All Sorts and Conditions
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By
Walter Besant

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1837
ARTES
LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
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VERITAS
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SCIENTIA
SI QUÆRIS PENINSULAM AMⱭNAM
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1

SAAAAAAAAA
ALL SORTS AND CON-
DITIONS OF MEN
AN IMPOSSIBLE STORY
BY
WALTER BESANT AND JAmes Rice
**
PHILADELPHIA
Published by
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
Je v den het water

ape
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ΤΟ
The Memory
JAMES RICE
OF
PREFACE.
THE ten years' partnership of myself and my late
friend Mr. James Rice has been terminated by death.
I am persuaded that nothing short of death would have
put an end to a partnership which was conducted
throughout with perfect accord, and without the least
difference of opinion. The long illness which termi-
nated fatally on April 25th of this year began in Janu-
ary of last year. There were intervals during which
he seemed to be recovering and gaining strength; he
was, indeed, well enough in the autumn to try change
of air by a visit to Holland; but he broke down again
very shortly after his return: though he did not him-
self suspect it, he was under sentence of death, and for
the last six months of his life his downward course was
steady and continuous.
I
Almost the last act of his in our partnership was the
arrangement, with certain country papers and else-
where, for the serial publication of this novel, the sub-
ject and writing of which were necessarily left entirely
to myself.
Gala
The many wanderings, therefore, which I undertook
last summer in Stepney, Whitechapel, Poplar, St.
1
6
PREFACE.
George's in the East, Limehouse, Bow, Stratford, Shad-
well, and all that great and marvellous unknown coun-
try which we call East London, were undertaken, for
the first time for ten years, alone. They would have
been undertaken in great sadness had one foreseen the
end. In one of these wanderings I had the happiness
to discover Rotherhithe, which I afterward explored
with carefulness; in another, I lit upon a certain Haven
of Rest for aged sea-captains, among whom I found
Captain Sorensen; in others I found many wonderful
things, and conversed with many wonderful people.
The "single-handedness," so to speak, of this book
would have been a mere episode in the history of the
firm, a matter of no concern or interest to the general
public, had my friend recovered. But he is dead; and
it therefore devolves upon me to assume the sole respon-
sibility of the work, for good or bad. The same re-
sponsibility is, of course, assumed for the two short
stories, "The Captain's Room," published at Christmas
last, and "They Were Married," published as the sum-
mer number of the Illustrated London News. The
last story was, in fact, written after the death of my
partner; but as it had already been announced, it was
thought best, under the circumstances, to make no
change in the title.
I have been told by certain friendly advisers that
this story is impossible. I have, therefore, stated the
fact on the title-page, so that no one may complain of
being taken in or deceived. But I have never been
able to understand why it is impossible.
WALTER BESANT.
G
UNITED UNIVERSITIES' CLUB, August 19, 1882.
3
<
CHAPTER
CONTENTS.
PROLOGUE-IN TWO PARTS,
I. NEWS FOR HIS LORDSHIP,
II.-A VERY COMPLETE CASE,
III.-ONLY A DRESSMAKER,
IV.-UNCLE BUNKER,
V. THE CARES OF WEALTH,
VI.-A FIRST STEP,
VII.-THE TRINITY ALMSHOUSE,
VIII.-WHAT HE GOT BY IT,
IX. THE DAY BEFORE THE FIRST,
X.-THE GREat Davenant CASE,
XI.-THE FIRST DAY,
XII. —SUNDAY AT THE EAST END,
XIII. —ANGELA'S EXPERIMENT,
XIV. THE TENDER PASSION,
XV.-A SPLENDID OFFER,
XVI.-HARRY'S DECISION,
XVII. —WHAT LORD JOCELYN THOUGHT,
XVIII. -THE PALACE OF DELIGHT,
XIX.-DICK THE RADICAL,
XX.-DOWN ON THEIR LUCK,
XXI.-LADY DAVENANT,
XXII.-DANIEL FAGG,
XXIII. THE MISSING LINK,
•
•
•
•
•
PAGE
9
26
40
46
56
67
76
888888
99
108
116
124
133
142
153
161
169
176
182
191
197
205
214
223
8
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
XXIV.-LORD JOCELYN'S TROUBLES,
XXV. AN INVITATION,
K
XXVI.-LORD DAVENANT'S GREATNESS,
XXVII.-THE SAME SIGNS,
XXVIII.-HARRY FINDS LIBERTY,
XXIX. THE FIGURE-HEADS,
XXX. THE PROFESSOR'S PROPOSAL,
K
XXXI.-CAPTAIN COPPIN,
XXXII.-BUNKER AT BAY,
XXXIII.-MR. BUNKER'S LETTER,
XXXIV.-PROOFS IN PRINT,
XXXV.-"THEN WE'LL KEEP COMPANY,"
XXXVI.-WHAT WILL BE THE END?
XXXVII.-TRUTH WITH FAITHFULNESS,
XXXVIII.-I AM THE DRESSMAKER,
XXXIX.-THRICE HAPPY BOY,
XL.-SWEET NELLY,
XLI.-BOXING-NIGHT,
•
XLII.-NOT JOSEPHUS, BUT ANOTHER,
XLIII.-O MY PROPHETIC SOUL!
XLIV.-A FOOL AND HIS MONEY,
XLV. -LADY DAVENANT'S DINNER-PARTY,
XLVI.—THE END OF THE CASE,
XLVII.-A PALACE OF DELIGHT,
XLVIII.-MY LADY SWEET,
XLIX. —“UPROUSE YE THEN, MY MERRY, MERRY MEN,'
•
•
•
"9
PAGE
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397
402
413
418
425
432
All Sorts and Conditions of Men.
PROLOGUE.-PART I.
It was the evening of a day in early June. The
time was last year, and the place was Cambridge. The
sun had been visible in the heavens, a gracious pres
ence, actually a whole week-in itself a thing remark
able; the hearts of the most soured, even of landlords
and farmers, were coming to believe again in the possi-
bility of fine weather; the clergy were beginning to
think that they might this year hold a real Harvest
Thanksgiving instead of a sham; the trees at the Backs
were in full foliage; the avenues of Trinity and Clare
were splendid; beside them the trim lawns sloped to the
margin of the Cam, here most glorious and proudest of
English rivers, seeing that he laves the meadows of
those ancient and venerable foundations, King's, Trin-
ity, and St. John's, to say nothing of Queen's and Clare
and Magdalen; men were lazily floating in canoes, or
leaning over the bridges, or strolling about the walks,
or lying on the grass; and among them-but not-oh!
not with them-walked or rested many of the damsels
of learned Newnham, chiefly in pairs, holding sweet
converse
On mind and art,
And labor and the changing mart,
And all the framework of the land:
not neglecting the foundations of the Christian faith
and other fashionable topics, which ladies nowadays.
handle with so much learning, originality, dexterity,
and power.
We have, however, to do with only one pair, who
10
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
were sitting together on the banks opposite Trinity.
These two were talking about a subject far more inter-
esting than any concerning mind, or art, or philosophy,
or the chances of the senate-house, or the future of
Newnham: for they were talking about themselves and
their own lives, and what they were to do each with
that one life which happened, by the mere accident of
birth, to belong to herself. It must be a curious sub-
ject for reflection in extreme old age, when everything
has happened that is going to happen, including rheu-
matism, that, but for this accident, one's life might
have been so very different.
"Because, Angela," said the one who wore spectacles
and looked older than she was, by reason of much pon-
dering over books and perhaps too little exercise, "be-
cause, my dear, we have but this one life before us, and
if we make mistakes with it, or throw it away, or waste
it, or lose our chances, it is such a dreadful pity. Oh,
to think of the girls who drift and let every chance go
by, and get nothing out of their lives at all-except
babies" (she spoke of babies with great contempt).
"Oh! it seems as if every moment were precious: oh!
it is a sin to waste an hour of it."
She gasped and clasped her hands together with a
sigh. She was not acting, not at all; this girl was that
hitherto rare thing, a girl of study and of books; she
was wholly possessed, like the great scholars of old,
with the passion for learning.
66
'Oh! greedy person!" replied the other with a laugh,
"if you read all the books in the University library,
and lose the enjoyment of sunshine, what shall it profit
you, in the long run?"
This one was a young woman of much finer physique
than her friend. She was not short-sighted, but pos-
sessed, in fact, a pair of orbs of very remarkable clear-
ness, steadiness, and brightness. They were not soft
eyes, nor languishing eyes, nor sleepy eyes, nor down-
cast, shrinking eyes; they were wide-awake, brown,
honest eyes, which looked fearlessly upon all things,
fair or foul. A girl does not live at Newnham two
years for nothing, mind you; when she leaves that seat
of learning, she has changed her mind about the model,
the perfect, the ideal woman. More than that, she will
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
11
change the minds of her sisters and her cousins; and
there are going to be a great many Newnhams, and
the spread of this revolution will be rapid; and the
shrinking, obedient, docile, man-reverencing, curate-
worshipping maiden of our youth will shortly vanish and
be no more seen. And what will the curate do then,
poor thing? Wherefore let the bishop look to certain
necessary changes in the marriage service; and let the
young men see that their own ideas change with the
times, else there will be no sweethearts for them. More
could I prophesy, but refrain.
This young lady owned, besides those mentioned.
above, many other points which will always be consid-
ered desirable at her age, whatever be the growth of
feminine education (wherefore, courage, brothers!). In
all these points she contrasted favorably with her com-
panion. For her face was sunny, and fair to look upon;
one of the younger clerical dons-now a scanty band,
almost a remnant-was reported to have said, after gaz-
ing upon that face, that he now understood, which he
had never understood before, what Solomon meant when
he compared his love's temples to a piece of pomegran-
ate within her locks. No one asked him what he meant,
but he was a mathematical man, and so he must have
meant something, if it was only trigonometry. As to
her figure, it was what a healthy, naturally dressed,
and strong young woman's figure ought to be, and not
more slender in the waist than was the figure of Venus
or Mother Eve; and her limbs were elastic, so that she
seemed when she walked as if she would like to run,
jump, and dance, which, indeed, she would have greatly
preferred, only at Newnham they "take it out" at lawn
tennis. And whatever might be the course of life
marked out by herself, it was quite certain to the intel-
ligent observer that before long Love the invincible-
Love that laughs at plots, plans, conspiracies, and de-
signs-would upset them all, and trace out quite an-
other line of life for her, and most probably the most
commonplace line of all.
"Your life, Constance," she went on, seems to me
the most happy and the most fortunate. How nobly
you have vindicated the intellect of women by your
degree!”
(<
12
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
(C
"No, my dear." Constance shook her head sadly.
'No: only partly vindicated our intellect; remember I
was but fifth wrangler, and there were four men—men,
Angela-above me. I wanted to be senior."
Everybody knows that the fifth is always as good
as the first." Constance, however, shook her head at
this daring attempt at consolation. "At all events,
Constance, you will go on to prove it by your original
papers when you publish your researches. You will
lecture like Hypatia; you will have the undergraduates
leaving the men and crowding to your theatre. You
will become the greatest mathematician in Cambridge;
you will be famous for ever. You will do better than
man himself, even in man's most exalted level of intel-
lectual strength."
CC
The pale cheek of the student flushed.
"I do not expect to do better than men," she replied
humbly. "It will be enough if I do as well. Yes, my
dear, all my life, short or long, shall be given to sci-
ence. I will have no love in it, or marriage, or—or—
anything of that kind at all.”
"Nor will I," said the other stoutly, yet with appar-
ent effort. "Marriage spoils a woman's career; we
must live our life to its utmost, Constance.
"We must, Angela. It is the only thing in this
world of doubt that is a clear duty. I owe mine to sci-
ence. You, my dear, to-
She would have said to "Political Economy," but a
thought checked her. For a singular thing had hap-
pened only the day before. This friend of hers, this
Angela Messenger, who had recently illustrated the
strength of women's intellect by passing a really bril-
liant examination in that particular science, astonished
her friends at a little informal meeting in the library
by an oration. In this speech she went out of her
way to pour contempt upon Political Economy. It was
a so-called science, she said-not a science at all: a col-
lection of theories impossible of proof. It treated of
men and women as skittles, it ignored the principal
motives of action, it had been put together for the most
part by doctrinaires who lived apart, and knew nothing
about men and less about women, and it was a favorite
study, she cruelly declared, of her own sex, because it
رو
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
18
was the most easily crammed and made the most show.
As for herself, she declared that for all the good it had
done her, she might just as well have gone through a
course of æsthetics or studied the symbols of advanced
ritualism.
Therefore, remembering the oration, Constance Wood-
cote hesitated. To what Cause (with a capital C) should
Angela Messenger devote her life?
"I will tell you presently," said Angela, "how I shall
begin my life. Where the beginning will lead me, I
cannot tell."
Then there was silence for a while. The sun sank
lower and the setting rays fell upon the foliage, and
every leaf showed like a leaf of gold, and the river lay
in shadow and became ghostly, and the windows of
Trinity Library opposite to them glowed, and the New
Court of St. John's at their left hand became like unto
the palace of Kubla Khan.
We
We
"Oh!" sighed the young mathematician. "I shall
never be satisfied till Newnham crosses the river.
must have one of these colleges for ourselves.
must have King's. Yes, King's will be the best. And
oh! how differently we shall live from the so-called stu-
dents who are now smoking tobacco in each other's
rooms, or playing billiards, or even cards-the superior
sex!"
"As for us, we shall presently go back to our rooms,
have a cup of tea and a talk, my dear. Then we shall
go to bed. As regards the men, those of your mental
level, Constance, do not, I suppose, play billiards; nor
do they smoke tobacco. Undergraduates are not all
students, remember. Most of them are nothing but
mere pass-men who will become curates."
Two points in this speech seem to call for remark.
First, the singular ignorance of mankind, common to
all women, which led the girl to believe that a great
man of science is superior to the pleasures of weaker
brethren; for they cannot understand the delights of
fooling. The second point is-but it may be left to
those who read as they run.
Then they rose and walked slowly under the grand
old trees of Trinity Avenue, facing the setting sun, so
that when they came to the end and turned to the left,
14
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
it seemed as if they plunged into night. And pres-
ently they came to the gates of Newnham, the newer
Newnham, with its trim garden and Queen Anne man-
sion. It grates upon one that the beginnings of a noble
and lasting reform should be housed in a palace built in
the conceited fashion of the day. What will they say
of it in fifty years, when the fashion has changed and
new styles reign?
66
Come," said Angela, come into my room. Let
my last evening in the dear place be spent with you,
Constance."
(C
Angela's own room was daintily furnished and
adorned with as many pictures, pretty things, books,
and bric-a-brac as the narrow dimensions of a Newn-
ham cell will allow. In a more advanced Newnham
there will be two rooms for each student, and these
will be larger.
The girls sat by the open window: the air was soft
and sweet. A bunch of cowslips from the Coton mead-
ows perfumed the room; there was the jug-jug of a
nightingale in some tree not far off; opposite them were
the lights of the other Newnham.
"I can hardly be-
"The last night!" said Angela.
lieve that I go down to-morrow.
Then she was silent again.
CC
My life," she went on, speaking softly in the twi-
light, "begins to-morrow. What am I to do with it?
Your own solution seems so easy because you are clever
and you have no money, while I, who am-well, dear,
not devoured by thirst for learning-have got so much.
To begin with, there is the Brewery. You cannot es-
cape from a big brewery if it belong to you.
You can-
not hide it away. Messenger, Marsden & Company's
Stout, their XXX, their Old and Mild, their Bitter,
their Family Ales (that particularly at eight-and-six
the nine-gallon cask, if paid for on delivery), their
drays, their huge horses, their strong men, whose very
appearance advertises the beer, and makes the weak-
kneed and the narrow-chested rush to Whitechapel-
my dear, these things stare one in the face wherever
you go. I am that brewery, as you know. I am Mes-
senger, Marsden & Company, myself, the sole partner
in what my lawyer sweetly calls the Concern. Nobody
ور
ALL SÓRTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
15
else is concerned in it. It is-alas!-my own Great
Concern, a dreadful responsibility."
66
Why? Your people manage it for you.'
"Yes-oh! yes-they do. And whether they man-
age it badly or well I do not know; whether they make
wholesome beer or bad, whether they treat their clerks
and workmen generously or meanly, whether the name
of the company is beloved or hated, I do not know.
Perhaps the very making of beer at all is wickedness."
"But--Angela," the other interrupted, "it is no bus-
iness of yours. Naturally, wages are regulated by sup-
ply and-
""
""
"No, my dear. That is political economy. I prefer
the good old English plan. If I employ a man and he
works faithfully, I should like that man to feel that he
grows every day worth to me more than his market-
able value."
Constance was silenced.
"Then, beside the brewery," Angela went on, "there
is an unconscionable sum of money in the funds.
66
There, at least," said her friend, "you need feel no
scruple of conscience."
"But indeed I do; for how do I know that it is right
to keep all this money idle! A hundred pounds saved
and put into the funds mean three pounds a year. It is
like a perennial stream flowing from a hidden reservoir
in the hillside. But this stream, in my case, does no
good at all. It neither fertilizes the soil nor is it drunk
by man or beast, nor does it turn mills, nor is it a beau-
tiful thing to look upon, nor does its silver current flow
by banks of flowers or fall in cascades. It all runs
away, and makes another reservoir in another hillside.
My dear, it is a stream of compound interest, which is
constantly getting deeper and broader and stronger, and
yet is never of the least use, and turns no wheels.
Now, what am I to do with this money?"
"Endow Newnham; there, at least, is something
practical."
"I will found some scholarships, if you please, later
on, when you have made your own work felt. Again,
there are my houses in the East End."
<< 'Sell them."
"That is only to shift the responsibility. My dear,
16
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
I have streets of houses. They all lie about White-
chapel way. My grandfather, John Messenger, bought
houses, I believe, just as other people buy apples, by
the peck, or some larger measure, a reduction being
made on taking a quantity. There they are, and mostly
inhabited."
"You have agents, I suppose?" said Constance un-
sympathizingly. "It is their duty to see that the houses
are well kept.
(C
""
Yes, I have agents. But they cannot absolve me
from responsibility.'
"Then," asked Constance, "what do you mean to
do?"
"I am a native almost of Whitechapel. My grand-
father, who succeeded to the brewery, was born there.
His father was also a brewer: his grandfather is, I be-
lieve, prehistoric: he lived there long after his son, my
father, was born. When he moved to Bloomsbury
Square he thought he was getting into quite a fashion-
able quarter, and he only went to Portman Square be-
cause he desired me to go into society. I am so rich
that I shall quite certainly be welcomed in society.
But, my dear, Whitechapel and its neighorbhood are
my proper sphere. Why, my very name! I reek of
beer; I am all beer; my blood is beer. Angela Mars-
den Messenger! What could more plainly declare my
connection with Messenger, Marsden & Company? I
only wonder that he did not call me Marsden-&-Com-
pany Messenger."
""
"But-Angela-
"He would, Constance, if he had thought of it. For,
you see, I was the heiress from the very beginning, be-
cause my father died before my birth. And my grand-
father intended me to become the perfect brewer, if a
woman can attain to so high an ideal. Therefore I was
educated in the necessary and fitting lines. They taught
me the industries of England, the arts and manufact-
ures, mathematics, accounts, the great outlets of trade,
book-keeping, mechanics-all those things that are
practical. How it happened that I was allowed to learn
music I do not know. Then, when I grew up, I was
sent here by him, because the very air of Cambridge,
he thought, makes people exact; and women are so
""
A
D
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
17
prone to be inexact. I was to read while I was here all
the books about political and social economy. I have
also learned for business purposes two or three lan-
guages. I am now finished. I know all the theories
about people, and I don't believe any of them will work.
Therefore, my dear, I shall get to know the people be-
fore I apply them."
"Was your grandfather a student of political econ-
omy?"
66
Not at all. But he had a respect for justice, and he
wanted me to be just. It is so difficult, he used to say,
for a woman to be just. For either she flies into a rage
and punishes with excess, or she takes pity and for-
gives. As for himself, he was as hard as nails, and
the people knew it."
"And your project?"
"It is very simple. I efface myself. I vanish. I
disappear."
What?"
"If anybody asks where I am, no one will know, ex-
cept you, my dear; and you will not tell.”
"You will be in-
رو
در
"In Whitechapel, or thereabouts. Your Angela will
be a dressmaker, and she will live by herself and be-
come-what her great-grandmother was—one of the
people.'
You will not like it at all.”
"Perhaps not; but I am weary of theories, facts, sta-
tistics. I want flesh and blood. I want to feel myself
a part of this striving, eager, anxious humanity, on
whose labors I live in comfort, by whom I have been
educated, to whom I owe all, and for whom I have.
done nothing-no, nothing at all, selfish wretch that I
am!"
(C
She clasped her hands with a fine gesture of remorse.
O woman of silence!" she cried; "you sit upon
the heights, and you can disregard-because it is your
right-the sorrows and the joys of the world. But I
cannot. I belong to the people with a great big P.
my dear-I cannot bear to go on living by their toil and
giving nothing in return. What a dreadful thing is a
she-Dives!"
"I confess," said Constance coldly, "that I have al-
2
18
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
ways regarded wealth as a means for leading the higher
life-the life of study and research-unencumbered by
the sordid aims and mean joys of the vulgar herd."
"It is possible and right for you to live apart, my
dear. It is impossible, because it would be wrong for
me.
رو
"But-alone? You will venture into the dreadful
region alone?”
(C
Quite alone, Constance."
And-and-your reputation, Angela?"
Angela laughed merrily.
(C
e care of
not to be
'As for my reputation, my dear, it may
itself. Those of my friends who think I am
trusted may transfer their affection to more worthy ob-
jects. The first thing in the emancipation of the sex,
Constance, is equal education. The next is"
"What?" for Angela paused.
She drew forth from her pocket a small bright instru-
ment of steel, which glittered in the twilight. Not a
revolver, dear readers.
"The next," she said, brandishing the weapon before
Constance's eyes, "is the LATCH-KEY.”
PROLOGUE.-PART II.
THE time was eleven in the forenoon; the season was
the month of roses; the place was a room on the first
floor at the Park-end of Piccadilly-a noisy room, be-
cause the windows were open, and there was a great
thunder and rattle of cabs, omnibuses, and all kinds of
vehicles. When this noise became, as it sometimes
did, intolerable, the occupant of the room shut his
double windows, and immediately there was a great
calm, with a melodious roll of distant wheels, like the
buzzing of bees about the marigold on a summer after-
noon. With the double window a man may calmly sit
down amid even the roar of Cheapside, or the never-
ending cascade of noise at Charing Cross.
The room was furnished with taste; the books on the
shelves were well bound, as if the owner took a proper
pride in them, as indeed was the case. There were two
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
19
or three good pictures; there was a girl's head in mar-
ble; there were cards and invitations lying on the man-
tel-shelf and in a rack beside the clock. Everybody
could tell at the first look of the room that it was a
bachelor's den. Also because nothing was new, and
because there were none of the peacockeries, whims and
fancies, absurdities, fads and fashions, gimcrackeries,
the presence of which does always and infallibly pro-
claim the chamber of a young man; this room mani-
festly belonged to a bachelor who was old in the pro-
fession. In fact, the owner of the chambers, of which
this was the breakfast, morning, and dining-room,
whenever he dined at home, was seated in an armchair
beside a breakfast-table, looking straight before him,
with a face filled with anxiety. An honest, ugly, pleas-
ing, rugged, attractive face, whose features were carved
one day when Dame Nature was benevolently disposed,
but had a blunt chisel.
ور
P
S
"I always told him," he muttered, "that he should
learn the whole of his family history as soon as he was
three-and-twenty years of age. One must keep such
promises. Yet it would have been better that he should
nover know. But then it might have been found out,
and that would have been far worse. Yet, how could
it have been found out? No: that is ridiculous.
The
He mused in silence. In his fingers he held a cigar
which he had lit, but allowed to go out again.
morning paper was lying on the table, unopened.
"How will the boy take it?" he asked; "will he take
it crying? Or will he take it laughing?"
He smiled, picturing to himself the "boy's" astonish-
ment.
Looking at the man more closely, one became aware
that he was really a very pleasant-looking person. He
was about five-and-forty years of age, and he wore a
full beard and mustache, after the manner of his con-
temporaries, with whom a beard is still considered a
manly ornament to the face. The beard was brown,
but it began to show, as wine-merchants say of port,
the "appearance of age. In some light, there was
more gray than brown. His dark-brown hair, how-
ever, retained its original thickness of thatch, and was
as yet untouched by any streak of gray. Seeing that
20
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
he belonged to one of the oldest and best of English
families, one might have expected something of that
delicacy of feature which some of us associate with
birth. But, as has already been said, his face was
rudely chiselled, his complexion was ruddy, and he
looked as robust as a plough-boy; yet he had the air of an
English gentleman, and that ought to satisfy anybody.
And he was the younger son of a duke, being by cour-
tesy Lord Jocelyn Le Breton.
While he was thus meditating, there was a quick
step on the stair, and the subject of his thoughts entered
the room.
This interesting young man was a much more aris-
tocratic person to look upon than his senior. He
He pa
raded, so to speak, at every point, the thoroughbred air.
His thin and delicate nose, his clear eye, his high
though narrow forehead, his well-cut lip, his firm chin,
his pale cheek, his oval face, the slim figure, the thin,
long fingers, the spring of his walk, the poise of his
head-what more could one expect even from the de-
scendant of all the Howards? But this morning the
pallor of his cheek was flushed as if with some disquiet-
ing news.
66
Good-morning, Harry," said Lord Jocelyn quietly.
Harry returned the greeting. Then he threw upon
the table a small packet of papers.
CC
There, sir, I have read them; thank you for letting
me see them."
"Sit down, boy, and let us talk; will you have a ci-
gar? No? A cigarette, then? No? You are prob-
ably a little upset by this-new-unexpected revela-
tion?"
"A little upset!" repeated the young man, with a
short laugh.
(C
To be sure to be sure-one could expect nothing
else; now sit down, and let us talk over the matter
calmly."
The young man sat down, but he did not present the
appearance of one inclined to talk over the matter
calmly.
"In novels," said Lord Jocelyn, "it is always the
good fortune of young gentlemen brought up in igno-
rance of their parentage to turn out, when they do dis
ļ
T
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
21
cover their origin, the heirs to an illustrious name; I
have always admired that in novels. In your case, my
poor Harry, the reverse is the case; the distinction
ought to console you.
""
"Why was I not told before?”
"Because the boyish brain is more open to prejudice
than that of the adult; because, among your compan-
ions, you certainly would have felt at a disadvantage
had you known yourself to be the son of a-"
You always told me," said Harry, "that my father
was in the army!"
What do you call a sergeant in a line regiment,
then?"
66
Oh! of course, but among gentlemen-I mean-
among the set with whom I was brought up, to be in
the army means to have a commission."
"Yes: that was my pardonable deception. I thought
that you would respect yourself more if you felt that
your father, like the fathers of your friends, belonged
to the upper class. Now, my dear boy, you will re-
spect yourself just as much, although you know that he
was but a sergeant, and a brave fellow who fell at my
side in the Indian Mutiny."
66 And my mother?”
"I did not know her; she was dead before I found
you out, and took you from your Uncle Bunker."
"Uncle Bunker!" Harry laughed, with a little bitter-
ness. "Uncle Bunker! Fancy asking one's Uncle
Bunker to dine at the club! What is he by trade?"
"He is something near a big brewery, a brewery
boom, as the Americans say. What he actually is, I
do not quite know. He lives, if I remember rightly, at
a place an immense distance from here, called Step-
ney.”
"Do you know anything more about my father's
family?"
"No! The sergeant was a tall, handsome, well set-up
man; but I know nothing about his connections. His
name, if that is any help to you, was, was-in fact"
here Lord Jocelyn assumed an air of ingratiating sweet-
ness-"was-Goslett-Goslett; not a bad name, I think,
pronounced with perhaps a leaning to an accent on the
last syllable. Don't you agree with me, Harry?"
1
PAN
22
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"Oh! yes, it will do.
so good as Le Breton.
now?"
There I ventured on one small variation."
CC
'Am I not, then, even Harry?"
66
Yes, yes, yes, you are-now; formerly you were
Harry without the H. It is the custom of the neigh-
borhood in which you were born.”
Better than Bunker, and not
As for my Christian name,
(6
I see! If I go back among my own people, I shall
be, then, once more 'Arry?"
"Yes; and shout on penny steamers, and brandish
pint bottles of stout, and sing along the streets, in sim-
ple abandonment to Arcadian joy; and trample on flow-
ers; and break pretty things for wantonness; and ex-
ercise a rude but effective wit, known among the an-
cients as Fescennine, upon passing ladies; and get
drunk o' nights; and walk the streets with a pipe in
your mouth. That is what you would be, if you went
back, my dear child.”
Harry laughed.
"After all," he said, "this is a very difficult position.
I can no longer go about pretending anything; I must
tell people.
""
"Is that absolutely necessary?"
(6
66
Quite necessary. It will be a deuce of a business,
explaining."
Shall we tell it to one person, and let him be the
town-crier?"
66
That, I suppose, would be the best plan; meantime,
I could retire, while I made some plans for the future.
"Perhaps, if you really must tell the truth, it would
be well to go out of town for a bit.'
As for myself," Harry continued, "I suppose I shall
get over the wrench after a bit. Just for the moment I
feel knocked out of time."
66
ور
Keep the secret, then; let it be one between you and
me only, Harry; let no one know."
But he shook his head.
<<
Everybody must know. Those who refuse to keep
up the acquaintance of a private soldier's son-well,
then, a non-commissioned officer's son-will probably
let me know their decision, some way or other. Those
who do not-
He pause¹.
""
f
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
23
*Nonsense, boy; who cares nowadays what a man is
by birth? Is not this great city full of people who go
anywhere, and are nobody's sons? Look here, and
here"-he tossed half a dozen cards of invitation across
the table-"can you tell me who these people were
twenty years ago or these-or these?"
66
I
'No: I do not care in the least who they were.
care only that they shall know who I am; I will not,
for my part, pretend to be what I am not.
"I believe you are right, boy. Let the world laugh
if they please, and have done with it."
رد
Harry began to walk up and down the room; he cer-
tainly did not look the kind of a man to give in; to try
hiding things away. Quite the contrary. And he
laughed he took to laughing.
CC
I suppose it will sound comic at first," he said, “until
people get used to it. Do you know what he turns cut
to be? That kind of thing: after all, we think too much
about what people say—what does it matter what they
say or how they say it? If they like to laugh, they can.
Who shall be the town-crier?"
"I was thinking," said Lord Jocelyn slowly, "of call-
ing to-day upon Lady Wimbledon."
The young man laughed, with a little heightening of
his color.
-
“Of course—a very good person, an excellent person,
and to-morrow it will be all over London. There are one
or two things," he went on after a moment, “that I do
not understand from the papers which you put into my
hands last night."
"What are those things?" Lord Jocelyn for a mo-
ment looked uneasy.
CC
Well-perhaps it is impertinent to ask. But-
when Mr. Bunker, the respectable Uncle Bunker, traded
me away, what did he get for me?”
66
'Every bargain has two sides," said Lord Jocelyn.
"You know what I got, you want to know what the
honorable Bunker got. Harry, on that point I must
refer you to the gentleman himself."
"Very good. Then I come to the next difficulty-a
staggerer. What did you do it for? One moment, sir-
for Lord Jocelyn seemed about to reply.
(C One mo-
ment. You were rich, you were well born, you were
24
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
young. What on earth made you pick a boy out of the
gutter and bring him up like a gentleman?”
"You are twenty-three, Harry, and yet you ask for
motives. My dear boy, have you not learned the golden
rule? In all human actions look for the basest motive,
and attribute that. If you see any reason for stopping
short of quite the lowest spurs to action, such as re-
venge, hatred, malice, and envy, suppose the next low-
est, and you will be quite safe. That next lowest is—
son altesse, ma vanité.”
66
Oh!" replied Harry, "yet I fail to see how a child
of the lowest classes could supply any satisfaction for
even the next lowest of human motives."
It was partly in this way. Mind, I do not for one
moment pretend to answer the whole of your question.
Men's motives, thank Heaven, are so mixed up, that no
one can be quite a saint, while no one is altogether a
sinner. Nature is a leveller, which is a comfort to us
who are born in levelling times. In those days I was
by way of being a kind of Radical. Not a Radical such
as those who delight mankind in these happier days.
But I had Liberal leanings, and thought I had ideas.
When I was a boy of twelve or so, there were the '48
theories floating about the air; some of them got into
my brain and stuck there. Men used to believe that a
great time was coming-perhaps I heard a whisper of
it; perhaps I was endowed with a greater faculty for
credulity than my neighbors, and believed in humanity.
However, I do not seek to explain. It may have oc-
curred to me--I do not say it did—but I have a kind of
recollection as if it did-one day after I had seen you,
then in the custody of the respectable Bunker, that it
would be an instructive and humorous thing to take a
boy of the multitude and bring him up in all the culture,
the tastes, the ideas of ourselves-you and me, for in-
stance, Harry. This idea may have seized upon me,
so that the more I thought of it, the better pleased I
was with it. I may have pictured such a boy so
taught, so brought up, with such tastes, returning to
his own people. Disgust, I may have said, will make
him a prophet; and such a prophet as the world has
never yet seen. He would be like the follower of the
Old Man of the Mountain. He would never cease to
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
25
dream of the paradise he had seen: he would never
cease to tell of it; he would be always leading his
friends upward to the same levels on which he had once
stood."
<<
Humph!" said Harry.
"Yes, I know," Lord Jocelyn went on. "I ought to
have foretold that the education I prepared for you
would have unfitted you for the rôle of prophet. I am
not disappointed in you, Harry-quite the reverse. I
now see that what has happened has been only what I
should have expected. By some remarkable accident,
you possess an appearance such as is generally believed
to belong to persons of long-continued gentle descent.
By a still more remarkable accident, all your tastes
prove to be those of the cultured classes; the blood of
the Bunkers has, in yourself, assumed the most azure
hue.'
That is very odd," said Harry.
"It is a very remarkable thing, indeed," continued
Lord Jocelyn gravely. "I have never ceased to won-
der at this phenomenon. However, I was unable to
send you to a public school on account of the necessity,
as I thought, of concealing your parentage. But I gave
you instruction of the best, and found for you compan-
ions-as you know, among the-
""
"Yes," said Harry. "My companions were gentle-
men, I suppose; I learned from them."
"Perhaps. Still, the earthenware pot cannot become
a brass pot, whatever he may pretend. You were good
metal from the beginning."
"You are now, Harry," he went on, "three-and-
twenty. You are master of three foreign languages;
you have travelled on the Continent and in America;
you are a good rider, a good shot, a good fencer, a good
dancer. You can paint a little, fiddle a little, dance a
great deal, act pretty well, speak pretty well; you can,
I dare say, make love as becomes a gentleman; you can
write very fair verses; you are good-looking, you have
the air noble; you are not a prig; you are not an æs-
thete; you possess your share of common sense.
"One thing you have omitted which, at the present
juncture, may be more useful than any of these things.
"What is that?"
,,
}
28
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"You were good enough to give me a lathe, and to
have me instructed in the mysteries of turning. I am
a practical cabinet-maker, if need be."
"But why should this be of use to you?”
"Because, Lord Jocelyn"-Harry ran and leaned over
the table with a sweet smile of determination on his
face-"because I am going back to my own people for
a while, and it may be that the trade of cabinet-making
may prove a very backbone of strength to me among
them-
(C
>>
Harry-you would not-indeed, you could not go
back to Bunker?" Lord Jocelyn asked this question
with every outward appearance of genuine alarm.
"I certainly would. My very kind guardian and pat-
ron, would you stand in my way? I want to see those
people from where I am sprung: I want to learn how
they differ from you and your kin. I must compare
myself with them-I must prove the brotherhood of
humanity."
"You will go? Yes-I see you will-it is in your
eyes. Go, then, Harry. But return to me soon. The
slender fortune of a younger son shall be shared with
you so long as I live, and given to you when I die.
Do not stay among them. There are, indeed-at least,
I suppose so-all sorts and conditions of men. But to
me, and to men brought up like you and me, I do not
understand how there can be any but one sort and one
condition. Come back soon, boy. Believe me-no-
do not believe me-prove it yourself: in the social pyra-
inid, the greatest happiness, Harry, lies near the top.
رو
CHAPTER L
در
NEWS FOR HIS LORDSHIP.
"I HAVE news for your lordship," said Mrs. Borma-
lack, at the breakfast-table, "something that will cheer
you up a bit. We are to have an addition to our
family.
His lordship nodded his head, meaning that he would
receive her news without more delay than was neces-
sary, but that at present his mind was wholly occupied
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
27
with a contest between one of his teeth and a crust.
The tooth was an outlying one, all its lovely compan-
ions having withered and gone, and it was undefended;
the crust was unyielding. For the moment no one
could tell what might be the result.
Her ladyship replied for him.
Lady Davenant was a small woman, if you go by
inches; her exalted rank gave her, however, a dignity
designed for very much larger persons; yet she carried
it with ease. She was by no means young, and her
hair was thin as well as gray; her face, which was
oval and delicately curved, might formerly have been
beautiful; the eyes were bright and eager, and con-
stantly in motion, as is often the case with restless and
nervous persons; her lips were thin and as full of inde-
pendent action as her eyes; she had thin hands, so small
that they might have belonged to a child of eight, when
inclined for vaunting, the narrowest and most sloping
shoulders that ever were seen, so sloping that people
unaccustomed to her were wont to tremble lest the
whole of her dress should suddenly slide straight down
those shoulders, as down a slope of ice; and strange
ladies, impelled by this apprehension, had been known
to ask her in a friendly whisper if she could thoroughly
depend upon the pins at her throat. As Mrs. Borma-
lack often said, speaking of her noble boarders among
her friends, those shoulders of her ladyship were "quite
a feature." Next to the pride of having at her tablə
such guests-who, however, did not give in to the good
old English custom of paying double prices for having
a title was the distinction of pointing to those unique
shoulders and of talking about them.
Her ladyship had a shrill, reedy voice, and spoke
loudly. It was remarked by the most superficial ob-
server, moreover, that she possessed a very strong Amer-
ican accent.
(C
At our first boarding-house," she said, replying in-
directly to the landlady's remark, "at our first board-
ing-house, which was in Wellclose Square, next to the
Board Schools, there was a man who once actually
slapped his lordship on the back. And then he
laughed! To be sure, he was only a Dane, but the dis
respect was just the same.
در
28
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
(C
'My dear," said his lordship, who now spoke, having
compromised matters with the crust, "the ignominy of
being slapped on the back by a powerful sea-captain is
hardly to be weighed in comparison with the physical
pain it causes.
66
We are quite sure, however, Mrs. Bormalack," the
lady went on,
that you
you will admit none under your
roof but those prepared to respect rank; we want no
levellers or mischievous Radicals for our companions.
"It is to be a young lady," said Mrs. Bormalack.
>>
66
Young ladies, at all events, do not slap gentlemen
on the back, whether they are noblemen or not," said
his lordship kindly. "We shall be happy to welcome
ber, ma'am.'
در
This ornament of the Upper House was a big, fat
man, with a face like a full moon. His features were
not distinctly aristocratic; his cheeks were flabby and
his nose broad; also he had a double chin. His long
hair was a soft, creamy white, the kind of white which
in old age follows a manhood of red hair. He sat in an
arm-chair at the end of the table, with his elbows on the
arms, as if he desired to get as much rest out of the
chair as possible. His eyes were very soft and dreamy;
his expression was that of a man who has been accus-
tomed to live in the quieter parts of the world. He,
too, spoke with a marked American accent and with
slowness, as if measuring his words, and appreciating
himself their importance. The dignity of his manner
was not wholly due to his position, but in great meas-
ure to his former profession. For his lordship had not
always rejoiced in his present dignity, nor, in fact, had
he been brought up to it. Persons intending to be-
come peers of Great Britain do not, as a rule, first spend
more than forty years as schoolmasters in their native
town. And just as clergymen, and especially young
clergymen, love to talk loud, because it makes people.
remember that they are in the presence of those whose
wisdom demands attention, so old schoolmasters speak
slowly because their words-even the lightest, which
are usually pretty heavy-have got to be listened to,
under penalties.
""
As soon, however, as he began to "enjoy the title,'
the ex-schoolmaster addressed himself with some care
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
29
to the cultivation of a manner which he thought due to
his position. It was certainly pompous; it was in-
tended to be affable; it was naturally, because he was
a man of a most kind disposition and an excellent heart,
courteous and considerate.
"I am rejoiced, Mrs. Bormalack," he went on grandly,
and with a bow, "that we are to be cheered in our do-
mestic circle by the addition of a young lady. It is an
additional proof, if any were needed, of the care with
which you consider the happiness of your guests." The
professor, who owed for five weeks, murmured that no
one felt it more than himself. "Sometimes, ma'am, I
own that even with the delightful society of yourself”
("O my lord, your lordship is too kind," said Mrs.
Bormalack) "and of the accomplished professor"-
here he bowed to the professor, who nodded and spread
out his hands professionally-"and of the learned Mr.
Daniel Fagg"-here he bowed to Mr. Fagg, who took
no notice at all, because he was thinking of his triangles
and was gazing straight before him-" and of Mr. Jo-
sephus Coppins"-here he bowed to Josephus Coppins,
who humbly inclined his head without a smile-" and
of Mr. Maliphant"- here he bowed to Mr. Maliphant,
who with a breakfast knife was trying to make a knobly
crust assume the shape of a human head, in fact the head
of Mr. Gladstone-"and of Mr. Harry Goslett, who is
not with us so much as we could desire of so sprightly
a young man; and surrounded as we are by all the gay-
ety and dissipation and splendor of London, I some-
times suspect that we are not always so cheerful as we
might be."
66
Give me," said his wife, folding her little hands
and looking round her with a warlike expression, as if
inviting contradiction-"give me Canaan City, New
Hampshire, for gayety.
Nobody combated this position, nor did anybody re-
ply at all, unless the pantomime of the professor was
intended for a reply by gesture, like the learned Thau-
mast. For, with precision and abstracted air, he rolled
up a little ball of bread, about as big as a marble, placed
it in the palm of his left hand, closed his fingers upon
it, and then opened them, showing that the ball had
vanished. Then he executed the slightest possible
:
""
30
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
shrug of his shoulders, spread out his hands, and nodded
to his lordship, saying, with a sweet smile:
"Pretty thing, isn't it?"
"I hope, sir, that she will be pretty," said his lord-
ship, thinking of the young lady. "To look at a pretty
face is as good as a day of sunshine."
-
"She is a beautiful girl," Mrs. Bormalack replied
with enthusiasm, “and I am sure she must be as good
as she is pretty; because she paid three months in ad-
vance. With a piano, too, which she will play her-
self. She is a dressmaker by trade, and she wants to
set herself up in a genteel way. And she's got a little
money, she says;" a sweet smile crossed her face as she
thought that most of this little money would come into
her own pocket.
"A dressmaker!" cried her ladyship. "Do tell! I
was in that line myself before I married. That was
long before we began to enjoy the title. You don't
know, ma'am"-here she dropped her voice-"you don't
know how remarkably fond his lordship is of a pretty
face; choice with them, too. Not every face pleases
him. Oh! you wouldn't believe how particular. Which
shows his aristocratic descent; because we all know
what his ancestors were.'
"To be sure," said the landlady, nodding signifi-
cantly. "We all know what they were. Rovers to
a man-I mean a lord. And as for the young lady,
she will be here this evening, in time for tea. Shrimps
and Sally Lunn, my lord. And her name is Miss Ken-
nedy. Respectable, if poor; and illustrious ancestors is
more than we can all of us have, nor yet deserve."
