralto, in exchange for
- three dozen copies of the fair <i>artiste’s</i> portrait. Then Signor
- Purissi sent the box to the flautist in the orchestra, who played the
- obbligato to some of the contralto’s arias, and as this gentleman did not
- smoke he made it over once more to Signor Giuseppe. As the box had by this
- time been in the hands of every one in the company likely to possess a box
- of cigars, Giuseppe thought it would show a grasping spirit on his part
- were he to attempt to dispose of it again; so he merely made up the
- ninety-nine cigars in packages of three, which he sold to thirty-three
- members of the chorus at a shilling a head.
- </p>
- <p>
- It so happened, however, that Herr Groschen, Signor Boccalione, and Signor
- Purissi met in a tobacconist’s shop about a week after the final
- distribution of the cigars, and their conversation turned upon the
- comparative ease with which bad cigars could be procured. Herr Groschen
- boasted how he had repaid his obligations to Giuseppe with a box of
- cigars, which he was certain satisfied the poor devil.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Corpo di Bacco!” cried the basso, “I bought a box from Giuseppe to
- present to Maestro Lejeune.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I,” said the husband of the contralto, “bought another from him. Can
- it have been the same box?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Suspicion being thus aroused, Boccalione sought out Monsieur Lejeune, who
- confessed that he had given the box to Giuseppe; and Signor Purissi
- learned from the flautist that his gift had been disposed of in the same
- direction. The story went round the company, and poor Giuseppe was pounced
- upon by his indignant and demonstrative countrymen, and an explanation
- demanded of him on the subject of his repeated disposal of the same box.
- Giuseppe was quite as demonstrative as the most earnest of his
- interrogators in declaring that he had not disposed of the same box. His
- friend had obliged him with several boxes, and he had himself been greatly
- put about to oblige the ungrateful people who now turned upon him. He
- swore by the tomb of his parents that the obligations he had already
- discharged towards the ingrates would never be repeated; they might in
- future go elsewhere (Signor Giuseppe made a suggestion as to the exact
- locality) for their cigars; but for his part he washed his hands clean of
- them and their cigars. For three-quarters of an hour the basso-profundo,
- the soprano, and the husband of the contralto gesticulated before Giuseppe
- in the portico of the Opera House, until a crowd collected, the impression
- being general that an animated scene from a new opera was being rehearsed
- by the artists of the State Opera. A policeman who arrived on the scene
- could not be persuaded to take this view of the matter, and he politely
- requested the distinguished members of the State Opera Company either to
- move on or to go within the precincts of the building. The basso attempted
- to explain to the policeman in very choice Italian what Giuseppe had done,
- but he was so demonstrative the officer thought he was threatening the
- police force generally, and took his name and address with a view to
- issuing a summons for this offence. In the meantime Giuseppe got into a
- hansom and drove off, craning his neck round the side of the vehicle to
- make a parting allusion to the maternity of the husband of the contralto,
- to which the soprano promptly replied by a suggestion which, if true,
- would tend to remove the mystery surrounding the origin of Giuseppe. A
- week afterwards of course all were once again on the most friendly terms;
- but Giuseppe now and again feels that his want of ingenuousness in the
- cigar-box transaction well-nigh jeopardised the reputation for integrity
- he had previously enjoyed among the principals of the State Opera Company.
- He has been much more careful ever since, and flatters himself that not
- even the <i>tenore robusto</i>, who is the most suspicious of men, can
- discover the points on which he gets the better of him. As a practical
- financier Signor Antonio Giuseppe thinks of himself as a success; and
- there can hardly be a doubt that he is fully justified in taking such a
- view of his career.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXI.—“SO CAREFUL OF THE TYPE.”