Here the professor rose, having finished his break-
fast. One might have noticed that he had extremely
long and delicate fingers, and that they seemed always
in movement; also that he had a way of looking at you
as if he meant you to look straight and steady into his
eyes, and not to go rolling your eyes about in the frivo-
lous, irresponsible way affected by some people. He
walked slowly to the window; then, as if seized with
an irresistible impulse to express his feelings in panto-
mime, or else, it may be, to try an experiment, returned
to the table, and asked for the loan of his lordship's
pocket-handkerchief, which was a large red silk one,
A
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
31
well fitted for the purpose. How he conveyed a saucer
unseen from the table into that handkerchief, and how
that saucer got into the nobleman's coat-tail pocket,
were things known only to himself. Yet familiarity
breeds contempt, and though everybody looked on, no-
body expressed delight or astonishment, for this exhibi-
tion of magic and spells went on every day, and when-
ever the professor was among them. He moved about
accompanied, so to speak, by a legion of invisible at-
tendants and servants, who conveyed, hid, brought back,
uncovered, discovered, recovered, lost, found, rapped,
groaned, cried, whistled, sang, moved chairs and ta-
bles, and, in fact, behaved as only a troop of well-
drilled elves can behave. He was a young man of
twenty-five, and he had a great gift of silence. By
trade he was a professor of legerdemain. Other pro-
fessors there are who hold up the light of this science,
and hand it down to posterity undimmed; but none
with such an ardent love for their work as Professor
Climo. For he practised all day long, except when he
was reading the feats of the illustrious conjurers, sor-
cerers, necromancers, and wizards of old time, or in-
venting new combinations, traps for the credulous,
and contrivances to make that which was not seen like
unto that which was. The East End of London is not
the richest field for such performers; but he was young,
and he lived in hope-very often, when there were no
engagements-upon it. At such times he became a
simple lodger, instead of a boarder, at Mrs. Borma-
lack's, and went without any meals.
-
The situation of this boarding-house, poetically de-
scribed by his lordship as in the midst of the gayety of
London, was in the far East, in that region of London
which is less known to Englishmen than if it were sit-
uated in the wildest part of Colorado, or among the
pine forests of British Columbia. It stood, in fact,
upon Stepney Green, a small strip of Eden which has
been visited by few, indeed, of those who do not live in
its immediate vicinity. Yet it is a romantic spot.
Two millions of people, or thereabouts, live in the
East End of London. That seems a good-sized popula-
tion for an utterly unknown town. They have no in-
stitutions of their own to speak of, no public buildings
32
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
of any importance, no municipality, no gentry, no car-
riages, no soldiers, no picture-galleries, no theatres, no
opera-they have nothing. It is the fashion to believe
that they are all paupers, which is a foolish and mis-
chievous belief, as we shall presently see. Probably
there is no such spectacle in the whole world as that of
this immense, neglected, forgotten great city of East
London. It is even neglected by its own citizens, who
have never yet perceived their abandoned condition.
They are Londoners, it is true, but they have no part
or share of London; its wealth, its splendors, its hon-
ors exist not for them. They see nothing of any splen-
dors; even the Lord Mayor's show goeth westward:
the city lies between them and the greatness of Eng-
land. They are beyond the wards, and cannot become
aldermen; the rich London merchants go north and
south and west; but they go not east. Nobody goes
east; no one wants to see the place; no one is curious
about the way of life in the east. Books on London
pass it over; it has little or no history; great men are
not buried in its church-yards, which are not even an-
cient, and crowded by citizens as obscure as those who
now breathe the upper airs about them. If anything
happens in the east, people at the other end have to
stop and think before they can remember where the
place may be.
room.
The house was old, built of red bricks with a "shell"
decoration over the door. It contained room for about
eight boarders, who had one sitting-room in common.
This was the breakfast-room, a meal at which all were
present; the dining-room-but nobody except his lord-
ship and wife dined at home; the tea-room-but tea
was too early for most of the boarders; and the supper-
The
After supper tobacco was tolerated.
boarders were generally men, and mostly elderly men
of staid and quiet manners, with whom the evening
pipe was the conclusion and solace of the day. It was
not like the perpetual incense of the tap-room, and yet
the smell of tobacco was never absent from the room,
lingering about the folds of the dingy curtain, which
served for both summer and winter, clinging to the
horsehair sofa, t the leather of the chairs, and to the
rusty table-cloth
"
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
33
The furniture was old and mean.
The wall-paper
had once been crimson, but now was only dark; the
ceiling had for many years wanted whitewashing bad-
ly; the door and windows wanted painting; the win-
dows always wanted cleaning; the rope of one of the
blinds was broken; and the blind itself, not nearly so
white as it might have been, was pinned half-way up.
Everything was shabby; everything wanted polishing,
washing, brightening up.
A couple of arm-chairs stood, when meals were not
going on, one on either side of the fireplace-one being
reserved for his lordship, and the other for his wife;
they were, like the sofa, of horsehair, and slippery.
There was a long table covered by a faded red cloth; the
carpet was a Brussels once of a warm crimson, now
worn threadbare; the hearth-rug was worn into holes;
one or two of the chairs had broken out and showed
glimpses of stuffing. The sideboard was of old-fash-
oned build, and a shiny black by reason of its age;
there were two or three hanging shelves filled with
books, the property of his lordship, who loved reading,
the mantel-shelf was decorated by a small collection of
pipes; and above it hung the portrait of the late Samuel
Bormalack, formerly a collector in the great brewing
house of Messenger, Marsden & Company.
His widow, who carried on the house, was a comfort-
able-a serenely comfortable woman, who regarded the
world from the optimist's point of view. Perfect health
and a tolerably prosperous business, where the returns
are regular though the profits are small, make the pos-
sessor agree with Pope and Candide that everything is
for the best in this best of all possible worlds. Impos-
sible not to be contented, happy, and religious, when
your wishes are narrowed to a tidy dinner, a comforta-
ble supper with a little something hot, boarders who
pay up regular, do not grumble, and go to bed sober;
and a steady hope that you will not get "something,
by which of course is meant that you may not fall ill
of any disagreeable or painful disease. To "get some-
thing" is one of the pretty euphemisms of our daily
speech.
She had had one or two unlucky accidents, such as
the case of Captain Saffrey, who stayed two months,
در
3
34
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
and drank enough beer to float a three-decker, and then
sailed away, promising to pay, and would have done
so-for he was an honest man-but had the misfortune
to fall overboard while in liquor. But her present
boarders seemed most respectable, and she was at ease.
Of course, the persons of greatest consideration among
them were the noble pair who enjoyed the title. Rank
is respected, if you please, even at the East End of
London, and perhaps more there than in fashionable
quarters, because it is so rare. King John, it is true,
had once a palace at Stepney; but that is a long time
to look back upon, and even the oldest inhabitant can
now not remember to have been kicked by the choleric
monarch. Then the Marquis of Worcester had once a
great house here, what time the sainted Charles was
ripening things for a row royal. That house is gone
too, and I do not know where it used to stand. From
the time of this East End marquis to the arrival of
Lord and Lady Davenant, last year, there have been
no resident members of the English aristocracy, and no
member of the foreign nobility, with the exception of a
certain dusky Marquis of Choufleur, from Hayti, who
is reported on good authority to have once lived in these
parts for six months, thinking he was in the politest
and most fashionable suburb of London. He is further
said to have carried on with Satanic wildness in Lime-
house and the West India Dock Road of an evening.
A Japanese, too, certainly once went to a hotel in
America Square, which is not quite the East End, and
said he was a prince in his own country. He stayed a
week, and drank champagne all day long. Then he
decamped without paying the bill; and when the land-
lord went to the embassy to complain, he thought it
was the ambassador himself, until he discovered that
all Japanese are exactly alike. Wherefore he desisted
from any further attempt to identify the missing prince
for want of the missing link, namely, some distinctive
feature.
The illustrious pair had now been in the house for six
weeks. Previously they had spent some time in Well-
close Square, which is no doubt well known to fashion-
able readers, and lies contiguous to St. George's Street.
Here happened that accident of the back-slapping so
-
ALL SORTS AND CONDİTİONS ÖF MEN.
35
frequently alluded to by her ladyship. They were come
from America to take up an old family title which had
been in abeyance for two or three generations. They
appeared to be poor, but able to find the modest weekly
sum asked by Mrs. Bormalack; and in order to secure
her confidence and good-will, they paid every week in
advance. They drank nothing but water, but, to make
up, his lordship ate a great deal, especially at breakfast,
and they asked for strange things, unknown to English
households. In other respects they gave no kind of
trouble, were easily satisfied, never grumbled, and were
affable. For their rank they certainly dressed shabbily,
but high social station is sometimes found coupled with
eccentricity. Doubtless Lord Davenant had his reasons
for going about in a coat white at the seams and shiny
at the back, which, being made of sympathetic stuff,
and from long habit, had assumed the exact shape of
his noble back and shoulders, with a beautiful model
of his illustrious elbows. For similarly good and suffi-
cient reasons Lady Davenant wore that old black gown
and those mended gloves and-but it is cruel to enu
merate the shortcomings of her attire.
Perhaps on account of this public character, the pro-
fessor would rank in the house after his lordship. Noth-
ing confers greatness more quickly than an unabashed
appearance upon a platform. Mr. Maliphant, however,
who had travelled and could relate tales of adventure,
might dispute precedence with him. He was now a
carver of figure-heads for ships. It is an old and hon-
orable trade, but in these latter days it has decayed.
He had a small yard at Limehouse, where he worked
all by himself, turning out heads in the rough so that
they might be transformed into a beauteous goddess,
or a Saucy Poll, or a bearded Neptune, as the owners
might prefer. He was now an old man with a crumpled
and million-lined face, but active still and talkative.
His memory played him tricks, and he took little inter-
est in new things. He had a habit, too, which discon-
certed people unaccustomed to him, of thinking one
part of the reminiscence to himself and saying the rest
aloud, so that one got only the torso or mangled trunk
of the story, or the head, or the feet, with or without
the tail, which is the point.
-
$8
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
The learned Daniel Fagg, wrapt always in contem-
plation, was among them but not of them. He was
lately arrived from Australia, bringing with him a dis-
covery which took away the breath of those who heard
it, and filled all the scholars and learned men of Eu-
rope with envy and hatred, so that they combined and
formed a general conspiracy to keep him down, and to
prevent the publication of his great book, lest the world
should point the finger of scorn at them, and laugh at
the blindness of its great ones.
Daniel himself said so,
and an oppressed man generally knows his oppressor.
He went away every morning after breakfast, and re-
turned for tea. He was believed to occupy the day in
spreading a knowledge of his discovery, the nature of
which was unknown at the boarding-house, among
clergymen and other scholars. In the evening he sat
over a Hebrew Bible and a dictionary, and spoke to no
one. A harmless man, but soured and disappointed
with the cold reception of his great discovery.
Another boarder was the unfortunate Josephus Cop-
pin, who was a clerk in the great brewing-house of
Messenger, Marsden & Company. He had been there
for forty years, being now fifty-five years of age, gray
and sad of face, because, for some reason unknown to
the world, he was not advanced, but remained forever
among the juniors at a salary of thirty shillings a week.
Other men of his own standing were chief brewers, col-
lectors, and chief accountants. He was almost where
he had started. The young men came and mounted
the ladder of promotion, passing him one after the
other; he alone remained upon the rung which he had
reached one day, now thirty years bygone, when a cer-
tain thing happened, the consequences of which were to
keep him down, to ruin his prospects, to humiliate and
degrade him, to sadden and embitter his whole life.
Lastly, there was a young man, the only young man
among them, one Harry Goslett by name, who had
quite recently joined the boarding-house. He was a
nephew of Mr. Coppin, and was supposed to be looking
for a place of business.
But he was an uncertain boarder. He paid for his
dinner but never dined at home; he had brought with
him a lathe, which he set up in a little garden-house,
15
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
3?
and here he worked by himself, but in a fitful, lazy way,
as if it mattered nothing whether he worked or not.
He seemed to prefer strolling about the place, looking
around him as if he had never seen things before, and
he was wont to speak of familiar objects as if they were
strange and rare. These eccentricities were regarded
as due to his having been to America. A handsome
young man and cheerful, which made it a greater pity
that he was so idle.
On this morning the first to start for the day's busi-
ness was Daniel Fagg. He put his Hebrew Bible on
the book-shelf, took out a memorandum-book and the
stump of a pencil, made an entry, and then counted out
his money, which amounted to eight-and-sixpence, with
a sigh. He was a little man, about sixty years of age,
and his thin hair was sandy in color. His face was
thin, and he looked hungry and underfed. I believe,
in fact, that he seldom had money enough for dinner,
and so went without. Nothing was remarkable in his
face, except a pair of very large and thick eyebrows,
also of sandy hue, which is unusual, and produces a
very curious effect. With these he was wont to frown
tremendously as he went along, frightening the little
children into fits; when he was not frowning he looked
dejected. It must have been an unhappy condition of
things which made the poor man thus alternate between
wrath and depression. There were, however, moments
those when he got hold of a new listener-in which
he would light up with enthusiasm as he detailed the
history of his discovery. Then the thin, drawn cheek
would fill out, and his quivering lips would become
firm, and his dejected eyes would brighten with the old
pride of discovery, and he would laugh once more, and
rub his hands with pride, when he described the honest
sympathy of the people in the Australian township
where he first announced the great revelation he was
to make to the world, and received their enthusiastic
cheers and shouts of encouragement.
Harry Goslett was his last listener, and, as the en-
thusiast thought, his latest convert.
As Daniel passed out of the dining-room, and was
looking for his hat among the collection of hats as bad
as was ever seen out of Canadian backwoods, Harry
38
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Goslett himself came downstairs, his hands in his
pockets, as slowy and lazily as if there was no such
thing as work to do or time to keep. He laughed and
nodded to the discoverer.
"Oho! Dan'l," he said; "how are the triangles? and
are you really going back to the lion's den?"
"Yes, Mr. Goslett, I am going back there! I am not
afraid of them; I am going to see the head of the
Egyptian department. He says he will give me a hear-
ing; they all said they would, and they have. But they
won't listen; it's no use to hear unless you listen.
What a dreadful thing is jealousy among the learned,
Mr. Goslett!"
"It is indeed, my prophet; have they subscribed to
the book?"
"No! they won't subscribe. Is it likely that they
will help to bring out a work which proves them all
wrong? Come, sir, even at your age you can't think
so well of poor humanity."
“Daniel”— the young man laid his hands impres-
sively upon the little man's shoulders-" you showed me
yesterday a list of forty-five subscribers to your book,
at twelve shillings and sixpence apiece. Where is that
subscription-money?”
The poor man blushed and hung his head.
66
A man must live," he said at length, trying to frown
fiercely.
"Yes, but unpleasant notice is sometimes taken of the
way in which people live, my dear friend. This is not
a free country; not by any means free. If I were you,
I would take the triangles back to Australia, and print
the book there, among your friends."
"No!" The little man stamped on the ground, and
rammed his head into his hat with determination.
"No, Mr. Goslett, and no again. It shall be printed
here. I will hurl it at the head of the so-called scholars
here, in London-in their stronghold, close to the Brit-
ish Museum. Besides"-here he relaxed, and turned a
pitiful face of sorrow and shame upon his adviser-
besides, can I forget the day when I left Australia?
They all came aboard to say good-by. The papers had
paragraphs about it. They shouted one after the other,
and nobblers went around surprising, and they slapped
66
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
89
me on the back and said, 'Go, Dan'l,' or 'Go, Fagg,' or
'Go, Mr. Fagg,' according to their intimacy and the depth
of their friendship—'Go where honor and glory and a
great fortune, with a pension on the Queen's civil-list,
are waiting for you.' On the voyage I even dreamed
of a title; I thought Sir Daniel Fagg, knight or baro-
net, or the Right Reverend Lord Fagg, would sound
well to go back to Australia with. Honor? Glory?
Fortune? where are they? Eight-and-sixpence in my
pocket; and the head of the Greek department calls me
a fool, because I won't acknowledge that truth-yes,
TRUTH-is error. Laughs at the triangles, Mr. Goslett!"
He laughed bitterly and went out, slamming the
door behind him.
Then Harry entered the breakfast-room, nodding
pleasantly to everybody; and without any apology for
lateness, as if breakfast could be kept about all the
morning to suit his convenience, sat down and began
to eat. Jonathan Coppin got up, sighed, and went away
to his brewery. The professor looked at the last comer
with a meditative air, as if he would like to make him
disappear, and could do it, too, but was uncertain how
Harry would take it. Mrs. Bormalack hurried away
on domestic business. Mr. Maliphant laughed and
rubbed his hands together, and then laughed again as
if he were thinking of something really comic, and
said, "Yes, I knew the sergeant very well; a well set-
up man he was, and Caroline Coppin was a pretty girl."
At this point his face clouded and his eyes expressed
doubt. There was," he added, "something I wanted
to ask you, young man, something "-here he tapped
his forehead-"something about your father or your
mother, or both; but I have forgotten-never mind.
Another time-another time."
66
He ran away with boyish activity and a schoolboy's
laugh, being arrived at that time of life when one be-
comes light of heart once more, knowing by experience
that nothing matters very much. There were none left
in the room but the couple who enjoyed the title.
His lordship sat in his arm-chair, apparently enjoy-
ing it, in meditation and repose; this, one perceives,
is quite the best way of enjoying an hereditary title, if
you come to it late in life.
40
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
His wife had, meanwhile, got out a little shabb
portfolio in black leather, and was turning over the
papers with impatience; now and then she looked up to
see whether this late young man had finished his break-
fast. She fidgeted, arranged, and worried with her pa-
pers, so that any one whose skull was not six inches
thick might have seen that she wanted to be alone with
her husband. It was also quite clear to those who
thought about things, and watched this little lady, that
there may be meaning in certain proverbial expressions
touching gray mares.
Presently Harry Goslett finished his coffee, and, pay-
ing no attention to her little ladyship's signals of dis-
tress, began to open up conversation on general subjects
with the noble lord.
She could bear it no longer. Here were the precious
moments wasted and thrown away, every one of which
should be bringing them nearer to the recognition of
their rights.
66
Young man," she cried, jumping up in her chair,
"if you've got nothing to do but to loll and lop around,
all forenoon, I guess we hev, and this is the room in
which we do that work.”
"I beg your pardon, Lady Davenant"
Young man-Git-
""
She pointed to the door.
CHAPTER II.
A VERY COMPLETE CASE.
His lordship, left alone with his wife, manifested cer-
tain signs of uneasiness. She laid the portfolio on the
table, turned over the papers, sorted some of them,
picked out some for reference, fetched the ink, and
placed the penholder in position.
66
Now, my dear," she said, "no time to lose. Let us
set to work in earnest.
""
His lordship sighed. He was sitting with his fat
hands upon his knees, contented with the repose of the
moment.
66
Clara Martha,” he grumbled, "cannot I have one
hour of rest?"
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
41
"Not one, till you get your rights." She hovered
over him like a little falcon, fierce and persistent.
"Not one. What? You a British peer? You, who
ought to be sitting with a coronet on your head-you
to shrink from the trouble of writing out your case?
And such a case!"
He only moaned.
Certainly he was a very lethargic
person.
"You are not the carpenter, your father. Nor even
the wheelwright, your grandfather, who came down of
his own accord. You would rise, you would soar-you
have the spirit of your ancestors."
He feebly flapped with his elbows, as if he really
would like to take a turn in the air, but made no verbal
response.
"Cousin Nathaniel," she went on,
CC gave us six
months at six dollars a week. That's none too generous
of Nathaniel, seeing we have no children, and he will
be the heir to the title. I guess Aurelia Tucker set him
against the thing. Six months, and three of them gone
already, and nothing done! What would Aurelia say
if we went home again, beaten?"
The little woman gasped, and would have shrugged
her shoulders, but they were such a long way down-
shoulders so sloping could not be shrugged.
Her remonstrances moved the heavy man, who drew
his chair to the table with great deliberation.
66
"We are here," she continued-always the exhorter
and the strengthener of faith-"not to claim a title,
but to assume it. We shall present our case to Parlia-
ment, or the Queen, or the House of Lords, or the Court
of Chancery, or whosoever is the right person, and we
shall say, 'I am Lord Davenant. That is all.
""
"Clara Martha," said her husband, "I wish that
were all we had to do. And, on the whole, I would as
soon be back in Canaan City, New Hampshire, and the
trouble over. The memoranda are all here," he said.
Can't we get some one else to draw up the case?"
CC
Certainly not. You must do it.
You must do it.
Why, you used
to think nothing of writing out a Fourth of July
speech."
He shook his head.
"And you know that you have often said, yourself,
42
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
that there wasn't a book written that could teach you
anything up to quadratic equations. And self-raised,
too!"
66
"It isn't that, Clara Martha. It isn't that. Listen!"
he sank his voice to a whisper. It's the doubt.
That's the point. Every time I face that doubt it's
like a bucket of cold water down my back."
She shivered. Yes: there was always the doubt.
"Come, my dear," she said presently; "we must get
the case drawn up, so that any one may read it. That
is the first thing-never think of any doubt.”
He took up one of the loose papers, which was cov-
ered with writing.
"Timothy Clitheroe Davenant," he read with a
weary sigh, "died at Canaan City, New Hampshire,
in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred
and ninety-four. By trade he was a wheelwright.
His marriage is recorded in the church-register of July
1, 1773. His headstone still stands in the old church-
yard, and says that he was born in England in the year
one thousand seven hundred and thirty-two-it does
not say where he was born-and that he was sixty-two
years of age at the day of his death. Also, that long
time he bore
";
"Yes, yes, but you needn't put that in. Go on with
your case. The next point is your own father. Cour-
age, my dear; it is a very strong case.
""
"The case is very strong. His lordship plucked up
courage, and took up another paper. "This is my fa-
ther's record. All is clear: Born in Canaan City on
October 10, 1774, the year of Independence, the eldest
son of the aforesaid Timothy Clitheroe Davenant,
wheelwright, and Dinah, his wife-here is a copy of
the register. Married on May 13, 1810, which was late
in life, because he didn't somehow get on so fast as
some, to Susanna Pegley, of the same parish. Described
as carpenter-but a poor workman, Clara Martha, and
fond of chopping yarns, in which he was equalled by
none. He died in the year 1830, his tombstone still
standing, like his father's before him. It says that his
end was peace. Wal-he always wanted it. Give him
peace, with a chair in the veranda, and a penknife and
a little bit of pine, and he asked for no more. Only
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
43
that, and his wife wouldn't let him have it. His end
was peace."
"You all want peace," said his wife. "The Dave-
nants always did think that they only had to sit still
and the plums would drop in their mouths. As for
you, I believe you'd be content to sit and sit in Canaan
City till Queen Victoria found you out and sent you the
coronet herself. But you've got a wife as well as your
father."
"I hev," he said, with another sigh. "Perhaps we
were wrong to come over-I think I was happier in the
schoolroom, when the boys were gone hum. It was
very quiet there, for a sleep in the afternoon by the
stove. And in summer the trees looked harnsome in
the sunlight."
She shook her head impatiently.
"Come," she cried. Where are the 'Recollections'
of your grandfather?”
He found another paper, and read it slowly.
66
66
My grandfather died before I was born. My father,
however, said that he used to throw out hints about his
illustrious family, and that if he chose to go back to
England some people would be very much surprised.
But he never explained himself. Also he would some-
times speak of a great English estate, and once he said
that the freedom of a wheelwright was better than the
gilded chains of a British aristocrat-that was at a
Fourth of July meetin'."
"Men talk wild at meetin's," said his wife. "Still,
there may have been a meanin' behind it. Go on, Tim-
othy—I mean my lord.”
(6
As for my father, it pleased him, when he could put
up his feet and crack with his friends, to brag of his
great connections in England. But he never knew
rightly who they were, and he was too peaceful and
restful a creature to take steps to find out.
""
"Waitin' for King George," observed his wife.
"Just what you would be doin', but for me."
"That's all the recollection. Here comes my own
declaration :
"I, Timothy Clitheroe Davenant, make affidavit on
oath, if necessary-but I am not quite clear as to the
righteousness of swearing-that I am the son of the
44
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
late Timothy Clitheroe Davenant, sometime carpenter
of the City of Canaan, New Hampshire, U. S. A., and
Susanna his wife, both now deceased; that I was born
in the year of grace one thousand eight hundred and
fifteen, and that I have been for forty years a teacher
in my native town.' That is all clean and above-board,
Clara Martha; no weak point so far, father to sɔn, mar-
riage certificates regularly found, and baptism regis-
ters. No one can ask more. 'Further, I, the above-
named Timothy, do claim to be the lawful and legiti-
mate heir to the ancient barony of Davenant, supposed
to be extinct in the year 1733 by the death of the last
lord, without male issue.' Legally worded, I think,"
he added with a little proud smile.
"Yes: it reads right. Now for the connection."
"Oh! the connection." His lordship's face clouded
over. His consort, however, awaited the explanation,
for the thousandth time, in confidence. Where the
masculine mind found doubt and uncertainty, the quick
woman's intellect, ready to believe and tenacious of
faith, had jumped to certainty.
"The connection is this." He took up another paper,
·
and read:
"The last Lord Davenant had one son only, a boy
named Timothy Clitheroe. All the eldest sons of the
house were named Timothy Clitheroe, just as all the
Ashleys are named Anthony." When the boy arrived
at years of maturity he was sent on the Grand Tour,
which he made with a tutor. On returning to Eng-
land, it is believed that he had some difference with
his father, the nature of which has never been ascer-
tained. He then embarked upon a ship sailing for the
American Colonies. Nothing more was ever heard
about him; no news came to his father or his friends,
and he was supposed to be dead.””
"Even the ship was never heard of," added her lady-
ship, as if this was a fact which would greatly help in
lengthening the life of the young man.
"That, too, was never heard of again. If she had
not been thrown away, we might have learned what
became of the Honorable Timothy Clitheroe Davenant."
There was some confusion of ideas here, which the ex-
schoolmaster was not slow to perceive,
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
45
"I mean," he tried to explain, "that if she got safe
to Boston, the young man would have landed there,
and all would be comparatively clear. Whereas, if she
was cast away, we must now suppose that he was saved
and got ashore somehow."
"Like Saint Paul," she cried triumphantly, "on a
piece of wreck-what could be more simple?"
Because," her husband continued, "there is one fact
which proves that he did get ashore, that he concluded
to stay there, that he descended so far into the social
scale as to become a wheelwright; and that he lived
and died in the town of Canaan, New Hampshire."
"Go on, my dear. Make it clear. Put it strong.
This is the most interesting point of all."
"And this young man, who was supposed to be cast
away in the year one thousand seven hundred and fifty-
four, aged twenty-two, was exactly the same age as my
grandfather, Timothy Clitheroe Davenant, who bore
the same name, which is proved by the headstone and
the church-books."
"Could there," asked his wife, springing to her feet,
"could there have been two Englishmen-
-?"
"Of the same illustrious and historic surname, both
in America?" replied her husband, roused into a flabby
enthusiasm.
"Of the same beautiful Christian name?-two Timo-
thys?"
Born both in the same year?"
The little woman with the bright eyes and the slop-
ing shoulders threw her arms about her husband's neck.
"You shall have your rights, my dear," she said; "I
will live to see you sitting in the House of Lords with
the hereditary statesmen of England. If there is jus-
tice in the land of England, you shall have your rights.
There is justice, I am sure, and equal law for poor and
rich, and encouragements for the virtuous. Yes, my
dear, the virtuous. Whatever your faults may be, your
virtues are many, and it can't but do the House of
Lords good to see a little virtue among them. Not that
I hold with Aurelia Tucker that the English House of
Lords are wallowers in sin; whereas, Irene Pascoe once
met a knight on a missionary platform and found he'd
got religion. But virtue you can never have too much
46
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
of.
Courage, my lord; forget the carpenter, and think
only of the nobleman, your grandfather, who conde-
scended to become a wheelwright."
He obediently took up the pen and began. When he
seemed fairly absorbed in the task of copying out and
stating the case, she left him. As soon as the door was
closed, he heaved a gentle sigh, pushed back his chair,
put his feet upon another chair, covered his head with
his red silk pocket-handkerchief-for there were flies
in the room-and dropped into a gentle slumber. The
carpenter was, for the moment, above the condescend
ing wheelwright.
CHAPTER III.
ONLY A DRESSMAKER.
HARRY GOSLETT returned to the boarding-house that
evening, in a mood of profound dejection; he had spent
a few hours with certain cousins, whose acquaintance
he was endeavoring to make. Hitherto," he said,
writing to Lord Jocelyn, "the soil seems hardly worth
cultivating. In this he spoke hastily, because every
man's mind is worth cultivating as soon as you find
out the things best fitted to grow in it. But some
minds will only grow turnips, while others will produce
the finest strawberries.
""
66
The cousins, for their part, did not as yet take to the
new arrival, whom they found difficult to understand.
His speech was strange, his manner stranger: these pe-
culiarities, they thought in their ignorance, were due
to residence in the United States, where Harry had
found it expedient to place most of his previous years.
Conversation was difficult between two rather jealous
workmen and a brother artisan, who greatly resembled
the typical swell-an object of profound dislike and sus-
picion to the working-classes.
He had now spent some three weeks among his kins-
folk. He brought with him some curiosity, but little
enthusiasm. At first he was interested and amused
rapidly he became bored and disgusted; for as yet he
saw only the outside of things. There was an uncle,
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
41
1x1
Mr. Benjamin Bunker, the study of whom, regarded as
anybody else's uncle, would have been pleasant. Con-
sidered as his own connection by marriage-Benjamin
and the late Sergeant Goslett having married sisters-
he was too much inclined to be ashamed of him. The
two cousins seemed to him-as yet he knew them very
little-a pair of sulky, ill-bred young men, who had
taken two opposite lines, neither of which was good for
social intercourse. The people of the boarding-house
continued to amuse him, partly because they were in a
way afraid of him. As for the place-he looked about
him, standing at the north entrance of Stepney Green-
on the left hand, the Whitechapel Road; behind him,
Stepney, Limehouse, St. George's in the East, Poplar
and Shadwell; on the right, the Mile End Road, lead-
ing to Bow and Stratford; before him, Ford, Hackney,
Bethnal Green. Mile upon mile of streets with houses
—small, mean, and monotonous houses; the people liv-
ing the same mean and monotonous lives, all after the
same model. In his ignorance he pitied and despised
those people, not knowing how rich and full any life
may be made, whatever the surroundings, and even
without the gracious influences of art. Under the in-
fluence of this pity and contempt, when he returned in
the evening at half-past nine, he felt himself for the
first time in his life run very low down indeed.
The aspect of the room was not calculated to cheer
him up.
It was lit with a mean two-jet gas-burner;
the dingy curtain wanted looping up, the furniture
looked more common and mean than usual. Yet, as he
stood in the doorway, he became conscious of a change.
The boarders were all sitting there, just as usual, and
the supper cloth was removed; Mr. Maliphant had his
long pipe fixed in the corner of his mouth, but he held it
there with an appearance of constraint, and he had let
it go out. Mr. Josephus Coppin sat in the corner in
which he always put himself, so as to be out of every-
body's way; also with a pipe in his hand unlighted.
Daniel Fagg had his Hebrew Bible spread out before
him, and his dictionary, and his copy of the Authorized
Version-which he used, as he would carefully explain,
not for what schoolboys call a crib, but for purpose of
comparison. This was very grand! A man who can
48
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
read Hebrew at all inspires one with confidence; but
the fact is the more important when it is connected with
a discovery; and to compare versions one's own with
the collected wisdom of a royal commission-is a very
grand thing indeed. But to-night he sat with his head
in his hands, and his sandy hair pushed back, looking
straight before him; and Mrs. Bormalack was graced
in her best black silk dress, and "the decanters" were
proudly placed upon the table with rum, gin, and brandy
in them, and beside them stood the tumblers, hot water,
cold water, lemons, and spoons, in the most genteel way.
The representative of the Upper House, who did not
take spirits and water, sat calmly dignified in his arm-
chair by the fireplace, and in front of him, on the other
side, sat his wife, with black thread mittens drawn
tightly over her little hands and thin arms, bolt upright,
and conscious of her rank. All appeared to be silent,
but that was their custom, and all, which was not their
custom, wore an unaccustomed air of company manners
which was very beautiful to see.
Harry, looking about him, perplexed at these phe-
nomena, presently observed that the eyes of all, except
those of Daniel Fagg, were fixed in one direction; and
that the reason why Mr. Maliphant held an unlighted
pipe in his mouth, and Josephus one in his hand, and that
Daniel was not reading, and that his lordship looked so
full of dignity, and that ardent spirits were abroad,
was nothing less than the presence of a young lady.
In such a house, and, in fact, all round Stepney
Green, the word "lady” is generally used in a broad and
catholic spirit; but in this case Harry unconsciously
used it in the narrow, prejudiced, one-sided sense pecu-
liar to Western longitudes. And it was so surprising
to think of a young lady in connection with Borma-
lack's, that he gasped and caught his breath. And
then Mrs. Bormalack presented him to the new arrival
in her best manner. Our youngest!" she said, as if
he had been a son of the house-" our youngest and last
-the sprightly Mr. Goslett. This is Miss Kennedy,
and I hope I'm sure that you two will get to be
friendly with one another, not to speak of keeping com-
pany, which is early days yet for prophecies.
">
Harry bowed in his most superior style. What on
66
P
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
49
earth, he thought again, did a young lady want at Step-
ney Green?
She had the carriage and the manner of a lady; she
was quite simply dressed in a black cashmere; she
wore a red ribbon around her white throat, and had
white cuffs. A lady-unmistakably a lady; also young
and beautiful, with great brown eyes, which met his
own frankly, and with a certain look of surprise which
seemed an answer to his own.
"Our handsome young cabinet-maker, Miss Ken-
nedy," went on the landlady-Harry wondered whether
it was worse to be described as sprightly than as hand-
some, and which adjective was likely to produce the
more unfavorable impression on a young lady-"is
wishful to establish himself in a genteel way of busi-
ness, like yourself."
-
"When I was in the dressmaking line," observed her
ladyship, "I stayed at home with mother and Aunt
Keziah. It was not thought right in Canaan City for
young women to go about setting up shops by them-
selves. Not that I say you are wrong, Miss Kennedy,
but London ways are not New Hampshire ways."
Miss Kennedy murmured something softly, and looked
again at the handsome cabinet-maker, who was still
blushing with indignation and shame at Mrs. Borma-
lack's adjectives, and ready to blush again on recovery
to think that he was so absurd as to feel any shame
about so trifling a matter. Still, every young man likes
to appear in a good light in the presence of beauty.
The young lady, then, was only a dressmaker. For
the moment she dropped a little in his esteem, which
comes of our artificial and conventional education; be-
cause-Why not a dressmaker? Then she rose again,
because-WHAT a dressmaker! Could there be many
such in Stepney? If so, how was it that poets, novel-
ists, painters, and idle young men did not flock to so
richly endowed a district? In this unexpected manner
does nature offer compensations. Harry also observed
with satisfaction the novel presence of a newly arrived
piano, which could belong to no other than the new-
comer; and finding that the conversation showed no
signs of brightening, he ventured to ask Miss Kennedy
if she would play to them.
4
50
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Now, when she began to play, a certain magic of the
music fell upon them all, affecting every one differently.
Such is the power of music, and thus diverse is it in its
operation. As for his lordship, he sat nodding his head
and twinkling his eyes and smiling sweetly, because he
was in imagination sitting among his peers in the
Upper House with a crown of gold and a robe of fur,
and all his friends of Canaan City, brought across the
Atlantic at his own expense for this very purpose, were
watching him with envy and admiration from the gal-
lery. Among them was Aurelia Tucker, the scoffer
and thrower of cold water. And her ladyship sat beat-
ing time with head and hand, thinking how the family
estates would probably be restored, with the title, by
the Queen. She had great ideas on the royal preroga-
tive, and had indeed been accustomed to think in the
old days that Englishmen go about in continual terror
lest her Majesty, in the exercise of this prerogative,
should order their heads to be removed. This gracious
vision, due entirely to the music, showed her in a stately
garden entertaining Aurelia Tucker and other friends,
whom she, like her husband, had imported from Ca-
naan City for the purpose of exhibiting the new great-
ness. And Aurelia was green with envy, though she
wore her best black silk dress.
The other boarders were differently affected. The
melancholy Josephus leaned his head upon his hand, and
saw himself in imagination the head-brewer, as he might
have been, but for the misfortune of his early youth.
Head-brewer to the firm of Messenger, Marsden & Com-
pany! What a position!
Daniel Fagg, for his part, was dreaming of the day
when his discovery was to be received by all and ade-
quately rewarded. He anticipated the congratulations
of his friends in Australia, and stood on deck in port
surrounded by the crowd, who shook his hand and
cheered him, in good Australian fashion, as Daniel the
Great, Daniel the Scourge of Scholars, Daniel the
Prophet a second Daniel. The professor took advan-
tage of this general rapture or abstraction from earthly
things to lay the plans for a grand coup in legerde-
main—a new experiment, which should astonish every-
body. This he afterward carried through with success.
K
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
51
Mrs. Bormalack, for her part, filled and slowly drank
a large tumbler of hot brandy-and-water. When she
had finished it she wiped away a tear. Probably, stim-
ulated by the brandy, which is a sentimental spirit, she
was thinking of her late husband, collector for the brew-
ery, who was himself romantically fond of brandy-and-
water, and came to an early end in consequence of over-
rating his powers of consumption.
Mr. Maliphant winked his eyes, rolled his head,
rubbed his hands, and laughed joyously, but in silence.
Why, one knows not. When the music finished, he
whispered to Daniel Fagg. "No," he said, "this is the
third time in the year that you have asked leave to
bury your mother. Make it your grandmother, young
man. Then he laughed again, and said that he had
been with Walker in Nicaragua. Harry heard this
communication, and the attempt to fill up the story
from these two fragments afterward gave him night-
""
mare.
Miss Kennedy played a gavotte, and then another,
and then a sonata. Perhaps it is the character of this
kind of music to call up pleasant and joyous thoughts;
certainly there is much music, loved greatly by some
people, which makes us sad, notably the strains sung at
places of popular resort. They probably become favor-
ites because they sadden so much. Who would not
shed tears on hearing "Tommy Dodd”?
She played without music, gracefully, easily, and
with expression. While she played Harry sat beside
the piano, still wondering on the same theme. She, a
Stepney dressmaker! Who, in this region, could have
taught her that touch? She "wistful to establish her-
self in a genteel way of business"? Was art, then, per-
meating downward so rapidly? Were the people just
above the masses, the second or third stratum of the
social pyramid, taught music, and in such a style?
Then he left off wondering, and fell to the blissful con-
templation of a beautiful woman playing beautiful mu-
sic. This is an occupation always delightful to young
Englishmen, and it does equal credit to their heads and
to their hearts that they never tire of so harmless an
amusement. When she finished playing, everybody
descended to earth, so to speak.
1
52
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
The noble pair remembered that their work was still
before them all to do: one of them thought, with a
pang, about the drawing of the case, and wished he
had not gone to sleep in the morning.
The clerk in the brewery awoke to the recollection of
his thirty shillings a week, and reflected that the weather
was such as to necessitate a pair of boots which had
soles.
The learned Daniel Fagg bethought him once more
of his poverty and the increasing difficulty of getting
subscribers, and the undisguised contempt with which
the head of the Egyptian department had that morning
received him.
Mr. Maliphant left off laughing, and shook his puck-
ered old face with a little astonishment that he had been
so moved.
Said the professor, breaking the silence:
"I like the music to go on, so long as no patter is
wanted. They listen to music if it's lively, and it pre-
vents 'em from looking round and getting suspicious.
You haven't got an egg upon you, Mrs. Bormalack,
have you? Dear me, one in your lap! Actually in a
lady's lap! A common egg, one of our 'selected,' at
tenpence the dozen. Ah! In your lap, too! How
very injudicious! You might have dropped it, and
broken it. Perhaps, miss, you wouldn't mind obliging
once more with 'Tommy, make room for your uncle'
or 'Over the garden wall,' if you please."
Miss Kennedy did not know either of these airs, but
she laughed and said she would play something lively,
while the professor went on with his trick. First, he
drew all eyes to meet his own like a fascinating con-
strictor, and then he began to "palm" the egg in the
most surprising manner. After many adventures it
was ultimately found in Daniel Fagg's pocket. Then
the professor smiled, bowed, and spread out his hands.
as if to show the purity and honesty of his con-
juring.
"You play very well," said Harry to Miss Kennedy,
when the conjuring was over and the professor returned
to his chair and his nightly occupation with a pencil,
a piece of paper, and a book.
"Can you play?"
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
53
"I fiddle a little. If you will allow me, we will try
some evening a duet together."
"I did not know-
she began, but checked herself.
"I did not expect to find a violinist here.
""
"A good many people of my class play," said Harry,
mendaciously, because the English workman is the
least musical of men.
"Few of mine," she returned, rising, and closing the
piano, "have the chance of learning. But I have had
opportunities."
She looked at her watch, and remarked that it was
nearly ten o'clock, and that she was going to bed.
""
"I have spoken to Mr. Bunker about what you want,
Miss Kennedy," said the landlady. "He will be here
to-morrow morning about ten on his rounds.
"Who is Mr. Bunker?" asked Angela.
They all seemed surprised. Had she never, in what-
ever part of the world she had lived, heard of Mr.
Bunker-Bunker the Great?
"He used to be a sort of factotum to old Mr. Messen-
ger," said Mrs. Bormalack. "His death was a sad blow
to Mr. Bunker. He's a general agent by trade, and he
deals in coal, and he's a house agent, and he knows
everybody round Stepney and up to the Mile End Road
as far as Bow. He's saved money, too, Miss Ken-
nedy, and is greatly respected."
"He ought to be," said Harry; "not only because he
was so much with Mr. Messenger, whose name is re-
vered for the kindred associations of beer and prop-
erty, but also because he is my uncle-he ought to be
respected."
66 Your uncle?"
"My own-so near, and yet so dear-my uncle Bunk-
er. To be connected with Messenger, Marsden & Com-
pany, even indirectly through such an uncle, is in itself
a distinction. You will learn to know him, and you
will learn to esteem him, Miss Kennedy. You will es-
teem him all the more if you are interested in beer."
Miss Kennedy blushed.
"Bunker is great in the company. I believe he used
to consider himself a kind of a partner while the old
man lived. He knows all about the big brewery.
for that, everybody does round Stepney Green."
As
54
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS ÕF MEN.
"The company," said Josephus gloomily, "is noth
ing but a chit of a girl." He sighed, thinking how
much went to her and how little came to himself.
“Our
"We are steeped in beer," Harry went on.
conversation turns for ever on beer; we live for beer;
the houses round us are filled with the company's ser-
vants; we live by beer. For example, Mrs. Bormalack's
late husband-
""
"He was a collector for the company," said the land-
lady, with natural pride.
"You see, Miss Kennedy, what a responsible and
exalted position was held by Mr. Bormalack." (The
widow thought that sometimes it was hard to know
whether this sprightly young man was laughing at peo-
ple or not, but it certainly was a very high position,
and most respectable. 'He went round the houses,
Harry went on. "Houses, here, mean public-houses:
the company owns half the public-houses in the East
End. Then here is my cousin, the genial Josephus.
Hold up your head, Josephus. He, for his part, is a
clerk in the house."
99
Josephus groaned. "A junior clerk," he murmured.
"The professor is not allowed in the brewery. He
might conjure among the vats, and vats have never
been able to take a practical joke; but he amuses the
brewery people. As for Mr. Maliphant, he carves fig-
ure-heads for the ships which carry away the brewery.
beer; and perhaps when the brewery wants cabinets
made they will come to me."
"It is the biggest brewery in all England," said tho
landlady. "I can never remember-because my mem-
ory is like a sieve-how much beer they brew every
year; but somebody once made a calculation about it,
compared with Niagara Falls, which even Mr. Bunker
said was surprising.
""
"Think, Miss Kennedy," said Harry, "of an Entire
Niagara of Messenger's Entire."
CC But how can this Mr. Bunker be of use to me?"
asked the young lady.