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>Why the chapter is a short one—Straw essential to brick-making—A
- suggestion regarding the king in “Hamlet”—The Irish attendant—The
- overland route—“Susanna and the editors”—“The violets of his
- wrath”—The clergyman’s favourite poem—A horticultural feat—A
- tulip transformed—The entertainment of an interment—The
- autotype of Russia—A remarkable conflagration and a still more
- remarkable dance—Paradise and the other place—Why the concert
- was a success—The land of Goschcn—A sporting item—A
- detective story—The flora and fauna—The Moors dictum—Absit
- omen!</i>
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F this chapter is
- a short one, it is so for the best of reasons: it is meant to record some
- blunders of printers and others which impressed themselves upon me. It
- would obviously be impossible to make a chapter of the average length out
- of such a record. The really humorous faults in the setting up of anything
- I have ever written have been very few. In the printing of the original
- edition of my novel <i>Daireen</i> one of the most notable occurred in a
- first proof. Every chapter of this book is headed with a few lines from <i>Hamlet</i>,
- and one of these headings is from the well-known scene with Rosencrantz
- and Guildenstern,
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- <i>Gull</i>.—The King, sir——
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- <i>Hamlet</i>.—Ay, sir, what of him?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- <i>Gull</i>.—Is in his retirement marvellous distempered.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- <i>Hamlet</i>.—With drink, sir?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- <i>Gull</i>.—No, my lord, rather with choler.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the dialogue as I had written it. The humorous printer added a
- letter that somewhat changed the sense. He made the line,—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “No, my lord, rather with <i>cholera</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- This was probably an honest attempt on the compositor’s part to work out a
- “new reading,” and it certainly did not appear to me to be more
- extravagant than the scores of attempts made in the same direction. If
- this reading were accepted, the perturbation of Claudius during the
- players’ scene, and his hasty Bight before its conclusion, would be
- accounted for.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another daring new reading in <i>Hamlet</i> was suggested by a compositor,
- through the medium of a comma and a capital. In the course of a magazine
- article, he set up a line in the third scene of the third act, in this
- way,—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- <i>Hamlet</i>.—Now might I do it, Pat!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It is somewhat curious that some attempt has not been made before now to
- justify such a reading. Could it not be suggested that Hamlet had an Irish
- servant who was in his confidence? About the time of Hamlet, the Danes had
- an important settlement in Ireland, and why might not Hamlet’s father have
- brought one of the natives of that island, named Patrick, to be the
- personal attendant of the young prince? The whole thing appears so
- feasible, it almost approaches the dimensions of an Irish grievance that
- no actor has yet had the courage to bring on the Irish servant who was
- clearly addressed by Hamlet in the words just quoted.
- </p>
- <p>
- So “readings” are made.
- </p>
- <p>
- Either of those which the compositors suggested is much more worthy of
- respect than the late Mr. Barry Sullivan’s,—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “I know a hawk from a heron. Pshaw!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- But if compositors are sometimes earnest and enterprising students of
- Shakespeare, I have sometimes found them deficient on the subject of
- geography. Upon one occasion, for instance, I accompanied a number of them
- on an excursion to the Isle of Man. The day was one of a mighty rushing
- wind, and the steamer being a small one, the disasters among the
- passengers were numerous. There was not a printer aboard who was not in a
- condition the technical equivalent to which is “pie.” I administered
- brandy to some of them, telling them to introduce a “turned rule,” which
- means, in newspaper instructions, “more to follow.” But all was of no
- avail. We reached the island in safety, however, and then one of the
- compositors who had been very much discomposed, seeing the train about to
- start for Douglas, told me in a confidential whisper that he had suffered
- so much on the voyage, he had made up his mind to return to Ireland by
- train.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Quite a new reading, not to <i>Hamlet</i>, but to one of the lyrics in <i>The
- Princess</i>, was suggested by another compositor. The introduction of a
- comma in the first line of the last stanza of “Home they brought her
- warrior dead” produced a quaint effect.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “Rose a nurse of ninety years,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Set his child upon her knee,”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- appears in every edition of <i>The Princess</i>. But my friend, by his
- timely insertion of a comma, made it read thus:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “Rose, a nurse of ninety years.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps the nurse’s name was Rose, but Tennyson kept this a secret.
- </p>
- <p>
- One of the loveliest of Irish national melodies is that for which Moore
- wrote the stanzas beginning:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Silent, O Moyle, be the roar of thy waters!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The title of this song appeared in the programme of a St. Patrick’s Day
- Concert, which was published in a leading London newspaper, as though the
- poem were addressed to one Mr. O’Moyle,—“Silent, O’Moyle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Another humorist set up a reference to “Susanna and the Elders,”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Susanna and the Editors,” which was not just the same thing. Possibly the
- printer had another and equally apocryphal episode in his mind’s eye.
- </p>
- <p>
- I felt a warm personal regard for the man who made a lecturer state that a
- critic had “poured out the violets of his wrath upon him.” The criticism
- did not, under these circumstances, seem particularly severe.