"Why!" said Mrs. Bormalack. "There is not a shop
or a street nor any kind of place within miles Mr
Bunker doesn't know, who they are that live there, how
they make their living, what the rent is, and every-
❤
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
55
$
thing. That's what made him so useful to old Mr.
Messenger."
Miss Kennedy for some reason changed color. Then she
said that she thought she would like to see Mr. Bunker.
When she was gone Harry sat down beside his lord-
ship and proceeded to smoke tobacco in silence, refusing
the proffered decanters.
Said the professor softly:
"She'd be a fortune-a gem of the first water-upon
the boards. As pianoforte-player between the feats of
magic, marvel, and mystery, or a medium under the
magnetic influence of the operator, or a clairvoyant, or
a thought-reader-or Here he relapsed into si-
""
lence without a sigh.
"She looks intelligent," said Daniel Fagg. "When
she hears about my discovery she will-
Here he
caught the eye of Harry Goslett, who was shaking a fin-
ger of warning, which he rightly interpreted to mean
that dressmakers must not be asked to subscribe to
learned books. This abashed him.
66
Considered as a figure-head," began Mr. Maliphant,
"I remember-
""
66
interrupted Harry.
As a dressmaker, now
"Do Stepney dressmakers often play the piano like
well, like Miss Kennedy? Do they wear gold watches?
Do they talk and move and act so much like real ladies,
that no one could tell the difference? Answer me that,
Mrs. Bormalack."
66
""
Well, Mr. Goslett, all I can say is, that she seems
a very proper young lady to have in the house.'
66
Proper, ma'am? If you were to search the whole
of Stepney, I don't believe you could find such another.
What does your ladyship say?"
"I say, Mr. Goslett, that in Canaan City the ladies
who are dressmakers set the fashions to the ladies who
are not; I was myself a dressmaker. And Aurelia
Tucker, though she turns up her nose at our elevation,
is, I must say, a lady who would do credit to any circle,
even yours, Mrs. Bormalack. And such remarks about
real ladies and dressmakers I do not understand, and I
expected better manners, I must say. Look at his lord-
ship's manners, Mr. Goslett, ard his father was a car-
penter, like you."
56
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
CHAPTER IV.
UNCLE BUNKER.
"My uncle!"
cr
It was the sprightly young cabinet-maker who sprang
to his feet and grasped the hand of the new-comer with
an effusion not returned.
"Allow me, Miss Kennedy, to present to you my
uncle, my uncle Bunker, whose praise you heard us
sing with one consent last night. We did, indeed, re-
vered one! Whatever you want bought, Miss Ken-
nedy, from a piano to a learned pig, this is the man
who will do it for you. A percentage on the cost, with
a trifling charge for time, is all he seeks in return. He
is generally known as the Benevolent Bunker; he is
everybody's friend; especially he is beloved by persons
behindhand with their rents, he is-
>>
Here Mr. Bunker drew out his watch, and observed
with severity that his time was valuable, and that he
came about business.
Angela observed that the sallies of his nephew were
received with disfavor.
"Can we not," pursued Harry, regardless of the cloud
upon his uncle's brow-" can we not escape from af-
fairs of urgency for one moment? Show us your lighter
side, my uncle. Let Miss Kennedy admire the gifts.
and graces which you hide as well as the sterner quali-
ties which you exhibit."
"Business, young lady," the agent repeated, with a
snort and a scowl. He took off his hat and rubbed his
bald head with a silk pocket-handkerchief until it shone
like polished marble. He was short of stature and of
round figure. His face was red and puffy as if he was
fond of hot brandy-and-water, and he panted, being a
little short of breath. His eyes were small and close
together, which gave him a cunning look; his whiskers
were large and gray; his lips were thick and firm, and
his upper lip was long: his nose was broad, but not
humorous; his head was set on firmly, and he had a
square chin. Evidently he was a man of determina-
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
5¢
tion, and he was probably determined to look after his
own interests first.
66
"I want," said Angela, "to establish myself in this
neighborhood as a dressmaker."
"Very good," said Mr. Bunker. "That's practical.
It is my business to do with practical people, not snig-
gerers and idle gigglers." He looked at his nephew.
"I shall want a convenient house, and a staff of
workwomen, and-and some one acquainted with busi-
ness details and management.
""
"Go on," said Mr. Bunker. "A forewoman you will
want, of course.”
66
Then, as I do not ask you to give me your advice for
nothing, how are you generally paid for such services?"
"I charge," he said, "as arranged for beforehand.
Time for talking, arranging, and house-hunting, half-
a-crown an hour. That won't break you.
And you
won't talk too much, knowing you have to pay for it.
Percentage on the rent, ten per cent. for the first year,
nothing afterward; if you want furniture, I will fur-
nish your house from top to bottom on the same terms,
and find you work-girls at five shillings a head."
66
"Yes," said Angela. "I suppose I must engage a
staff. And I suppose"-here she looked at Harry, as
if for advice-"I suppose that you are the best person
to go to for assistance."
There is no one else," said Mr. Bunker.
"That is
why my terms are so low."
His nephew whistled softly.
Mr. Bunker, after an angry growl at people who keep
their hands in their pockets, proceeded to develop his
views. Miss Kennedy listened languidly, appearing to
care very little about details, and agreeing to most ex-
pensive things in a perfectly reckless manner. She was
afraid, for her part, that her own ignorance would be
exposed if she talked. The agent, however, quickly
perceived how ignorant she was, from this very silence,
and resolved to make the best of so promising a sub-
ject. She could not possibly have much money-who
ever heard of a Stepney dressmaker with any?-and
she evidently had no experience. He would get as
much of the money as he could, and she would be the
gainer in experience. A most equitable arrangement,
58
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
he thought, being one of those-too few, alas!—who
keep before their eyes a lofty ideal, and love to act up
to it.
When he had quite finished and fairly embarked his
victim on a vast ocean of expenditure, comparatively,
and with reference to Stepney and Mile End customs,
he put up his pocketbook and remarked, with a smile,
that he should want references of respectability.
CC
That's usual," he said: "I could not work with-
out."
Angela changed color. To be asked for references
was awkward.
66
"You can refer to me, my uncle," said Harry.
Mr. Bunker took no notice of this proposition.
"You see, miss," he said, we don't know you, nor
where you come from, nor what money you've got, nor
how you got it. No doubt it is all right, and I'm sure
you look honest. Perhaps you've got nothing to hide,
and very likely there's good reasons for wanting to set-
tlo here."
66
"My grandfather was a Whitechapel man by birth,'
she replied. He left me some money. If you must
have references, of course I could refer you to the law-
yers who managed my little affairs. But I would
rather, to save trouble, pay for everything on the spot,
and the rent in advance."
ور
Mr. Bunker consented to waive his objection on pay-
ment of a sum of ten pounds down, it being understood
and concluded that everything bought should be paid
for on the spot, and a year's rent when the house was
fixed upon, paid in advance; in consideration for which
he said the young lady might, in subsequent transac-
tions with strangers, refer to himself, a privilege which
was nothing less than the certain passport to fortune.
"As for me," he added, "my motto is, "Think first of
your client.' Don't spare yourself for him; toil for
him, think for him, rise up early and lie down late for
him, and you reap your reward from grateful hearts.
Lord! the fortunes I have made!"
"Virtuous Uncle Bunker!" cried Harry with enthu-
siasm. "Noble, indeed!"
The good man for the moment forgot the existence of
his frivolous nephew, who had retired up the stage, so
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
59
to speak. He opened his mouth as if to say something
in anger, but refrained, and snorted.
66
'Now that we've settled that matter, Mr. Bunker,"
the girl said without noticing the interruption, "let us
talk about other matters."
Are they business matters?"
66
'Not exactly; but still-
""
66
Time is money; an hour is half-a-crown." He drew
out his watch, and made a note of the time in his pock-
etbook. "A quarter to eleven, miss. If I didn't charge
for time, what would become of my clients? Neg-
lected; their interests ruined; the favorable moment
gone. If I could tell you of a lady I established two
years ago in one of the brewery-houses and what she's
made of it, and what she says of me, you would be as-
tonished. A grateful heart! and no better brandy-and-
water, hot, with a slice of lemon, in the Whitechapel
Road. But you were about to say, miss-
"She was going to begin with a hymn of praise,
Uncle Bunker, paid in advance, like the rest. Grati-
tude for favors to come. But if you like to tell about
the lady, do. Miss Kennedy will only charge you half-
a-crown an hour. I'll mark time."
"I think, young man," said Mr. Bunker, "that it is
time you should go to your work. Stepney is not the
place for sniggerin' peacocks; they'd better have stayed
in the United States."
""
"I am waiting till you have found me a place, too,"
the young man replied. “I too would wish to expe-
rience the grateful heart. It is peculiar to White-
chapel."
(C
I was going to say," Angela went on, "that I hear
you were connected with old Mr. Messenger for many
years.'
"I was," Mr. Bunker replied, and straightened his
back with pride. "I was-everybody knows that I
was his confidential factotum and his familiar friend,
as David was unto Jonathan.”
"Indeed! I used to-to-hear about him formerly
a great deal.”
"Which made his final behavior the more revolting,'
Mr. Bunker continued, completing his sentence.
"Really! How did he finally behave?"
"5
60
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"It was always-ah! for twenty years, between us,"
Bunker, my friend,' or 'Bunker, my trusted friend,'
tell me this, go there, find out that. I bought his
houses; I let his houses; I told him who were responsi-
ble tenants; I warned him when shooting of moons
seemed likely; I found out their antecedents and told
him their stories. He had hundreds of houses, and he
knew everybody that lived in them, and what their fa-
thers were and their mothers were, and even their
grandmothers. For he was a Whitechapel man by
birth, and was proud of it."
66 But-the shameful behavior?"
"All the time"-he shook his head and looked posi-
tively terrible in his wrath-" all the time I was piling
up his property for him, houses here, streets there, he
would encourage me in his way. 'Go on, Bunker,' he
would say, 'go on. A man who works for duty, like
yourself, and to please his employers, and not out of
consideration for the pay, is one of a million;' as I cer-
tainly was, Miss Kennedy. 'One of a million,' he said;
'and you will have your reward after I am gone.
Over and over again he said this, and of course I reck-
oned on it, and only wondered how much it would tot
up to. Something, I thought, in four figures; it couldn't
be less than four figures. Here he stopped and rubbed
his bald head again.
99
-
Angela caught the eyes of his nephew, who in his
seat behind was silently laughing. He had caught the
situation which she herself now readily comprehended.
She pictured to herself this blatant Professor of Disin-
terestedness and Zeal buzzing and fluttering about her
grandfather, and the quiet old man egging him on to
more protestations.
"Four figures, for certain it would be. Once I asked.
his advice as to how I should invest that reward when
it did come. He laughed, miss. Yes, for once he
laughed, which I never saw him do before or after. I
often think he must be sorry now to think of that time
he laughed. Yah! I'm glad of it.”
So far as Angela could make it, his joy grew out of
a persuasion that this particular fit of laughter was
somehow interfering with her grandfather's present
comforts, but perhaps she was wrong.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
61
"He laughed," continued Mr. Bunker, "and he said
that house property, in a rising neighborhood, and if it
could be properly looked after, was the best investment
for money. House property, he said, as far as the
money would go.
ور
And when he died?" asked the listener, with an-
other glance at Harry, the unsympathetic, whose face
expressed the keenest enjoyment.
66
Nothing, if you please; not one brass farthing.
Hunks ! Hunks !" He grew perfectly purple, and
clutched his fist as if he would fain be punching of
heads. "Not one word of me in his will. All for the
girl: millions-millions-for her; and for me who done
his work-nothing."
"You have the glow of virtue," said his nephew.
"It seems hard," said Angela quickly, for the man
looked dangerous, and seemed capable of transferring
his wrath to his nephew; "it seems hard to get nothing
if anything was promised."
"It seems a pity," Harry chimed in, "that so much
protesting was in vain. Perhaps Mr. Messenger took
him at his word. What a dreadful thing to bẹ be-
lieved!"
در
66
"A Hunks," replied Mr. Bunker; "a miserly Hunks."
"Let me write a letter for you," said Harry, “to the
heiress; we might forward it with a deputation of
grateful hearts from Stepney."
"Mind your own business," growled his uncle.
'Well, miss, you wanted to hear about Mr. Messenger,
and you have heard. What next?”
"I should very much like, if it were possible," Angela
replied, "to see this great brewery, of which one hears
so much. Could you, for instance, take me over, Mr.
Bunker?"
"At a percentage," whispered his nephew, loud
enough for both to hear.
66
Messenger's brewery," he replied, "is as familiar
to me as my own fireside. I've grown up beside it. I
know all the people in it. They all know me. Perhaps
they respect me. For it was well known that a hand-
ome legacy was promised and expected. And nothing,
after all. As for taking you over, of course I can. We
will
go
at once.
It will take time; and time is money."'
n
Ma
62
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"May I go too?" asked Harry.
(C
No, sir; you may not. It shall not be said in the
Mile End Road that an industrious man like myself,
a worker for clients, was seen in working-time with
an idler."
The walk from Stepney Green to Messenger &
Marsden's Brewery is not far. You turn to the left if
your house is on one side, and to the right if it is on
the other; then you pass a little way down one street,
and a little way, turning again to the left, up another-
a direction which will guide you quite clearly. You
then find yourself before a great gateway, the portals of
which are closed; beside it is a smaller door, at which,
in a little lodge, sits one who guards the entrance.
Mr. Bunker nodded to the porter and entered unchal-
lenged. He led the way across a court to a sort of
outer office.
(6
Here," he said, "is the book for the visitors' names.
We have them from all countries; great lords and
ladies; foreign princes; and all the brewers from Ger-
many and America, who come to get a wrinkle. Write
your name in it, too. Something, let me tell you, to
have your name in such noble company."
She took a pen and wrote hurriedly.
Mr. Bunker looked over her shoulder.
"Ho! ho!" he said, "that is a good one! See what
you've written."
In fact, she had written her own name—Angela Mars-
den Messenger.
She blushed violently.
"How stupid of me! I was thinking of the heiress
-they said it was her name.
""
She carefully effaced the name, and wrote under it,
"A. M. Kennedy."
"That's better.
And now come along. A good
joke, too! Fancy their astonishment if they had come
to read it!"
(C
Does she often come-the heiress?"
"Never once been anigh the place; never seen it;
never asks after it; never makes an inquiry about it.
Draws the money and despises it."
"I wonder she has not got more curiosity.
"Ah! It's a shame for such a property to come to a
در
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
63
1
girl-a girl of twenty-one. Thirteen acres it covers
think of that! Seven hundred people it employs, most
of them married. Why, if it was only to see her own
vats, you'd think she'd got off of her luxurious pillows
for once, and come here."
They entered a great hall remarkable at first for a
curious smell, not offensive, but strong and rather
pungent. In it stood half-a-dozen enormous vats, closed
by wooden slides, like shutters, fitting tightly. A man
standing by opened one of these, and presently Angela
was able to make out, through the volumes of steam,
something bright going round, and a brown mess go-
ing with it.
CC
That is hops. Hops for the biggest brewery, the
richest, in all England. And all belonging to a girl
who, likely enough, doesn't drink more than a pint and
a half a day."
"I dare say not," said Angela; "it must be a dread-
ful thing indeed to have so much beer, and to be able to
drink so little."
He led the way upstairs into another great hall,
where there was the grinding of machinery and another
smell, sweet and heavy.
"This is where we crush the malt," said Mr. Bunker—
"see!"
He stooped, and picked out of a great box a
handful of the newly-crushed malt. "I suppose you
thought it was roasted. Roasting, young lady," he
added with severity, "is for stout, not for ale!"
Then he took her to another place and showed her
where the liquor stood to ferment; how it was cooled,
how it was passed from one vat to another, how it was
stored and kept in vats, dwelling perpetually on the
magnitude of the business, and the irony of fortune in
conferring this great gift upon a girl.
"I know now," she interrupted, "what the place
smells like. It is fusel oil." They were standing on a
floor of open iron bars, above a row of long covered
vats, within which the liquor was working and fer-
menting. Every now and then there would be a heav-
ing of the surface, and a quantity of the malt would
then move suddenly over.
(C We
are famous," said Mr. Bunker; "I say we, hav-
ing been the confidential friend and adviser of the late
64
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Mr. Messenger, deceased; we are famous for our Stout;
also for our Mild; and we are now reviving our Bitter,
which we had partially neglected. We use the arte-
sian well, which is four hundred feet deep, for our
Stout, but the company's water for our ales; and our
water rate is two thousand pounds a year. The arte-
sian well gives the ale a gray color, which people don't
like. Come into this room, now "—it was another great
hall covered with sacks. "Hops again, Miss Kennedy;
now, that little lot is worth ten thousand pounds-ten-
thousand-think of that; and it is all spoiled by the
rain, and has to be thrown away. We think nothing
of losing ten thousand pounds here, nothing at all!"-
he snapped his fingers-"it is a mere trifle to the girl
who sits at home and takes the profits!"
He spoke as if he felt a personal animosity to the girl.
Angela told him so.
"No wonder," he said; "she took all the legacy that
ought to have been mine: no man can forgive that.
You are young, Miss Kennedy, and are only beginning
business; mark my words, one of these days you will
feel how hard it is to put a little by-work as hard as
you may-while here is this one having it put away for
her, thousands a day, and doing for it—nothing at all."
Then they went into more great halls, and up more
stairs, and on to the roof, and saw more piles of sacks,
more malt, and more hops. When they smelt the
hops, it seemed as if their throats were tightened;
when they smelt the fermentation, it seemed as if they
were smelling fusel oil; when they smelt the plain
crushed malt, it seemed as if they were getting swiftly
but sleepily drunk. Everywhere and always the steam
rolled backward and forward, and the grinding of the
machinery went on, and the roaring of the furnaces;
and the men went about to and fro at their work. They
did not seem hard worked, nor were they pressed; their
movements were leisurely, as if beer was not a thing to
hurry; they were all rather pale of cheek, but fat and
jolly, as if the beer was good and agreed with them.
Some wore brown paper caps, for it was a pretty
draughty place; some went bareheaded, some wore the
little round hat in fashion. And they went to another
part, where men ere rolling barrels about, as if they
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
65
had been skittles, and here they saw vats holding three
thousand barrels; and one thought of giant armies-say
two hundred and fifty thousand thirsty Germans-begin-
ning the loot of London with one of these royal vats.
And they went through the stables, where hundreds of
horses were stalled at night, each as big as an elephant,
and much more useful.
In one great room, where there was the biggest vat
ɔf all, a man brought them beer to taste; it was Mes-
senger's Stout. Angela took her glass and put it to her
lips with a strange emotion-she felt as if she should
like a quiet place to sit down in and cry. The great
place was hers-all hers; and this was the beer with
which her mighty fortune had been made.
"Is it," she asked, looking at the heavy foam of the
frothing stout, "is this Messenger's Entire?"
Bunker sat down and drank off his glass before re-
plying. Then he laid his hands upon his stick and
made answer, slowly, remembering that he was en-
gaged at half-a-crown an hour, which is one halfpenny
a minute.
"This is not Entire," he said. “You see, Miss Ken-
nedy, there's fashions in beer, same as in clothes; once
it was all Cooper, now you never hear of Cooper. Then
was it all Half-an-arf--you never hear of any one order-
ing Half-an-arf now. Then it was Stout. Nothing
would go down but Stout, which I recommend my-
self, and find it nourishing. Next Bitter came in, and
honest Stout was despised; now, we're all for Mild.
As for Entire, why-bless my soul!-Entire went out
before I was born. Why, it was Entire which made
the fortune of the first Messenger that was-a poor lit-
tle brewery he had, more than a hundred years ago, in
this very place, because it was cheap for rent. In those
days they used to brew Strong ale, Old and Strong;
Stout, same as now; and Twopenny, which was small
beer. And because the Old ale was too strong, and the
Stout too dear, and the Twopenny too weak, the people
used to mix them all three together, and they called
them 'Three Threads;' and you may fancy the trouble
it was for the pot-boys to go to one cask after another,
all day long, because they had no beer engines then.
Well, what did Mr. Messenger do? He brewed a beer
·
66
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
as strong as the Three Threads, and he called it Mes-
senger's Entire Three Threads, meaning that here you
had 'em all in one, and that's what made his fortune;
and now, young lady, you've seen all I've got to show
you, and we will go.
""
"I make bold, young woman," he said, as they went
away, "to give you a warning about my nephew. He's
a good-looking chap, for all he's worthless, though it's
a touch-and-go style that's not my idea of good looks.
Still, no doubt some would think him handsome. Well,
I warn you."
That is very good of you, Mr. Bunker. Why do
you warn me?”
66
Why, anybody can see already that he's taken with
your good looks. Don't encourage him.
Don't encourage him. Don't keep
company with him. He's been away a good many
years-in America-and I fear he's been in bad com-
pany.'
">
"I am sorry to hear that."
"You saw his sniggerin', sneerin' way with me,
his uncle. That doesn't look the right sort of man to
take up with, I think. And as for work, he seems not
to want any.
Says he can afford to wait a bit. Talks
about opening a cabinet-makin' shop. Well, he will
have none of my money. I tell him that beforehand.
A young jackanapes! A painted peacock! I believe,
Miss Kennedy, that he drinks. Don't have nothing to
say to him. As for what he did in the States, and why
he left the country, I don't know; and if I were you, I
wouldn't ask."
With this warning he left her, and Angela went
home trying to realize her own great possessions. Hun-
dreds of houses; rows of streets; this enormous brew-
ery, working day after day for her profit and advan-
tage; and these invested moneys, these rows of figures
which represented her personal property. All hers!
All her own! All the property of a girl! Surely, she
thought, this was a heavy burden to be laid upon one
frail back.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
6%
•
CHAPTER V.
THE CARES OF WEALTH.
Ir is, perhaps, a survival of feudal customs that in
English minds a kind of proprietorship is assumed
over one's dependents, those who labor for a man and
are paid by him. It was this feeling of responsibility
which had entered into the mind of Angela, and was
now firmly fixed there. All these men, this army of
seven hundred brewers, drivers, clerks, accountants,
and the rest, seemed to belong to her. Not only did she
pay them the wages and salaries which gave them their
daily bread, but they lived in her own houses among
the streets which lie to the right and to the left of the
Mile End Road. The very chapels where they wor-
shipped, being mostly of some Noncomformist sect, stood
on her own ground-everything was hers.
The richest heiress in England! She repeated this to
herself over and over again, in order to accustom her-
self to the responsibilities of her position, not to the
pride of it. If she dwelt too long upon the subject her
brain reeled. What was she to do with all her money?
A man-like her grandfather often feels joy in the
mere amassing of wealth; to see it grow is enough
pleasure; other men in their old age sigh over bygone
years, which seem to have failed in labor or effort.
Then men sigh over bygone days in which more might
have been saved. But girls cannot be expected to reach
these heights. Angela only weakly thought what an
immense sum of money she had, and asked herself what
she could do, and how she should spend her wealth to
the best advantage.
The most pitiable circumstance attending the posses-
sion of wealth is that no one sympathizes with the pos-
-sessor. Yet his or her sufferings are sometimes very
great. They begin at school, where a boy or girl, who
is going to be very rich, feels already set apart. He
loses the greatest spur to action. It is when they grow
up, however, that the real trouble begins. For a girl
with large possessions is always. suspicious lest a man
L
68
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
should pretend to love her for the sake of her money;
she has to suspect all kinds of people who want her to
give, lend, advance, or promise them money; she is the
mere butt of every society, hospital, and institution;
her table is crowded every morning with letters from
decayed gentlewomen and necessitous clergymen, and
recommenders of "cases;" she longs to do good to her
generation, but does not know how; she is expected to
buy quantities of things which she does not want, and
to pay exorbitant prices for everything; she has to be a
patron of art: she is invited to supply every woman
throughout the country who wants a mangle, with that
useful article; she is told that it is her duty to build
new churches over the length and breadth of the land:
she is earnestly urged to endow new Colonial bishoprics
over all the surface of the habitable globe. Then she
has to live in a great house and have troops of idle ser-
vants. And, whether she likes it or not, she has to go
a great deal in society.
All this, without the least sympathy or pity from
those who ought to feel for her, who are in the happy
position of having no money. Nobody pities an heir-
ess; to express pity would seem like an exaggerated
affectation of virtue, the merest pedantry of superior-
ity; it would not be believed. Therefore, while all the
world is agreed in envying her, she is bemoaning her
sad fate. Fortunately, she is rare.
As yet, Angela was only just at the commencement
of her troubles. The girls at Newnham had not spoiled
her by flattery or envy; some of them even pitied her
sad burden of money; she had as yet only realized part
of the terrible isolation of wealth; she had not grown
jealous, or suspicious, or arrogant, as in advancing
years often happens with the very rich; she had not yet
learned to regard the whole world as composed entirely
of money-grabbers. All she had felt hitherto was that
she went in constant danger from interested wooers,
and that youth, combined with money-bags, is an irre-
sistible attraction to men of all ages. Now, however,
for the first time she understood the magnitude of her
possessions, and felt the real weight of her responsibil-
ities. She saw, for the first time, the hundreds of men
working for her; she saw the houses whose tenants paid
}
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
69
rent to her; she visited her great brewery, and she
asked herself the question, which Dives no doubt fre-
quently asked-What she had done to be specially set
apart and selected from humanity as an exception to
the rule of labor? Even Bunker's complaint about
the difficulty of putting by a little, and his indignation
because she herself could put by so much, seemed
pathetic.
She walked about the sad and monotonous streets of
East London, reflecting upon these subjects. She did
not know where she was, nor the name of any street; in
a general way she knew that most of the street probably
belonged to herself, and that it was an inexpressibly
dreary street. When she was tired she asked her way
back again. No one insulted her; no one troubled her;
no one turned aside to look at her. When she went
home she sat silently, for the most part, in the common
sitting-room. The boarding-house was inexpressibly
stupid except when the sprightly young mechanic was
present, and she was even angry with herself for find-
ing his society pleasant. What could there be, she
asked, in common between herself and this workman?
Then she wondered, remembering that so far she had
found nothing in her own mind that was not also in his.
Could it be that two years of Newnham had elevated
her mentally no higher than the level of a cabinet-
maker?
Her meditation brought her, in the course of a few
days, to the point of action. She would do something.
She therefore wrote a letter instructing her solicitors to
get her, immediately, two reports, carefully drawn up.
First, she would have a report on the brewery, its
average profits for the last ten years, with a list of all
the employees, the number of years' service, the pay
they received, and, as regards the juniors, the charac-1
ters they bore.
Next she wanted a report on her property at the East
End, with a list of her tenants, their occupations and
trades, and a map showing the position of her houses.
When she had got these reports she would be, she
felt, in a position to work upon them.
Meantime, Mr. Bunker not having yet succeeded in
finding a house suitable for her dressmaking business,
1
70
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
she had nothing to do but to go on walking about and
to make herself acquainted with the place. Once or
twice she was joined by the idle apprentice, who, to do
him justice, was always ready to devote his unprofitable
time to these excursions, which his sprightliness en-
livened.
There is a good deal to see in and about Stepney,
though it can hardly be called a beautiful suburb.
Formerly it was a very big place, so big that, though
Bethnal Green was once chopped off at one end and
Limehouse at the other, not to speak of Shadwell, Wap-
ping, Stratford, and other great cantles, there still re-
mains a parish as big as St. Pancras. Yet, though it is
big, it is not proud. Great men have not been born there
or lived there; there are no associations. Stepney Green
has not even got its Polly, like Paddington Green and
Wapping Old Stairs; the streets are all mean, and the
people for the most part stand upon that level where re-
spectability—beautiful quality!-begins.
"Do you know the West End?" Angela asked her
companion when they were gazing together upon an un-
lovely avenue of small houses which formed a street.
She was thinking how monotonous must be the daily
life in these dreary streets.
"Yes, I know the West End. What is it you regret
in your comparison?"
Angela hesitated.
66
"There are no carriages here," said the workman;
no footmen in powder or coachmen in wigs; there are
no ladies on horseback, no great squares with big
houses, no clubs, no opera-houses, no picture-galleries.
All the rest of life is here."
"But these things make life," said the heiress.
"Without society and art, what is life?"
"Perhaps these people find other pleasures; perhaps
the monotony gets relieved by hope and anxiety, and
love, and death, and such things. The young man
forgot how the weight of this monotony had fallen upon
his own brain; he remembered, now, that his compan-
ion would probably have to face this dreariness all her
life, and he tried in a kindly spirit to divert her mind
from the thought of it. "You forget that each life is
individual, and has its own separate interests; and these
ور
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
71
are apart from the conditions which surround it. Do
you know my cousin, Tom Coppin?"
"No: what is he?"
"He is a printer by trade. Of late years he has been
engaged in setting up atheistic publications. Of course,
this occupation has had the effect of making him an
earnest Christian. Now he is a captain of the Salva-
tion Army."
"But I thought--"
"Don't think, Miss Kennedy; look about and see for
yourself. He lives on five-and-twenty shillings a week,
in one room, in just such a street as this. I laughed at
him at first; now I laugh no longer. You can't laugh
at a man who spends his whole life preaching and sing-
ing hymns among the Whitechapel roughs, taking as a
part of the day's work all the rotten eggs, brickbats,
and kicks that come in his way. Do you think his life
would be less monotonous if he lived in Belgrave
Square?"
"But all are not preachers and captains in the Salva-
tion Army."
"No: there is my cousin Dick. We are, very prop-
erly, Tom, Dick, and Harry. Dick is, like myself, a
cabinet-maker. He is also a politician, and you may
hear him at his club denouncing the House of Lords,
and the Church, and monarchical institutions, and he-
reditary everything, till you wonder the people do not
rise and tear all down. They don't, you see, because
they are quite accustomed to big talk, and it never
means anything, and they are not really touched by the
dreadful wickedness of the peers.
"I should like to know your cousins."
ور
"You shall. They don't like me, because I have been
brought up in a somewhat different school. But that
does not greatly matter."
66
Will they like me?" It was a very innocent ques-
tion, put in perfect innocence, and yet the young man
blushed.
"Everybody," he said, "is bound to like you."
She changed color and became silent, for a while.
He went on presently.
66
We are all as happy as we deserve to be, I suppose.
If these people knew what to do in order to make them-
#72
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
selves happier, they would go and do that thing. Mean-
time, there is always love for everybody, and success,
and presently the end-is not life everywhere monoto-
nous?"
"No," she replied stoutly; "mine is not."
He was thinking at the moment that of all lives a
dressmaker's must be one of the most monotonous. She
remembered that she was a dressmaker, and explained:
There are the changes of fashion, you see."
66
'Yes, but you are young," he replied, from his van-
tage-ground of twenty-three years, being two years her
superior. "Mine is monotonous when I come to think
of it. Only, you see, one does not think of it oftener
than one can help. Besides, as far as I have got I like
the monotony."
“Do you like work?”
Not much, I own. Do you?"
"No."
CC
"Yet you are going to settle down at Stepney.'
"And you, too?"
CC
As for me, I don't know." The young man colored
slightly. "I may go away again soon and find work
elsewhere."
در
"I was walking yesterday," she went on, "in the
great, great church-yard of Stepney Church. Do you
know it?"
66
Yes-that is, I have not been inside the walls. I
am not fond of church-yards."
66
There they lie-acres of graves. Thousands upon
thousands of dead people, and not one of the whole host
remembered. All have lived, worked, hoped much,
got a little, I suppose, and died. And the world none
the better."
66
Nay, that you cannot tell."
"Not one of all remembered," she repeated. "There
is an epitaph in the church-yard which might do for
every one:
"Here lies the body of Daniel Saul-
Spitalfields weaver; and that is all.'
That is all."
What more did the fellow deserve?" asked her com-
panion. "No doubt he was a very good weaver. Why,
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
73
he has got a great posthumous reputation. You have
quoted him."
He did not quite follow her line of thought. She was
thinking in some vague way of the waste of material.
They had very little power of raising the world, to
be sure. They were quite poor, ill-educated, and with-
CC
""
out resource.
66
It seems to me," replied her companion, "that no-
body has any power of raising the world. Look at the
preachers and the writers and the teachers. By their
united efforts they contrive to shore up the world and
keep it from falling lower. Every now and then down
we go, flop-a foot or two of civilization lost. Then
we lose a hundred years or so until we can get shoved
up again."
66
Should not rich men try to shove up, as you call it?”
Some of them do try, I believe," he replied; “I don't
know how they succeed.'
""
(6
"Suppose, for instance, this young lady, this Miss
Messenger, who owns all this property, were to use it
for the benefit of the people, how would she begin, do
you suppose?”
"Most likely she would bestow a quantity of money
to a hospital, which would pauperize the doctors, or she
would give away quantities of blankets, bread, and
beef in the winter, which would pauperize the people."
Angela sighed.
"That is not very encouraging."
What you could do by yourself, if you pleased,
among the working-girls of the place, would be, I sup-
pose, worth ten times what she could do with all her
giving. I'm not much in the charity line myself, Miss
Kennedy, but I should say, from three weeks' observa-
tion of the place and conversation with the respectable
Bunker, that Miss Messenger's money is best kept out
of the parish, which gets on very well without it.
"Her money! Yes, I see. Yet she herself"
paused.
She
(6
""
"We working men and women
She
"You are not a working-man, Mr. Goslett."
faced him with her steady, honest eyes, as if she would
read the truth in his. "Whatever else you are, you are
not a working-man."
74
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
He replied without the least change of color:
"Indeed, I am the son of Sergeant Goslett, of the
--th Regiment, who fell in the Indian Mutiny. I am
the nephew of good old Benjamin Bunker, the virtuous
and the disinterested. I was educated in rather a bet-
ter way than most of my class, that is all.”
"Is it true that you have lived in America?”
66
Quite true." He did not say how long he had lived
there.
Angela, with her own guilty secret, was suspicious
that perhaps this young man might also have his.
(6
Men of your class," she said, “do not as a rule talk
like you."
"Matter of education-that is all."
"And you are really a cabinet-maker?"
66
If you will look into my room and see my lathe, I
will show you specimens of my work, O thou unbe-
liever! Did you think that I might have 'done some-
thing,' and so be fain to hide my head?”
It was a cruel thing to suspect him in this way, yet
the thought had crossed her mind that he might be a
fugitive from the law and society, protected for some
reason by Bunker.
Harry returned to the subject of the place.
"What we want here," he said,
(C as it seems to me,
is a little more of the pleasure and graces of life. To
begin with, we are not poor and in misery, but for the
most part fairly well off. We have great works here
-half a dozen breweries, though none so big as Mes-
senger's; chemical works, sugar refineries, though these
are a little depressed at present, I believe; here are all
the docks; then we have silk-weavers, rope-makers,
sail-makers, match-makers, cigar-makers; we build
ships; we tackle jute, though what jute is, and what
to do with it, I know not; we cut corks; we make
soap, and we make fireworks; we build boats. When
all our works are in full blast, we make quantities of
money. See us on Sundays, we are not a bad-looking
lot; healthy, well-dressed, and tolerably rosy. But we
have no pleasures."
(6 There must be some.
"A theatre and a music-hall in Whitechapel Road.
That has to serve for two millions of people. Now, if
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
75
this young heiress wanted to do any good, she should
build a Palace of Pleasure here."
"It sounds
"A Palace of Pleasure!" she repeated.
well. Should it be a kind of a Crystal Palace?”
"Well!" It was quite a new idea, but he replied as
if he had been considering the subject for years. "Not
quite-with modifications."
"Let us talk over your Palace of Pleasure," she said,
"at another time. It sounds well. What else should
she do?"
"That is such a gigantic thing that it seems enough
for one person to attempt. However, we can find some-
thing else for her-why, take schools. There is not a
public school for the whole two millions of East Lon-
don. Not one place in which boys-to say nothing of
girls, can be brought up in generous ideas. She must
establish at least half a dozen public schools for boys
and as many for girls.
در
"That is a very good idea. Will you write and tell
her so?"
66
Then there are libraries, reading-rooms, clubs, but
all these would form part of the Palace of Pleasure."
I would rather call it a Palace of De-
light. Pleasure seems to touch a lower note.
could have music-rooms for concerts as well."
"Of course.
We
(C
'And a school for music." The young man became
animated as the scheme unfolded itself.
And a school for dancing."
"Miss Kennedy," he said with enthusiasm, "you
ought to have the spending of all this money! And-
why, you would hardly believe it but there is not in
the whole of this parish of Stepney a single dance given
in the year. Think of that! But perhaps- He
stopped again.
""
"You mean that dressmakers do not, as a rule,
dance? However, I do, and so there must be a school
for dancing. There must be a great college to teach all
these accomplishments."
"Happy Stepney!" cried the young man, carried out
of himself." "Thrice happy Stepney! Glorified
Whitechapel! Beautiful Bow! What things await
ye in the fortunate future!"
76
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
He left her at the door of Bormalack's, and went off
on some voyage of discovery of his own.
The girl retreated to her own room.
She had now
hired a sitting-room all to herself, and paid three
months in advance, and sat down to think. Then she
took paper and pen and began to write.
She was writing down, while it was hot in her head,
the three-fold scheme which this remarkable young
workman had put into her head.
"We women are weak creatures," she said with a
sigh. We long to be up and doing, but we cannot
carve out our work for ourselves. A man must be with
us to suggest or direct it. The College of Art—yes, we
will call it the College of Art; the Palace of Delight;
the public schools. I should think that between the
three a good deal of money might be got through. And
oh! to think of converting this dismal suburb into a
home for refined and cultivated people!"
In blissful revery she saw already the mean houses
turned into red brick Queen Anne terraces and villas; the
dingy streets were planted with avenues of trees; art
flourished in the house as well as out of it; life was
rendered gracious, sweet, and lovely.
And to think that this result was due to the sugges-
tion of a common working-man!
But then, he had lived in the States. Doubtless in
the States all the working-men-
But was that pos-
sible?
CHAPTER VI.
A FIRST STEP.
WITH this great programme before her, the responsi-
bilities of wealth were no longer so oppressive. When
power can be used for beneficent purposes, who would
not be powerful? And beside the mighty shadow of
this scheme, the smaller project for which Bunker was
finding a house looked small indeed. Yet was it not
small, but great, and destined continually to grow
greater?
Bunker came to see her from day to day, reporting
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
777
I
C
!
I
F
progress. He heard of a house here or a house there,
and went to see it. But it was too large; and of an-
other, but it was too small; and of a third, but it was
not convenient for her purpose; and so on. Each house
took up a whole day in examination, and Bunker's bill
was getting on with great freedom.
The delay, however, gave Angela time to work out
her new ideas on paper. She invoked the assistance of
her friend the cabinet-maker with ideas; and, under the
guise of amusing themselves, they drew up a long and
business-like prospectus of the proposed new institu-
tions. First, there were the High Schools, of which
she would found six-three for boys and three for girls.
The great feature of these schools was to be that they
should give a liberal education for a very small fee, and
that in their play-grounds, their discipline, and, as far
as possible, their hours, they were to resemble the great
public schools.
"They must be endowed for their masters' and mis-
tresses' salaries, and with scholarships; and-and-I
think the boys and girls ought to have dinner in the
school, so as not to go home all day; and-and-there
will be many things to provide for each school.”
She looked as earnest over this amusement, Harry
said, as if she were herself in possession of the fortune
which they were thus administering. They agreed that
when the schools were built, an endowment of £70,000
each, which would yield £2,000 a year, ought to be
enough, with the school fees, to provide for the educa-
tion of five hundred in each school. Then they pro-
ceeded with the splendid plan of the new college. It
was agreed that learning, properly so called, should be
entirely kept out of the programme. No political econ-
omy, said the Newnham student, should be taught
there. Nor any of the usual things-Latin, Greek,
mathematics, and so forth-said the young man from
the United States. What, then, remained?
Everything. The difficulty in making such a selec-
tion of studies is to know what to omit.
We are to have," said Harry, now almost as enthu-
siastic as Angela herself, "a thing never before at-
tempted. We are to have a College of Art. What a
grand idea! It was yours, Miss Kennedy."
78
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"No," she replied, "it was yours. If it comes to
anything, we shall always remember that it was yours.
An amiable contest was finished by their recollecting
that it was only a play, and they laughed and went on,
half ashamed, and yet both full of enthusiasm.
"The College of Art!" he repeated; "why, there are
a hundred kinds of art; let us include accomplish-
ments."
They would; they did.
They finally resolved that there should be professors,
lecturers, or teachers, with convenient class-rooms, the-
atres and lecture-halls in the following accomplishments
and graces: Dancing, but there must be the old as well
as the new kinds of dancing. The waltz was not to
exclude the minuet, the reel, the country dance, or the
old square dances; the pupils would also have such
dances as the bolero and the tarantella, and other na-
tional jumpories. Singing, which was to be a great
feature, as anybody could sing, said Angela, if they
were taught. "Except my Uncle Bunker!" said Harry.
Then there were to be musical instruments of all kinds.
Skating, bicycling, lawn tennis, racquets, fives, and
all kinds of games; rowing, billiards, archery, rifle-
shooting. Then there was to be acting, with reading
and recitation; there were to be classes on gardening,
on cookery, and on the laws of beauty in costume.
"The East End shall be independent of the rest of the
world in fashion," said Angela; "we will dress accord-
ing to the rules of Art!"
"You shall," cried Harry, "and your own girls shall be
the new dressmakers to the whole of glorified Stepney."
Then there were to be lectures, not in literature, but
in letter-writing, especially in love-letter writing, versi-
fying, novel-writing, and essay-writing; that is to say,
on the more delightful forms of literature-so that poets
and novelists should arise, and the East End, hitherto
a barren desert, should blossom with flowers. Then
there was to be a Professor of Grace, because a graceful
carriage of the body is so generally neglected; and
Harry, who had a slim figure and long legs, began to
indicate how the professor would probably carry himself.
Next there were to be Professors of Painting, Drawing,
Sculpture and Design; and ures on Furniture, Color,
... A
ور
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
79
i
and Architecture. The arts of photography, china paint-
ing, and so forth were to be cultivated; and there were
to be classes for the encouragement of leather-work,
crewel-work, fret-work, brass-work, wood and ivory
carving, and so forth.
"There shall be no house in the East End," cried the
girl, “that shall not have its panels painted by one
member of the family; its woodwork carved by an-
other, its furniture designed by a third, its windows
planted with flowers by another."
66
Her eyes glowed, her lips trembled.
"You ought to have had the millions," said Harry.
Nay, you, for you devised it all," she replied. She
was so glowing, so rosy red, so soft and sweet to look
upon; her eyes were so full of possible love-though of
love she was not thinking-that almost the young man
fell upon his knees to worship this Venus.
66
66
And all these beautiful things," she went on, breath-
less, are only designed for the sake of the Palace of
Delight.
66
"It shall stand somewhere near the central place, this
Stepney Green, so that all the East can get to it. It
shall have many halls," she went on. One of them
shall be for concerts, and there shall be an organ; one
of them shall be for a theatre, and there will be a stage
and everything; one shall be a dancing-hall, one a
skating rink, one a hall for lectures, readings and reci-
tations; one a picture gallery, one a permanent exhibi-
tion of our small arts. We will have our concerts per-
formed from our School of Music; our plays shall be
played by our amateurs taught at our School of Acting;
our exhibitions shall be supplied by our own people; the
things will be sold, and they will soon be sold off and
replaced, because they will be cheap. Oh! oh! oh!"
She clasped her hands, and fell back in her chair, over-
powered with the thought.
"It will cost much money," said Harry weakly, as
if money was any object-in dreams.
"The college must be endowed with £ 30,000 a
year, which is a million of money," Angela replied,
making a little calculation. "That money must be
found. As for the palace, it will require nothing but
the building, and a small annual income to pay for re-
<
-
80
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
pairs and servants. It will be governed by a board of
directors, elected by the people themselves, to whom
the Palace will belong. And no one shall pay or be
paid for any performance. And the only condition of
admission will be good behavior, with exclusion as a
penalty."