- </p>
- <p>
- I must frankly confess, however, that I had nothing but reprobation for
- the one who made a clergyman state in a lecture to a class of young
- ladies, that his favourite poem of Wordsworth’s was “Invitations to
- Immorality.” Nor had I the least feeling except of indignation for the one
- who set up the title of a picture in which I was interested, “a rare
- turnip,” instead of “a rare tulip.” The printer who at the conclusion of
- an obituary notice was expected to announce to the readers of the paper
- that “the interment will take place on Saturday,” but who, instead, gave
- them to understand that “the entertainment will take place on Saturday,”
- did not, I think, cause any awkward mishap. He knew that the idea was that
- of entertainment, whatever the word employed might be.
- </p>
- <p>
- The compositor who caused an editor to refer to “the autotype of the
- Russian people,” when the word <i>autocrat</i> was in the “copy” before
- him, was less to be blamed than the reader who allowed such a mistake to
- pass without correction.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I read on a proof one night that the most striking scene in <i>The
- Dead Heart</i> at the Lyceum was “the burning of the Pastille and the
- dance of the Rigmarole,” I asked for the “copy” that had been telegraphed;
- and I found that the printer was not responsible for this marvellous
- blunder.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It will be remembered that at one of his lectures in the United States,
- Mr. Richard A. Proctor remarked that in the course of a few million years
- something remarkable would happen, but that its occurrence would not
- inconvenience his audience, as he supposed they would all be in Paradise
- at that time.
- </p>
- <p>
- In one paper the reporter made him say that he supposed his audience would
- all be in Paris at that time.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next evening Mr. Proctor turned the mistake to a good “scoring”
- account, by stating that he fancied at first an error had been made; but
- that shortly afterwards, he remembered that the tradition was, that all
- good Americans go to Paris when they die, so that the reporter clearly
- understood his business.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The enterprising correspondent who sows his telegrams broadcast is a
- frequent cause of the appearance of mistakes. I recollect that one sent a
- hundred words over the wire regarding some village concert, the great
- success of which was due to the zeal of the Reverend John Jones, “the <i>locus
- standi</i> of the parish.” He had probably heard something at one time of
- a <i>pastor loci,</i> and made a brave but unsuccessful attempt to
- reproduce the phrase.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another correspondent telegraphed regarding the arrival of two American
- cyclists at Queenstown, that their itinerary would be as follows: “They
- will travel on their bicycles through Ireland and England, and then
- crossing from Dover to Calais they will proceed through Europe, and from
- Turkey they will pass through Asia Minor into Xenophon and the Anabasis,
- leaving which they will travel to Egypt and the Land of <i>Goschen</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The reference to Xenophon was funny enough, but the spelling of the last
- word, identifying the country with the statesman, seemed to me to
- represent the highwater mark of the flood-tide of modernism. A few years
- before, when the correspondent was doubtless more in touch with the
- vicissitudes of the Children of Israel than with the feats of cyclists
- from the United States, he would probably have assimilated Mr. Goschen’s
- name with the Land of Goshen; but soon the fame of the ex-Chancellor of
- the Exchequer had become of more immediate importance to him, and it was
- the land that changed its name in his mind to the name of the ex-Finance
- Minister.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was probably the influence of the same spirit of modernism that caused
- a foreman, in making up the paper for the press, to insert under the title
- of “Sporting,” half a column of a report of a lecture by a clergyman on
- “The Races of Palestine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was, however, the telegraph office that I found to be responsible for a
- singular error in the report of the arrest of a certain notorious
- criminal. The report should have stated that “a photograph of the prisoner
- had been taken by the detective camera,” but the result of the filtration
- of the message through a network of telegraph wires was the statement that
- the photograph “had been taken by Detective Cameron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Some years ago a too earnest naturalist was drowned when canoeing on a
- lake in the west of Ireland. An enterprising correspondent who clearly
- resided near the scene of the accident, forwarded to the newspaper with
- which I was connected, a circumstantial account of the finding of the
- capsized canoe. In the course of his references to the objects of the
- naturalist’s visit to the west, the reporter made the astounding statement
- that “he had already succeeded in getting together a practically complete
- collection of the <i>flora</i> and <i>fauna</i> of Ireland,”—truly a
- “large order.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I feel that I cannot do better than bring to a close with this story my
- desultory jottings, which may bear to be regarded as a far from complete
- collection of the <i>flora</i> and <i>fauna</i> of journalism. Perhaps my
- researches into these highways and byways may induce some more competent
- and widely experienced brother to publish his notes on men and matters.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not a jot, not a jot,” protested the <i>Moor</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- Am I setting the omen at defiance in publishing these Jottings? Perhaps I
- am; though I feel easier in my mind on this point when I recall how, on my
- quoting in an article the proverb, “<i>Autres temps, mitres mours”</i> a
- wag of a printer caused it to appear, “<i>Autres temps, autres</i>
- Moores!”