The thing which she contemplated was a deed the
like of which makes to tingle the ears of those who hear
it. To few, indeed, is it given to communicate to a
whole nation this strange and not unpleasant sen-
sation.
One need not disguise the fact that the possession of
this power, and the knowledge of her own benevolent
intentions, gave Angela a better opinion of herself than
she had ever known before. Herein, my friends, lies,
if you will rightly regard it, the true reason of the fem-
inine love for power illustrated by Chaucer. For the
few who have from time to time wielded authority have
ever been persuaded that they wielded it wisely, benev-
olently, religiously, and have of course congratulated
themselves on the possession of so much virtue. What
mischiefs, thought Elizabeth of England, Catharine of
Russia, Semiramis of Babylon, and Angela of White-
chapel, might have followed had a less wise and virtu-
ous person been on the throne!
It was not unnatural, considering how much she was
with Harry at this time, and how long were their talks
with each other, that she should have him a great deal
in her mind. For these ideas were certainly his, not
hers. Newnham, she reflected humbled, had not taught
her to originate. She knew that he was but a cabinet-
maker by trade. Yet, when she involuntarily compared
him, his talk, his manners, his bearing, with the men
whom she had met, the young Dons and the undergrad-
uates of Cambridge, the clever young fellows in society
who were reported to write for the Saturday, and
the Berties and the Algies of daily life, she owned to
herself that in no single point did this cabinet-maker
fellow compare unfavorably with any of them.
He
seemed as well taught as the last-made Fellow of Trin-
ity who came to lecture on Literature and Poetry at
Newnham; as cultivated as the medieval Fellow who
took Philosophy and Psychology, and was supposed to
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
81
entertain ideas on religion so original as to amount to
a Fifth Gospel: as quick as the most thorough-going
society man who has access to studios, literary circles,
musical people, and æsthetes; and as careless as any
Bertie or Algie of the whole set. This it was which
made her blush, because if he had been a common man, a
mere Bunker, he might, with his knowledge of his class,
have proved so useful a servant to her; so admirable a
vizier. Now, unfortunately, she felt that she could only
make him useful in this way after she had confided in
him; and that to confide in him might raise dangerous
thoughts in the young man's head. No: she must not
confide in him.
It shows what a thoughtful young person Angela was,
that she would blush all by herself only to think of
danger to Harry Goslett.
She passed all that night and the whole of the next.
day and night in a dream over the Palace of Delight
and the college for educating people in the sweet and
pleasant things-the College of Art.
On the next morning a cold chill fell upon her, caused
I know not how; not by the weather, which was the
bright and hot weather of last July; not by any ail-
ment of her own, because Angela owned the most per-
fect mechanism ever constructed by Nature; nor by any
unpleasantness in the house, because, now that she had
her own room, she generally breakfasted alone; nor by
anything in the daily papers-which frequently, by
their evil telegrams and terrifying forebodings, do poison
the spring and the fountain-head of the day; nor by
any letter, because the only one she had was from Con-
stance Woodcote at Newnham, and it told the welcome
news that she was appointed Mathematical Lecturer
with so much a head for fees, and imploring Angela to
remember her promise that she would endow Newnham
with a scholarship. Endow Newnham! Why, she
was going to have a brand-new college of her own, to
say nothing of the high schools for boys and girls.
Perhaps the cause of her depression was the appearance
of Bunker, who came to tell her that he had at last
found the house which would suit her. No other house
in the neighborhood was in any way to compare with
it; the house stood close by, at the southwest corner of
6
82
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Stepney Green. It was ready for occupation, the situ
ation was as desirable as that of Tirzah the Beautiful;
the rent was extremely low, considering the many ad-
vantages; all the nobility and gentry of the place, he
declared, would flock around a dressmaker situated in
Stepney Green itself; there were rooms for show-rooms,
with plenty of other rooms and everything which would
be required; finally, as if this were an additional recom-
mendation, the house belonged to himself.
"I am ready," he said, with a winning smile, "to
make a sacrifice of my own interests in order to oblige
a young lady, and I will take a lower rent from you
than I would from anybody else."
She went with him to "view" the house.
One looks
at a picture, a horse, an estate, a book, but one "views"
a house. Subtle and beautiful distinction, which shows
the poetry latent in the heart of every house agent! It
was Bunker's own. Surely that was not the reason
why it was let at double the rent of the next house,
which belonged to Angela herself, nor why the tenant
had to undertake all the repairs, paper, and painting,
external and internal, nor why the rent began from that
very day, instead of the half-quarter or the next quarter-
day. Bunker himself assured Miss Kennedy that he
had searched the whole neighborhood for a suitable
place, but could find none so good as his own house.
As for the houses of the Messenger property, they were
liable, he said, to the demands of a lawyer's firm, which
had no mercy on a tenant, while, as for himself, he was
full of compassion, and always ready to listen to reason.
He wanted no other recommendation than a year's rent
paid in advance, and would undertake to execute, at the
tenant's cost, the whole of the painting, papering, white-
washing, roofing, pipes, chimneys, and general work
himself; "whereas, young lady," he added, "if you had
taken one of those Messenger houses, you cannot tell in
what hands you would have found yourself, nor what
charges you would have had to pay.
He shook his fat head, and rattled his keys in his
pocket. So strong is the tendency of the human mind
to believe what is said, in spite of all experience to the
contrary, that his victim smiled and thanked him,
knowing very well that the next minute she would be
""
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
83
angry with herself for so easily becoming a dupe to a
clumsy rogue.
She thanked him for his consideration, she said, yet
she was uneasily conscious that he was overreaching
her in some way, and she hesitated.
On the Green," he said. “What a position! Look-
ing out on the garden! With such rooms! And so
cheap!"
"I don't know," she replied; "I must consult some
one."
"As to that," he said, "there may be another tenant;
I can't keep offers open. Take it, miss, or leave it.
There!"
While she still hesitated, he added one more recom-
mendation.
"An old house it is, but solid, and will stand forever.
Why, old Mr. Messenger was born here.
66
Was he?" she cried, "was my-was Mr. Messenger
actually born here?"
She hesitated no longer. She took the house at his
own price; she accepted his terms, extortionate and
grasping as they were.
When the bargain was completed-when she had
promised to sign the agreement for a twelvemonth, pay
a year in advance, and appoint the disinterested one her
executor of repairs, she returned to Bormalack's. In
the doorway, a cigarette in his mouth, lounged the idle
apprentice.
"I saw you," he said, "with the benevolent Bunker.
You have fallen a prey to my uncle?”
I have taken a house from him.'
The two phrases are convertible. Those who take
his houses are his victims. I hope no great mischief is
done."
"Not much, I think."
The young man threw away his cigarette.
"Seriously, Miss Kennedy," he said, "my good uncle
will possess himself of all the money he can get out of
you. Have a care.
I
“He can do me no harm, thank you all the same.
wanted a house soon, and he has found me one. What
does it matter if I pay a little more than I ought?”
'What does it matter?" Harry was not versed in
66
84
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
details of trade, but he knew enough to feel that this
kind of talk was unpractical. "What does it matter?
My dear young lady, if you go into business, you must
look after the sixpences.
""
Miss Kennedy looked embarrassed. She had betrayed
herself, she thought. "I know-I know. But he
talked me over.
"I have heard," said the practical man, looking pro-
foundly wise, "that he who would save money must
even consider that there is a difference between a guinea
and a sovereign; and that he shouldn't pay a cabman
more than twice his fare, and that it is wrong to pay
half-a-guinea for Heidsieck Monopole when he can get
Pommery and Greno at seven-and-sixpence.
Then he, too, paused abruptly, because he felt as if
he had betrayed himself. What have cabinet-makers
to do with Pommery and Greno? Fortunately, Angela
did not hear the latter part of the speech. She was re-
flecting on the ease with which a crafty man-say
Bunker-may compass his ends with the simple-say
herself.
"I do not pretend," he said, "to know all the ropes,
but I should not have allowed you to be taken in quite
so readily by this good uncle. Do you know--" His
eyes, when they were serious, which was not often,
were really good. Angela perceived they were serious.
now: "Do you know that the name of the uncle who
was indirectly, so to speak, connected with the Robin
Redbreasts was originally Bunker? He changed it
after the children were dead, and he came into the prop-
erty."
""
"I wish you had been with me," she said simply.
"But I suppose I must take my chance, as other girls do.
Most other girls have got men to advise them.
Have you no one?”
(6
"I might have "-she was thinking of her lawyers,
who were paid to advise her if required. "But I will
find out things for myself."
"And at what a price! Are your pockets lined with
gold, Miss Kennedy?" They certainly were, but he did
not know it.
ور
در
"I will try to be careful. Thank you."
66
As regards going with you, I am always at your
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
85
command. I will be your servant, if you will accept
me as such.
This was going a step further than seemed altogether
safe. Angela was hardly prepared to receive a cabinet-
maker, however polite and refined he might seem, as a
lover.
"I believe," she said, "that in our class of life it is
customary for young people to 'keep company,' is it
not?"
"It is not uncommon," he replied, with much earn-
estness. 'The custom has even been imitated by the
higher classes."
"What I mean is this, that I am not going to keep
company with any one; but, if you please to help me,
if I ask your advice, I shall be grateful."
66
"Your gratitude," he said with a smile, "ought to
make any man happy!"
Your compliments," she retorted, "will certainly
kill my gratitude; and now, Mr. Goslett, don't you
really think that you should try to do some work? Is
it right to lounge away the days among the streets?
Are your pockets, I may ask, lined with gold?"
"I am looking for work. I am hunting everywhere
for work. My uncle is going to find me a workshop.
Then I shall request the patronage of the nobility and
gentry of Stepney, Whitechapel, and the Mile End
Road. H. G. respectfully solicits a trial." He laughed
as if there could be no doubt at all about the future, and
as if a few years of looking around were of no impor-
tance. Then he bowed to Angela in the character of the
Complete Cabinet-maker. "Orders, madame, orders
executed with neatness and despatch. The highest
price given for second-hand furniture."
She had got her house, however, though she was go-
ing to pay far too much for it. That was a great thing,
and, as the more important schemes could not be all com-
menced at a moment's notice, she would begin with the
lesser-her dressmaker's shop.
Here Mr. Goslett could not help her. She applied,
therefore, again to Mr. Bunker, who had a registry
office for situations wanted. My terms," he said,
are five shillings on application and five shillings for
each person engaged."
(6
6C
86
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
He did not say that he took half a crown from each
person who wanted a place and five shillings on her
getting the place. His ways were ways of pleasant-
ness, and on principle he never spoke of things which
might cause unpleasant remarks. Besides, no one knew
the trouble he had to take in suiting people.
"I knew," he said, "that you would come back to
me. People will only find out my worth when I am
gone."
66
I hope you will be worth a great deal, Mr. Bunker,"
said Angela.
"Pretty well, young lady.
nephews will be the gainers.
have been if it had not been
the-Hunxiness of that wicked old man."
Pretty well. Ah! my
But not what I might
for the meanness, the-
"Do you think you can find me what I want, Mr.
Bunker?"
"Can I?" He turned over the leaves of a great book.
"Look at this long list; all ready to better themselves.
Apprentices anxious to get through their articles, and
improvers to be dressmakers, and dressmakers to be
forewomen, and forewomen to be mistresses. That is
the way of the world, young lady. Sweet contentment,
where art thou?" The pastoral simplicity of his words
and attitude were inexpressibly comic.
"And how are you going to begin, Miss Kennedy?"
"Quietly at first."
Then you'll want a matter of one or two dress-
makers, and half a dozen improvers. The apprentices
will come later."
"What are the general wages in this part of London?"
“The dressmakers get sixteen shillings a week; the
improvers six. They bring their own dinners, and you
give them their tea. But, of course, you know all
that."
"Of course," said Angela, making a note of the fact,
notwithstanding.
(6
As for one of your dressmakers, I can recommend
you Rebekah Hermitage, daughter of the Rev. Percival
Hermitage. She cannot get a situation, because of her
father's religious opinions.
>>
"That seems strange. What are they?"
"Why, he's minister of the Seventh-Day Indepen-
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
87
t
dents. They've got a chapel in Redman's Row; they
have their services on Saturday because, they say—and
it seems true-that the Fourth Commandment has never
been abolished any more than the rest of them. I won-
der the bishops don't take it up. Well, there it is. On
Saturdays she won't work, and on Sundays she don't
like to, because the other people don't."
66
Has she any religious objection," asked Angela,
"to working on Monday and Tuesday?"
"No; and I'll send her over, Miss Kennedy, this
evening, if you will see her. You'll get her cheap, be-
cause no one else will have her. Very good. Then
there is Nelly Sorensen. I know she would like to go
out, but her father is particular. Not that he's any
right to be, being a pauper. If a man like me or the
late Mr. Messenger, my friend, chooses to be particular,
it's nothing but right. As for Captain Sorensen-why,
it's the pride after the fall, instead of before it. Which
makes it, to a substantial man, sickenin'."
"Who is Captain Sorensen?"
66
'He lives in the asylum along the Whitechapel
Road, only ten minutes or so from here. Nelly Soren-
sen is as clever a work-woman as you will get. If I
were you, Miss Kennedy, I would go and find her at
home. Then you can see her work and talk to her.
As for her father, keep him in his right place. Pride
in an almshouse! Why, you'd hardly believe it; but I
wanted to put his girl in a shop where they employ fifty
hands, and he wouldn't have it, because he didn't like
the character of the proprietor. Said he was a grinder
and an oppressor. My answer to such is, and always
will be, Take it or leave it.' If they won't take it,
there's heaps that must. As old Mr. Messenger used to
say, 'Bunker, my friend,' or 'Bunker, my only friend,'
sometimes, 'Your remarks is true wisdom.' Yes, Miss
Kennedy, I will go with you to show you the way.""
He looked at his watch. "Half-past four. I dare say
it will take half an hour there and back, which with the
last quarter of an hour's talk, we shall charge as an
hour's time, which is half a crown.
Thank you.
hour," he added, with great feeling; "an hour, like
a pint of beer, cannot be divided. And on these easy
terms, Miss Kennedy, you will find me always ready
An
88
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
to work for you from sunrise to sunset, thinking of your
interests, even at meals, so as not to split an hour or
vaste it, and to save trouble in reckoning up."
CHAPTER VII.
THE TRINITY ALMSHOUSE.
FROM Stepney Green to the Trinity Almshouse is not
a long way; you have, in fact, little more than to pass
through a short street and to cross the road. But the
road itself is noteworthy; for, of all the roads which
lead into London or out of it, this of Whitechapel is the
broadest and the noblest by nature.. Man, it is true,
has done little to embellish it. There are no avenues of
green and spreading lime and plane trees, as, one day,
there shall be; there are no stately buildings, towers,
spires, miracles of architecture-but only houses and
shops, which, whether small or big, are all alike mean,
unlovely, and depressing. Yet, in spite of all, a noble
road.
This road, which is the promenade, breathing-piace,
place of resort, place of gossip, place of amusement, and
place of business for the greater part of East London,
stretches all the way from Aldgate to Stratford, being
called first Whitechapel Road, and then the Mile End
Road, and then the Stratford Road. Under the first
name the road has acquired a reputation of the class
called, by moralists, unenviable. The history of police
courts records, under the general heading of White-
chapel Road, shows so many free fights, brave robber-
ies, gallant murders, dauntless kickings, cudgellings,
pummellings, pocket-pickings, shop-liftings, watch-
snatchings, and assaults on constables, with such a
brave display of disorderly drunks, that the road has
come to be regarded with admiration as one of those
Alsatian retreats, growing every day rarer, which are
beyond and above the law. It is thought to be a place.
where manhood and personal bravery reign supreme.
Yet the road is not worthy this reputation; it has of
late years become orderly; its present condition is dull
and law-abiding, brilliant as the past has been, and what-
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
89
!
ever greatness may be in store for the future. Once
out of Whitechapel, and within the respectable regions
of Mile End, the road has always been eminently re-
spectable; and as regards dangers, quite safe, ever since
they built the bridge over the river Lea, which used now
and again to have freshets, and at such times tried to
drown harmless people in its ford. Since that bridge
was built, in the time of Edward I., it matters not for
the freshets. There is not much in the Bow Road when
the stranger gets there, in his journey along this great
thoroughfare, for him to visit, except its almshouses,
which are many; and the beautiful old church of Bow,
standing in the middle of the road, crumbling slowly
away in the East End fog, with its narrow strips of
crowded church-yard. One hopes that before it has quite
crumbled away some one will go and make a picture of
it-an etching would be the best. At Stratford the
road divides, so that you may turn to the right and get
to Barking, or to the left and get to Epping Forest.
And all the way, for four miles, a broad and noble road,
which must have been carved originally out of No Man's
Land, in so generous a spirit is it laid out. Angela is
now planting it with trees; beneath the trees she will
set seats for those who wish to rest. Here and there
she will erect drinking-fountains. Whitechapel Road,
since her improvements begun, has been transformed;
even the bacon shops are beginning to look a little less
rusty; and the grocers are trying to live up to the green
avenues.
Angela's imagination was fired by this road from the
very first, when the idle apprentice took her into it as
into a new and strange country. Here, for the first
times she realized the meaning of the universal curse,
from which only herself and a few others are unnatu-
rally exempted; and this only under heavy penalties
and the necessity of finding out their own work for
themselves, or it will be the worse for them. People
think it better to choose their own work. That is a
great mistake. You might just as well want to choose
your own disease. In the West End, a good many folk
do work-and work pretty hard, some of them-who
need not, unless they please; and a good many others
work who must, whether they please or no: but some-
90
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
how the forced labor is pushed into the background.
We do not perceive its presence: people drive about in
carriages, as if there were nothing to do; people lounge;
people have leisure; people do not look pressed or in
a hurry, or task-mastered, or told to make bricks with-
out straw.
Here, in the East End, on the other hand, there are
no strollers. All day long the place is full of passen-
gers, hasting to and fro, pushing each other aside, with
set and anxious faces, each driven by the invisible
scourge of necessity which makes slaves of all mankind.
Do you know that famous picture of the Israelites in
Egypt? Upon the great block of stone, which the poor
wretches are painfully dragging, while the cruel lash
goads the weak and terrifies the strong, there sits one
in authority. He regards the herd of slaves with eyes
terrible from their stony gaze. What is it to him
whether the feeble suffer and perish, so that the Pha-
raoh's will be done? The people of the East reminded
Angela, who was an on-looker, and had no work to do,
of these builders of pyramids: they worked under a
taskmaster as relentless as that stony-hearted captain
or foreman of works. If the Israelites desisted, they
were dogged back to work with cats of many tails; if
our workmen desist, they are flogged back by starva-
tion.
"Let us hope," said Harry, to whom Angela imparted
a portion of the above reflection and comparison-"let
us hope the Pharaoh himself means well and is pitiful.'
He spoke without his usual flippancy, so that perhaps
his remark had some meaning for himself.
""
All day long and all the year round there is a constant
fair going on in Whitechapel Road. It is held upon
the broad pavement, which was benevolently intended,
no doubt, for this purpose. Here are displayed all
kinds of things: bits of second-hand furniture, such as
the head of a wooden bed, whose griminess is perhaps
exaggerated, in order that a purchaser may expect some-
thing extraordinarily cheap. Here are lids of pots and
saucepans laid out, to show that in the warehouse, of
which these things are specimens, will be found the
principal parts of the utensils for sale; here are unex-
pected things, such as rows of skates, sold cheap in
1
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
91
summer; light clothing in winter; workmen's tools of
every kind, including, perhaps, the burglarious jimmy;
second-hand books-a miscellaneous collection, estab-
lishing the fact that the readers of books in Whitechapel
-a feeble and scanty folk-read nothing at all except
sermons and meditations among the tombs; second-
hand boots and shoes; cutlery; hats and caps; rat-traps
and mouse-traps and bird-cages; flowers and seeds;
skittles; and frames for photographs. Cheap-jacks
have their carts beside the pavement, and with strident
voice proclaim the goodness of their wares, which in-
clude in this district bloaters and dried haddocks, as
well as crockery. And one is amazed, seeing how
the open-air fair goes on, why the shops are kept open
at all.
And always the same. It saddens one, I know not
why, to sit beside a river and see the water flowing
down with never a pause.
It saddens one still more to
watch the current of human life in this great thorough-
fare and feel that, as it is now, so it was a generation
ago, and so it will be a generation hence. The bees in
the hive die, and are replaced by others exactly like
them, and the honey-making goes on merrily still. So,
in a great street, the wagons always go up and down;
the passengers never cease; the shopboy is always be-
hind the counter; the work-girl is always sewing; the
workman is always carrying his tools as he goes to his
work; there are always those who stay for half a pint,
and always those who hurry on. In this endless drama,
which repeats itself like a musical box, the jeune pre-
mier of to-day becomes to-morrow the lean and slip-
pered pantaloon. The day after to-morrow he will
have disappeared, gone to join the silent ones in the
grim, unlovely cemetery belonging to the Tower Ham-
lets, which lies beyond Stepney, and is the reason why
on Sundays the "frequent funeral blackens all the road.
"One can moralize," said Harry one day, after they
had been exchanging sentiments of enjoyable sadness,
at this rate forever. But it has all been done before.
66
CC
""
Everything, I suppose," replied Angela, "has been
done before. If it has not been done by me, it is new
It does not make it any better for a man whe
has to work all the days of his life, and gets no enjoy-
-to me.
92
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
ment out of it, and lives ignobly and dies obscurely, that
the same thing happens to most people.'
"We cannot help ourselves." This time it was the
cabinet-maker who spoke to the dressmaker.
"We be-
long to the crowd, and we must live with the crowd.
You can't make much glory out of a mercenary lathe nor
out of a dressmaker's shop, can you, Miss Kennedy?"
It was by such reminders, one to the other, that con-
versations of the most delightful kind, full of specula-
tions and comparisons, were generally brought up short.
When Angela remembered that she was talking to an
artisan, she froze. When Harry reflected that it was
a dressmaker to whom he was communicating bits of
his inner soul, he checked himself. When, which hap-
pened every day, they forgot their disguises for a while,
they talked quite freely, and very prettily communicated
all sorts of thoughts, fancies, and opinions to each other;
insomuch that once or twice a disagreeable feeling
would cross the girl's mind that they were perhaps get-
ting too near the line at which "keeping company" be-
gins; but he was a young workman of good taste, and
he never presumed.
رو
She was walking beside her guide, Mr. Bunker, and
pondering over these things as she gazed down the broad
road, and recollected the talk she had held in it; and
now her heart was warm within her, because of the
things she thought and had tried to say.
(6
Here we are, miss," said Mr. Bunker, stopping.
"Here's the Trinity Almshouse."
She awoke from her dream. It is very odd to con-
sider the strange thoughts which flash upon one in
walking. Angela suddenly discovered that Mr. Bunker
possessed a remarkable resemblance to a bear. His
walk was something like one, with a swing of the
shoulders, and his hands were big and his expression
was hungry. Yes, he was exactly like a bear.
She observed that she was standing at a wicket-gate,
and that over the gate was the effigy of a ship in full sail
done in stone. Mr. Bunker opened the door, and led the
way to the court within.
Then a great stillness fell upon the girl's spirit.
Outside the wagons, carts, and omnibuses thundered
and rolled. You could hear them plainly enough; you
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
93
could hear the tramp of a thousand feet. But the noise
outside was only a contrast to the quiet within. A wall
of brick with iron railings separated the tumult from
the calm. It seemed as if, within that court, there was
no noise at all, so sharp and sudden was the contrast.
She stood in an oblong court, separated from the road
by the wall above named. On either hand was a row
of small houses containing, apparently, four rooms each.
They were built of red brick, and were bright and clean.
Every house had an iron tank in front for water; there
was a pavement of flags along this row, and a grass
lawn occupied the middle of the court. Upon the grass
stood the statue of a benefactor, and at the end of the
court was a chapel. It was a very little chapel, but
was approached by a most enormous and disproportion-
ate flight of stone steps, which might have been orig-
inally cut for a portal of St. Paul's Cathedral. The
steps were surmounted by a great doorway, which oc-
cupied the whole west front of the chapel. No one was
moving about the place except an old lady, who was
drawing water from her tank.
"Pretty place, ain't it?" asked Mr. Bunker.
"It seems peaceful and quiet," said the girl.
"Place where you'd expect pride, ain't it?" he went
on scornfully. "Oh yes! Paupers and pride go to-
gether, as is well known. Lowliness is for them who've
got a bank and money in it. Oh, yes, of course.
The pride of an inmate!"
Gar!
He led the way, making a most impertinent echo with
the heels of his boots. Angela observed, immediately,
that there was another court beyond the first.
In fact,
it was larger: the houses were of stone, and of greater
size; and it was if anything more solemnly quiet. It
was possessed of silence.
Here there is another statue erected to the memory of
the founder, who, it is stated on the pedestal, died, be-
ing then "Comander of a Shipp" in the East Indies, in
the year 1686. The gallant captain is represented in
the costume of the period. He wears a coat of many
buttons, large cuffs, and full skirts; the coat is but-
toned a good way below the waist, showing the fair
doublet within, also provided with many buttons. He
wears shoes with buckles, has a soft silk wrapper round
94
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
his neck, and a sash to carry his sword. On his head
there is an enormous wig, well adapted to serve the
purpose for which solar toupées were afterward invented.
In his right hand he carries a sextant, many sizes big-
ger than those in modern use, and at his feet dolphins
sport. A grass lawn covers this court, as well as the
other, and no voice or sound ever comes from any of the
houses, whose occupants might well be all dead.
Mr. Bunker turned to the right, and presently rapped
with his knuckles at a door. Then, without waiting
for a reply, he turned the handle, and with a nod in-
vited his companion to follow him.
It was a small but well-proportioned room with low
ceiling, furnished sufficiently. There were clean white
curtains with rose-colored ribbons. The window was
open, and in it stood a pot of mignonette, now at its
best. At the window sat, on one side, an old gentle-
man with silvery white hair and spectacles, who was
reading, and on the other side a girl with work on her
lap, sewing.
66
Now, Cap'n Sorensen," said Mr. Bunker, without
the formality of greeting, "I've got you another chance.
Take it or leave it, since you can afford to be particular.
I can't; I'm not rich enough. Ha!" He snorted and
looked about him with the contempt which a man who
has a banker naturally feels for one who hasn't, and
lives in an almshouse.
"What is the chance?" asked the inmate meekly,
looking up. When he saw Angela in the doorway he
rose and bowed, offering her a chair. Angela observed
that he was a very tall old man, and that he had blue
eyes and a rosy face-quite a young face it looked-and
was gentle of speech and courteous in demeanor.
"Is the chance connected with this young lady, Mr.
Bunker?"
"It is," said the great man. "Miss Kennedy, this is
the young woman I told you of. This young lady"-he
indicated Angela-" is setting herself up, in a genteel
way, in the dressmaking line. She's taken one of my
houses on the Green, and she wants hands to begin
with. She comes here, Cap'n Sorensen, on my recom-
mendation."
"We are obliged to you, Mr. Bunker."
A
:
{
1
1
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
The girl was standing, her work in her hands, look-
ing at Angela, and a little terrified by the sight of so
grand a person. The dressmakers of her experienco
were not young and beautiful; mostly they were pinched
with years, troubles, and anxieties. When Angela be-
gan to notice her, she saw that the young work-girl,
who seemed about nineteen years of age, was tall, rather
too thin, and pretty. She did not look strong, but her
cheeks were flushed with a delicate bloom; her eyes,
like her father's, were blue; her hair was light and
feathery, though she brushed it as straight as it would
go. She was dressed, like most girls of her class, in a
frock of sober black.
"I am sure," she said
"Friends!" cried Mr. Bunker, aghast. "Why, she's
to be one of your girls! You can't be friends with
your own girls."
66
05
Angela took her by the hand.
kindly, "that we shall be friends."
Perhaps," said the girl, blushing and abashed, “you
would like to see some of my work." She spread out
her work on the table.
"Fine weather here, cap'n," Mr. Bunker went on,
striking an attitude of patronage, as if the sun was
good indeed to shine on an almshouse. "Fine weather
should make grateful hearts, especially in them as is pro-
vided for having been improvident in their youth—
with comfortable roofs to shelter them."
"Grateful hearts, indeed, Mr. Bunker," said the cap-
tain quietly.
"Mr. Bunker"-Angela turned upon him with an air
of command, and pointed to the door-"you may go
You have done all I wanted."
now.
Mr. Bunker turned very red. "He could go!" Was
he to be ordered about by every little dressmaker? “He
could go!"
"If the lady engages my daughter, Mr. Bunker,” said
Captain Sorensen, "I will try to find the five shillings
next week."
"Five shillings!" cried Angela. "Why, I have just
given him five shillings for his recommendation."
Mr. Bunker did not explain that his practice was to
get five shillings from both sides, but he retreated with
as much dignity as could be expected.
96
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
He asked, outside, with shame, how it was that he
allowed himself thus to be sat upon and ordered out of
the house by a mere girl. Why had he not stood upon
his dignity? To be told he might go, and before an
inmate a common pauper!
There is one consolation always open, thank Heaven,
for the meanest among us poor worms of earth. We
are gifted with imaginations; we can make the impos-
sible an actual fact, and can with the eye of the mind
make the unreal stand before us in the flesh. There-
fore, when we are down-trodden, we may proceed,
without the trouble and danger of turning (which has
been known to bring total extinction upon a worm), to
take revenge upon our enemy in imagination. Mr.
Bunker, who was at this moment uncertain whether he
hated Miss Kennedy more than he hated his nephew,
went home glowing with the thought that but a few
short months would elapse before he should be able to
set his foot upon the former and crush her. Because,
at the rate she was going on, she would not last more
than that time. Then would he send in his bills, sue
her, sell her up, and drive her out of the place stripped
of the last farthing. "He might go!" He, Bunker,
was told that he might go! And in the presence of an
inmate. Then he thought of his nephew, and while he
smote the pavement with the iron end of his umbrella,
a cold dew appeared upon his nose, the place where in-
ward agitation is frequently betrayed in this way, and
he shivered, looking about him suddenly as if he was
frightened. Yet what harm was Harry Goslett likely
to do him?
66
What is your name, my dear?" asked Angela softly,
and without any inspection of the work on the table.
She was wondering how this pretty, fragile flower
should be found in Whitechapel. O ignorance of
Newnham! For she might have reflected that the rar-
est and most beautiful plants are found in the most sav-
age places-there is beautiful botanizing, one is told, in
the Ural Mountains; and that the sun shines every-
where, even, as Mr. Bunker remarked, in an almshouse;
and that she herself had gathered in the ugliest ditches
round Cambridge the sweetest flowering mosses, the
tenderest campion, the lowliest little herb-robert.
1
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
97
;
*My name is Ellen," replied the girl.
"I call her Nelly," her father answered, "and she is
a good girl. Will you sit down, Miss Kennedy?"
Angela sat down and proceeded to business. She
said, addressing the old man, but looking at the child,
that she was setting up a dressmaker's shop; that she
had hopes of support, even from the West End, where
she had friends; that she was prepared to pay the proper
wages, with certain other advantages, of which more
would be said later on; and that, if Captain Sorensen
approved, she would engage his daughter from that day.
"I have only been out as an improver as yet," said
Welly. "But if you will really try me as a dressmaker
-O father, it is sixteen shillings a week!"
Angela's heart smote her. A poor sixteen shillings
a week! And this girl was delighted at the chance of
getting so much.
"What do you say, Captain Sorensen? Do you want
references, as Mr. Bunker did? I am the grand-
daughter of a man who was born here and made-
a lit-
tle-money here, which he left to me. Will you let her
come to me?"
"You are the first person," said Captain Sorensen,
who ever, in this place, where work is not so plentiful
as hands, offered work as if taking it was a favor to
you."
"I want good girls-and nice girls," said Angela.
"I want a house where we shall all be friends."
(C
The old sailor shook his head.
"There is no such house here," he said sadly. "It
is 'take it or leave it'-if you won't take it, others will.
Make the poor girls your friends, Miss Kennedy? You
look and talk like a lady born and bred, and I fear you
will be put upon.
Make friends of your servants!
Why, Mr. Bunker will tell you that Whitechapel does
not carry on business that way. But it is good of you
to try, and I am sure you will not scold and drive like
the rest."
"You offended Mr. Bunker, I learn, by refusing a
place which he offered," said Angela.
"Yes: God knows if I did right. We are desper-
ately poor, else we should not be here. That you may
see for yourself. Yet my blood boiled when I heard
7
98
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
the character of the man whom my Nelly was to serve.
I could not let her go. She is all I have, Miss Ken-
nedy”—the old man drew the girl toward him and held
her, his arm round her waist. "If you will take her and
treat her kindly, you will have-it isn't worth any-
thing, perhaps-the gratitude of one old man in this
world-soon in the next."
"Trust your daughter with me, Captain Sorensen,"
Angela replied, with tears in her eyes.
"Everybody round here is poor," he went on. "That
makes people hard-hearted; there are too many people
in trade, and that makes them mean; they are all try-
ing to undersell each other, and that makes them full
of tricks and cheating. They treat the work-girls worst
because they cannot stand up for themselves. The long
hours, and the bad food, and the poisonous air-think
a little of your girls, Miss Kennedy. But you will-
you will.”
"I will, Captain Sorensen."
(C
It seems worse to us old sailors," he went on. "We
have had a hardish life, but it has been in open air.
Old sailors haven't had to cheat and lie for a living.
And we haven't been brought up to think of girls turn-
ing night into day, and working sixteen hours on end
at twopence an hour. It is hard to think of my poor
girl" He stopped and clinched his fist. "Better to
starve than to drive such a mill!" He was thinking of
the place which he had refused.
"Let us try each other, Nelly," she said, kissing her
on the forehead.
The captain took his hat to escort her as far as the
gate.
A quiet place," he said, looking round the little
court, "and a happy place for the last days of improvi-
dent old men like me. Yet some of us grumble. For-
give my plain speech about the work.”
sen.
There is nothing to forgive, indeed, Captain Soren-
Will you let me call upon you sometimes?"
She gave him her hand. He bowed over it with the
courtesy of a captain on his own quarter-deck. When
she turned away she saw that a tear was standing in
his eyes.
"Father!" cried Nelly, rushing into his arms, "did
-་
ALL SORTS AND CÓNDITIONS OF MEN.
99
you ever see anybody like her? Oh! oh! do you think
I really shall do for her?"
"You will do your best, my dear. It is a long time,
I think, since I have seen and spoken with any one like
that. In the old days I have had passengers to Calcutta
like her; but none more so, Nelly-no, never one more
""
so.
"You couldn't, father." His daughter wanted no
explanation of this mysterious qualification. "You
couldn't. She is a lady, father;" she looked up and
laughed.
"It's a funny thing for a real lady to open a dress-
maker's shop on Stepney Green, isn't it?"
Remark, if you please, that this girl had never once.
before, in all her life, conversed with a lady; using the
word in the prejudiced and narrow sense peculiar to the
West End. Yet she discovered instantly the truth.
Whence this instinct? It is a world full of strange and
wonderful things; the more questions we ask, the more
we may; and the more things we consider, the more
incomprehensible does the sum of things appear. In-
quiring reader, I do not know how Nelly divined that
her visitor was a lady.
CHAPTER VIII.
WHAT HE GOT BY IT.
A DRESSMAKER's shop, without a dressmaker to man-
age it, would be, Angela considered, in some perplex-
ity, like a ship without a steersman. She therefore
waited with some impatience the promised visit of Re-
bekah Hermitage, whom she was to "get cheap," ac-
cording to Mr. Bunker, on account of her Sabbatarian
views.
She came in the evening, while Angela was walking
on the Green with the sprightly cabinet-maker. It was
sunset, and Angela had been remarking to her compan-
ion, with a sort of irrational surprise, that the phenom-
ena coincident with the close of the day are just as bril-
liantly colored and lavishly displayed for the squalid
East as for the luxurious West. Perhaps, indeed, there
are not many places in London where sunset does pro-
.co
••••
100
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
duce such good effects as at Stepney Green. The nar-
row strip, so called, in shape resembles too nearly a
closed umbrella or a thickish walking-stick; but there
are trees in it, and beds of flowers, and seats for those
who wish to sit, and walks for those who wish to walk.
And the better houses of the Green-Bormalack's was
on the west, or dingy side-are on the east, and face the
setting sun. They are of a good age, at least a hundred
and fifty years old; they are built of a warm red brick,
and some have doors ornamented with the old-fashioned
shell, and all have an appearance of solid respectability,
which makes the rest of Stepney proud of them. Here,
in former days, dwelt the aristocracy of the parish; and
on this side was the house taken by Angela for her
dressmaking institution, the house in which her grand-
father was born. The reason why the sunsets are more
splendid and the sunrises brighter at Stepney than at
the opposite end of London, is, that the sun sets behind.
the great bank of cloud which forever lies over London
town. This lends his departure to the happy dwellers
of the East strange and wonderful effects. Now, when
he rises, it is naturally in the East, where there is no
cloud of smoke to hide the brightness of his face.
The Green this evening was crowded: it is not so
fashionable a promenade as Whitechapel Road, but, on
the other hand, it possesses the charm of comparative
quiet. There is no noise of vehicles, but only the
shouting of children, the loud laughter of some gaillard
'prentice, the coy giggle of the young lady to whom he
has imparted his last merry jape, the loud whispers of
ladies who are exchanging confidences about their com-
plaints and the complaints of their friends, and the
musical laugh of girls. The old people had all crept
home; the mothers were at home putting their children
to bed; the fathers were mostly engaged with the even-
ing pipe, which demands a chair within four walls and
a glass of something; the Green was given up to youth;
and youth was principally given up to love-making.
"In Arcadia,” said Harry, "every nymph is wooed,
and every swain
""
He was interrupted by the arrival of his uncle, who
pushed his way through the crowd with his usual im-
portant bustle, followed by a "young person."
ALL SÖRTS AND CONDITIONS ÓF MEN.
101
"I looked for you at Mrs. Bormalack's," he said to
Angela reproachfully, "and here you are with this
young man, as usual. As if my time was no object to
you!"
(C
Why not with this young man, Mr. Bunker?" asked
Angela.
He did not explain his reasons for objecting to her
companion, but proceeded to introduce his companion.
"Here she is, Miss Kennedy," he said. "This is Re-
bekah Hermitage; I've brought her with me to prevent
mistakes. You may take her on my recommendation.
Nobody in the neighborhood of Stepney wants a better
recommendation than mine. One of Bunker's, they
say, and they ask no more.
""
What a beautiful, what an enviable reputation !"
murmured his nephew. "Oh, that I were one of
Bunker's!"
Mr. Bunker glared at him, but answered not; never,
within his present experience, had he found himself at a
loss to give indignation words. On occasion, he had
been known to swear "into shudders" the immortal
gods who heard him. To swear at this nephew, how-
ever, this careless, sniggering youth, who looked and
talked like a "swell," would, he felt, be more than use-
less. The boy would only snigger more. He would
have liked knocking him down, but there were obvious.
reasons why this was not to be seriously contemplated.
He turned to the girl who had come with him.
"Rebekah," he said with condescension, "you may
speak up; I told your father I would stand by you, and
I will."
"Do not, at least," said Angela, in her stateliest man-
ner, "begin by making Miss Hermitage suppose she
will want your support."
She saw before her a girl about two- or three-and-
twenty years of age. She was short of stature and
sturdy. Her complexion was dark, with black hair and
dark eyes, and these were bright. A firm mouth and
square chin gave her a pugnacious appearance. In fact,
she had been fighting all her life, more desperately even
than the other girls about her, because she was heavily
handicapped by the awkwardness of her religion.
"Mr. Bunker," said this young person, who certainly
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ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
did not look as if she wanted any backing up, "tells me
you want a forewoman.”
"You want a forewoman," echoed the agent, as if in-
terpreting for her.
"Yes, I do,” Angela replied. "I know, to begin
with, all about your religious opinions.
She knows," said the agent, standing between the
two parties, as if retained for the interests of both—
"she knows, already, your religious opinions.'
66
"Very well, miss." Rebekah looked disappointed at
losing a chance of expounding them. "Then, I can
only say, I can never give way in the matter of truth."
"In truth," said the agent, "she's as obstinate as a
pig.
""
>>
I do not expect it,” replied Angela, feeling that the
half-a-crown-an-hour man was really a stupendous nui-
sance.
"She does not expect it," echoed Mr. Bunker, turning
to Rebekah. "What did I tell you? Now you see the
effect of my recommendations."
"Take it off the wages," said Rebekah, with an ob-
vious effort, which showed how vital was the impor-
tance of the pay. "Take it off the wages, if you like;
and, of course, I can't expect to labor for five days and
be paid for six; but on the Saturday, which is the Sab-
bath-day, I do no work therein, neither I, nor my man-
servant, nor my maid-servant, nor my ox, nor my ass.
"Neither her man-servant, nor her maid-servant, nor
her ox, nor her ass," repeated the agent solemnly.
"There is the Sunday, however," said Angela.
"What have you got to say about Sunday now?"
asked Mr. Bunker, with a change of front.
"Of all the days that's in the week," interpolated the
sprightly one, "I dearly love but one day-and that's
the day-
Rebekah, impatient of this frivolity, stopped it at
رد
""
once.
"I do as little as I can," she said, "on Sunday, be-
cause of the weaker brethren. The Sunday we keep as
a holiday."
"Well" Angela began rather to envy this young
woman, who was a clear gainer of a whole day by her
religion; "well, Miss Hermitage, will you come to me
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
103
on trial? Thank you; we can settle about deductions
afterward, if you please. And if you will come to-
morrow-that is right. Now, if you please to take a
turn with me, we will talk things over together; good-
night, Mr. Bunker."
She took the girl's arm and led her away, being anx-
ious to get Bunker out of sight. The aspect of this
agent annoyed and irritated her almost beyond endur-
ance; so she left him with his nephew.
"One of Bunker's!" Harry repeated softly.
"You here!" growled the uncle, "dangling after a
girl when you ought to be at work! How long, I should
like to know, are we hard-working Stepney folk to be
troubled with an idle, good-for-nothing vagabond? Eh,
sir? How long? And don't suppose that I mean to do
anything for you when your money is all gone. Do
you hear, sir? do you hear?"
"I hear, my uncle!" As usual, the young man
laughed; he sat upon the arm of a garden-seat, with
his hands in his pockets, and laughed an insolent, ex-
asperating laugh. Now, Mr. Bunker in all his life had
never seen the least necessity or occasion for laughing
at anything at all, far less at himself. Nor, hitherto,
had any one dared to laugh at him.
CC
Sniggerin' peacock!" added Mr. Bunker fiercely,
rattling a bunch of keys in his pocket.
Harry laughed again, with more abandon. This
uncle of his, who regarded him with so much dislike,
seemed a very humorous person.
"Connection by marriage," he said. "There is one
question I have very much wished to put to you.
When you traded me away, now three-and-twenty years
ago, or thereabouts-you remember the circumstances,
I dare say, better than I can be expected to do--what
did you get for me?"
Then Bunker's color changed, his cheeks became
quite white. Harry thought it was the effect of wrath,
and went on.
"Half a crown an hour, of course, during the nego
tiations, which I dare say took a week-that we under-
stand; but what else? Come, my uncle, what else did
you get?"
It was too dark for the young man to perceive the
104
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
full effect of this question-the sudden change of color
escaped his notice; but he observed a strange and angry
light in his uncle's eyes, and he saw that he opened his
mouth once or twice as if to speak, but shut his lips
again without saying a word; and Harry was greatly
surprised to see his uncle presently turn on his heel and
walk straight away.
"That question seems to be a facer; it must be re-
peated whenever the good old man becomes offensive.
I wonder what he did get for me?"
As for Mr. Bunker, he retired to his own house in
Beaumont Square, walking with quick steps and hang-
ing head. He let himself in with his latch-key, and
turned into his office, which, of course, was the first
room of the ground-floor.
It was quite dark now, save for the faint light from
the street-gas, but Mr. Bunker did not want any light.