- </p>
- <h3>
- THE END.
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg’s A Journalists Note-Book, by Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A JOURNALISTS NOTE-BOOK ***
-
-***** This file should be named 51952-h.htm or 51952-h.zip *****
-This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
- http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/5/51952/
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
-be renamed.
-
-Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
-law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
-so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
-States without permission and without paying copyright
-royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
-of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
-Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
-concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
-and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive
-specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this
-eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook
-for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports,
-performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given
-away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks
-not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the
-trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.
-
-START: FULL LICENSE
-
-THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
-PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
-
-To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
-distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
-(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
-Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
-Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
-www.gutenberg.org/license.
-
-Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
-Gutenberg-tm electronic works
-
-1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
-electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
-and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
-(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
-the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
-destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your
-possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
-Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
-by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
-person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph
-1.E.8.
-
-1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
-used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
-agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
-things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
-even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
-paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
-Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this
-agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm
-electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
-
-1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
-Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
-of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual
-works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
-States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
-United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
-claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
-displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
-all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
-that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting
-free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm
-works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
-Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily
-comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
-same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
-you share it without charge with others.
-
-1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
-what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
-in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
-check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
-agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
-distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
-other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no
-representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
-country outside the United States.
-
-1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
-
-1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
-immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear
-prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work
-on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
-phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
-performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
-
- This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
- most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
- restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
- under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
- eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
- United States, you’ll have to check the laws of the country where you
- are located before using this ebook.
-
-1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
-derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
-contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
-copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
-the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
-redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
-Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
-either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
-obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
-trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
-
-1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
-with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
-must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
-additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
-will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
-posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
-beginning of this work.
-
-1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
-License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
-work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
-
-1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
-electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
-prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
-active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
-Gutenberg-tm License.
-
-1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
-compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
-any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
-to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format
-other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
-version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site
-(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
-to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
-of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
-Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
-full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
-
-1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
-performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
-unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
-
-1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
-access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
-provided that
-
-* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
- the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
- you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
- to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has
- agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
- Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
- within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
- legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
- payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
- Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
- Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
- Literary Archive Foundation.”
-
-* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
- you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
- does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
- License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
- copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
- all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm
- works.
-
-* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
- any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
- electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
- receipt of the work.
-
-* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
- distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
-
-1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
-Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than
-are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
-from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The
-Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm
-trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
-
-1.F.
-
-1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
-effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
-works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
-Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
-electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
-contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
-or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
-intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
-other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
-cannot be read by your equipment.
-
-1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
-of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
-Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
-Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
-Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
-liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
-fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
-LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
-PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
-TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
-LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
-INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
-DAMAGE.
-
-1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
-defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
-receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
-written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
-received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
-with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
-with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
-lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
-or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
-opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
-the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
-without further opportunities to fix the problem.
-
-1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
-in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
-OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
-LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
-
-1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
-warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
-damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
-violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
-agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
-limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
-unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
-remaining provisions.
-
-1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
-trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
-providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in
-accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
-production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
-electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
-including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
-the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
-or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or
-additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any
-Defect you cause.
-
-Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
-
-Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
-electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
-computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
-exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
-from people in all walks of life.
-
-Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
-assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s
-goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
-remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
-Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
-and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future
-generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
-Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
-www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg
-Literary Archive Foundation
-
-The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
-501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
-state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
-Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
-number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
-U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
-
-The Foundation’s principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the
-mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its
-volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous
-locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt
-Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to
-date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and
-official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
-
-For additional contact information:
-
- Dr. Gregory B. Newby
- Chief Executive and Director
- gbnewby@pglaf.org
-
-Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
-Literary Archive Foundation
-
-Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
-spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
-increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
-freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
-array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
-($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
-status with the IRS.
-
-The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
-charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
-States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
-considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
-with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
-where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
-DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
-state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
-
-While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
-have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
-against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
-approach us with offers to donate.
-
-International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
-any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
-outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
-
-Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
-methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
-ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
-donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate
-
-Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
-
-Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
-Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
-freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
-distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of
-volunteer support.
-
-Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
-editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
-the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
-necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
-edition.
-
-Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
-facility: www.gutenberg.org
-
-This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
-including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
-subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- </body>
-</html>
|