He sat down and rested his face on his hands, with
a heavy sigh. The house was empty, because his
housekeeper and only servant was out.
He sat without moving for half an hour or so; then
he lifted his head and looked about him-he had for-
gotten where he was and why he came there-and he
shuddered.
Then he hastily lit a candle, and went upstairs to his
own bedroom. The room had one piece of furniture,
not always found in bedrooms; it was a good-sized fire-
proof safe, which stood in the corner. Mr. Bunker
placed his candle on the safe, and stooping down began
to grope about with his keys for the lock.
It took some
time to find the keyhole; when the safe was opened, it
took longer to find the papers which he wanted, for
these were at the very back of all. Presently, how-
ever, he lifted his head with a bundle in his hand.
Now, if we are obliged to account for everything,
which ought not to be expected, and is more than one
asks of scientific men, I should account for what fol-
lowed by remarking that the blood is apt to get into the
brains of people, especially elderly people, and, above
all, stout, elderly people, when they stoop for any length
of time; and that history records many remarkable
manifestations of the spirit world which have followed
a posture of stooping too prolonged. It produces, in
+
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
105
J
fact, a condition of brain beloved by ghosts. There is
the leading case of the man at Cambridge, who, after
stooping for a book, saw the ghost of his own bed-
maker at a time when he knew her to be in the bosom
of her family eating up his bread-and-butter and drink-
ing his tea. Rats have been seen by others—troops of
rats-as many rats as followed the piper, where there
were no rats; and there is even the recorded case of a
man who saw the ghost of himself, which prognos-
ticated dissolution, and, in fact, killed him exactly
fifty-two years after the event. So that, really, there
is nothing at all unusual in the fact that Mr. Bunker
saw something when he lifted his head. The remark-
able thing is that he saw the very person of whom he
had been thinking ever since his nephew's question-no
other than his deceased wife's sister; he had never
loved her at all, or in the least desired to marry her,
which makes the case more remarkable still; and she
stood before him just as if she was alive, and gazed
upon him with reproachful eyes.
He behaved with great coolness and presence of
mind. Few men would have shown more bravery.
He just dropped the candle out of one hand and the
papers out of the other, and fell back upon the bed with
a white face and quivering lips. Some men would have
run-he did not; in fact, he could not. His knees in-
stinctively knew that it is useless to run from a ghost,
and refused to aid him.
"Caroline!" he groaned.
As he spoke the figure vanished, making no sign
and saying no word. After a while, seeing that the
ghost came no more, Mr. Bunker pulled himself to-
gether. He picked up the papers and the candle and
went slowly downstairs again, turning every moment
'to see if his sister-in-law came too. But she did not,
and he went to the bright gas-lit back parlor, where his
supper was spread.
After supper he mixed a glass of brandy-and-water,
stiff. After drinking this he mixed another, and be-
gan to smoke a pipe while he turned over the papers.
"He can't have meant anything," he said. What
should the boy know? What did the gentleman know?
Nothing. What does anybody know? Nothing. There
(6
106
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
is nobody left. The will was witnessed by Mr. Mes-
senger and Bob Coppin. Well, one of them is dead,
and as for the other "[he paused and winced]-" as
for the other, it is five-and-twenty years since he was
heard of, so he's dead, too; of course, he's dead."
Then he remembered the spectre and he trembled.
For suppose Caroline meant coming often; this would
be particularly disagreeable. He remembered a certain
scene where, three-and-twenty years before, he had
stood at a bedside while a dying woman spoke to him;
the words she said were few, and he remembered them
quite well, even after so long a time, which showed his
real goodness of heart.
66
You are a hard man, Bunker, and you think too
much of money; and you were not kind to your wife.
But I'm going too, and there is nobody left to trust my
boy to, except you. Be good to him, Bunker, for your
dead wife's sake."
He remembered, too, how he had promised to be good
to the boy, not meaning much by the words, perhaps,
but softened by the presence of death.
"It is not as if the boy was penniless," she said; "his
houses will pay you for his keep, and to spare.
You
will lose nothing by him. Promise me again.
""
He remembered that he had promised a second time
that he would be good to the boy; and he remembered,
too, how the promise seemed then to involve great ex-
pense in canes.
66
If you break the solemn promise," she said, with
feminine prescience, "I warn you that he shall do you
an injury when he grows up.
Remember that.”
He did remember it now, though he had quite for-
gotten this detail a long while ago. The boy had re-
turned; he was grown up; he could do him an injury,
if he knew how. Because he only had to ask his uncle
for an account of those houses. Fortunately, he did
not know. Happily, there was no one to tell him.
With his third tumbler Mr. Bunker became quite confi-
dent and reassured; with his fourth he felt inclined to
be merry, and to slap himself on the back for wide-
awakedness of the rarest kind. With his fifth, he re-
solved to go upstairs and tell Caroline that unless she
went and told her son, no one would. He carried part
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
10%
of this resolution into effect; that is to say, he went to
his bedroom, and his housekeeper, unobserved herself,
had the pleasure of seeing her master ascending the
stairs on his hands and feet-a method which offers
great advantages to a gentleman who has had five tum-
blers of brandy-and-water.
When he got there, and had quite succeeded in shut-
ting the door-not always so easy a thing as it looks-
Caroline was no longer visible. He could not find her
anywhere, though he went all round the room twice,
on all-fours, in search of her.
The really remarkable part of this story is, that she
has never paid a visit to her son at all.
Meantime, the strollers on the green were grown
few.
Most of them had gone home; but the air was
warm, and there were still some who lingered. Among
them were Angela and the girl who was to be her fore-
woman.
When Rebekah found that her employer was not
apparently of those who try to cheat, or bully or cajole
her subordinates, she lost her combative air, and con-
sented to talk about things. She gave Angela a great
deal of information about the prospects of her venture,
which were gloomy, as she thought, as the competition
was so severe. She also gave her an insight into details
of a practical nature concerning the conduct of a dress-
makery, into which we need not follow her.
Angela discovered before they parted that she had
two sides to her character: on one side she was a prac-
tical and practised woman of work and business; on the
other she was a religious fanatic.
CC
We wait," she said, "for the world to come round
to us.
Oh! I know we are but a little body and a poor
folk. Father is almost alone; but what a thing it is to
be the appointed keepers of the truth! Come and hear
us, Miss Kennedy. Father always converts any one.
who will listen to him. Oh, do listen!"
Then she, too, went away, and Angela was left alone
in the quiet place. Presently she became aware that
Harry was standing beside her.
"Don't let us go home yet," he said; "Bormalack's
is desperately dull-you can picture it all to yourself.
108
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
The professor has got a new trick; Daniel Fagg is
looking as if he had met with more disappointment;
her ladyship is short of temper, because the case is get-
ting on so slowly; and Josephus is sighing over a long
pipe; and Mr. Maliphant is chuckling to himself in the
corner. On the whole, it is better here. Shall we re-
main a little longer in the open air, Miss Kennedy?"
He looked dangerous. Angela, who had been dis-
posed to be expansive, froze.
"We will have one more turn, if you please, Mr.
Goslett." She added stiffly, "Only remember-so long
as you don't think of 'keeping company.
66
I understand perfectly, Miss Kennedy. 'Society'
is a better word than 'company;' let us keep that, and
make a new departure for Stepney Green."
CHAPTER IX.
THE DAY BEFORE THE FIRST.
MR. BUNKER, en bon chrétien, dissembled his wrath,
and continued his good work of furnishing and ar-
ranging the house for Angela, insomuch that before
many days the place was completely ready for opening.
In the mean time, Miss Kennedy was away—she went
away on business-and Bormalack's was dull without
her. Harry found some consolation in superintending
some of the work for her house, and in working at a
grand cabinet which he designed for her: it was to be
a miracle of wood-carving; he would throw into the
work all the resources of his art and all his genius.
When she came back, after the absence of a week, she
looked full of business and of care. Harry thought it
must be money worries, and began to curse Bunker's
long bill; but she was gracious to him in her queenly
way. Moreover, she assured him that all was going on
well with her, better than she could have hoped. The
evening before the "Stepney Dressmakers' Association"
was to open its doors, they all gathered together in the
newly furnished house for a final inspection-Angela,
her two aids Rebekah and Nelly, and the young man
against whose companionship Mr. Bunker had warned
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
109
her in vain. The house was large, with rooms on either
side the door. These were showrooms and work-
rooms. The first floor Angela reserved for her own
purposes, and she was mysterious about them. At the
back of the house stretched a long and ample garden.
Angela had the whole of it covered with asphalt; the
beds of flowers or lawns were all covered over. At the
end she had caused to be built a large room of glass,
the object of which she had not yet disclosed.
As regards the appointments of the house, she had
taken one precaution-Rebekah superintended them.
Mr. Bunker, therefore, was fain to restrict his enthusi-
asm, and could not charge more than twenty or thirty
per cent. above the market value of the things. But
Rebekah, though she carried out her instructions, could
not but feel disappointed at the lavish scale in which
things were ordered and paid for. The show-rooms
were as fine as if the place were Regent Street; the
workrooms were looked after with as much eare for
ventilation as if, Mr. Bunker said, work-girls were
countesses.
(C
"It is too good," Rebekah expostulated, "much too
good for us. It will only make other girls discontented."
"I want to make them discontented," Angela replied.
Unless they are discontented, there will be no improve-
ment. Think, Rebekah, what it is that lifts men out
of the level of the beasts. We find out that there are
better things, and we are fighting our way upward.
That is the mystery of discontent-and perhaps pain,
as well."
"Ah!" Rebekah saw that this was not a practical
answer. "But you don't know yet the competition of
the East End, and the straits we are put to. It is not
as at the West End."
The golden West is ever the Land of Promise. No
need to undeceive; let her go on in the belief that the
three thousand girls who wait and work about Regent
Street and the great shops are everywhere treated gen-
erously, and paid above the market-value of their ser-
vices. I make no doubt, myself, that many a great
mercer sits down, when Christmas warms his heart, in
his mansion at Finchley, Campden Hill, Fitz John's
Avenue, or Stoke Newington, and writes great checks
**
-
110
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
as gifts to the uncomplaining girls who build up his
income.
"She would learn soon," said Rebekah, hoping that
the money would last out till the ship was fairly
launched.
She was not suspicious, but there was something
'funny," as Nelly said, in a girl of Miss Kennedy's
stamp coming among them. Why did she choose
Stepney Green? Surely, Bond Street or Regent Street
would be better fitted for a lady of her manners. How
would customers be received and orders be taken? By
herself, or by this young lady, who would certainly
treat the ladies of Stepney with little of that deferential
courtesy which they expected of these dressmakers?
For, as you may have remarked, the lower you descend,
as well as the higher you climb, the more deference do
the ladies receive at the hands of their trades-folk. No
duchess sweeps into a milliner's showroom with more
dignity than her humble sister at Clare Market on a
Saturday evening displays when she accepts the invi-
tation of the butcher to " Rally up, ladies," and selects her
Sunday piece of beef. The ladies of Stepney and the
Mile End Road, thought Rebekah, looked for attentions.
Would Miss Kennedy give it to them? If Miss Ken-
nedy herself did not attend to the showroom, what
would she do?
<<
On this evening, after they had walked over the
whole house, visited the asphalted garden, and looked
into the great glass-room, Angela unfolded her plans.
It was in the workroom. She stood at the head of
the table, looking about her with an air of pride and
anxiety. It was her own design-her own scheme;
small as it was, conpared with that other vast project,
she was anxious about it. It had to succeed; it must
succeed.
All its success, she thought, depended upon that sturdy
little fanatical seventh-day young person. It was she
who was to rule the place and be the practical dress-
maker. And now she was to be told.
"Now," said Angela, with some hesitation, “the time
has come for an explanation of the way we shall work.
First of all, will you, Rebekah, undertake the manage-
ment and control of the business?"
ALL SORTS AND CÒNDITIONS OF MEN.
111
(
མ་
"I, Miss Kennedy? But what is your department?”
"I will undertake the management of the girls-she
stopped and blushed-" out of their work-time.
At this extraordinary announcement the two girls
looked blankly at their employer.
66
You do not quite understand," Angela went on.
"Wait a little. Do you consent, Rebekah?"
The girl's eyes flashed and her cheeks became aflame.
Then she thought of the sudden promotion of Joseph,
and she took confidence. Perhaps she really was equal
to the place; perhaps she had actually merited the dis-
tinction.
ور
"Very well, then," Miss Kennedy went on, as if it
was the most natural thing in the world that a humble
workwoman should be suddenly raised to the proud
post of manager. "Very well; that is settled. You,
Nelly, will try to take care of the workroom when Re-
bekah is not there. As regards the accounts-
""
"I can keep them, too," said Rebekah.
work-on Sundays," she added with a blush.
Miss Kennedy then proceeded to expound her views
as regards the management of her establishment.
"The girls will be here at nine," she said.
Rebekah nodded. There could be no objection to
that.
"They will work from nine till eleven," Rebekah
started. "Yes, I know what I mean. The long hours
of sitting and bending the back over the work are just
as bad a thing for girls of fifteen or so as could be in-
vented. At eleven, therefore, we shall have, all of us,
half an hour's exercise."
No. Lawn tennis. Well! why not?"
"What is lawn tennis?" asked Nelly.
"A game, my dear; and you shall learn it.”
"I never play games," said Rebekah.
person has no room in her life for games.
"Then call it exercise, and you will be
it without wounding your conscience."
(C
Exercise? Exercise in a dressmaker's shop? Was
Miss Kennedy in her senses?
"You see that asphalt. Surely some of you can
guess what it is for?" She looked at Harry.
"Skittles?" he suggested frivolously.
"I shall
A serious
able to play
This was
112
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Harry's remark. "Why not, indeed, Miss Kennedy?
The game of lawn tennis, Nelly," he went on to ex-
plain, "is greatly in vogue among the bloated aristoc-
racy, as my cousin Dick will tell you. That it should
descend to you and me and the likes of us is nothing
less than a social revolution."
Nelly smiled, but she only half understood this kind of
language. A man who laughed at things, and talked of
things as if they were meant to be laughed over, was a
creature she had never before met with. My friends,
lay this to heart, and ponder. It is not until a certain
standard of cultivation is reached that people do laugh
at things. They only began in the last century, and
then only in a few salons. When all the world laughs,
the perfection of humanity will have been reached, and
the comedy will have been played out.
"It is a beautiful game," said Angela-meaning lawn
tennis, not the comedy of humanity. "It requires a
great deal of skill and exercises a vast quantity of mus-
cles; and it costs nothing. Asphalt makes a perfect
court, as I know very well." She blushed, because she
was thinking of the Newnham courts. "We shall be
able to play there whenever it does not rain. When
it does, there is the glass-house."
"What are you going to do in the glass-house?"
asked Harry; "throw stones at other people's windows?
That is said to be very good exercise."
"I am going to set up a gymnasium for the girls."
Rebekah stared, but said nothing. This was revo-
lutionary indeed.
"If they please, the girls can bring their friends; we
will have a course of gymnastics as well as a school for
lawn tennis. You see, Mr. Goslett, that I have not
forgotten what you said once."
66
What was that, Miss Kennedy? It is very good
of you to remember anything that I have said. Do
you mean that I once, accidentally, said a thing worth
hearing?"
'Yes: you said that money was not wanted here so
much as work. That is what I remembered. If you
can afford it, you may work with us, for there is a
great deal to do.”
"I can afford it for a time."
C
*
J
1
1
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ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
112
"We shall work again from half-past eleven until one.
Then we shall stop for dinner."
"They bring their own dinner," said Rebekah.
takes them five minutes to eat it. You will have to
give them tea."
"No: I shall give them dinner too. And because
growing girls are dainty and sometimes cannot fancy
things, I think a good way will be for each of them,
even the youngest, to take turns in ordering the dinner
and seeing it prepared."
66
Rebekah groaned. What profits could stand up
against such lavish expenditure as this?
در
"After an hour for dinner we shall go to work again.
I have thought a good deal about the afternoon, which
is the most tedious part of the day, and I think the
best thing will be to have reading aloud.'
"Who is to read?” cried Rebekah.
"We shall find somebody or other. Tea at five, and
work from six to seven. That is my programme.
>>
"Then, Miss Kennedy," cried her forewoman, "you
will be a ruined woman in a year.'
""
"No-she shook her head with her gracious smile-
"no, I hope not. And I think you will find that we
shall be very far from ruined.
What do you think, Nelly?"
Have a little faith.
"Oh, I think it beautiful!" she replied, with a gaze
of soft worship in her limpid eyes. "It is so beautiful
that it must be a dream, and cannot last."
"What do you say, Mr. Goslett?”
"I say that cabinet-making ought to be conducted
in the same liberal spirit. But I'm afraid it won't
pay."
Then Miss Kennedy took them to the room on the
first floor. The room at the back was fitted as a dining-
room, quite simply, with a dozen chairs and a long
table. Plates, cups, and things were ranged upon
shelves as if in a kitchen.
She led them to the front room. When her hand
was on the lock she turned and smiled, and held up
her finger as if to prepare them for a surprise.
The floor was painted and bare of carpet; the win-
dows were dressed with pretty curtains. There were
sconces on the walls for candles; in the recess stood her
8
114
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
piano; and for chairs there were two or three rout-seats
ranged along the wall.
"What is this?" asked Rebekah.
"My dear, girls want play as well as work. The
more innocent play they get, the better for them. This
is a room where we shall play all sorts of things:
sometimes we shall dance; sometimes we shall act;
sometimes we shall sing; sometimes we shall read
poetry or tales; sometimes we shall romp; the girls
shall bring their friends here as well as to the gym-
nasium and the lawn tennis, if they please.
""
"And who is to pay for all this?" asked Rebekah.
CC
'My friends," said Angela, coloring, because this
was a crisis, and to be suspected at such a point would
have been fatal-"my friends, I have to make a con-
fession to you.
I have worked out the design by my-
self. I saw how the girls in our workshops toil for
long hours and little pay. The great shops, whose
partners are very rich men, treat them no better than
do the poor traders whose living has to be got by scrap-
ing it off their wages. Now, I thought that if we were
to start a shop in which there was to be no mistress,
but to be self-governed, and to share the proceeds.
among all in due order and with regard to skill and
industry, we might adjust our own hours for the gen-
eral good. This kind of shop has been tried by men,
but I think it has never succeeded, because they wanted
the capital to start with. What could we three girls
have done with nothing but our own hands to help us?
So I wrote to a young lady who has much money.
Yes, Mr. Goslett, I wrote to that Miss Messenger of
whom we have so often talked."
"Miss Messenger!" Rebekah gasped; "she who owns
the great brewery?"
"The same. She has taken up our cause. It is she
who finds the funds to start us, just as well as if we
had capital. She gives us the rent for a year, the fur-
niture, the glass-house-everything, even this piano.
I have a letter from her in my pocket." She took it out
and read it. "Miss Messenger begs to thank Miss
Kennedy for her report of the progress made in her
scheme. She quite approves of the engagements made,
particularly those of Rebekah Hermitage and Nelly
1
ALL SORTS AND CONDÍTIONS OF MÈN.
115
Sorensen. She hopes, before long, to visit the house
herself and make their acquaintance. Meanwhile she
will employ the house for all such things as she requires,
and begs Miss Kennedy to convey to Miss Hermitage
the first order for the workshop." This gracious letter
was accompanied by a long list of things, at sight of
which the forewoman's eyes glittered with joy.
(6
"Oh, it is a splendid order!" she said. May we tell
everybody about this Miss Messenger?"
"I think," Angela replied, considering carefully,
"that it would be better not. Let people only know
that we have started; that we are a body of work-
women governing ourselves, and working for our-
selves. The rest is for our private information."
"While you are about it," said Harry, "you might
persuade Miss Messenger to start the Palace of Delight
and the College of Art.
"Do you think she would?" asked Angela. "Do
you really think it would be of any use at all?”
"Did she haggle about your Co-operative Associ-
ation?"
"No, not at all. She quite agreed with me from the
beginning.
""
"Then, try her for the palace. See, Miss Kennedy-"
the young man had become quite earnest and eager
over the palace-"it is only a question of money. If
Miss Messenger pants to do a thing unparalleled among
the deeds of rich men, let her build the Palace of De-
light. If I were she, I should tremble for fear some
other person with money got to hear of the idea, and
should step in before her. Of course, the grand thing
in these cases is to be the first.'
“What is a Palace of Delight?" asked Nelly.
"Truly wonderful it is," said Harry," to think how
monotonous are the gifts and bequests of rich men.
Schools, churches, almshouses, hospitals-that is all;
that is their monotonous round. Now and again, a
man like Peabody remembers that men want houses to
live in, not hovels; or a good woman remembers that
they want sound and wholesome food, and builds a
market; but, as a rule, schools, churches, almshouses,
hospitals. Look at the lack of originality. Miss Ken-
nedy, go and see this rich person; ask her if she wants
116
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
to do the grandest thing ever done for men; ask her if
she will, as a new and startling point of departure,
remember that men want joy. If she will ask me, I
will deliver a lecture on the necessity of pleasure, the
desirableness of pleasure, the beauty of pleasure."
"A Palace of Delight!" Rebekah shook her head.
“Do you know that half the people never go to church?"
"When we have got the palace," said Harry, "they
will go to church, because religion is a plant that flour-
ishes best where life is happiest. It will spring up
among us, then, as luxuriantly as the wild honey-
suckle. Who are the most religious people in the
world, Miss Hermitage?"
66
They are the worshippers in Red Man's Lane, and
they are called the Seventh-Day Independents."
The worst of the Socratic method of argument is
that, when the wrong answer is given, the whole thing
comes to grief. Now, Harry wanted her to say that
the people who go most to church are the wealthy
classes. Rebekah did not say so, because she knew
nothing of the wealthy classes; and in her own circle
of sectarian enthusiasts, nobody had any money at all.
CHAPTER X.
THE GREAT DAVENANT CASE.
"OH! you obstinate old man! Oh! you lazy old man!"
It was the high-pitched voice of her ladyship in reed-
iest tones, and the time was eleven o'clock in the fore-
noon, when, as a rule, she was engaged in some needle-
work for herself, or assisting Mrs. Bormalack with the
pudding, in a friendly way, while her husband con-
tinued the statement of the case, left alone in the en-
joyment of the sitting-room-and his title.
W
"You lazy old man!"
The words were overheard by Harry Goslett. He
had been working at his miraculous cabinet, and was
now, following the example of Miss Kennedy's work-
girls, “knocking off" for half an hour, and thinking of
some excuse for passing the rest of the morning with
that young lady. He stood in the doorway, looking across
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
117
the green to the sacred windows of the Dressmakers'
Association. Behind them at this moment were sit-
ting, he knew, the Queen of the Mystery, with that
most beauteous nymph, the matchless Nelly, fair and
lovely to look upon; and with her, too, Rebekah the
downright, herself a mystery, and half a dozen more,
some of them, perhaps, beautiful. Alas! in working-
hours these doors were closed. Perhaps, he thought,
when the cabinet was finished he might make some
play by carrying it backward and forward, measuring,
fitting, altering.
"You lazy, sinful, sleepy old man!"
A voice was heard feebly remonstrating.
66
"Oh! oh! oh!" she cried again in accents that rose
higher and higher, we have come all the way from
America to prove our case. There's four months gone
out of six-oh! oh!-and you with your feet upon a
chair-oh! oh!-do you think you are back in Canaan
City?"
"Clara Martha," replied his lordship, in clear and
distinct tones-the window was wide open, so that the
words floated out upon the summer air and struck
gently upon Harry's ear-" Clara Martha, I wish I was;
it is now holiday time, and the boys are out in the
woods. And the schoolroom" [he stopped, sighed
deeply, and yawned]-"it was very peaceful."
She groaned in sheer despair.
"He is but a carpenter," she said; "he grovels in
the shavings; he wallows in the sawdust. Fie upon
him! This man a British peer? Oh! shame-shame!"
Harry pictured the quivering shoulders and the finger
of reproach. "Oh! oh! He is not worthy to wear a
coronet. Give him a chunk of wood to whittle, and a
knife, and a chair in the shade, and somethin' to rest
his feet upon. That's all he wants, though Queen
Victoria and all the angels was callin' for him across
the ocean to take his seat in the House of Lords.
Shame on him! Shame upon him!"
These taunts, apparently, had no effect. His lord-
ship was understood by the listener to say something
disrespectful of the Upper House, and to express regret
at having exchanged his humble but contented position
of a school-teacher and his breakfast, where a man
118
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
could look around him and see hot rolls and muffins and
huckleberry pies, for the splendor of a title, with the
meagre fare of London and the hard work of drawing
up a case.
66
I will rouse him!" she cried, as she executed some
movement, the nature of which could only be guessed
by the young man outside. The windows, it is true,
were open; but one's eyes cannot go outside to look
in without the rest of the head and body going too.
Whatever it was that she did, his lordship apparently
sprang into the air with a loud cry, and, if sounds mean
anything, ran hastily round the table, followed by his
illustrious consort.
The listener says and always maintains-" Hairpin.
Those who consider her ladyship incapable of behavior
which might appear undignified reject that interpre-
tation. Moral, not physical, were, according to these
thinkers, the_means of awakening adopted by Lady
Davenant. Even the officers of the Salvation Army,
they say, do not use hairpins.
"In the name of common humanity," said Harry to
himself, " one must interfere." He knocked at the
door, and allowed time for the restoration of dignity
and the smoothing of ruffled plumes.
He found his lordship seated, it is true, but in the
wrong chair, and his whole frame was trembling with
excitement, terror, or some other strong emotion, while
the effort he was making to appear calm and composed
caused his head to nod and his cheeks to shake. Never
was a member of the Upper House placed in a more
uncomfortable position. As for her ladyship, she was
standing bolt upright at the other side of the room at
the window. There was a gleam in her eye and a
quivering of her lip which betokened wrath.
"Pardon me, Lady Davenant," said Harry, smiling
sweetly. May I interrupt you for a few moments?"
66
>"
"You may," replied her husband, speaking for her.
"Go on, Mr. Goslett. Do not hurry yourself, pray.
We are glad to see you"-he cleared his throat-"very
glad, indeed."
"I came to say," he went on, still addressing the
lady, "that I am a comparatively idle man; that is, for
the moment I have no work, and am undecided about
لم
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
119
my movements, and that, if I can be of any help in the
preparation of the case, you may command my ser-
vices. Of course, Lady Davenant, everybody knows
the importance of your labors and of his lordship's, and
the necessity of a clear statement of your case.
Lady Davenant replied with a cry like a sea-gull.
"Oh! his lordship's labors, indeed! Yes, Mr. Goslett,
pretty labors! Day after day goes on-I don't care,
Timothy-I don't care who knows it-day after day
goes on, and we get no farther. Four months and two
weeks gone of the time, and the case not even written
out yet."
"What time?" asked Harry.
66
The time that nephew Nathaniel gave us to prove
our claim. He found the money for our passage; he
promised us six dollars a week for six months. In six
months, he said, we should find whether our claim was
allowed or not. There it was, and we were welcome
for six months. Only six weeks left, and he goes to
sleep!"
66
در
But, Lady Davenant-only six weeks! It is impos-
sible you cannot send in a claim and get it acknowl-
edged in six weeks. Why, such claims may drag on
for years before a committee of the House of Lords.
رو
He wastes all the time; he has got no ambition: he
goes to sleep when he ought to be waking. If we have
to go home again, with nothing done, it will be be-
cause he is so lazy. Shame upon you, obstinate old
man! Oh! lazy and sleepy old man!" She shook her
finger at him in so terrifying a manner that he was
fain to clutch at the arms of the chair, and his teeth
chattered.
Aurelia Tucker," her ladyship went on, warming to
her work as she thought of her wrongs-"Aurelia
Tucker always said that, lord or no lord, my husband
was too lazy to stand up for his rights. Everybody in
Canaan City knew that he was too lazy. She said that
if she was me, and trying to get the family title, she
wouldn't go across the water to ask for it, but she
would make the American Minister in London tell the
British Government that they would just have to grant
it, whether they liked it or not, and that a plain Ameri-
can citizen was to take his place in their House of
120
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Lords. Otherwise, she said, let the Minister tell that Mr.
Gladstone that Canada would be annexed. That's fine
talkin', but as for me I want things done friendly, an'
I don't want to see my husband walkin' into his proper
place in Westminster with Stars and Stripes flyin' over
his head and a volunteer fire brigade band playin'
'Hail, Columbia,' before him. No. I said that justice
was to be got in the old country, and we only had to
cross over and ask for it. Then nephew Nathaniel said
that he didn't expect much more justice was to be ex-
pected in England than in New Hampshire. And that
what you can't always get in a free country isn't al-
ways got where there's lords and bishops and a queen.
But we might try if we liked for six months, and he
would find the dollars for that time. Now there's only
six weeks left, and we haven't even begun to ask for
that justice."
"Clara Martha," said his lordship, "I've been think-
ing the matter over, and I've come to the conclusion
that Aurelia Tucker is a sensible woman.
Let us go
home again, and send the case to the Minister. Let
us frighten them."
"It does not seem bad advice," said Harry. "Hold
a meeting in Canaan City, and promise the British Lion
that he shall be whipped into a cocked hat unless you
get your rights. Make a national thing of it."
66
No!" She stamped her foot, and became really ter-
rible. "We are here, and we will demand our rights
on the spot. If the Minister likes to take up the case,
he may; if not, we will fight our own battles. But oh!
Mr. Goslett, it's a dreadful hard thing for a woman and
a stranger to do all the fightin' while her husband goes
to sleep."
66
"Can't you keep awake till you have stated your
case?" asked Harry. Come, old boy, you can take it
out in slumber afterward; and if you go on sleeping
till the case is decided, I expect you will have a good
long refreshing rest.”
"It was a beautiful morning, Clara Martha," his
lordship explained in apology, "quite a warm morning.
I didn't know people ever had such warm weather in
England. And somehow it reminded me of Canaan
City in July. When I think of Canaan, my dear, I al-
#
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
121
¦
ways feel sleepy. There was a garden, Mr. Goslett,
and trees and flowers, at the back of the schoolhouse.
And a bee came in. I didn't know there were bees in
England. While I listened to that bee, bummin'
around most the same as if he was in a free republic,
I began to think of home, Clara Martha. That is all.'
"Was it the bee," she asked with asperity, “that
drew your handkerchief over your head?”
66
Clara Martha," he replied with a little hesitation,
“the bee was a stranger to me. He was not like one of
our New Hampshire bees. He had never seen me be-
fore. Bees sting strangers.
در
Harry interrupted what promised to be the beginning
of another lovers' quarrel, to judge by the twitchings
of those thin shoulders and the frowning of those bead-
like eyes.
"Lady Davenant," he said, "let us not waste the time
in recrimination; accept my services. Let me help you
to draw up the statement of your case."
This was something to the purpose: with a last re-
proachful glance upon her husband, her ladyship col-
lected the papers and put them into the hands of her
new assistant.
"I'm sure," she said, "it's more 'n kind of you, Mr.
Goslett. Here are all the papers. Mind, there isn't
the least doubt about it, not the shadow of a doubt;
there never was a claim so strong and clear. Timothy
Clitheroe Davenant is as much Lord Davenant by right
of lawful descent, as-as-you are your father's son.
Harry spent the morning with the papers spread be-
fore him, arranging the case. Lord Davenant, now
undisturbed, slept quietly in his arm-chair.
Her lady-
ship left them alone.
66
About half-past twelve the sleeping claimant awoke
and rubbed his eyes. "I have had a most refreshing
slumber, Mr. Goslett," he yawned; a man who is mar-
ried wants it. Sometimes it is what we shall do when
we get the title confirmed; sometimes it's why we
haven't made out our case yet; sometimes it's why I
don't go and see the Queen myself; sometimes it is how
we shall crow over Aurelia Tucker when we are estab-
lished in our rights. . . . but, whatever it is, it is never
a quiet night. I think, Mr. Goslett, that if she'd only
در
#
122
ALL SÕRTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
hold her tongue and go to sleep, I might make headway
with that case in the morning.
>>
"It seems straightforward enough," said Harry. "I
can draw up the thing for you without any trouble.
And then you must find out the best way to bring your
claim before the House of Lords."
"Put it into the post-office, addressed to the Queen,"
suggested the claimant.
"No-not quite that, I think," said Harry. "There's
only one weak point in the case.'
I knew you'd find out the weak point. She won't
allow there's any weak point at all. Says it's clear
from beginning to end."
"So it is, if you make an admission."
"Well, sir, what is that admission? Let us make it
at once, and go on. Nothing can be fairer; we are
quite prepared to meet you half-way with that admis-
sion.”
""
His lordship spoke as if conferring an immense ad-
vantage upon an imaginary opponent.
"I do not mind," he said, "anybody else finding out
the weak point, because then I can tackle him. What
vexes me, Mr. Goslett, is to find out that weak point
myself. Because then there is nobody to argue it out
with, and it is like cold water running down the back,
and it keeps a man awake.”
"As for your admission
" said Harry, laughing.
"Well, sir, what is it?"
Why, of course, you have to admit, unless you can
prove it, that this Timothy Clitheroe Davenant, wheel-
wright, was the Honorable Timothy Clitheroe Dave-
nant, only son of Lord Davenant."
(6
His lordship was silent for a while.
(6
Do you think sir, that the Queen will see this weak
point?"
(C
'I am quite sure that her advisers will."
(C
And do you think-hush, Mr. Goslett, let us whis-
per. Do you think that the Queen will refuse to give
us the title because of this weak point? Hush! she
may be outside." He meant his wife, not Her Maj-
esty.
66
A committee of the House of Lords most undoubt-
edly may refuse to consider your claim proved."
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
123
His lordship nodded his head in consideration of this
possibility. Then he laughed gently and rubbed his
hands.
66
"It would be rough at first. That is so, for certain,
sure. There would be sleepless nights. And Aurelia
Tucker would laugh. Clara Martha would" he
shuddered. Wal, if we hev to go home without our
title, I should be resigned. When a man is sixty years
of age, sir, and, though born to greatness, not brought
up accordin' to his birth, he can't always feel like set-
tin' in a row with a crown upon his head; and though
I wouldn't own up before Clara Martha, I doubt whether
the British peers would consider my company quite an
honor to the Upper House. Though a plain citizen of
the United States, sir, is as good as any lord that
lives."
66
Better," said Harry. "He is much better."
"He is, Mr. Goslett, he is. In the land where the
Bird of Freedom-
دو
"Hush, my lord. "You forget that you are a Brit-
ish peer. No spread-eagle for you."
Lord Davenant sighed.
CC
It is difficr " he said, "and I suppose there's no
more loyal citizens than us of Canaan City.
66
Well, how are we to connect the wheelwright Tim-
othy with the Honorable Timothy who was supposed to
be drowned ?"
""
You've
"There is his age, and there is his name.
got those, Mr. Goslett. And then, as we agreed be-
fore, we will agree to that little admission."
"But if everybody does not agree?"
،،
There is also the fact that we were always supposed
to be heirs to something in the old country.
66
I am afraid that is not enough. There is this great
difficulty: Why should a young Englishman, the heir
to a title and a great property, settle down in America
and practise a handicraft?"
66
Wal, sir, I can't rightly say. My grandfather car-
ried that secret with him. And if you'll oblige me,
sir, you'll tell her ladyship that we're agreed upon that
little admission which makes the connection complete.
It will be time enough to undeceive her when the
trouble begins. As for Aurelia Tucker, why--
"?
در
124
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
here he smiled sweetly. "If I know Clara Martha
aright, she is quite able to tackle Aurelia by herself."
This was the way in which the conduct of the Great
Davenant Case fell into the hands of a mere working-
man.
CHAPTER XI.
THE FIRST DAY.
ANGELA'S genteel place of business, destined as it
was to greatness, came into the world with little pomp
and no pretence. On the day appointed, the work-girls
came at nine, and found a brass plate on the door and
a wire blind in the windows, bearing the announce-
ment that this was the "Dressmakers' Association.”
This information gave them no curiosity, and produced
no excitement in their minds. To them it seemed noth-
ing but another artifice to attract the attention of a pub-
lic very hard to move. They were quite used to these
crafty announcements; they were cynically incredulous
of low prices; they knew the real truth as to fabrics of
freshness unlasting and stuffs which would never wear
out; and as regards forced sales, fabulous prices, and
incredible bargains, they merely lifted the eyelid of the
scoffer and went into the workroom. Whatever was
written or printed on bills in the window, no difference
was ever made to them. Nor did the rise and fall of
markets alter their wages one penny. This lack of in-
terest in the success of their work is certainly a draw-
back to this métier, as to many others. Would it not
be well if workmen of all kinds were directly interested
in the enterprise for which they hire out their labor?
If you have the curiosity to listen to the talk of work-
girls in the evenings when they walk home, or as they
journey homeward slowly in the crawling omnibus, you
will be struck by a very remarkable phenomenon. It is
not that they talk without stopping, because that is com-
mon to youthful woman in every rank. It is that in
the evening they are always exasperated. They snap
their lips, they breathe quick, they flash their eyes,
they clinch their fingers, and their talk is a narrative
of indignation full of "sezee," "sezzi," and "seshee"-
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
125
mostly the last, because what "she" said is generally
the cause of all this wrath. A philosopher, who once
investigated the subject, was fortunate enough to dis-
cover why work-girls are always angry at eventide.
He maintains that it means nothing in the world but
nagging; they all, he says, sit together-forewomen,
dressmakers, improvers, and apprentices-in one room.
The room, whether large or small, is always close, the
hours are long; as they sit at their work, head bent,
back bent, feet still, they gradually get the fidgets.
This is a real disease while it lasts. In the workroom
it has got to last until the time to knock off. First it
seizes the limbs, so that the younger ones want to get
up and jump and dance, while the other ones would
like to kick. If not relieved, the patient next gets the
fidgets in her nerves, so that she wriggles in her chair,
gets spasmodic twitchings, shakes her head violently,
and bites her thread with viciousness. The next step is
extreme irritability; this is followed by a disposition
on the part of the forewoman to find fault, and by a
determination on the part of the work-girls not to be
put upon, with an intention of speaking up should the
occasion arise. Then comes nagging, which is, in
fact, nothing but fidgets translated into English prose.
Some forewomen are excellent translators. And the
end is general exasperation, with fines, notices to leave,
warnings, cheekiness, retorts, accusations, charges, de-
nials, tears, fault-findings, sneers, angry words, bitter
things, personal reflections, innuendos, disrespect, bul-
lying, and every element of a row-royal. Conse-
quently, when the girls go home they are exasperated.
We know how Angela proposed to prevent the out-
break of this contagious disorder by ventilation, exer-
cise, and frequent rests.
She took her place among the girls, and worked with
them, sitting beside Nelly Sorensen, who was to have
charge of the workroom. Rebekah, with Miss Mes-
senger's magnificent order on her mind, sat in the
showroom waiting for visitors. But none came except
Mrs. Bormalack, accompanied by her ladyship, who
stepped over to offer their congratulations and best
wishes, and to see what Miss Messenger was going to
have,
126
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Wh
At eleven o'clock, when the first two hours' pull is
beginning to be felt by the younger hands, Angela in-
vited everybody to rest for half an hour. They obeyed
with some surprise, and followed her with considerable
suspicion, as if some mean advantage was going to be
taken of them, some trick "sprung" upon them.
She took them into a kind of court, which had been
the back garden, paved with asphalt and provided with
nets, rackets, and all the gear for lawn tennis. She
invited them to play for half an hour. It was a fine
morning in early September, with a warm sun, a bright
sky, and a cool breeze-the very day for lawn tennis.
The girls, however, looked at the machinery and then
at each other, and showed no inclination for the game.
Then Angela led the way into the great glass-room,
where she pointed out the various bars, ropes, and posts
which she had provided for their gymnastic exercises.
They looked at each other again, and showed a disposi-
tion to giggle.
They were seven girls in all, not counting Rebekah,
who remained in the showroom; and Nelly, who was
a little older than the rest, stood rather apart. The
girls were not unhealthy-looking, being all quite young,
and therefore not as yet ruined as to the complexion by
gas and bad air. But they looked dejected, as if their
work had no charms for them-indeed, one can hardly
imagine that it had-they were only surprised, not
elated, at the half-hour's recreation; they expected that
it would be deducted from their wages, and were re-
sentful.
Then Angela made them a speech. She said, hand-
ling a racket to give herself confidence, that it was
highly necessary to take plenty of exercise in the open
air; that she was sure work would be better done and
more quickly done if the fingers did not get too tired;
therefore, that she had had this tennis-court prepared
for them and the gymnasium fitted up, so that they
might play in it every day. And then selecting Nelly
and two others, who seemed active young creatures,
she gave them their first lesson in lawn tennis.
The next day she gave a lesson to another set. In a
few days tennis became a passion with the girls. The
fashion spread. Lawn tennis is not an expensive
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
127
game; shortly there will be no bit of square garden or
vacant space in Stepney but will be marked out into its
lawn-tennis courts.
The gymnasium took longer to become popular.
Girls do not like feats of strength; nor was it until the
spell of wet weather last October, when outdoor games.
became impossible, that the gymnasium began to at-
tract at all. Then a spirit of emulation was set up, and
bodily exercises became popular. After becoming quite
sure that no deduction was made on account of the rest-
ing time, the girls ceased to be suspicious, and accepted
the gift with something like enthusiasm. Yet, Miss
Kennedy was their employer; therefore, a natural ene-
my; therefore, gifts from her continued, for some time,
to be received with doubt and suspicion. This does
not seem, on the whole, a healthy outcome of our social
system; yet such an attitude is unfortunately common
among work-girls.
At half-past eleven they all resumed work.
At one o'clock another astonishment awaited them.
Miss Kennedy informed them that one of the reforms
introduced by her was the providing of dinner every
day, without deducting anything from their wages.
Those to whom dinner was, on most days, the mockery
of a piece of bread and butter, or a bun, or some such
figment and pretence of a meal, simply gasped, and the
stoutest held her breath for a while, wondering what
these things might mean.
Yes, there was dinner laid for them upstairs on a
fair white cloth; for every girl a plentiful dish of beef
with potatoes and other good things, and a glass of Mes-
senger's Family Ale-that at eight-and-six the nine-
gallon cask-and bread à discrétion. Angela would
have added pudding, but was dissuaded by her fore-
woman, on the ground that not only would pudding
swallow up too much of the profits, but that it would
demoralize the girls. As it was, one of them, at the
mere aspect and first contemplation of the beef, fell a-
weeping. She was lame, and she was the most dejected
among them all. Why she wept, and how Angela fol-
lowed her home, and what that home was like, and why
she and her mother and her sisters do now continually
praise and pray for Angela, belong to another story,
C
128
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
concerned with the wretchedness and misery which are
found at Whitechapel and Stepney, as well as in Soho
and Marylebone and the back of Regent Street. I shall
not write many chapters of that story, for my own part.
Truly a most wonderful workshop. Was ever such
an association of dressmakers?
After dinner they frolicked and romped, though as
yet in an untaught way, until two, when they began
work again.
Miss Kennedy then made them another speech.
She told them that the success of their enterprise de-
pended in great measure upon their own industry, skill,
and energy; that they were all interested in it, because
they were to receive, besides their wages, a share in the
profits; this they only partly understood. Nor did they
comprehend her scheme much more when she went on
to explain that they had the house and all the prelimi-
nary furniture found for them, so that there would be
nothing, at first, to pay for rent. They had never con-
sidered the question of rent, and the thing did not go
home to them. But they saw in some vague way that
here was an employer of a kind very much unlike any
they had ever before experienced, and they were aston-
ished and excited.
Later on, when they might be getting tired again,
they had a visitor. It was no other than Captain So-
rensen. He said that by permission of Miss Kennedy
he would read to them for an hour, and that, if she per-
mitted and they liked, as he was an old man with noth-
ing to do, he would come and read to them often.
So this astonishing day passed on.
They had tea at five, with another half-hour's rest.
As the evening was so fine, it was served in the garden.
At seven they found that it was time to strike work-
an hour at least earlier than at any other house. What
could these things mean?
And then fresh marvels. For when the work was
put away, Miss Kennedy invited them all to follow her
upstairs. There she formally presented them with a
room for their own use in the evening if they pleased.
There was a piano in it; but, unfortunately, nobody
could play. The floor was polished for dancing, but
then no one could dance; and there was a table with
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
121
games upon it, and magazines and illustrated papers.
In this room, Miss Kennedy told them, they could sing,
dance, play, read, talk, sit, or do anything else in rea-
son, and within the limits of modest recreation. They
might also, on Saturday evenings, bring their friends,
brothers, and so forth, who would also be expected to
behave within the limits of modesty and good breeding.
In short, the place was to be a drawing-room, and An-
gela proposed to train the girls by example and precept
into a proper feeling as regards the use of a drawing-
room. There was to be no giggling, no whispering in
corners, nor was there to be any horseplay. Good man-
ners lie between horseplay on the one hand and gig-
gling on the other.
The kind of evening proposed by their wonderful
mistress struck the girls at first with a kind of stupe-
faction. Outside, the windows being open, they could
hear the steps of those who walked, talked, and laughed
on Stepney Green. They would have preferred to be
among that throng of idle promenaders; it seemed to
them a more beautiful thing to walk up and down the
paths than to sit about in a room and be told to play.
There were no young men. There was the continual
presence of their employer. They were afraid of her;
there was also Miss Hermitage, of whom also they were
afraid; there was, in addition, Miss Sorensen, of whom
they might learn to be afraid. As for Miss Kennedy,
they were the more afraid of her because not only did
she walk, talk, and look like a person out of another
world, but, oh, wonderful! she knew nothing-evi-
dently nothing-of their little tricks. Naturally one is
afraid of a person who knows nothing of one's wicked
ways. This is the awkwardness in entertaining angels.
They naturally assume that their entertainers stand on
the same elevated level as themselves; this causes em-
barrassment. Most of us, like Angela's shop-girls,
would, under the circumstances, betray a tendency to
giggle.
Then she tried to relieve them from their awkward-
ness by sitting down to the piano and playing a lively
galop.
(6
Dance, girls," she cried.
In their early childhood, before they went to school
130
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
or workshop, the girls had been accustomed to a good
deal of dancing. Their ballroom was the street; their
floor was the curbstone; their partners had been other
little girls; their music the organ-grinder's. They
danced with no step but such as came by nature, but their
little feet struck true and kept good time. Now they
were out of practice; they were grown big, too; they
could no longer seize each other by the waist and caper
round and round. Yet the music was inspiriting; eyes
brightened, their heels became as light as air. Yet,
alas! they did not know the steps.
Angela stopped playing and looked round her. The
girls were crowded together.
Rebekah Hermitage sat apart at the table. There
was that in her face which betokened disapproval, min-
gled with curiosity, for she had never seen a dance,
and never, except on a barrel-organ, heard dance music.
Nelly Sorensen stood beside the piano watching the
player with the devotion which belongs to the disciple
who loves the most. Whatever Miss Kennedy did was
right and sweet and beautiful. Also, whatever she did
filled poor Nelly with a sense of humiliation, because
she herself felt so ignorant.
"Rebekah! Nelly!" cried Angela. "Can you not
help me?"
Both shook their heads.
"I cannot dance," said Rebekah, trying to show a
little scorn, or, at least, some disapprobation. "In our
Connection we never dance."
'You never dance?" Angela forgot for the moment
that she was in Stepney, and among a class of girls
who do not dance. "Do you sing?"
"If any is merry," replied Rebekah, "let him sing
hymns.
66
ور
Nelly, can you help me?"
She, too, shook her head. But, she said, "her father
could play the fiddle. Might he come?"
Angela begged her to invite him immediately, and
on her way to ask Mr. Goslett, at Mrs. Bormalack's,
to bring his fiddle too. Between them they would teach
the girls to dance.
Then she sat down and began to sing. First she
sang, "By the Banks of Allen Water," and then "The
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
131
Bailiff's Daughter of Islington," and next, "Drink to me
only with thine eyes"-sweet and simple ditties all.
Then came Captain Sorensen, bearing his fiddle, and
happy to help, and while he played, Angela stood all the
girls in a row before her, headed by Nelly, and gave
them their first lesson in the giddy dance.
Then came Harry Goslett, and at the sight of his
cheerful countenance and at the mere beholding how he
bowed to Miss Kennedy, and asked to be allowed, and
put his arm round her waist and whirled her round in
à galop, their hearts were lifted up, and they longed no
more for Stepney Green. Then he changed Miss Ken-
nedy for Nelly; and though she was awkward at first,
she soon fell into the step, while Miss Kennedy danced
with another; and then Mr. Goslett with another, and
so on till all had had a practical lesson. Then they
ceased altogether to long for the jest of the gallant
'prentice; for what were jests to this manly, masterful
seizure by the waist, this lifting almost off the feet, this
whirl round and round to the music of the fiddle which
the brave old captain played as merrily as any bo's'n's
mate or quartermaster on an East Indiaman? In half
an hour the feet of all but one-the one who, poor girl,
was lame-felt that noble sympathy with the music so
readily caught by those intelligent organs, and-they
could dance. Perhaps for the first time in the annals
of Stepney, her daughters had learned to dance.
The rest would be easy. They tried a quadrille, then
another galop. Harry endeavored to do his duty, but
there were some who remarked that he danced twice,
that second galop, with Nelly Sorensen, and they were
jealous. Yet it was only an unconscious tribute paid
to beauty. The young fellow was among a bevy of
dressmakers; an uncommon position for a man of his
bringing-up. One of them, somehow, was, to all ap-
pearance, and to any but perhaps the most practised
eye, a real genuine lady-not a copy at all; the other
was so graceful and sweet that she seemed to want but
a touch to effect the transformation. As for the other
girls, they were simple young persons of the workroom
and counter-a common type. So common, alas! that
we are apt to forget the individuality of each, her per-
sonal hopes, and her infinite possibilities. Yet, how
132
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
ever insignificant is the crowd, the individual is so
important.
Then he was interested in the dark-eyed girl who sat
by herself at the table, looking on, anxiously, at an
amusement she had always heard of as “soul-destroy-
ing." She was wondering why her ears were pleased
with the playing, and why her brain was filled with
strange images, and why it was so pleasant to watch
the girls dancing, their eyes aglow and their cheeks.
flushed.
Do not tempt me," she said, when Harry ventured
to invite her, too, to join the giddy throng. "Do not
tempt me-no-go away!"
Her very brusqueness showed how strong was the
temptation. Was she, already, giving way to the first
temptation?
Presently the evening was over, the girls had all
trooped noisily out of the house, and Angela, Captain
Sorensen, Nelly, and the young workman were walk-
ing across the green in the direction of the Almshouse.
When Angela got home to the boarding-house the
dreariness of the evening was in full blast. The board-
ers were sitting in silence, each wrapped in his own
thoughts. The professor lifted his head as she entered
the room, and regarded her with thoughtful eyes, as if
appraising her worth as a clairvoyante. David Fagg
scowled horribly. His lordship opened his mouth as if
to speak, but said nothing. Mr. Maliphant took his
pipe out of his mouth, and began a story. "I remem-
ber," he said, "the last time but one that he was
ruined”—he did not state the name of the gentleman-
"the whole town was on fire, and his house with them.
What did he do? Mounted his horse and rode around,
and bought up all the timber for twenty miles around.
And see what he's worth now!" When he had told
this story he relapsed into silence. Angela thought of
that casual collection of unsympathetic animals put into
a cage and called a "Happy Family."
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
133
CHAPTER XII.
SUNDAY AT THE EAST END.
SUNDAY morning in and about the Whitechapel and
Mile End roads Angela discovered to be a time of pe-
culiar interest. The closing of the shops adds to the
dignity of the broad thoroughfares, because it hides so
many disagreeable and even humiliating things. But
it by no means puts a stop to traffic, which is conducted
with an ostentatious disregard of the Fourth Com-
mandment or Christian custom. At one end, the city
end, is Houndsditch, crowded with men who come to
buy and sell; and while the bells of St. Botolph call
upon the faithful with a clanging and clashing which
ring like a cry of despair, the footpath is filled with the
busy loungers, who have long since ceased to regard
the invitation as having anything at all to do with them.
Strange and wonderful result of the gathering of men
in great cities! It is not a French, or an English, or a
German, or an American result it is universal. In
every great city of the world, below a certain level,
there is no religion-men have grown dead to their
higher instincts; they no longer feel the possibilities of
humanity; faith brings to them no more the evidence
of things unseen. They are crowded together, so that
they have ceased to feel their individuality. The crowd
is eternal-they are part of that eternity; if one drops
out, he is not missed; nobody considers that it will be
his own turn some day so to drop out. Life is nothing
for ever and ever, but work in the week with as much
beer and tobacco as the money will run to, and loafing
on Sundays with more beer and tobacco. This, my
friends, is a truly astonishing thing, and a thing un-
known until this century. Perhaps, however, in ancient
Rome the people had ceased to believe in their gods;
perhaps, in Babylon, the sacred bricks were kicked
about by the unthinking mob; perhaps, in every great
city, the same loss of individual manhood may be
found.
K
It was on a Sunday morning in August that Angela
1
134
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
took a little journey of exploration, accompanied by the
young workman who was her companion in these ex-
cursions. He led her into Houndsditch and the Minor-
ies, where she had the pleasure of inspecting the great
mercantile interest of old clothes, and of gazing upon
such as buy and sell therein. Then she turned her face
northward, and entered upon a journey which twenty
years ago would have been full of peril, and is now, to
one who loves his fellow-man, full of interest.
The great boulevard of the East was thronged with
the class of men who keep the Sabbath in holy laziness
with tobacco. Some of them lounge, some talk, somo
listen, all have pipes in their mouths. Here was a cir-
cle gathered round a man who was waving his arms
and shouting. He was an Apostle of Temperance;
behind him stood a few of his private friends to act as
a claque. The listeners seemed amused but not con-
vinced. "They will probably," said Harry, "enjoy
their dinner beer quite as much as if they had not heard
this sermon. Another circle was gathered round a
man in a cart, who had a flaming red flag to support
him. He belonged, the flag told the world, to the
Tower Hamlets Magna Charta Association. What he
said was listened to with the same languid curiosity
and tepid amusement. Angela stopped a moment to
hear what he had to say. He was detailing, with im-
mense energy, the particulars of some awful act of in-
justice committed upon a friend unknown, who got six
months. The law of England is always trampling
upon some innocent victim, according to this sympa-
thizer with virtue. The working-men have heard it
all before, and they continue to smoke their pipes, their
blood not quickened by a single beat. The ear of the
people is accustomed to vehemence; the case must be
put strongly before it will listen at all; and listening,
as most brawlers discover, is not conviction.
Next to the Magna Charta brethren a cheap-jack
had placed his cart. He drove a roaring trade in two-
penn'orths, which, out of compliment to a day which
should be devoted to good works, consisted each of a
bottle of sarsaparilla, which he called "sassaple," and a
box of pills. Next to him the costers stood beside their
carts loaded with cheap ices, ginger-beer, and lemonade
دو
r
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ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
135
-to show that there was no deception, a great glass jar
stood upon each cart with actual undeniable slices of
lemon floating in water and a lump of ice upon the top;
there were also piles of plums, plums without end, early
August apples, and windfall pears; also sweet things
in foot-long lumps sticky and gruesome to look upon;
Brazil nuts, also a favorite article of commerce in cer-
tain circles, though not often met with at the tables of
the luxurious; late oranges, more plums, many more
plums, plums in enormous quantities; and periwin-
kles, which last all the year round, with whelks and
vinegar, and the toothsome shrimp. Then there came
another circle, and in the midst stood a young man
with long fair hair and large blue eyes.
He was
preaching the Gospel, as he understood it; his face
was the face of an enthusiast: a little solitude, a little
meditation among the mountains, would have made
this man a seer of visions and a dreamer of dreams.
He was not ridiculous, though his grammar was defec-
tive and his pronunciation had the cockney twang and
his aspirates were wanting: nothing is ridiculous that
is in earnest. On the right of the street they had
passed the headquarters of the Salvation Army; the
brave warriors were now in full blast, and the fighting,
"knee-drill," singing, and storming of the enemy's fort
were at their highest and most enjoyable point; Angela
looked in and found an immense hall crammed with
people who came to fight, or look on, to scoff, or gaze.
Higher up, on the left, stands a rival in red-hot relig-
ion, the Hall of the Jubilee Singers, where another vast
crowd was worshipping, exhorting, and singing.
CC
There seems," said Angela, “to be too much exhort-
ing; can they not sit down somewhere in quiet for
praise and prayer?"
66
We working-people,” replied her companion, “like
everything loud and strong. If we are persuaded to
take a side, we want to be always fighting on that side.”
Streams of people passed them, lounging or walking
with a steady purpose.
The former were the indiffer-
ent and the callous, the hardened and the stupid, men
to whom preachers and orators appealed in vain; to
whom Peter the Hermit might have bawled himself
hoarse, and Bernard would have thrown all his elo-
136
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
quence away; they smoked short pipes, with their
hands in their pockets, and looked good-tempered; with
them were boys, also smoking short pipes, with their
hands in their pockets. Those who walked were young
men dressed in long frock-coats of a shiny and lustrous
black, who carried Bibles and prayer-books with some
ostentation. They were on their way to church; with
them were their sisters, for the most part well-dressed,
quiet girls, to whom the noise and the crowds were a
part of life—a thing not to be avoided, hardly felt as a
trouble.
"I am always getting a new sensation," said Angela.
"What is the last?"
"I have just realized that there are thousands and
thousands of people who never, all their lives, get to a
place where they can be quiet. Always noise, always
crowds, always buying and selling.
"Here, at least," said Harry, "there is no noise."
They were at the wicket-gate of the Trinity Alms-
house.
66
در
What do you think, Miss Kennedy?"
"It is a haven of rest," she replied, thinking of a cer-
tain picture. "Let us, too, seek peace awhile.
""
It was just eleven o'clock, and the beadsmen were
going to their chapel. They entered the square, and
joined the old men in their weekly service. Angela
discovered, to her disappointment, that the splendid
flight of steps leading to the magnificent portal was a
dummy, because the real entrance to the chapel was
a lowly door beneath the stone steps, suited, Mr. Bunker
would have said, to the humble condition of the money-
less.
It is a plain chapel, with a small organ in the corner,
a tiny altar, and over the altar the ten commandments
in a black wood frame-rules of life for those whose
life is well-nigh done-and a pulpit, which serves for
reading the service as well as delivering the sermon.
The congregation consisted of about thirty of the alms-
men, with about half as many old ladies; and Angela
wondered why these old ladies were all dressed in black,
and all wore crape. Perhaps they desired by the use
of this material to symbolize mourning for the loss of
opportunities for making money; or for the days of
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
137
beauty and courtship, or for children dead and gone, or
to mark the humility which becomes an inmate, or to
do honor to the day which is still revered by many
Englishwomen as a day of humiliation and rebuke,
or in the belief that crape confers dignity. We know
not, we know nothing; the love which women bear for
crape is a mystery; man can but speculate idly on their
ways. We are like the philosopher picking up pebbles
by the seaside. Among the old people sat Nelly Soren-
sen, a flower of youth and loveliness, in her simple
black dress, and her light hair breaking out beneath
her bonnet. The Catholics believe that no church is
complete without a bone of some dead saint or beati-
fied person. Angela made up her mind, on the spot,
that no act of public worship is complete without the
assistance of youth as well as of age.
The men were all dressed alike in blue coats and
brass buttons, the uniform of the place; they seemed
all, with the exception of one who was battered by time,
and was fain to sit while the rest stood, to be of the
same age, and that might be anything between a hearty
sixty-five and a vigorous eighty. After the manner of
sailors, they were all exact in the performance of their
share in public worship, following the prayers in the
book and the lessons in the Bible. When the time
came for listening they straightened themselves out, in
an attitude comfortable for listening. The Scotch elder
assumes, during the sermon, the air of a hostile critic;
the face of the British rustic becomes vacant; the eyes
of the ordinary listener in church show that his
thoughts are far away; but the expression of a sailor's
face, while he is performing the duty-part of the
day's duty-of listening to the sermon, shows respect-
'ful attention, although he may have heard it all before.
Angela did not listen much to the sermon: she was
thinking of the old men for whom that sermon was pre-
pared. There was a fresh color upon their faces, as if
it was not so very long since their cheeks had been
fanned by the strong sea-breeze; their eyes were clear,
they possessed the bearing which comes of the habit of
command, and they carried themselves as if they were
not ashamed of their poverty. Now Bunker, Angela
reflected, would have been very much ashamed, and
138
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
would have hung his head in shame. But then Bun-
ker was one of the nimble-footed hunters after money,
while these ignoble persons had contented themselves
with the simple and slavish record of duty done.
The service over, they were joined by Captain Soren-
sen and his daughter, and for half an hour walked in
the quiet court behind the church, in peaceful converse.
Angela walked with the old man, and Nelly with the
young man. It matters little what they talked about,
but it was something good, because when the Captain
went home to his dinner he kissed his daughter, and
said it seemed to him that it was the best day's work
he ever did when he let her go to Miss Kennedy.
In the evening Angela made another journey of ex-
ploration with the same escort. They passed down
Stepney Green, and plunged among the labyrinth of
streets lying between the Mile End Road and the
Thames. It is as unlovely a collection of houses as
may be found anywhere, always excepting Hoxton,
which may fairly be considered the Queen of Unloveli-
ness. The houses in this part are small, and they are
almost all of one pattern. There is no green thing to
be seen; no one plants trees, there seem to be no gar-
dens; no flowers are in the windows; there is no bright-
ness of paint or of clean windows; there is nothing of
joy, nothing to gladden the eye.
66 r
Think," said Harry, almost in a whisper, as if in
homage to the Powers of Dirt and Dreariness, "think
what this people could be made if we could only carry
out your scheme of the Palace of Delight.”
"We could make them discontented, at least," said
Angela. "Discontent must come before reform.'
"We should leave them to reform themselves,” said
Harry. "The mistake of philanthropists is to think
that they can do for people what can only be done by
the people. As you said this morning, there is too
much exhorting."
Presently they struck out of a street rather more
dreary than its neighbors, and found themselves in a
broad road with a great church.
66
All
"This is Limehouse Church," said Harry.
round you are sailors. There is East India Dock Road.
Here is West India Dock Road. There is the Foreign
(C
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
139
Sailors' Home; and we will go no farther, if you please,
because the streets are all full, you perceive, of the for-
eign sailors and the English sailors and the sailors'
friends."
Angela had seen enough of the sailors. They turned
back. Harry led her through another labyrinth into
another broad street, also crowded with sailors.
"This is Shadwell," said her guide; "and if there is
anything in Shadwell to interest you, I do not know
what it is. Survey Shadwell!"
Angela looked up the street and down the street;
there was nothing for the eye in search of the beautiful
or the picturesque to rest upon. But a great bawling
of rough voices came from a great tent stuck up, oddly,
beside the road. A white canvas sheet with black let-
ters proclaimed this as the place of worship of the
Happy Gypsies." They were holding their Sunday
Function.
66
"More exhorting!" said Angela.
"Now, this," he said, as they walked along, “is a
more interesting place. It used to be called Ratcliffe
Highway, and had the reputation of being the wicked-
est place in London. I dare say it was all brag, and
that really it was not much worse than its neighbors.
It is a distinctly squalid street, that now called St.
George's-in-the-East. But it has its points; it is pic-
turesque, like a good many dirty places; the people are
good-tempered, though they do not wash their faces
even on Sundays. They have quite left off knocking
down, picking pockets, kicking, and robbing the harm-
less stranger; they are advancing slowly toward civil-
ization.
رو
"Come this way," said Harry.
He passed through a narrow passage, and led the way
into a place at the sight of which Angela was fain to
cry out in surprise.
In it was nothing less than a fair and gracious gar-
den planted with flowers, and these in the soft August
sunshine showed sweet and lovely. The beds were well
kept; the walks were of asphalt; there were seats set
about, and on them old women and old men sat basking
in the evening sun. The young men and maidens
walked along the paths-an Arcadian scene.
140
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"This little strip of Eden," said Harry, "was cut out
of the old church-yard."
The rest of the church-yard was divided from the gar-
den by a railing, and round the wall were the tomb-
stones of the departed obscure. From the church itself
was heard the rolling of the organ and the soft singing
of a hymn.
"This," said Angela, "is better than exhortation. A
garden for meditation and the church for prayer. I like
this place better than the Whitechapel Road."
"I will show you a more quiet place still," said her
guide. They walked a little way farther down the
main street; then he turned into a narrow street on the
north, and Angela found herself in a square of clean
houses round an inclosure of grass. Within the inclos-
ure was a chapel, and tombs were dotted on the grass.
They went into the chapel, a plain edifice of the
Georgian kind with round windows, and the evening
sun shone through the window in the west. The high
pews were occupied by a congregation of forty or fifty,
all men. They all had light-brown hair, and as they
turned round to look at the new-comers, Angela saw
that they all had blue eyes. The preacher, who wore
a black gown and bands, was similarly provided as to
hair and eyes. He preached in a foreign tongue, and
as it is difficult to be edified by a sermon not in one's
native speech, they shortly went out again. They were
followed by the verger, who seemed not indisposed to
break the monotony of the service by a few minutes'
walk.
He talked English imperfectly, but he told them that
it was the church of the Swedes. Angela asked if
they were all sailors. He said, with some seeming
contempt for sailors, that only a few of them were sail-
ors. She then said that she supposed they were people
engaged in trade. He shook his head again, and in-
formed her with a mysterious air that many of the
Swedish nobility lived in that neighborhood. After
this they came away, for fear of greater surprises.
They followed St. George's-in-the-East to the end of
the street. Then they turned to the right, and passed
through a straight and quite ignoble road leading north.
It is a street greatly affected by Germans. German
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
141
names are over every shop and on every brass plate.
They come hither, these honest Germans, because to
get good work in London is better than going after it
to New York or Philadelphia, and nearer home. In
the second generation their names will be Anglicized,
and their children will have become rich London mer-
chants, and very likely Cabinet ministers. They have
their churches, too, the Reformed and the Lutheran,
with nothing to choose between them on the score of
ugliness.
66
Let us get home," said Angela; "I have seen
enough."
"It is the joylessness of the life," she explained, "the
ignorant, contented joylessness, which weighs upon
one. And there is so much of it. Surely there is no
other city in the world which is so utterly without joy
as this East London."
"No," said Harry, "there is not in the whole world
a city so devoid of pleasant things. They do not know
how to be happy. They are like your work-girls when
you told them to dance."
66
Look!" she cried, "what is that?”
There was a hoarse roar of many voices from a court
leading out of the main road; the roar became louder;
Harry drew the girl aside as a mob of men and boys
and women rushed headlong out of the place. It was
not a fight apparently, yet there was beating with sticks
and kicking. For those who were beaten did not strike
back in return. After a little the beaters and kickers
desisted, and returned to their court as to a stronghold
whose rights they had vindicated.
Those who had been beaten were a band of about a
dozen, men and women. The women's shawls were
hanging in tatters, and they had lost their bonnets.
The men were without hats, and their coats were griev-
ously torn. There was a thing among them which had
been a banner, but the pole was broken and the flag
was dragged in the dirt and smirched.
One of them who, seemed to be the leader-he wore a
uniform coat something like a volunteer's coat-stepped
to the front and called upon them all to form. Then
with a loud voice he led off a hymn, in which all joined
as they marched down the street,
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ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
He was hatless, and his cheek was bleeding from an
open wound. Yet he looked undaunted, and his hymn
was a song of triumph. A wild-set-up young fellow
with thick black hair and black beard, but pale cheeks.
His forehead was square and firm; his eyes were black
and fierce.
(C
Good heavens!" cried Harry. "It is my cousin
Tom, captain in the Salvation Army. And that, I
suppose, is his regiment. Well, if standing still to be
kicked means a victory, they have scored one to-night.
The pavement was even more crowded than in the
morning. The political agitators bawled more fiercely
than in the forenoon to their circle of apathetic listen-
ers; the preachers exhorted the unwilling more fer-
vently to embrace the faith. Cheap-jacks was dispen-
sing more volubly his two penn'orths of "sassaple."
The workmen lounged along, with their pipes in their
mouths, more lazily than in the morning. The only
difference was that the shop-boys were now added to
the crowd, every lad with a "twopenny smoke" between
his lips; and that the throng was increased by those
who were going home from church.
"Let us, too, go home," said Angela; "there is too
much humanity here; we shall lose ourselves among
the crowd."
CHAPTER XIII.
رو
ANGELA'S EXPERIMENT.
"No, Constance," Angela wrote, "I cannot believe.
that your lectures will be a failure, or that your life's
work is destined to be anything short of a brilliant
success-an 'epoch-making' episode in the history of
Woman's Rise. If your lectures have not yet attracted
reading men, it must be because they are not yet.
known. It is unworthy of faith in your own high mis-
sion to suppose that personal appearance or beauty has
anything to do with popularity in matters of mind.
Who asks-who can ask?-whether a woman of genius
is lovely or not? And to take lower ground: every
woman owns the singular attractiveness of your own
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
143
face, which has always seemed to me, apart from per-
sonal friendship, the face of pure intellect. I do not
give up my belief that the men will soon begin to run
after your lectures as they did after those of Hypatia,
and yet will become in the University as great a teacher
of mathematics as Sir Isaac Newton himself. Mean-
time, it must be, I own, irksome to lecture on vulgar
fractions, and the First Book of Euclid, and unsatisfac-
tory to find, after you have made a research and ar-
rived at what seemed a splendid result, that some man
has been before you. Patience, Constance!"
At this point the reader, who was of course Constance
Woodcote, paused and smiled bitterly. She was angry
because she had advertised a course of lectures on some
desperately high mathematical subject and no one came
to hear them. Had she been, she reflected, a pink-and-
white girl with no forehead and soft eyes, everybody
would have rushed to hear her. As it was, Angela, no
doubt, meant well, but she was always disposed to give
men credit for qualities which they did not possess.
As if you could ever persuade a man to regard a woman
from a purely intellectual point of view! After all, she
thought, civilization was only just begun; we live in a
world of darkness; the reign of woman is as yet afar
off. She continued her reading with impatience.
Somehow, her friends seemed to have drifted away;
their lines were diverging; already the old enthusiasms
had given place to the new, and Angela thought less of
the great cause which she had once promised to further
with her mighty resources.
"As regards the scholarship which I promised you,
I must ask you to wait a little, because my hands are
full-so full of important things that even a new schol-
arship at Newnham seems a small thing. I cannot tell
you in a letter what my projects are, and how I am
trying to do something new with my great_wealth.
This, at least, I may tell you, partly because I am in-
toxicated with my own schemes, and, therefore, I must
tell everybody I speak to; and partly because you are
perfectly certain not to sympathize with me, and there-
fore you will not trouble to argue the point with me.
I have found out, to begin with, a great truth. It is
that would-be philanthropists and benefactors and im-
S
144
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
provers of things have all along been working on a false
assumption. They have taught and believed that the
people look up to the 'better class'-phrase invented by
the well-to-do in order to show riches and virtue go
together-for guidance and advice. My dear, it is the
greatest mistake; they do not look up to us at all; they
do not want to copy our ways; they are perfectly satis-
fied with their own ways; they will naturally take as
much money as we choose to give them, and as many
presents; and they consider the exhortations, preach-
ings, admonitions, words of guidance, and advice as
uncomfortable but unavoidable accompaniments of this
gift. But we ourselves are neither respected nor cop-
ied. Nor do they want cur culture."
66
Angela," said the mathematician, "is really very
prolix.
"This being so, I am endeavoring to make such peo-
ple as I can get at discontented as a first step. With-
out discontent, nothing can be done. I work upon them
by showing, practically, and by way of example, better
things. This I can do because I am here as simply one
of themselves—a workwoman among other workwomen.
I do not work as much as the others in our newly
formed association, because I am supposed to run the
machine, and to go to the West End for work. Miss Mes-
senger is one of our customers. So much am I one of
them, that I take my wages on Saturday, and am to
have the same share, and no more, in the business as
my dressmakers. I confess to you that in the founda-
tion of my Dressmakers' Association I have violated
most distinctly every precept of political and social
economy. I have given them a house rent-free for a
year; I have fitted it up with all that they want; I have
started them with orders from myself; I have resolved
to keep them going until they are able to run alone; I
give wages, in money and in food, higher than the
market-value. I know what you will say. It is all
quite true scientifically. But outside the range of sci-
ence there is humanity. And only think what a great
field my method opens for the employment of the unfor-
tunate rich-the unhappy, useless, heavily burdened
rich. They will all follow my example and help the
people to help themselves.
در
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ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
145
"My girls were at first and for the most part uninter-
esting, until I came to know them individually: every
one, when you know her, and can sympathize with
her, becomes interesting. Some are, however, more
interesting than others; there are two or three, for in-
stance, in whom I feel a special interest. One of them,
whom I love for her gentleness and for her loyalty to
me, is the daughter of an old ship-captain now in an
almshouse. She is singularly beautiful, with an air of
fragility which one hopes is not real; she is endowed
by nature with a keenly sensitive disposition, and has
had the advantage, rare in these parts, of a father who
learned to be a gentleman before he came to the alms-
house. The other is a religious fanatic, a sectarian of
the most positive kind. She knows what is truth more
certainly than any Professor of Truth we ever encoun-
tered; she is my manager and is good at business. I
think she has come to regard me with less contempt,
from a business point of view, than she did at first,
because in the conduct of the showroom and the trying-
on room she has all her own way.
"My evenings are mostly spent with the girls in the
garden and 'drawing-room. Yes, we have a drawing-
room over the workroom. At first we had tea at five
and struck work at seven; now we strike work at half
past six and take tea with lawn tennis. I assure you
my dressmakers are as fond of lawn tennis as the stu-
dents of Newnham. When it is too dark to play, we go
upstairs and have music and dancing.
""
Here followed a word which had been erased. The
mathematical lecturer held the letter to the light and
fancied the word was "Harry." This could hardly
be; it must be Hetty, or Kitty, or Lotty, or some such
feminine abbreviation. There could be no Harry. She
looked again. Strange! It certainly was Harry. She
shook her head suspiciously and went on with the
letter.
"The girls' friends and sisters have begun to come,
and we are learning all kinds of dances. Fortunately
my dear old captain from the almshouse can play the
fiddle, and likes nothing better than to play for us.
We place him in the corner beside the piano and he
plays as long as we please, being the best of all old cap-
10
146
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
tains. We are not well off for men, having at present
to rely principally on a superior young cabinet-maker,
who can also play the fiddle on occasion. He dances
very well, and perhaps he will fall in love with the cap-
tain's daughter.
"What I have attempted is, in short, nothing less
than the introduction of a love of what we call culture.
Other things will follow, but at present I am contented
with an experiment on a very humble scale.
If I were
to go among the people in my name, most of them
would try to borrow or steal from me; as I am only a
poor dressmaker, only those who have business with
me try to take me in. I do not go on a platform and
lecture the people; nor do I open a school to teach
them; nor do I print and circulate tracts. I simply
say, 'My dears, I am going to dance and sing, and
have a little music, and play lawn tennis; come with
me, and we will dance together.' And they come.
And they behave well. I think it is a strange thing
that young women of the lower class always prefer to
behave well when they can, while young men of their
own station take so much pleasure in noise and riot.
We have no difficulty in our drawing-room, where the
girls behave perfectly and enjoy themselves in a sur-
prising manner. I find already a great improvement
in the girls. They have acquired new interests in life,
they are happier: consequently, they chatter like birds
in spring and sunshine; and whereas, since I came into
these regions, it has been a constant pain to listen to the
querulous and angry talk of work-girls in omnibuses
and in streets, I rejoice that we have changed all this,
and while they are with me my girls can talk without
angry snapping of the lips, and without the ‘sezi' and
'sezee' and 'seshee' of the omnibus. This is surely a
great gain for them.
"Next, I observe that they are developing a certain
amount of pride in their own superiority; they are
lifted above their neighbors, if only by the nightly
drawing-room. I fear they will become unpopular
from hauteur; but there is no gain without some loss.
If only one felt justified in doubling the number of the
girls! But the Stepney ladies have hitherto shown
no enthusiasm in the cause of the Association. The
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
14″
feeling in these parts is, you see, commercial rather
than co-operative.
The dinner is to me the most satisfactory as well as
the most unscientific part of the business. I believe I
have no right to give them a dinner at all; it is
against the custom in dressmakers' shops, where girls
bring their own dinners, poor things; it costs quite a
shilling a head every day to find the dinner, and Re-
bekah, my forewoman, tells me that no profits can
stand against such a drain: but I must go on with the
dinner even if it swallows up all the profits.
(1
On Sundays the drawing-room is kept open all day
long for those who like to come. Some do, because it
is quiet. In the evening we have sacred music. One
of the young men plays the violin"-the reader turned
back and referred to a previous passage-yes; she had
already mentioned a cabinet-maker in connection with
a fiddle-no doubt it must be the same-" and we have
duets, but I fear the girls do not care much yet for
classical music-"
Here the reader crumpled up the letter in impatience.
"And this," she groaned, "is the result of two years
at Newnham! After her course of political economy,
after all those lectures, after actually distinguishing
herself and taking a place, this is the end! To play
the piano for a lot of work-girls; with a cabinet-maker;
and an old sailor; and to be a dressmaker! That is,
alas! the very worst feature in the case: she evidently
likes it; she has no wish to return to civilization; she
has forgotten her science; she is setting a most mis-
chievous example; and she has forgotten her distinct
promise to give us a mathematical scholarship.
"O Angela!"
She had imagined that the heiress would endow Newn-
ham with great gifts, and she was disappointed. She had
imagined this so very strongly that she felt personally
aggrieved and injured. What did she care about Stepney
work-girls? What have mathematics to do with poor
people in an ugly and poor part of town?
Angela's letter did not convey the whole truth, be-
cause she herself was ignorant of the discussions, gos-
sips, rumors, and reports which were flying about in
the neighborhood of Stepney Green concerning her
148
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
venture. There were some, for instance, who demon-
strated that such an institution must fail for reasons
which they learnedly expounded; among these was Mr.
Bunker. There were some who were ready to prove,
from the highest authorities, the wickedness of trying
to do without a proprietor, master, or boss; there were
some who saw in this revolutionary movement the be-
ginning of those troubles which will afflict mankind
toward the coming of the end; there were others,
among whom was also Mr. Bunker, who asked by
what right this young woman had come among them
to interfere, where she had got her money, and what
were her antecedents? To Bunker's certain knowledge,
and no one had better sources of information, hundreds
had been spent by Miss Kennedy in starting the asso-
ciation; while, whether it was true that Miss Messen-
ger supported the place or not, there could never be
enough work to get back all that money, pay all the
wages, and the rest, and the dinners, and hot dinners
every day! There was even talk of getting up a me-
morial praying Miss Messenger not to interfere with the
trade of the place, and pointing out that there were
many most respectable dressmakers where the work
could be quite as well done as by Miss Kennedy's girls,
no doubt cheaper, and the profit would go to the right-
ful claimant of it, not to be divided among the work-
women.
As for the privileges bestowed upon the girls, there
was in certain circles but one opinion-they were ridic-
ulous. Recreation time, free dinner of meat and vege-
tables, short hours, reading aloud, and a club-room or
drawing-room for the evening; what more could their
betters have? For it is a fixed article of belief, one of
the Twenty-nine Articles in certain strata of society,
that people "below them" have no right to the enjoy-
ment of anything. They do not mean to be cruel, but
they have always associated poverty with dirt, discom-
fort, disagreeable companions, and the absence of
pleasantness; for a poor person to be happy is either to
them an impossibility, or it is a flying in the face of
Providence. But then, these people know nothing of
the joys which can be had without money. Now, when
the world discovers and realizes how many these are
над ва про жадайски при
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ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MÊN.
149
and how great they are, the reign of the almighty dol-
lar is at an end. Whatever the Stepney folk thought,
and however diverse their judgment, they were all ex·
tremely curious, and after the place had been open for
a few weeks and began to get known, all the ladies
from Whitechapel Church to Bow Church began with
one consent to call. They were received by a young
person of grave face and grave manners, who showed
them all they wanted to see, answered all their ques-
tions and the showrooms, the dining-room and the
drawing-room; they also saw most beautiful dresses
which were being made for Miss Messenger; those who
went there in the morning might see with their own
eyes dressmaker girls actually playing lawn tennis, if
in the afternoon they might see an old gentleman read-
ing aloud while the girls worked; they might also
observe that there were flowers in the room; it was
perfectly certain that there was a piano upstairs, be-
cause it had been seen by many, and the person in the
showroom made no secret at all that there was dancing
in the evening, with songs, and reading of books, and
other diversions.
The contemplation of these things mostly sent the
visitors away in sorrow. They did not dance or sing
or play; they never wanted to dance or sing; lawn tennis
was not played by their daughters; they did not have
bright-covered books to read. What did it mean, giv-
ing these things to dressmaker girls? Some of them
not only resolved not to send their custom to the asso-
ciation, but directed tracts to the house.
They came, however, after a time, and had their
dresses made there, for a reason which will appear in
the sequel. But at the outset they held aloof.
Far different was the reception given to the institu-
tion by the people for whose benefit it was designed.
When they had quite got over their natural suspicion
of a strange thing; when the girls were found to bring
home their pay regularly on a Saturday; when the
dinner proved a real thing and the hours continued to
be merciful; when the girls reported continuously
kind treatment; when the evenings spent in the draw-
ing-room were found to be delightful, and when other
doubts and whisperings about Miss Kennedy's motives,
1
150
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
intentions, and secret character gradually died away,
the association became popular, and all the needle-
girls of the place would fain have joined Miss Kennedy.
The thing which did the most to create the popularity
was the permission for the girls to bring some of their
friends and people on the Saturday evening. They
received" on Saturday evening-they were at home;
they entertained their guests on that night; and, though
the entertainment cost nothing but the lights, it soon
became an honor and a pleasure to receive an invita-
tion. Most of those who came at first were other girls;
they were shy and stood about all arms; then they
learned their steps; then they danced; then the weari-
ness wore out of their eyes and the roses came back to
their cheeks; they forgot the naggings of the work-
room, and felt for the first time the joy of their youth.
Some of them were inclined at first to be rough and
bold, but the atmosphere calmed them; they either
came no more or if they came they were quiet; some of
them affected a superior and contemptuous air, not un-
common with " young persons" when they are jealous
or envious, but this is a mood easily cured; some of
them were frivolous, but these were also easily subdued.
For always with them was Miss Kennedy herself, a
Juno, their queen, whose manner was so kind, whose
smile was so sweet, whose voice was so soft, whose
greeting was so warm, and yet-yet. .who could not
be resisted, even by the boldest or the most frivolous.
The first step was not to be afraid of Miss Kennedy; at
no subsequent stage of their acquaintance did any cease
to respect her.
(6
•
<<
As for Rebekah, she would not come on Saturday
evening, as it was part of her Sabbath; but Nelly
proved of the greatest use in maintaining the decorum
and in promoting the spirit of the evenings, which
wanted, it is true, a leader.
Sometimes the girls' mothers would come, especially
those who had not too many babies; they sat with
folded hands and wondering eyes, while their daugh-
ters danced, while Miss Kennedy sang, and Mr. Gos-
lett played the fiddle. Angela went among them,
talking in her sympathetic way, and won their confi-
dence so that they presently responded and told her all
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3
웁
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ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
their troubles and woe. Or sometimes the fathers
would be brought, but very seldom came twice. Now
and then a brother would appear, but it was many
weeks before the brothers began to come regularly;
when they did, it became apparent that there was some-
thing in the place more attractive than brotherly duty
or the love of dancing. Of course, sweethearts were
bound to come whether they liked it or not. There
were, at first, many little hitches, disagreeable inci-
dents, rebellious exhibitions of temper, bad behavior,
mistakes, social sins, and other things of which the
chronicler must be mute, because the general result is
all that we desire to record. And this was satisfactory.
For the first time the girls learned that there were joys
in life, joys even within their reach, with a little help,
poor as they were; joys which cost them nothing.
Among them were girls of the very humblest, who had
the greatest difficulty in presenting a decent appearance,
who lived in crowded lodgings or in poor houses with
their numerous brothers and sisters; pale-faced girls,
heavy-hearted girls; joyless maidens, loveless maidens-
girls who from long hours of work, and from want of
open air and good food, stooped their shoulders and
dragged their limbs-when Angela saw them first, she
wished that she was a man to use strong language
against their employers. How she violated all princi-
ples of social economy, giving clothes, secretly lending
money, visiting mothers, paying rent, and all without
any regard to supply and demand, marketable value,
price current, worth of labor, wages rate, averages, per-
centages, interest, capital, commercial rules, theory of
trade, encouragement of over-population, would be too
disgraceful to narrate; indeed, she blushed when she
thought of the beautiful and heart-warming science in
which she had so greatly distinguished herself, and on
which she trampled daily. Yet if, on the one side,
there stood cold science, and on the other a suffering
girl, it is ridiculous to acknowledge that the girl al-
ways won the day.
Among the girls was one who interested Angela
greatly, not because she was pretty, for she was not
pretty at all, but plain to look upon, and lame, but be-
cause she bore a very hard lot with patience and cour-
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ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
age very beautiful to see. She had a sister who was
crippled and had a weak back, so that she could not sit
up long, nor earn much. She had a mother who was
growing old and weak of sight, so that she could not
earn much; she had a young brother who lived like the
sparrows; that is to say, he ran wild in the streets and
stole his daily bread, and was rapidly rising to the dig-
nity and rank of an habitual criminal. He seldom,
however, came home, except to borrow or beg for
money. She had a father, whose name was never men-
tioned, so that he was certainly an undesirable father,
a bad bargain of a father, a father impossible, viewed
in connection with the fifth commandment. This was
the girl who burst into tears when she saw the roast
beef for the first time. Her tears were caused by a
number of reasons: first, because she was hungry and
her condition was low; secondly, because roasted beef
to a hungry girl is a thing too beautiful; thirdly, be-
cause while she was feasting, her sister and mother
were starving. The crippled sister presently came to
the house and remained in it all day. What special
arrangements were made with Rebekah, the spirit of
commerce, as regards her pay, I know not; but she
came, did a little work, sat or lay down in the drawing-
room most of the time; and presently, under Miss Ken-
nedy's instruction, began to practise on the piano. A
work-girl, actually a work-girl, if you please, playing
scales, with a one, two, three, four, one, two, three,
four, just as if she was a lady living in the Mile End
Road and the daughter of a clerk in the brewery!
Yes, the girls, who had formerly worked in unhealthy
rooms till half-past eight, now worked in well-venti-
lated rooms till half-past six; they had time to rest and
run about; they had good food, they had cheerful talk,
they were encouraged; Captain Sorensen came to read
to them; in the evening they had a delightful room to
sit in, where they could read and talk, or dance, or lis-
ten. While they read the books which Miss Kennedy
laid on the table for them, she would play and sing.
First, she chose simple songs and simple pieces, and as
their taste for music grew, so her music improved; and
every day found the drawing-room more attractive, and
the girls more loath to go home. She watched her ex-
--
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
153
periment with the keenest interest; the girls were cer-
tainly growing more refined in manner and in thought.
Even Rebekah was softening daily; she looked on at
the dance without a shudder, even when the handsome
young workman clasped Nelly Sorensen by the waist
and whirled her round the room; and she owned that
there was music in the world, outside her little chapel,
far sweeter than anything they had within it. As for
Nelly, she simply worshipped. Whatever Miss Ken-
nedy did was right and beautiful and perfect in her
eyes; nor, in her ignorance of the world, did she ponder
any more over that first difficulty of hers, why a lady,
and such a lady, had come to Stepney Green to be a
dressmaker.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE TENDER PASSION.
It is always a dangerous thing for two young persons
of opposite sexes to live together under the same roof,
even when the lady is plain and at first sight unattract-
ive, and when the young man is stupid. For they
get to know one another. Now, so great is the beauty
of human nature, even in its second-rate or third-rate
productions, that love generally follows when one of the
two, by confession or unconscious self-betrayal, stands
revealed to the other. It is not the actual man or wom-
an, you see, who is loved-it is the ideal, the possible,
the model or type from which the specimen is copied,
and which it distinctly resembles. But think of the
danger when the house in which these young people find
themselves is not a large country-house, where many
are gathered together of like pursuits, but an obscure
boarding-house in a society-forgotten suburb, where
these two had only each other to talk to. Add to this
that they are both interested in an experiment of the
greatest delicacy, in which the least false step would
be fatal. Add, further, the fact that each is astonished
at the other: the one to find in a dressmaker the refine-
ment and all the accomplishments of a lady; the other,
to find in a cabinet-maker the distinguishing marks of
154
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
a gentleman; the same way of looking at things and
talking about them; the same bearing and the same
courtesy.
The danger was even made greater by what seemed
a preventive-namely, by the way in which at the
beginning Angela so very firmly put down her foot on the
subject of "keeping company;" there was to be no at-
tempt at love-making; on that understanding the two
could, and did, go about together as much as they
pleased. What followed naturally was that more and
more they began to consider each the other as a prob-
lem of an interesting character. Angela observed that
the young workman, whom she had at first considered
of a frivolous disposition, seemed to be growing more
serious in his views of things, and even when he laughed
there was method in his folly. No men are so solemn,
she reflected, as the dull of comprehension; perhaps the
extremely serious character of the place in which they
lived was making him dull, too. It is difficult, cer-
tainly, for any one to go on laughing at Stepney; the
children, who begin by laughing, like children every-
where, have to give up the practice before they are
eight years of age, because the streets are so insuffer-
ably dull; the grown-up people never laugh at all; when
immigrants arrive from livelier quarters, say Man-
chester or Sheffield, after a certain time of residence
the period varies with the mercurial temperament of
the patient-they laugh no more. "Surely," thought
Angela, "he is settling down; he will soon find work;
he will become like other men of his class; and then,
no doubt, he will fall in love with Nelly. Nothing
could be more suitable."
By saying to herself, over and over again, that this
arrangement should take place, she had got to persuade
herself that it certainly would. "Nelly possessed," she
said, "the refinement of manner and nature, without
which the young man would be wretched; she was
affectionate and sensible; it would certainly do very
well." And she was hardly conscious, while she ar-
ranged this in her own head, of a certain uneasy feeling
in her mind, which in smaller creatures might have
been called jealousy.
-
So far, there had been little to warrant the belief that
за нас идете прод
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
things were advancing in the direction she desired.
He was not much more attentive to Nelly than to any
other of the girls; worse still, as she reflected with trep-
idation, there were many symptoms by which he
showed a preference for quite another person.
As for Harry, it was useless for him to conceal from
himself any longer the fact that he was by this time
head-over-ears in love. The situation offered greater
temptations than his strength could withstand. He
succumbed-whatever the end might be, he was in love.
155
If one comes to think of it, this was rather a remark-
able result of a descent into the lower regions. One
expects to meet in the Home of Dull Ugliness things
repellent, coarse; enjoying the freedom of nature, un-
restrained, unconventional. Harry found, on the con-
trary, the sweetness of Eden, a fair garden of delights,
in which sat a peerless lady, the Queen of Beauty, a
very Venus. All his life, that is, since he had begun
to think about love at all, he had stoutly held and stren-
uously maintained that it was lèse majesté, high treason
to love, for a man to throw away-he used to say
"throw away"-upon a maiden of low degree the pas-
sion which should be offered to a lady-a demoiselle.
The position was certainly altered, inasmuch as he was
no longer of gentle birth. Therefore, he argued, he
would no longer pretend to the hand of a lady. At
first he used to make resolutions, as bravely as a board
of directors: he would arise and flee to the desert-any
place would be a desert without her; he would get out
of temptation; he would go back to Piccadilly, and there
forget her. Yet he remained; yet every day he sought
her again; every day his condition became more hope-
less; every day he continued to walk with her, play
duets with her, sing with her, dance with her, argue
with her, learn from her, teach her, watch over her, and
felt the sunshine of her presence, and at meeting and
parting touched her fingers.
She was so well educated, he said, strengthening his
faith; she was so kindly and considerate; her manners
were so perfect; she was so beautiful and graceful; she
knew so well how to command, that he was constrained
to own that no lady of his acquaintance was, or could
be, her superior. To call her a dressmaker was to en
156
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
noble and sanctify the whole craft. She should be to
that art what Cecilia is to music-its patron saint; she
should be to himself—yet, what would be the end? He
smiled grimly, thinking that there was no need to spec-
ulate on the end, when as yet there had been no begin-
ning. He could not make a beginning. If he ventured
on some shy and modest tentative in the direction of—
call it an understanding-she froze. She was always
on the watch; she seemed to say: "Thus far you may
presume, but no farther." What did it mean?
Was
she really resolved never to receive his advances? Did
she dislike him? That could hardly be. Was she
watching him? Was she afraid to trust him? That
might be. Or was she already engaged to some other
fellow-some superior fellow-perhaps with a shop-
gracious heavens!-of his own? That might be,
though it made him cold to think it possible. Or did
she have some past history, some unhappy complication
of the affections, which made her as cold as Dian?
That, too, might be.
The ordinary young man, thrown into the society of
half a dozen working-girls, would have begun to flirt
and talk nonsense with all of them together, or with
one after the other. Harry was not that kind of young
man. There is always, by the blessing of kind Heaven,
left unto us a remnant of those who hold woman sacred,
and continually praise, worship, and reverence the
name of love. He was one of those young men. To
flirt with a milliner did not seem a delightful thing to
him at any time. And in this case there was another
reason why he should not behave in the manner cus-
tomary to the would-be Don Juan; it was simply for
de gentilhomme; he was tolerated among them all on
a kind of unspoken but understood parole. Miss Ken-
nedy received him in confidence that he would not
abuse her kindness.
One Sunday afternoon when they were walking to-
gether-it was in one of the warm days of last Septem-
ber-in Victoria Park, they had a conversation which
led to really important things. There are one or two
very pretty walks in that garden, and though the sea-
son was late, and the leaves mostly yellow, brown,
crimson, or golden, there were still flowers, and the
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157
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
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ornamental water was bright, and the path crowded
with people who looked happy, because the sun was
shining; they had all dined plentifully, with copious
beer, and the girls had got on their best things, and the
swains were gallant with a flower in the buttonhole
and a cigar between the lips. There is, indeed, so lit-
tle difference between the rich and the poor-can even
Hyde Park in the season go beyond the flower and the
cigar? In certain tropical lands, the first step in civi-
lization is to buy a mosquito-curtain, though your dusky
epidermis is as impervious as a crocodile's to the sting
of a mosquito. In this realm of England the first step
toward gentility is the twopenny smoke, to which we
cling, though it is made of medicated cabbage, though
it makes the mouth raw, the tongue sore, the lips
cracked, the eyes red, the nerves shaky, and the temper
short. Who would not suffer in such a cause?
It began with a remark of Angela's about his con-
tinued laziness. He replied, evasively, that he had in-
tended to take a long holiday, in order to look round and
consider what was best to be done; that he liked holi-
days; that he meant to introduce holidays into the next
trade dispute; that his holidays enabled him to work a
little for Miss Kennedy, without counting his lordship,
whose case he had now drawn up; that he was now
ready for work whenever, he added airily, work was
ready for him; and that he was not, in fact, quite sure
that Stepney and its neighborhood would prove the best
place for him to work out his life.
"I should think," said Angela, "that it would be as
good a place as any you would find in America.”
"If you tell me to stay, Miss Kennedy," he replied,
with a sudden earnestness, "I will stay.
در
She instantly froze, and chillingly said that if his
interests required him to go, of course he would go.
Therefore Harry, after a few moments' silence, dur-
ing which he battled with the temptation to "have it
out" there and then, before all the happy shepherds and
shepherdesses of Bethnal Green, returned to his origi-
nal form, and made as if those words had not been
spoken and that effect not been produced. You may
notice the same thing with children who have been
scolded.
158
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"Did you ever consider, Miss Kennedy, the truly
happy condition of the perfect cabinet-maker?"
"No: I never did. Is he happy above his fellows?"
"Your questions betray your ignorance. Till lately
-till I returned from America-I never wholly realized
what a superior creature he is. Why, in the first
place, the cabinet-maker is perhaps the only workman
who never scamps his work; he is a responsible man;
he takes pride in producing a good and honest thing.
We have no tricks in our trade. Then, if you care to
hear-
""
66
Pray go on: let me learn all I can.”
Our
"Then we were the first to organize ourselves.
society was founded eighty years ago.
We had no
foolish strike, but we just met the employers and told
them we were going to arrange with them what our
share should be; and we made a book about wages-I
do not think so good a book has been put together this
century. Then, we are a respectable lot; you never
hear of a cabinet-maker in trouble at a police-court;
very few of us get drunk; most of us read books and
papers, and have opinions. My cousin Dick has very
strong opinions. We are critical about amusements,
and we prefer Henry Irving to a music-hall; we do not
allow rough talk in the workshops; we are mostly mem-
bers of some church, and we know how to value our-
selves."
""
"I shall know how to value your craft in future,
said Angela, “especially when you are working again.
"Yes. I do not want to work in a shop, you know;
but one may get a place, perhaps, in one of the rail-
way-carriage depots, or a hotel, or a big factory, where
they always keep a cabinet-maker in regular pay. My
cousin Dick-Dick the radical-is cabinet-maker in a
mangle-factory. I do not know what he makes for his
mangles, but that is what he is."
66
I have seen your cousin Tom, when he was rolled in
the mud and before he led off the hymn and the proces-
sion. You must bring me your cousin Dick.”
"Dick is better fun than Tom. Both are terribly in
earnest; but you will find Dick interesting."
"Does he walk about on Sunday afternoons? Should
we be likely to meet him here?”
99
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
159
:
"Oh, no! Dick is forging his speech for to-night.
He addresses the Advanced Club almost every Sunday
evening on the House of Lords, or the Church, or the
Country Bumpkin's Suffrage, or the Cape question, or
Protection, or the Nihilists, or Ireland, or America, or
something. The speech must be red-hot, or his reputa-
tion would be lost. So he spends the afternoon stick-
ing it into the furnace, so to speak. It doesn't matter
what the subject is, always provided that he can lug in
the bloated aristocrat and the hated Tory. I assure you
Dick is a most interesting person."
در
'Do you ever speak at the Advanced Club?"
"I go there; I am a member; now and then I say a
word. When a member makes a red-hot speech, brim-
ful of insane accusations, and sits down amid a round
of applause, it is pleasant to get up and set him right
on matters of fact, because all the enthusiasm is killed
when you come to facts. Some of them do not love
me at the club."
>>
"They are real and in earnest, while you-
66
No, Miss Kennedy, they are not real, whatever I
may be. They are quite conventional. The people
like to be roused by red-hot, scorching speeches; they
want burning questions, intolerable grievances; so the
speakers find them or invent them. As for the audi-
ence, they have had so many sham grievances told in
red-hot words that they have become callous, and don't
know of any real ones. The indignation of the speak-
ers is a sham; the enthusiasm of the listeners is a sham;
they applaud the eloquence, but as for the stuff that is
said, it moves them not. As for his politics, the Brit-
ish workman has got a vague idea that things go better
for him under the Liberals. When the Liberals come in,
after making promises by the thousand, and when, like
their predecessors, they have made the usual mess, confi-
dence is shaken. Then he allows the Conservatives,
who do not, at all events, promise oranges and beer all
round, back again, and gives them another show.
if it matters which side is in to the British workman!"
"And they are not discontented," asked Angela,
66 'with their own lives?"
As
66
Not one bit. They don't want to change their own
lives. Why should they?"
160
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
66
All these people in the park to-day," she continued,
are they working-men?"
CC
"Yes: some of them-the better sort. Of course"
Harry looked round and surveyed the crowd-" of
course, when you open a garden of this sort for the peo-
ple, the well-dressed come, and the ragged stay away
and hide. There is plenty of ragged stuff round and
about us, but it hides. And there is plenty of comfort
which walks abroad and shows itself. This end of
London is the home of little industries. Here, for in-
stance, they make the things which belong to other
things.
-
در
"That seems a riddle," said Angela.
"I mean things like card-boxes, pill-boxes, orna-
mental boxes of all kinds, for confectioners, druggists,
and drapers; they make all kinds of such things for
wholesale houses. Why, there are hundreds of trades
in this great neglected city of East London, of which
we know nothing. You see the manufacturers. Here
they are with their wives, and their sons, and their
daughters; they all lend a hand, and between them the
thing is made."
"And are they discontented?" asked Angela with
persistence.
66
'Not they; they get as much happiness as the money
will run to. At the same time, if the Palace of Delight
were once built
""
"Ah!" cried Angela with a sigh. "The Palace of
Delight; the Palace of Delight! We must have it, if it
is only to make the people discontented.'
They walked home presently, and in the evening they
played together, one or two of the girls being present,
in the "drawing-room.
drawing-room." The music softens-Angela
repented her coldness of the afternoon. When the
girls were gone, and they were walking side by side
beneath moonlight on the quiet green, she made shyly
a little attempt at compensation.
"If," she said, "you should find work here in Step-
ney, you would be willing to stay?”
"I would stay," he replied, "if you bid me stay-or
go, if you bid me go.”
"I would bid you stay," she replied, speaking as
clearly and as firmly as she could, “because I like your
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
161
society, and because you have been, and will still be, I
hope, very helpful to us. But if I bid you stay," she
laid her hand upon his arm, "it must be on no mis-
understanding.'
""
"I am your servant," he said, with a little agitation
in bis voice. "I understood nothing but what you wish
me to understand."
CHAPTER XV.
A SPLENDID OFFER.
It was a strange coincidence that only two days after
this conversation with Miss Kennedy, Harry received
his first offer of employment.
It came from the brewery, and was in the first in-
stance a mere note sent by a clerk inviting "H. Gos-
lett" to call at the accountant's office at ten in the
morning. The name, standing bare and naked by it-
self, without any preliminary title of respect-Mister,
Master, or Sieur-presented, Harry thought, a very
miserable appearance. Perhaps it would be difficult to
find a readier method of insulting a man than to hurl
his own name at his head. One may understand how
Louis Capet must have felt when thus reduced to a
plain simplicity.
"What on earth," Harry asked, forgetting his trade,
can they want with me?"
66
In business houses, working-men, even of the gentle
craft of cabinet-making, generally carry with them
tools, sometimes wear an apron, always have their
trousers turned up, and never wear a collar-using, in-
stead, a red muffler, which keeps the throat warmer,
and does not so readily show the effect of London fog
and smoke. Also, some of their garments are made of
corduroy and their jackets have bulging pockets, and
their hats not unfrequently have a pipe stuck into them.
This young working-man repaired to the trysting-place
in the easy attire in which he was wont to roam about
the bowers of the East End. That is to say, he looked
like a carelessly-dressed gentleman.
Harry found at the office his uncle, Mr. Bunker, who
snorted when he saw his nephew.
11
162
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
“What are you doing here?" he asked. Can't you
waste your time and bring disgrace on a hard-work-
ing uncle outside the place where he is known and
respected?"
Harry sighed.
"Few of us," he said, "sufficiently respect their
uncles. And with such an uncle-ah!"
What more might have passed between them, I know
not. Fortunately, at this point, they were summoned
to the presence of the chief accountant.
He knew Mr. Bunker and shook hands with him.
(C
66
Is this your nephew, Mr. Bunker?" he asked, look-
ing curiously at the very handsome young fellow who
stood before him with a careless air.
66
"Yes; he's my nephew; at least, he says so," said
Mr. Bunker surlily. Perhaps, sir, you wouldn't mind
telling him what you want, and letting him go. Then
we can get to business."
66
'My business is with both of you.
"Both of us?" Mr. Bunker looked uneasy. What
business could that be in which he was connected with
his nephew?
"Perhaps I had better read a portion of a letter re-
ceived by me yesterday from Miss Messenger. That
portion which concerns you, Mr. Bunker, is as follows."
Rather a remarkable letter had been received at the
brewery on the previous day from Miss Messenger.
It was remarkable, and, indeed, disquieting, because it
showed a disposition to interfere in the management of
the great concern, and the interference of a young lady
in the brewery boded ill.
ور
The chief brewer and the chief accountant read it
together. They were a grave and elderly pair, both in
their sixties, who had been regarded by the late Mr.
Messenger as mere boys. For he was in the eighties.
"Yes," said the chief brewer, as his colleague read
the missive with a sigh, "I know what you would say.
It is not the thing itself; the thing is a small thing; the
man may even be worth his pay; but it is the spirit of
the letter, the spirit, that concerns me.
CC
It is the spirit," echoed the chief accountant.
"Either," said the chief brewer, "we rule here, or
we do not."
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ALL SÕRTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
163
"Certainly," said the chief accountant, "and well
If we do not"-here the chief brewer rapped the
middle knuckle of the back of his left-hand forefinger
with the tip of his right-hand forefinger-“if we do
not, what then?"
put."
66
They gazed upon each other for a moment in great
sadness, having before their eyes a hazy vision in which
Miss Messenger walked through the brewery, putting
down the mighty and lowering salaries. A grateful
reward for long and faithful services! At the thought
of it, these two servants in their own eyes became pa-
triarchal, as regards the length of years spent in the
brewery, and their long services loomed before them as
so devoted and so faithful as to place them above the
rewarding power of any salary.
The chief accountant was a tall old gentleman, and
he stood in a commanding position on the hearth-rug,
the letter in one hand and a pair of double eye-glasses in
the other.
"You will see from what I am about to read to you,
Mr. Bunker," he began, "that your services, such as
they were, to the late Mr. Messenger will not go un-
rewarded."
Very good, so far; but what had his reward to do
with his nephew?
CC
You were a good deal with Mr. Messenger at one
time, I remember, Mr. Bunker."
"I was, a great deal.”
CC
'Quite so-quite so-and you assisted him, I be-
lieve, with his house property and tenants, and so
forth."
"I did." Mr. Bunker cleared his throat. "I did.
and often Mr. Messenger would talk of the reward I
was to have when he was took.
>"
“He left you nothing, however, possibly because he
forgot. You ought, therefore, to be the more grateful
to Miss Messenger for remembering you; particularly
as the young lady has only heard of you by some kind
of chance."
"Has she has she-sent something?" he asked.
The chief accountant smiled graciously.
"She has sent a very considerable present indeed."
164 ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"Ah!" Mr. Bunker's fingers closed as if they were
grappling with bank-notes.
"Is it," he asked, in trembling accents-"is it a
check?"
"I think, Mr. Bunker, that you will like her present
better than a check.”
"There can be nothing better than one of Miss Mes-
senger's checks," he replied gallantly. "Nothing in the
world, except, perhaps, one that's bigger. I suppose
it's notes, then?"
66
Listen, Mr. Bunker-
"Considering the various services rendered to my
grandfather by Mr. Bunker, with whom I believe you.
are acquainted, in connection with his property in
Stepney and the neighborhood, I am anxious to make
him some substantial present. I have therefore caused
inquiries to be made as to the best way of doing this.
I learn that he has a nephew named Henry Goslett, by
trade a cabinet-maker' " [here Mr. Bunker made violent
efforts to suppress emotion], "who is out of employ-
ment. I propose that he should be received into the
brewery, that a shop with all that he wants should be
fitted up for him, and that he attend daily until any-
thing better offers, to do all that may be required in his
I should wish him to be independent as regards
time of attendance, and that he should be paid at the
proper rate for piece-work. In this way, I hope Mr.
Bunker may feel that he has received a reward more
appropriate to the friendly relations which seem to
have existed between my grandfather and himself than
a mere matter of money, and I am glad to be able to
gratify him in finding honorable employment for one
who is, I trust, a deserving young man.
"Then, Mr. Bunker, there is this-why, good heav
ens! man, what is the matter?”
درد
For Mr. Bunker was purple with wrath. Three
times he essayed to speak, three times he failed. Then
he put on his hat and fled precipitately.
"What is the matter with him?" asked the chief
accountant.
The young workman laughed.
66
I believe," he replied, "that my uncle expected the
check."
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
165
:
Well, well!" the chief accountant waved his hand.
"There is nothing more to be said. You will find your
shop; one of the porters will take you to it; you will
have all the broken things that used to be sent out, kept
for you to mend, and-and-all that. What we want
a cabinet-maker for in the brewery, I do not under-
stand. That will do. Stay-you seem a rather su-
perior kind of workman."
"I have had an education," said Harry, blushing.
"Good; so long as it has not made you discontented.
Remember that we want sober and steady men in this
place, and good work."
""
"I am not certain yet, " said Harry, "that I shall be
able to take the place."
"Not take the place? Not take a place in Messenger's
brewery? Do you know that everybody who conducts
himself well here is booked for life? Do you know
what you are throwing away? Not take the place?
Why, you may be cabinet-maker for the brewery till
they actually pension you off.”
"I am-I am a little uncertain in my designs for the
future. I must ask for a day to consider.”
"
•
"Take a day. If, to-morrow, you do not present
yourself in the workshop prepared for you, I shall tell
Miss Messenger that you have refused her offer."
Harry walked away with a quickened pulse. So far
he had been posturing only as a cabinet-maker. A.t
the outset he had no intention of doing more than post-
ure for a while, and then go back to civilized life with
no more difference than that caused by the revelation
of his parentage. As for doing work, or taking a wage,
that was very, very far from his mind. Yet now he
must either accept the place, with the pay, or he must
stand confessed a humbug. There remained but one
other way, which was a worse way than the other two.
He might, that is to say, refuse the work without as-
signing any reason. He would then appear in the char-
acter of a lazy and worthless workman-an idle ap-
prentice, indeed; one who would do no work while
there was money in the locker for another day of sloth.
With that face could he stand before Miss Kennedy,
revealed in these-his true colors?
It was an excellent opportunity for flight. That oc-
166
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
curred to him. But flight-and after that last talk
with the woman whose voice, whose face, whose gra-
ciousness had so filled his head and inflamed his im-
agination.
He walked away, considering.
When a man is very much perplexed, he often does a
great many little odd things. Thus, Harry began by
looking into the office where his cousin sat.
Josephus' desk was in the warmest part of the room,
near the fire--so much promotion he had received. He
sat among half a dozen lads of seventeen or twenty years
of age, who did the mechanical work of making entries
in the books. This he did, too, and had done every
day for forty years. Beside him stood a great iron
safe, where the books were put away at night. The
door was open. Harry looked in, caught the eye of his
cousin, nodded encouragingly, and went on his way, his
hands in his pockets.
When he came to Mrs. Bormalack's he went in there
too, and found Lord Davenant anxiously waiting for
the conduct of the case to be resumed, in order that he
might put up his feet and take his morning nap.
This is my last morning," Harry said. "As for
your case, old boy, it is as complete as I can make it,
and we had better send it in as soon as we can, unless
you can find any more evidence.”
66
No-no," said his lordship, who found this famil-
iarity a relief after the stately enjoyment of the title,
"there will be no more evidence. Well, if there's noth-
ing more to be done, Mr. Goslett, I think I will"-here
he lifted his feet-" and if you see Clara Martha, tell
her that-that-
""
Here he fell asleep.
It was against the rules to visit the Dressmakers'
Association in the morning or afternoon. Harry there-
fore went to the room where he had fitted his lathe,
and began to occupy himself with the beautiful cabinet
he was making for Miss Kennedy. But he was rest-
less; he was on the eve of a very important step. To
take a place, to be actually paid for piece-work, is, if
you please, a very different thing from pretending to
have a trade.
Was he prepared to give up the life of culture?
7
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
167
He sat down and thought what such a surrender
would mean.
First, there would be no club; none of the pleasant
dinners at the little tables with one or two of his own
friends; no easy-chair in the smoking-room for a wet
afternoon; none of the talk with men who are actually
in the ring-political, literary, artistic, and dramatic,
none of the pleasant consciousness that you are behind
the scenes, which is enjoyed by so many young fellows
who belong to good clubs. The club in itself would be
a great thing to surrender.
Next, there would be no society.
He was at that age when society means the presence
of beautiful girls; therefore, he loved society, whether
in the form of a dance, or a dinner, or an at-home, or
an afternoon, or a garden-party, or any other gathering
where young people meet and exchange those ideas
which they fondly imagine to be original. Well, he
must never think any more of society. That was
closed to him.
Next, he must give up most of the accomplishments,
graces, arts, and skill which he had acquired by dint of
great assiduity and much practice. Billiards, at which
he could hold his own against most; fencing, at which
he was capable of becoming a professor; shooting, in
which he was ready to challenge any American; rid-
ing, the talking of different languages-what would it
help him now to be a master in these arts? They must
all go; for the future he would have to work nine
hours a day for tenpence an hour, which is two pound
a week, allowing for Saturday afternoon. There would
simply be no time for practising any single one of
these things, even if he could afford the purchase of the
instruments required.
Again, he would have to grieve and disappoint the
kindest man in the whole world-Lord Jocelyn.
I think it speaks well for this young man that one
thing did not trouble him-the question of eating and
drinking. He would dine no more; working-men do
not dine-they stoke. He would drink no more wine;
well, Harry found beer a most excellent and delicious
beverage, particularly when you get it unadulterated.
Could he give up all these things? He could not
168
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
conceive it possible, you see, that a man should go and
become a workman, receiving a wage and obeying orders,
and afterward resume his old place among gentlemen,
as if nothing had happened. Indeed, it would require
a vast amount of explanation.
Then he began to consider what he would get if he
remained.
One thing only would reward him. He was so far
gone in love, that for this girl's sake he would renounce
everything and become a workman indeed.
He could not work; the quiet of the room oppressed
him; he must be up and moving while this struggle
went on.
Then he thought of his uncle Bunker and laughed, re-
membering his discomfiture and wrath. While he was
laughing the door opened, and the very man appeared.
He had lost his purple hue, and was now, in fact,
rather pale, and his cheeks looked flabby.
66
Nephew," he said huskily, "I want to talk to you
about this thing; give over sniggerin', and talk serious
now."
در
66 Let us be serious."
"This is a most dreadful mistake of Miss Messen-
ger's; you know at first I thought it must be a joke.
That is why I went away; men of my age and respect-
ability don't like jokes. But it was no joke. I see now
it is just a mere dreadful mistake which you can set
right."
How can I set it right?"
"To be sure, I could do it myself, very easily. I
have only got to write to her, and tell her that you've
got no character, and nobody knows if you know your
trade."
"I don't think that would do, because I might write.
as well
"The best plan would be for you to refuse the sit-
uation and go away again. Look here, boy; you come
from no one knows where; you live no one knows how;
you don't do any work; my impression is you don't
want any, and you've only come to see what you can
borrow or steal. That's my opinion. Now, don't let's
argue, but just listen. If you'll go away quietly, with-
out any fuss, just telling them at the brewery that
""
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
169
you've got to go, I'll give you-yes-I'll give you—
twenty pounds down! There!"
""
"Very liberal indeed! But I am afraid
"I'll make it twenty-five. A man of spirit can do
anything with twenty-five pounds down. Why, he
might go to the other end of the world. If I were you
I'd go there. Large openings there for a lad of spirit
-large openings! Twenty-five pounds down, on the
nail."
""
(C
It seems a generous offer, still
66
Nothing," Mr. Bunker went on, "has gone well
since you came. There's this dreadful mistake of Miss
Messenger's; then that Miss Kennedy's job. I didn't
make anything out of that compared with what I might,
and there's the" He stopped, because he was think-
ing of the houses.
66
I want you to go," he added almost plaintively.
"And that, very much, is one of the reasons why I
want to stay. Because, you see, you have not yet an-
swered a question of mine. What did you get for me
when you traded me away?"
For the second time his question produced a very
remarkable effect upon the good man.
When he had gone, slamming the door behind him,
Harry smiled sweetly.
"I know," he said, "that he has done 'something,"
as they call it. Bunker is afraid. And I-yes-I shall
find it out and terrify him still more. But, in order to
find it out, I must stay. And if I stay, I must be a
workman. And wear an apron! And a brown-paper
cap! No. I draw the line above aprons.
No con-
sideration shall induce me to wear an apron. Not even
-no-not if she were to make the apron a condition of
marriage."
C
CHAPTER XVI.
HARRY'S DECISION.
HE spent the afternoon wandering about the streets
of Stepney, full of the new thought that here might be
his future home. This reflection made him regard the
place from quite a novel point of view. As a mere out-
170
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
sider, he had looked upon the place critically, with
amusement, with pity, with horror (in rainy weather),
with wonder (in sunshiny days). He was a spectator,
while before his eyes were played as many little come-
dies, comediettas, or tragedies or melodramas as there
were inhabitants. But no farces, he remarked, and no
burlesques. The life of industry contains no elements
of farce or of burlesque. But if he took this decisive
step he would have to look upon the East End from an
inside point of view; he would be himself one of the
actors; he would play his own little comedy. There-
fore he must introduce the emotion of sympathy, and
suppress the critical attitude altogether.
There was once an earl who went away and became
a sailor before the mast; he seems to have enjoyed
sailoring better than legislating, but was, by accident,
ingloriously drowned while so engaged. There was
also the Honorable Timothy Clitheroe Davenant, who
was also supposed to be drowned, but in reality exer-
cised until his death, and apparently with happiness,
the craft of wheelwright. There was another unfor-
tunate nobleman, well known to fame, who became a
butcher in a colony, and liked it. Precedents enough
of voluntary descent and eclipse, to say nothing of the
involuntary obscurations, as when an émigré had to
teach dancing, or the son of a royal duke was fain to
become a village schoolmaster. These historical par-
allels pleased Harry's fancy until he recollected that
he was himself only a son of the people, and not of
noble descent, so that they really did not bear upon his
case, and he could find not one single precedent in the
whole history parallel with himself. "Mine," he said,
formulating the thing, "is a very remarkable and un-
usual case. Here is a man brought up to believe him-
self of gentle birth and educated as a gentleman,
so that there is nothing in the most liberal training of
a gentleman that he has not learned, and no accom-
plishment which becomes a gentleman that he has not
acquired. Then he learns that he is not a gentleman
by birth, and that he is a pauper; wherefore, why not
honest work? Work is noble, to be sure, especially if
you get the kind of work you like, and please yourself
about the time of doing it; nothing could be a more
--
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
171
noble spectacle than that of myself working at the lathe
for nothing, in the old days; would it be quite as noble
at the brewery, doing piece-work?"
These reflections, this putting of the case to himself,
this grand dubiety, occupied the whole afternoon.
When the evening came, and it was time for him to
present himself in the drawing-room, he was no fur-
ther advanced toward a decision.
The room looked bright and restful; wherever An-
gela went, she was accompanied and surrounded by an
atmosphere of refinement. Those who conversed with
her became infected with her culture; therefore, the
place was like any drawing-room at the West End.
save for the furniture, which was simple. Ladies
would have noticed, even in such little things, in the
way in which the girls sat and carried themselves, a
note of difference. To Harry these minutiæ were un-
known, and he saw only a room full of girls quietly
happy and apparently well-bred; some were reading;
some were talking, one or two were "making" some-
thing for themselves, though their busy fingers had
been at work all day. Nelly and Miss Kennedy were
listening to the captain, who was telling a yarn of his
old East Indiaman. The three made a pretty group,
Miss Kennedy seated on a low stool at the captain's
knee, while the old man leaned forward in his arm-
chair, his daughter beside him watching, in her affec-
tionate and pretty way, the face of her patron.
The quiet, peaceful air of the room, the happy and
contented faces which before had been so harassed and
worn, struck the young man's heart. Part of this had
been his doing; could he go away and leave the brave
girl who headed the little enterprise to the tender mer-
cies of a Bunker? The thought of what he was throw-
ing up the club-life, the art-life, the literary life, the
holiday-time, the delightful roving in foreign lands,
which he should enjoy no more-all seemed insignificant
considered beside this haven of rest and peace in the
troubled waters of the East End. He was no philan-
thropist; the cant of platforms was intolerable to him;
yet he was thinking of a step which meant giving up
his own happiness for that of others; with, of course, the
constant society of the woman he loved. Without that
172
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
compensation the sacrifice would be impossible. Miss
Kennedy looked up and nodded to him kindly, motion-
ing him not to interrupt the story, which the captain
presently finished.
Then they had a little music and a little playing, and
there was a little dancing-all just as usual; a quiet,
pleasant evening; and they went away.
"You are silent to-night, Mr. Goslett," said An-
gela, as they took their customary walk in the quiet
little garden called Stepney Green.
"Yes. I am like the parrot; I think the more.”
"What is in your mind?"
"This: I have had an offer-an offer of work-from
the brewery. Miss Messenger herself sent the offer,
which I am to accept or to refuse to-morrow morn-
ing.
""
An offer of work? I congratulate you. Of course
you will accept?" She looked at him sharply, even
suspiciously.
66
I do not know.”
"You have forgotten," she said-in other girls the
words and the tone of her voice would have sounded
like an encouragement-"you have forgotten what
you said only last Sunday evening."
"No: I have not forgotten. What I said last Sunday
evening only increases my embarrassment. I did not
expect, then I did not think it possible that any work
here would be offered to me.'
""
"Is the pay insufficient?”
"No: the pay is to be at the usual market-rate."
"Are the hours too long?"
"I am to please myself.
It seems as if the young
lady had done her best to make me as independent as a
man who works for money can be.”
"Yet you hesitate. Why?"
He was silent-thinking what he should tell her.
The whole truth would have been best; but then, one
so seldom tells the whole truth about anything, far less
about one's self. He could not tell her that he had been
masquerading all the time, after so many protestations
of being a real working-man.
"Is it that you do not like to make friends among
the East End workmen?"
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
173
"No."
He could answer this with truth. "It is not
that. The working-men here are better than I expected
to find them. They are more sensible, more self-re-
liant, and less dangerous. To be sure, they profess to
entertain an unreasoning dislike for rich people, and, I
believe, think that their lives are entirely spent over
oranges and skittles. I wish they had more knowledge
of books, and could be got to think in some elemental
fashion about art. I wish they had a better sense of
beauty, and I wish they could be got to cultivate some
of the graces of life. You shall teach them, Miss Ken-
nedy. Also, I wish that tobacco was not their only
solace. I am very much interested in them. That is
not the reason."
66
If you please to tell me- -" she said.
66
Well, then❞—he would tell that fatal half-truth-
"the reason is this; you know that I have had an edu-
cation above what fortune intended for me when she
made me the son of Sergeant Goslett."
"I know," she replied. "It was my case, as well;
we are companions in this great happiness.
""
"The man who conferred this benefit upon me, the
best and kindest-hearted man in the world, to whom I
am indebted for more than I can tell you, is willing to
do more for me. If I please, I may live with him in
idleness."
"You may live in idleness? That must be, indeed,
a tempting offer!"
66
Idleness," he replied, a little hurt at her contempt
for what certainly was a temptation for him, “does not
always mean doing nothing.
رو
What would you do, then?"
"There is the life of culture and art-——”
"Oh, no!" she replied. "Would you really like to
become one of those poor creatures who think they lead
lives devoted to art? Would you like to grow silly
over blue china, to quarrel about color, to worship form
in poetry, to judge everything by the narrow rules of
the latest pedantic fashion?"
"You know this art world, then?"
"I know something of it, I have heard of it. Never
mind me think of yourself. You would not, you could
not, condemn yourself to such a life.”
174
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"Not to such a life as you picture. But, consider,
I am offered a life of freedom instead of servitude."
66
Servitude! Why, we are all servants one of the
other. Society is like the human body, in which all
the limbs belong to each other. There must be rich
and poor, idlers and workers; we depend one upon the
other; if the rich do not work with and for the poor,
retribution falls upon them. The poor must work for
the rich, or they will starve; poor or rich, I think it is
better to be poor; idler or worker, I know it is better
to be worker."
He thought of Lord Jocelyn; of the pleasant cham-
bers in Piccadilly, of the club, of his own friends, of
society, of little dinners, of stalls at the theatre; of sup-
pers among actors and actresses; of artists and the
smoking-parties; of the men who write, and the men
who talk, and the men who know everybody, and are
full of stories; of his riding, and hunting, and shoot-
ing; of his fencing, and billiards, and cards.
in
All these things passed through his brain swiftly,
a moment. And then he thought of the beautiful wo-
man beside him, whose voice was the sweetest music
to him that he had ever heard.
“You must take the offer," she went on, and her
words fell upon his ear like the words of an oracle to a
Greek in doubt. "Work at the brewery is not hard.
You will have no task-master set over you; you are
free to go and come, to choose your own time; there
will be in so great a place, there must be, work, quite
enough to occupy your time. Give up yearning after
an idle life, and work in patience."
"Is there anything," he said, "to which you could not
persuade me?"
"Oh, not for me!" she replied impatiently. "It is
for yourself. You have your life before you, to throw
away or to use. Tell me," she hesitated a little; "you
have come back to your own kith and kin, after many
years. They were strange to you at first, all these peo-
ple of the East End-your own people. Now that you
know them, should you like to go away from them, al-
together away and forget them? Could you desert
them? You know, if you go, that you will desert
them, for between this end of London and the other
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
175
I
there is a great gulf fixed, across which no one ever
passes. You will leave us altogether if you leave us.
now."
At this point Harry felt the very strongest desire to
make it clear that what concerned him most would be
the leaving her, but he repressed the temptation and
merely remarked that, if he did desert his kith and kin,
they would not regret him. His Uncle Bunker, he
explained, had even offered him five-and-twenty pounds
to go.
(C
It is not that you have done anything, you know,
except to help us in our little experiment," said Angela.
"But it is what you may do, what you shall do, if you
remain.
What can I do?”
"You have knowledge; you have a voice; you have
a quick eye and a ready tongue; you could lead, you
could preside. Oh! what a career you might have be-
fore you!"
66
You think too well of me, Miss Kennedy. I am a
very lazy and worthless kind of man.”
"No."
She shook her head and smiled superior. "I
know you better than you know yourself. I have
watched you for these months. And then we must
not forget, there is our Palace of Delight."
"Are we millionaires?”
"Why, we have already begun it. There is our
drawing-room; it is only a few weeks old, yet see what
a difference there is already. The girls are happy;
their finer tastes are awakened; their natural yearnings
after things delightful are partly satisfied; they laugh
and sing now; they run about and play. There is al-
ready something of our dream realized. Stay with us,
and we shall see the rest.'
""
He made an effort and again restrained himself.
"I stay, then," he said, "for your sake-because you
command me to stay.'
در
Had she done well? She asked herself the question
in the shelter of her bedroom, with great doubt and anx-
iety. This young workman, who might if he chose be
a-well-yes-a gentleman-quite as good a gentleman
as most of the men who pretend to the title-was going
to give up whatever prospects he had in the world, at
176
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
her bidding, and for her sake. For her sake! Yet
what he wished was impossible.
What reward, then, had she to offer him that would
satisfy him? Nothing. Stay, he was only a man.
One pretty face was as good as another; he was struck
with hers for the moment. She would put him in the
way of being attracted by another. Yes: that would
do. This settled in her own mind, she put the matter
aside, and, as she was very sleepy, she only murmured
to herself, as her eyes closed, "Nelly Sorensen."
CHAPTER XVII.
WHAT LORD JOCELYN THOUGHT.
THE subject of Angela's meditations was not where
she thought him, in his own bedroom. When he left
his adviser, he did not go in at once, but walked once
or twice up and down the pavement, thinking. What
he had promised to do was nothing less than to reverse,
altogether, the whole of his promised life; and this is
no light matter, even if you do it for love's sweet sake.
And, Miss Kennedy being no longer with him, he felt
a little chilled from the first enthusiasm. Presently he
looked at his watch; it was still early, only half-past
ten.
"There is the chance," he said. "It is only a chance.
He generally comes back somewhere about this time."
There are no cabs at Stepney, but there are tramways
which go quite as fast, and, besides, give one the op-
portunity of exchanging ideas on current topics with
one's travelling companions. Harry jumped into one,
and sat down between a bibulous old gentleman, who
said he lived in Fore Street, but had for the moment
mislaid all his other ideas, and a lady who talked to
herself as she carried a bundle. She was rehearsing
something dramatic, a monologue, in which she was
"giving it" to somebody unknown. And she was so
much under the influence and emotion of imagination
that the young man trembled lest he might be mis-
taken for the person addressed. However, happily,
the lady so far restrained herself, and Aldgate was
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
177
reached in peace.
to Piccadilly.
There he took a hansom and drove
The streets looked strange to him after his three
months' absence; the lights, the crowds on the pave-
ments, so different from the East End crowd; the rush
of the carriages and cabs taking the people home from
the theatre, filled him with a strange longing. He had
been asleep; he had had a dream; there was no Stepney;
there was no Whitechapel Road-a strange and won-
drous dream. Miss Kennedy and her damsels were
only a part of this vision. A beautiful and delightful
dream. He was back again in Piccadilly, and all was
exactly as it always had been. So far all was exactly
the same, for Lord Jocelyn was in his chamber and
alone.
"You are come back to me, Harry?" he said, holding
the young man's hand; "you have had enough of your
cousins and the worthy Bunker. Sit down, boy. I
heard your foot on the stairs. I have waited for it a
long time. Sit down and let me look at you. To-
morrow you shall tell me all your adventures."
"It is comfortable," said Harry, taking his old chair
and one of his guardian's cigarettes. "Yes, Piccadilly
is better, in some respects, than Whitechapel."
(C
And there is more comfort the higher up you climb,
eh?"
"Certainly, more comfort. There is not, I am sure,
such an easy-chair as this east of St. Paul's."
Then they were silent, as becomes two men who
know what is in each other's heart, and wait for it to
be said.
"You look well," said Harry presently. "Where
did you spend the summer?"
"Mediterranean. Yacht. Partridges."
"Of course. Do you stay in London long?"
And so on. Playing with the talk, and postponing
the inevitable, Harry learned where everybody had
been, and who was engaged, and who was married,
and how one or two had joined the majority since his
departure. He also heard the latest scandal, and the
current talk, and what had been done at the club, and
who had been blackballed, with divers small bits of
information about people and things. And he took up
12
178
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
the talk in the old manner, and fell into the old attitude
of mind quite naturally, and as if there had been no
break at all. Presently the clock pointed to one, and
Lord Jocelyn rose.
“We will talk again to-morrow, Harry, my boy, and
the day after to-morrow, and many days after that. I
am glad to have you back again. He laid his hand
upon the young man's shoulder.
""
"Do not go just yet," said Harry, blushing and feel-
ing guilty, because he was going to inflict pain on one
who loved him. "I cannot talk with you to-morrow.
""
"Why not?"
"Because-sit down again and listen-because I have
made up my mind to join my kith and kin altogether,
and stay among them.'
"What? Stay among them?"
"You remember what you told me of your motive
in taking me. You would bring up a boy of the people
like a gentleman. You would educate him in all that
a gentleman can learn, and then you would send him
back to his friends, whom he would make discontented,
and so open the way for civilization."
"I said so did I? Yes: but there were other things,
Harry. You forget that motives are always mixed.
There was affection for my brave sergeant and a desire
to help his son; there were all sorts of things. Be-
sides, I expected that you would take a rough kind of
polish only-like nickel, you know, or pewter—and you
turned out real silver. A gentleman, I thought, is born,
not made. This proved a mistake. The puddle blood
would show, I expected, which was prejudice, you see,
because there is no such thing as puddle blood. Be-
sides, I thought you would be stupid and slow to pick
up ideas, and that you would pick up only a few; sup-
posing, in my ignorance, that all persons not 'born,' as
the Germans say, must be stupid and slow."
"And I was not stupid?"
"You? The brightest and cleverest lad in the whole
world-you stepped into the place I made for you as if
you had been born for it. Now tell me why you wish
to step out of it."
"Like you, sir I have many motives. Partly, I am
greatly interested in my own people; partly, I am inter-
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
179
ested in the place itself and its ways; partly, I am told,
and I believe, that there is a great deal which I can do
there-do not laugh at me."
"I am not laughing, Harry; I am only astonished.
Yes, you are changed, your eyes are different, your
voice is different. Go on, my boy."
"I do not think there is much to say-I mean, in ex-
planation. But of course I understand-it is a part of
the thing that if I stay among them I must be inde-
pendent. I could no longer look to your bounty, which
I have accepted too long. I must work for my living.”
"Work! And what will you do?"
"I know a lot of things, but somehow they are not
wanted at Stepney, and the only thing by which I can
make money seems to be my lathe-I have become a
cabinet-maker."
Heavens! You have become a cabinet-maker? Do
you actually mean, Harry, that you are going to work
-with your hands-for money?"
"Yes; with my hands. I shall be paid for my work;
I shall live by my work. The puddle blood, you see."
"No, no," said Lord Jocelyn, "there is no proof of
puddle blood in being independent. But think of the
discomfort of it."
S
"I have thought of the discomfort. It is not really
so very bad. What is your idea of the life I shall have
to live?"
(6
Why," said Lord Jocelyn, with a shudder, "you will
rise at six; you will go out in working-clothes, carry-
ing your tools, and with your apron tied round and
tucked up like a missionary bishop on his way to a
confirmation. You will find yourself in a workshop
full of disagreeable people, who pick out unpleasant
adjectives and tack them on to everything, and whose
views of life and habits are—well, not your own.
You
will have to smoke pipes at a street corner on Sundays;
your tobacco will be bad; you will drink bad beer-
Harry! the contemplation of the thing is too painful."
Harry laughed.
"The reality is not quite so bad," he said. "Cabinet-
makers are excellent fellows. And as for myself, I
shall not work in a shop, but alone. I am offered the
post of cabinet-maker in a great place where I shall
180
ALL SORT'S AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
have my own room to myself, and can please my own
convenience as to my hours. I shall earn about ten-
pence an hour-say seven shillings a day, if I keep at it."
If he keeps at it," murmured Lord Jocelyn, “he
will make seven shillings a day."
66
"Dinner in the middle of the day, of course." Harry
went on, with a cheerful smile. "At the East End
everybody stokes at one. We have tea at five and sup-
per when we can get it. A simpler life than yours."
This is a programme of such extreme misery,” said
Lord Jocelyn, "that your explanations are quite in-
sufficient. Is there, I wonder, a woman in the case?"
Harry blushed violently.
"There is a woman, then?" said his guardian tri-
umphantly. "There always is. I might have guessed
it from the beginning. Come, Harry, tell me all about
it. Is it serious? Is she can she be-at Whitechapel
-a lady?"
(C
Yes," said Harry, "it is quite true. There is a
woman, and I am in love with her. She is a dress-
maker.'
""
"Oh!"
(C
And a lady."
Lord Jocelyn said nothing.
"A lady." Harry repeated the words, to show that
he knew what he was saying.
"But it is no use. She
won't listen to me.
ور
"That is more remarkable than your two last state-
ments. Many men have fallen in love with dress-
makers, some dressmakers have acquired partially the
manners of a lady; but that any dressmaker should re-
fuse the honorable attentions of a handsome young fel-
low like you, and a gentleman, is inconceivable.'
"A cabinet-maker, not a gentleman. But do not let
us talk of her, if you please.
Then Lord Jocelyn proceeded, with such eloquence
as was at his command, to draw a picture of what he
was throwing away compared with what he was ac-
cepting. There was a universal feeling, he assured
his ward, of sympathy with him: everybody felt that
it was rough on such a man as himself to find that he
was not of illustrious descent; he would take his old
place in society; all his old friends would welcome him
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
181
back among them, with much more to the same pur-
pose.
It was four o'clock in the morning when their con-
versation ended and Lord Jocelyn went to bed sorrow-
ful, promising to renew his arguments in the morning.
As soon as he was gone, Harry went to his own room
and put together a few little trifles belonging to the past
which he thought he should like. Then he wrote a let-
ter of farewell to his guardian, promising to report him-
self from time to time, with a few words of gratitude
and affection. And then he stole quietly down the
stairs and found himself in the open street.
Like a
school-boy, he had run away.
There was nobody left in the streets. Half-past four
in the morning is almost the quietest time of any; even
the burglar has gone home, and it is too early for any-
thing but the market-garden carts on their way to
Covent Garden. He strode down Piccadilly and across
the silent Leicester Square into the Strand. He passed
through that remarkable thoroughfare, and, by way of
Fleet Street, where even the newspaper offices were de-
serted, the leader-writers and the editor and the sub-
editors all gone home to bed, to St. Paul's. It was
then a little after five, and there was already a stir.
An occasional footfall along the principal streets. By
the time he got to the Whitechapel Road there were a
good many up and about, and before he reached Step-
ney Green the day's work was beginning. The night
had gone and the sun was rising, for it was six o'clock
and a cloudless morning. At ten he presented himself
once more at the accountant's office.
"Well?" asked the chief.
"I am come," said Harry, "to accept Miss Messen-
ger's offer."
"You seem pretty independent. However, that is the
way with you working-men nowadays. I suppose you
don't even pretend to feel any gratitude?"
"I don't pretend," said Harry pretty hotly, "to an-
swer questions outside the work I have to do.
The chief looked at him as if he could, if he wished,
and was not a Christian, annihilate him.
(C
Go, young man," he said presently, pointing to the
door,
(C
go to your work. Rudeness to his betters a
182
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
working-man considers due to himself, I suppose. Go
to your work.”
Harry obeyed without a word, being in such a rage
that he could not speak. When he reached his work-
shop, he found waiting to be mended an office-stool
with a broken leg. I regret to report that this unhappy
stool immediately became a stool with four broken legs
and a kicked-out seat.
Harry was for the moment too strong for the furni-
ture.
Not even the thought of Miss Kennedy's approbation
could bring him comfort. He was an artisan, he
worked by the piece-that was nothing. The galling
thing was to realize that he must now behave to certain
classes with a semblance of respect, because now he had
his "betters."
""
The day before he was a gentleman who had no “bet-
ters. He was enriched by this addition to his posses-
sions, and yet he was not grateful.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE PALACE OF DELIGHT.
THERE lies on the west and southwest of Stepney
Green a triangular district, consisting of an irregular
four-sided figure-what Euclid beautifully calls a trape-
zium-formed by the Whitechapel Road, the Commer-
cial Road, Stepney Green, and High Street, or Jamaica
Street, or Jubilee Street, whichever you please to call
your frontier. This favored spot exhibits in perfection
all the leading features which characterize the great
Joyless City. It is, in fact, the heart of the East End.
Its streets are mean and without individuality or beau-
ty; at no season and under no conditions can they ever
be picturesque; one can tell, without inquiring, that
the lives led in those houses are all after the same mod-
el, and that the inhabitants have no pleasures. Every-
thing that goes to make a city, except the means of
amusement, is to be found here. There are churches
and chapels-do not the blackened ruins of Whitechapel
Church stand here? There are superior "seminaries"
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
183
and "academies," names which linger here to show
where the yearning after the genteel survives; there is
a board school, there is the great London Hospital,
there are almshouses, there are even squares in it-
Sidney Square and Bedford Square, to wit-but there
are no gardens, avenues, theatres, art galleries, libra-
ries, or any kind of amusement whatever.
The leading thoroughfare of this quarter is named
Oxford Street, which runs nearly all the way from the
New Road to Stepney Church. It begins well with
some breadth, a church and a few trees on one side, and
almshouses with a few trees on the other. This prom-
ise is not kept; it immediately narrows and becomes
like the streets which branch out of it, a double row of
little two-storied houses, all alike. Apparently, they
are all furnished alike; in each ground-floor front there
are the red curtains and the white blind of respectabil-
ity, with the little table bearing something, either a
basket of artificial flowers, or a big Bible or a vase, or
a case of stuffed birds from foreign parts, to mark the
gentility of the family. A little farther on, the houses
begin to have small balconies on the first floor, and are
even more genteel. The streets which run off north and
south are like unto it but meaner. Now, the really sad
thing about this district is that the residents are not
the starving class, or the vicious class, or the drinking
class; they are well-to-do and thriving people, yet they
desire no happiness, they do not feel the lack of joy,
they live in meanness and are content therewith. So
that it is emphatically a representative quarter and a type
of the East End generally, which is for the most part
respectable and wholly dull, and perfectly contented
never to know what pleasant strolling and resting-
places, what delightful interests, what varied occupa-
tion, what sweet diversions there are in life.
As for the people, they follow a great variety of
trades. There are "travelling drapers" in abundance;
it is, in fact, the chosen quartier of that romantic fol-
lowing; there are a good many stevedores, which be-
trays the neighborhood of docks; there are some who
follow the mysterious calling of herbalist, and I believe
you could here still buy the materials for those now for-
gotten delicacies, saloop and tansy pudding. You can
184
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
(C
at least purchase medicines for any disease under the
sun if you know the right herbalist to go to. One of
them is a medium as well; and if you call on him,
you may be entertained by the artless prattle of the
sperruts," of whom he knows one or two. They call
themselves all sorts of names-such as Peter, Paul,
Shakespeare, Napoleon, and Byron-but in reality there
are only two of them, and they are bad actors. Then
there are cork-cutters, "wine merchants' engineers"-it
seems rather a grand thing for a wine merchant, above
all other men, to want an engineer; novelists do not
want engineers-sealing-wax manufacturers, workers
in shellac and zinc, sign-painters, heraldic painters,
coopers, makers of combs, iron hoops, and sun-blinds,
pewterers, feather-makers-they only pretend to make
feathers; what they really do is to buy them, or pluck
the birds, and then arrange the feathers and trim them;
but they do not really make them-ship-modelers, a
small but haughty race; mat-dealers, who never pass a
prison without using bad language, for reasons which
many who have enjoyed the comforts of a prison will
doubtless understand. There are also a large quantity
of people who call themselves teachers of music. This
may be taken as mere pride and ostentatious pretence,
because no one wants to learn music in this country, no
one ever plays any music, no one has a desire to hear
any. If any one called and asked for terms of tuition,
he would be courteously invited to go away, or the pro-
fessor would be engaged, or he would be out of town.
In the same way, a late learned professor of Arabic in
the University of Cambridge was reported always to
have important business in the country if an Arab came
to visit the colleges. But what a lift above the steve-
dores, pewterers, and feather pretenders to be a pro-
fessor of music!
Angela would plant her Palace in this region, the
most fitting place, because the most dreary; because
here there exists nothing, absolutely nothing, for the
imagination to feed upon. It is, in fact, though this is
not generally known, the purgatory prepared for those
who have given themselves up too much to the enjoy
ment of roses and rapture while living at the West End.
How beautiful are all the designs of Nature! Could
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
185
there be, anywhere in the world, a more fitting place
for such a purgatory than such a city? Besides, once
one understands the thing, one is further enabled to ex-
plain why these grim and sombre streets remain with-
out improvement. To beautify them would seem, in
the eyes of pious and religious people, almost flying in
the face of Providence. And yet, not really so; for it
may be argued that there are other places also fitted for
the punishment of these purgatorial souls-for instance,
Hoxton, Bethnal Green, Battersea, and the Isle of
Dogs.
Angela resolved, therefore, that on this spot the Pal-
ace of Joy should stand. There should be, for all who
chose to accept it, a general and standing invitation to
accept happiness and create new forms of delight. She
would awaken in dull and lethargic brains a new sense,
the new sense of pleasure; she would give them a crav-
ing for things of which as yet they knew nothing. She
would place within their reach, at no cost whatever,
absolutely free for all, the same enjoyments as are pur-
chased by the rich. A beautiful dream! They should
cultivate a noble discontent; they should gradually
learn to be critical; they should import into their own
homes the spirit of discontent; they should cease to look
upon life as a daily uprising and a down-sitting, a daily
mechanical toil, a daily rest. To cultivate the sense of
pleasure is to civilize. With the majority of mankind
the sense is undeveloped, and is chiefly confined to eat-
ing and drinking. To teach the people how the capac-
ity of delight may be widened, how it may be taught
to throw out branches in all manner of unsuspected di-
rections, was Angela's ambition. A very beautiful
dream!
She owned so many houses in this district that it was
quite easy to find a place suitable for her purpose. She
discovered upon the map of her property a whole four-
square block of small houses, all her own, bounded
north, south, east, and west by streets of other small
houses, similar and similarly situated. This site was
about five minutes west of Stepney Green, and in the
district already described. The houses were occupied
by weekly tenants, who would find no difficulty in getting
quarters as eligible elsewhere. Some of them were in
186
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MÊN.
bad repair; and what with maintenance of roofs and
chimneys, bad debts, midnight flittings, and other
causes, there was little or no income derived from these
houses. Mr. Messenger, indeed, who was a hard man,
but not unjust, only kept them to save them from the
small owner like Mr. Bunker, whose necessities and
greed made him a rack-rent landlord.
Having fixed upon her site, Angela next proceeded
to have interviews-but not on the spot, where she
might be recognized-with lawyers and architects, and
to unfold partially her design. The area on which the
houses stood formed a pretty large plot of ground, ample
for her purpose, provided that the most was made of
the space and nothing wasted. But a great deal was
required; therefore she would have no lordly staircases
covering half the ground, nor great ante-rooms, nor
handsome lobbies. Everything, she carefully explained,
was to be constructed for use and not for show. She
wanted, to begin with, three large halls: one of them
was to be a dancing-room, but it might also be a chil-
dren's play-room for wet weather; one was to be used
for a permanent exhibition of native talent, in paint-
ing, drawing, wood and ivory-carving, sculpture, leather-
work, and the like, everything being for sale at low
prices; the last was to be a library, reading and writ-
ing room. There was also to be a theatre, which would
serve as a concert and music room, and was to have an
organ in it. In addition to these there were to be a
great number of class-rooms for the various arts, ac-
complishments, and graces that were to be taught by
competent professors and lecturers. There were to be
other rooms where tired people might find rest, quiet,
and talk—the women with tea and work, the men with
tobacco. And there were to be billiard-rooms, a tennis-
court, a racket-court, a fives-court, and a card-room.
In fact, there was to be space found for almost every
kind of recreation.
She did not explain to her architect how she proposed
to use this magnificent place of entertainment; it was
enough that he should design it and carry out her ideas;
and she stipulated that no curious inquirers on the spot
should be told for what purpose the building was des
tined, nor who was the builder.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
187
One cannot get designs for a palace in a week: it was
already late in the autumn, after Harry had taken up
his appointment, and was busy among the legs of stools,
that the houses began to be pulled down and the rem-
nants carted away. Angela pressed on the work; but
it seemed a long and tedious delay before the founda-
tions were laid and the walls began slowly to rise.
(C
<
There should have been a great function when the
foundation-stone was laid, with a procession of the
clergy in white surplices and college caps, perhaps a
bishop, Miss Messenger herself, with her friends, a lord
or two, the officers of the nearest Masonic Lodge, a few
Foresters, Odd Fellows, Buffaloes, Druids, and Shep-
herds, a flag, the charity children, a dozen policemen,
and Venetian masts, with a prayer, a hymn, a speech
and a breakfast-nothing short of this should have sat-
isfied the founder. Yet she let the opportunity slip,
and nothing was done at all; the great building, des-
tined to change the character of the gloomy city into a
City of Sunshine, was begun with no pomp or outward
demonstration. Gangs of workmen cleared away the
ignoble bricks; the little tenements vanished; a broad
space bristling with little garden-walls gaped where
they had stood; then the walls vanished; and nothing
at all was left but holes where cellars had been; then
they raised a hoarding round the whole, and began to
dig out the foundation. After the hoarding was put
up, nothing more for a long time was visible. An-
gela used to prowl round it in the morning, when her
girls were all at work, but fearful lest the architect
might come and recognize her.
As she saw her palace begin to grow into existence,
she became anxious about its success. The first beati-
fic vision, the rapture of imagination, was over, and
would come no more; she had now to face the hard
fact of an unsympathetic people who perhaps would not
desire any pleasure or if any, then the pleasure of a
spree," with plenty of beer. How could the thing be
worked if the people themselves would not work it?
How many could she reckon upon as her friends? Per-
haps two or three at most. Oh, the Herculean task,
for one woman, with two or three disciples, to revolu
tionize the City of East London!
188
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
*
With this upon her mind, her conversations with
the intelligent young cabinet-maker became more than
usually grave and earnest. He was himself more se-
rious than of old, because he now occupied so responsi-
ble a position in the brewery. Their relations remained
unchanged. They walked together, they talked and
they devised things in the drawing-room, and especially
for Saturday evenings.
“I think,” he said, one evening when they were alone
except for Nelly in the drawing-room, "I think that
we should never think or talk of working-men in the
lump, any more than we think of rich men in a lump.
All sorts and conditions of men are pretty much alike,
and what moves one moves all. We are all tempted in
the same way; we can all be led in the same way.'
"Yes, but I do not see how that fact helps."
They were talking, as Angela loved to do, of the
scheme of the palace.
""
"If the palace were built, we should offer the people
of Stepney, without prejudice to Whitechapel, Mile End
Bow, or even Cable Street, a great many things which
at present they cannot get and do not desire. Yet they
have always proved extremely attractive. We offer
the society of the young for the young, with dancing,
singing, music, acting, entertainments-everything ex-
cept, which is an enormous exception, feasting; we offer
them all for nothing; we tell them, in fact, to do every-
thing for themselves; to be the actors, singers, dancers,
and musicians."
""
"And they cannot do anything.
"A few can; the rest will come in. You forget,
Miss Kennedy, the honor and glory of acting, singing,
and performing in public. Can there be a greater re-
ward than the applause of one's friends?"
"It could never be so nice," said Nelly, "to dance in
a great hall among a lot of people as to dance up here,
all by ourselves."
The palace was not, in these days, very greatly in
the young man's mind. He was occupied with other
things: his own work and position; the wisdom of his
choice; the prospects of the future. For surely, if he
had exchanged the old life and got nothing in return
but work at a lathe all day at tenpence an hour, the
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
189
change was a bad one. Nothing more had been said to
him by Miss Kennedy about the great things he was to
do, with her, for her, among his people. Was he, then,
supposed to find out for himself these great things? And
he made no more way with his wooing. That was
stopped, apparently, altogether.
Always kind to him; always well pleased to see him;
always receiving him with the same sweet and gracious
smile; always frank and open with him; but nothing
more.
Of late he had observed that her mind was greatly
occupied; she was brooding over something; he feared
that it might be something to do with the Associated
Dressmakers' financial position. She did not commu-
nicate her anxieties to him, but always, when they were
alone, wanted to go back to their vision of the palace.
Harry possessed a ready sympathy; he fell easily and
at once into the direction suggested by another's words.
Therefore, when Angela talked about the palace, he too
took up the thread of invention, and made believe with
her as if it were a thing possible, a thing of brick and
mortar.
"I see," he went on this evening, warming to the
work, "I see the opening day, long announced, of the
palace. The halls are furnished and lit up; the danc-
ing-room is ready; the theatre is completed, and the
electric lights are lit; the concert-rooms are ready with
their music-stands and their seats. The doors are open.
Then a wonderful thing happens.
"What is that?" asked Angela.
Nobody comes.
"Oh !"
(C
رد
در
"The vast chambers echo with the footsteps of your-
self, Miss Kennedy, and of Nelly, who makes no more
noise than a demure kitten. Captain Sorensen and I
make as much trampling as we can, to produce the
effect of a crowd. But it hardly seems to succeed.
Then come the girls, and we try to get up a dance; but,
as Nelly says, it is not quite the same as your drawing-
room. Presently two men, with pipes in their mouths,
come in and look about them. I explain that the stage
is ready for them, if they like to act; or the concert-
room, if they will sing; or the dancing-room, should
190
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
they wish to shake a leg. They stare and they go away.
Then we shut up the doors and go away and cry.'
""
"O Mr. Goslett, have you no other comfort for me?”
"Plenty of comfort. While we are all crying, some-
body has a happy thought. I think it is Nelly.
She blushed a pretty rosy red. "I am sure I could
rever suggest anything."
66
""
Nelly suggests that we shall offer prizes, a quantity
of prizes, for competition in everything, the audience
or the spectators to be judges; and then the palace will
be filled and the universal reign of joy will begin."
66
Can we afford prizes?" asked Angela the practical.
"Miss Kennedy," said Harry severely, "permit me
to remind you that, in carrying out this project, money,
for the first time in the world's history, is to be of no
value."
If Newnham does not teach women to originate-
which a thousand Newnhams will never do-it teaches
them to catch at an idea and develop it. The young
workman suggested her palace; but his first rough idea
was a poor thing compared with Angela's finished
structure—a wigwam beside a castle, a tabernacle be-
side a cathedral. Angela was devising an experiment,
the like of which has never yet been tried upon restless
and dissatisfied mankind. She was going, in short, to
say to them: "Life is full, crammed full, overflowing
with all kinds of delights. It is a mistake to suppose
that only rich people can enjoy these things. They
may buy them, but everybody may create them; they
cost nothing. You shall learn music, and forthwith
all the world will be transformed for you; you shall
learn to paint, to carve, to model, to design, and the
day shall be too short to contain the happiness you will
get out of it. You shall learn to dance, and know the
rapture of the waltz. You shall learn the great art of
acting, and give each other the pleasure which rich
men buy. You shall even learn the great art of writ-
ing, and learn the magic of a charmed phrase. All
these things which make the life of rich people happy
shall be yours; and they shall cost you nothing. What
the heart of man can desire shall be yours, and for
nothing. I will give you a house to shelter you, and
rooms in which to play; you have only to find the rest.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
191
Enter in, my friends; forget the squalid past; here are
great halls and lovely corridors-they are yours.
Fill
them with sweet echoes of dropping music; let the
walls be covered with your works of art; let the girls
laugh and the boys be happy within these walls. I
give you the shell, the empty carcass; fill it with the
spirit of content and happiness.'
Would they, to begin with, "behave according"? It
was easy to bring together half a dozen dressmakers:
girls always like behaving nicely; would the young
men be equally amenable? And would the policeman
be inevitable, as in the corridors of a theatre? The po-
lice, however, would have to be voluntary, like every
other part of the institution, and the guardians of the
peace must, like the performers in the entertainments,
give their services for nothing. For which end, Harry
suggested, it would be highly proper to have a pro-
fessor of the noble art of self-defence, with others of
fencing, single-stick, quarter-staff, and other kindred
objects.
ور
CHAPTER XIX.
DICK THE RADICAL.
IN the early days of winter, the walls of the palace
being now already well above the hoarding, Angela
made another important convert. This was no other
than Dick Coppin, the cousin of whom mention has
been already made.
"I will bring him to your drawing-room," said Har-
ry.
"That is, if he will come. He does not know
much about drawing-rooms, but he is a great man at
the Stepney Advanced Club. He is a reddest of red-
hot Rads, and the most advanced of Republicans. I do
not think he would himself go a-murdering of kings
and priests, but I fancy he regards these things as ac-
cidents naturally rising out of a pardonable enthusiasm.
His manners are better than you will generally find,
because he belongs to my own gentle craft. You shall
tame him, Miss Kennedy.
""
Angela said she would try.
"He shall learn to waltz," Harry went on. "This
192
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
will convert him from a fierce Republican to a merely
enthusiastic Radical. Then he shall learn to sing in
parts; this will drop him down into advanced Liberal-
ism. And if you can persuade him to attend your
evenings, talk with the girls, or engage in some art,
say painting, he will become, quite naturally, a mere
Conservative."
With some difficulty Harry persuaded his cousin to
come with him. Dick Coppin was not, he said of him-
self, a dangler after girls' apron-strings, having some-
thing else to think of; nor was he attracted by the
promise, held out by his cousin, of music and singing.
But he came under protest, because music seemed to
him an idle thing while the House of Lords remained
undestroyed, and because this cousin of his could some-
how make him do pretty nearly what he pleased.
He was a man of Harry's own age; a short man,
with somewhat rough and rugged features-strong,
and not without the beauty of strength. His forehead
was broad; he had thick eyebrows, the thick lips of
one who speaks much in public, and a straight chin-
the chin of obstinacy. His eyes were bright and full;
his hair was black; his face was oval; his expression
was masterful; it was altogether the face of a man who
interested one. Angela thought of his brother, the
captain in the Salvation Army; this man, she felt, had
all the courage of the other, with more common-sense;
yet one who, too, might become a fanatic-who might
be dangerous if he took the wrong side. She shook
hands with him and welcomed him. Then she said
that she wanted dancing men for her evenings, and
hoped that he could dance. It was the first time in his
life that Mr. Coppin had been asked that question, and
also the first time that he had thought it possible that
any man in his senses, except a sailor, should be ex-
pected to dance. Of course he could not, and said so
bluntly, sticking his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets,
which is a gesture peculiar to the trade, if you care to
notice so small a fact.
"Your cousin," said Angela, "will teach you. Mr.
Goslett, please give Mr. Coppin a lesson in a quadrille.
Nelly, you will be his partner. Now, if you will make
up the set, I will play.'
""
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
193
An elderly bishop of Calvinistic principles could not
have been more astonished than was this young work
man. He had not the presence of mind to refuse. Be-
fore he realized his position, he was standing beside
his partner: in front of him stood his cousin, also with
a partner; four girls made up the set. Then the music
began, and he was dragged, pushed, hustled, and pulled
this way and that. He would have resented this treat-
ment but that the girls took such pains to set him right,
and evidently regarded the lesson as one of the greatest
importance. Nor did they cease until he had discerned
what the mathematician called the Law of the Quad-
rille, and could tread the measure with some approach
to accuracy.
(6
We shall not be satisfied, Mr. Coppin," said An-
gela, when the quadrille was finished, until we have
taught everybody to dance."
(C
What is the good of dancing?" he asked good-
humoredly, but a good deal humiliated by the struggle.
Dancing is graceful; dancing is a good exercise;
dancing should be natural to young people; dancing is
delightful. See-I will play a waltz; now watch the
girls."
She played. Instantly the girls caught each other by
the waist and whirled round the room with brightened
eyes and parted lips. Harry took Nelly in the close
embrace which accompanies the German dance, and
swiftly, easily, gracefully, danced round and round the
CC
room.
"Is it not happiness that you are witnessing, Mr.
Coppin?" asked Angela. "Tell me, did you ever see
dressmakers happy before? You, too, shall learn to
waltz. I will teach you, but not to-night.'
""
Then they left off dancing and sat down, talking and
laughing. Harry took his violin and discoursed sweet
music, to which they listened or not as they listed.
Only the girl who was lame looked on with rapt and
eager face.
"See her!" said Angela, pointing her out. "She has
found what her soul was ignorantly desiring. She
has found music. Tell me, Mr. Coppin, if it were
not for the music and this room, what would that poor
child be?"
13
194
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
He made no reply. Never before had he witnessed,
never had he suspected, such an evening. There were
the girls whom he despised, who laughed and jested
with the lads in the street, who talked loud and were
foolish. Why, they were changed! What did it mean?
And who was this young woman, who looked and
spoke as no other woman he had ever met, yet was only
a dressmaker?
"I have heard of you, Mr. Coppin," this young per-
son said, in her queen-like manner, "and I am glad that
you have come. We shall expect you, now, every Sat-
urday evening. I hear that you are a political stu-
dent."
"I am a Republican," he replied. "That's about
what I am." Again he stuck his thumbs into his waist-
coat pockets.
(6
Yes. You do not perhaps quite understand what
it is that we are doing here, do you? In a small way
—it is quite a little thing-it may interest even a polit-
ical student like yourself. The interests of milliners
and dressmakers are very small compared with the
House of Lords. Still-your sisters and cousins--"
"It seems pleasant," he replied, "if you don't all get
set up with high notions. As for me, I am for root-
and-branch Reform."
"Yes: but all improvement in government means
improvement of the people, does it not? Else, I see no
reason for trying to improve a government."
He made no reply. He was so much accustomed to
the vague denunciations and cheap rhetoric of his
class that a small practical point was strange to him.
(6
Now," said Angela, "I asked your cousin to bring
you here, because I learn that you are a man of great
mental activity, and likely, if you are properly directed,
to be of great use to us.
""
He stared again. Who was this dressmaker who
spoke about directing him? The same uncomfortablo
feeling came over him-a cold doubt about himself,
which he often felt when in the society of his cousin.
No man likes to feel that he is not perfectly and en-
tirely right, and that he must be right.
"We are a society," she went on," of girls who want
to work for ourselves; we all of us belong to your class
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
195
we therefore look to you for sympathy and assistance.
Yet u hold aloof from us. We have had some sup-
from the people who ought
That is, I suppose, because
Very well, then. While
girls, I will tell you about
port nere already, but none
most to sympathize with us.
you know nothing about us.
your cousin is amusing those
our association."
Stag
"Now you understand, Mr. Coppin. You men have
long since organized yourselves it is our turn now;
and we look to you for help. We are not going to work
any longer for a master: we are not going to work long
hours any longer; and we are going to get time every
day for fresh air, exercise, and amusement.
You are
continually occupied, I believe, at your club, denounc-
ing the pleasures of the rich. But we are actually go-
ing to enjoy all those pleasures ourselves, and they will
cost us nothing. Look round this room-we have a
piano lent to us: there is your cousin with his fiddle,
and Captain Sorensen with his; we are learning part-
songs, which cost us three-halfpence each; we dance;
we play; we read-a subscription to Smith's is only
three guineas a year; we have games which are cheap:
the whole expense of our evenings is the fire in winter
and the gas. On Saturday evenings we have some cake
and lemonade, which one of the girls makes for us.
What can rich people have more than society, lights,
music, singing, and dancing?"
He was silent, wondering at this thing.
"Don't you see, Mr. Coppin, that if we are success-
ful we shall be the cause of many more such associa-
tions? Don't you see, that if we could get our principle.
established, we should accomplish a greater revolution.
than the overthrow of the Lords and the Church, and
one far more beneficial?"
"It's been tried be-
"You can't succeed," he said.
fore.'
"Yes-by men: I know it. And it has always broken
down because the leaders were false to their principles.
and betrayed the cause.
""
"Where are the girls to get the money to start with?"
"We are fortunate," Angela replied. "We have this
196
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
house and furniture given to us by a lady interested in
us. That, I own, is a great thing. But other rich peo-
ple will be found to do as much. Why, how much bet-
ter it is than leaving money to hospitals!"
"Rich people!" he echoed with contempt.
"Yes: rich people, of whom you know so little, Mr.
Coppin, that I think you ought to be very careful how
you speak of them. But think of us-look at the girls.
Do they not look happier than they used to look?”
He replied untruthfully, because he was not going to
give in to a woman, all of a sudden, that he did not re-
member how they used to look, but that undoubtedly
they now looked very well. He did not say-which he
felt—that they were behaving more quietly and mod-.
estly than he had ever known them to behave.
(C
"You," Angela went on, with a little emphasis on
the pronoun, which made her speech a delicate flattery-
'you, Mr. Coppin, cannot fail to observe how the
evening's relaxation helps to raise the whole tone of the
girls. The music which they hear sinks into their
hearts and lifts them above the little cares of their lives;
the dancing makes them merry; the social life, the talk
among ourselves, the books they read, all help to main-
tain a pure and elevated tone of thought. I declare,
Mr. Coppin, I no longer know these girls. And then
they bring their friends, and so their influence spreads.
They will not, I hope, remain in the workrooms all
their lives. A woman should be married; do not you
think so, Mr. Coppin?"
He was too much astonished at the whole conversa-
tion to make any coherent reply.
"I think you have perhaps turned your attention too
much to politics, have you not? Yet practical ques-
tions ought to interest you."
"They say, at the club," he answered, "that this
place is a sham and a humbug."
"Will you bring your friends here to show them that
it is not?"
"Harry stood up for you the other night. He's
plucky, and they like him for all he looks a swell."
"Does he speak at your club?"
"Sometimes--not to say speak. He gets up after the
speech, and says so and so is wrong. Yet they like
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
194
him-because he isn't afraid to say what he thinks.
They call him Gentleman Jack.'
"I thought he was a brave man," said Angela, look-
ing at Harry, who was rehearsing some story to the
delight of Nelly and the girls.
"Yes-the other night they were talking about you,
and one said one thing and one said another, and a
chap said he thought he'd seen you in a West End
music-hall, and he didn't believe you were any better
than you should be."
"Oh!" She shrank as if she had been struck some
blow.
"He didn't say it twice. After he'd knocked him
down, Harry invited that chap to stand up and have it
out. But he wouldn't.”
It was a great misfortune for Harry that he lost the
soft and glowing look of gratitude and admiration
which was quite wasted upon him. For he was at the
very point, the critical point, of the story.
Angela had made another convert. When Dick Cop-
pin went home that night, he was humbled but pensive.
Here was a thing of which he had never thought; and
here was a woman the like of whom he had never im-
agined. The House of Lords, the Church, the Land
Laws, presented no attraction that night for his
thoughts. For the first time in his life he felt the in-
fluence of a woman.
CHAPTER XX.
DOWN ON THEIR LUCK.
ENGAGED in these pursuits, neither Angela nor Harry
paid much heed to the circle at the boarding-house,
where they were still nominally boarders. For Angela
was all day long at her association, and her general
assistant, or prime-minister, after a hasty breakfast,
hastened to his daily labor. He found that he was left
entirely to his own devices: work came in which he did
or left undone, Miss Messenger's instructions were faith-
fully carried out, and his independence was respected.
During work-time he planned amusements and sur-
prises for Miss Kennedy and her girls, or he meditated
198
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
upon the Monotony of Man, a subject which I may pos-
sibly explain later on; or when he knocked off, he would
go and see the drayman roll about the heavy casks as
if they were footballs; or he would watch the machin-
ery and look at the great brown mass of boiling hops,
or he would drop suddenly upon his cousin Josephus,
and observe him faithfully entering names, ticking off
and comparing, just as he had done for forty years,
still a junior clerk. But he gave no thought to the
boarders.
C
One evening, however, in late September, he hap-
pened to look in toward nine o'clock, the hour when the
frugal supper was generally spread. The usual occu-
pants of the room were there, but there was no supper
on the table, and the landlady was absent.
-
Harry stood in the doorway, with his hands in his
pockets, carelessly looking at the group. Suddenly he
became aware, with a curious sinking of heart, that
something was gone wrong with all of them. They
were all silent, all sitting bolt upright, no one taking
the least notice of his neighbor, and all apparently in
some physical pain.
The illustrious pair were in their usual places, but
his lordship, instead of looking sleepy and sleepily con-
tent, as was his custom at the evening hour, sat bolt
upright and thrummed the arm of his chair with his
fingers, restless and ill at ease; opposite to him sat his
consort, her hands tightly clasped, her bright beady
eyes gleaming with impatience, which might at any
moment break out into wrath. Yet the case was com-
pletely drawn up, as Harry knew, because he had fin-
ished it himself, and it only remained to make a clean
copy before it was sent in" to the Lord Chancellor.
66
As for the professor, he was seated at the window,
his legs curled under the chair, looking moodily across
Stepney Green-into space, and neglecting his experi-
ments. His generally cheerful face wore an anxious ex-
pression as if he was thinking of something unpleasant,
which would force itself upon his attention.
-
Josephus was in his corner, without his pipe, and
more than usually melancholy. His sadness always,
however, increased in the evening, so that he hardly
counted.
༢
F
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
199
Daniel, frowning like a Rhine baron of the good old
time, had his books before him, but they were closed.
It was a bad sign that even the Version in the Hebrew
had no attraction for him.
Mr. Maliphant alone was smiling. His smiles, in
such an assemblage of melancholy faces, produced an
incongruous effect. The atmosphere was charged with
gloom-it was funereal: in the midst of it the gay and
cheerful countenance, albeit wrinkled, of the old man,
beamed like the sun impertinently shining amid fog
and rain, sleet and snow. The thing was absurd.
Harry felt the force of Miss Kennedy's remark that the
occupants of the room reminded her of a fortuitous con-
course of flies, or ants, or rooks, or people in an omni-
bus, each of whom was profoundly occupied with its
own affairs and careless of its neighbors. Out of six
in the room, five were unhappy: they did not ask for,
or expect, the sympathies of their neighbors; they did
not reveal their anxieties; they sat and suffered in si-
lence; the sixth alone was quite cheerful: it was noth-
ing to him what experiences the rest were having,
whether they were enjoying the upper airs, or endur-
ing hardness. He sat in his own place near the pro-
fessor: he laughed aloud; he even talked and told
stories, to which no one listened. When Harry ap-
peared, he was just ending a story which he had never
begun :
66
So it was given to the other fellow. And he came
from Baxter Street, close to the City Hall, which is
generally allowed to be the wickedest street in New
York City."
He paused a little, laughed cheerfully, rubbed his dry
old hands together, smoked his pipe in silence, and then
concluded his story, having filled up the middle in his
own mind, without speech.
(C
And so he took to the coasting trade off the Andes.”
Harry caught the eye of the professor, and beckoned
him to come outside.
(C
Now," he said, taking his arm, "what the devil is
the matter with all of you?"
The professor smiled feebly under the gas-lamp in
the street, and instantly relapsed into his anxious ex-
pression.
200
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"I suppose," he said, “that is, I guess, because they
haven't told me, that it's the same with them as with
me.”
"And that is?"
The professor slapped his empty pockets:
"Want of cash," he said. "I'm used to it in the au-
tumn, just before the engagements begin. Bless you!
It's nothing to me; though, when you've had no dinner
for a week, you do begin to feel as if you could murder
and roast a cat, if no one was looking. I've even be-
gun to wish that the Eighth Commandment was sus-
pended during the autumn.'
66
دو
Do you mean, man, that you are all hungry?”
(C
'All except old Maliphant, and he doesn't count.
Josephus had some dinner, but he says he can't afford
supper and dinner too at the rate his heels wear out.
Yes, I don't suppose there's been a dinner apiece among
us for the last week."
CC
Good heavens!" Harry hurried off to find the
landlady.
She was in the kitchen sitting before the fire, though
it was a warm night. She looked up when her lodger
entered, and Harry observed that she, too, wore an air
of dejection.
"Well, Mrs. Bormalack.”
She groaned and wiped away a tear.
"My heart bleeds for them, Mr. Goslett," she said.
"I can't bear to set eyes on them; I can't face them.
Because to do what I should like to do for them, would
be nothing short of ruin. And how to send them away
I cannot tell."
He nodded his head encouragingly.
"You are a young man, Mr. Goslett, and you don't
consider and you are thinking day and night of that
sweet young thing, Miss Kennedy. And she of you.
Oh! you needn't blush; a handsome fellow like you is
a prize for any woman, however good-looking. Be-
sides, I've got eyes."
(C
Still, that doesn't help us much to the point, Mrs.
Bormalack, which is, what can we do for them?"
"Oh, dear me! the poor things don't board and lodge
any more, Mr. Goslett. They've had no board to-day.
If I did what I should like to do-but I can't. There's
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
201
the rent and rates and all. And how I can keep them
in the house, unless they pay their rent, I can't tell.
I've never been so miserable since Captain Saffrey went
away, owing for three months.
""
Not enough to eat?”
"Lady Davenant came to me this morning, and paid
the rent for this week, but not the board; said that her
nephew Nathaniel hadn't sent the six dollars, and they
could only have breakfast, and must find some cheap
place for dinner somewhere else. In the middle of the
day they went out. Her ladyship put quite a chirpy
face upon it; said they were going into the city to get
dinner, but his lordship groaned. Dinner! They came
home at two, and his groans have been heart-rending
all the afternoon. I never heard such groaning."
"Poor old man!"
"And there's the professor, too. It's low water with
him. No one wants conjuring till winter comes. But
he's quite used to go without his dinner. You needn't
mind him!"
"Eels," said Harry, "are used to being skinned.
Yet they wriggle a bit."
He produced a few coins and proffered a certain re-
quest to the landlady. Then he returned to his fellow-
lodgers.
Presently there was heard in the direction of the
kitchen a cheerful hissing, followed by a perfectly di-
vine fragrance. Daniel closed his eyes, and leaned
back in his chair. The professor smiled. His lordship
rolled in his chair and groaned. Presently Mrs. Bor-
malack appeared, and the cloth was laid. His lord-
ship showed signs of an increasing agitation. The
fragrance increased. He leaned forward clutching the
arm of his chair, looking to his wife as if for help and
guidance at this most difficult crisis. He was fright-
fully hungry; all his dinner had been a biscuit and a
half, his wife having taken the other half. What is a
biscuit and a half to one accustomed to the flesh-pots of
Canaan City?
"Clara Martha," he groaned, trying to whisper, but
failing in his agitation, "I must have some of that
beefsteak or I shall
Here he relapsed into silence again.
>>
202
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
It was not from a desire to watch the sufferings of
the unlucky peer, or in order to laugh at them, that
Harry hesitated to invite him. Now, however, he hesi-
tated no longer.
"I am giving a little supper to-night, Lady Dave-
nant, to-to-celebrate my birthday. May I hope that
you and his lordship will join us?"
Her ladyship most affably accepted.
Well, they were fed; they made up for the meagre-
ness of the midday meal by such a supper as should be
chronicled, so large, so generous was it. Such a supper,
said the professor, as should carry a man along for a
week, were it not for the foolish habit of getting hun-
gry twice at least in the four-and-twenty hours. After
supper they all became cheerful, and presently went to
bed as happy as if there were no to-morrow, and the
next day's dinner was assured.
When they were gone, Harry began to smoke his
evening pipe. Then he became aware of the presence
of the two who were left-his cousin Josephus and old
Mr. Maliphant.
The former was sitting in gloomy silence, and the
latter was making as if he would say something, but
thought better of it, and smiled instead.
"Josephus," said Harry, "what the devil makes you
so gloomy? You can't be hungry still?"
66
No,” he replied. "It isn't that; a junior clerk fifty-
five years old has no right to get hungry."
"What is it, then?"
They talk of changes in the office, that is all. Some
of the juniors will be promoted; not me, of course, and
some will have to go. After forty years in the brew-
ery, I shall have to go. That's all."
"Seems rough, doesn't it? Can't you borrow a hand-
ful of malt, and set up a little brewery for yourself?"
"It is only starvation. After all, it doesn't matter—
nobody cares what happens to a junior clerk. There
are plenty more. And the workhouse is said to be well
managed. Perhaps they will let me keep their ac-
counts."
"When do you think-the-the reduction will be
made?"
"Next month, they say."
66
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
203
Why,
'Come, cheer up, old man," said his cousin.
if they do turn you out-which would be a burning
shame-you can find something better."
"No," replied Josephus sadly, "I know my place. I
am a junior clerk. They can be got to do my work at
seven bob a week. Ah! in thousands."
(6
CC
(6
66
Well, but can't you do anything else?"
Nothing else."
"In all these years, man, have you learned nothing
at all?"
"Nothing at all."
Is there, thought Harry, gazing upon his luckless
cousin, a condition more miserable than that of the
cheap clerk? In early life he learns to spell, to read,
to write, and perhaps keep books, but this only if he is
ambitious. Here his education ends; he has no desire
to learn anything more; he falls into whatever place he
can get, and then he begins a life in which there is no
hope of preferment and no endeavor after better things.
There are, in every civilized country, thousands and
thousands of these helpless and hopeless creatures: they
mostly suffer in silence, being at the best ill-fed and ill-
paid, but they sometimes utter a feeble moan, when
one of them can be found with vitality enough about
their pay and prospects. No one has yet told them the
honest truth-that they are already paid as much as they
deserve; that their miserable accomplishments cannot
for a moment be compared with the skill of an artisan;
that they are self-condemned because they make no
effort. They have not even the energy to make a
Union; they have not the sense of self-protection; they
are content if they are not hungry, if they have tobacco.
to smoke and beer to drink.
"How long is it since you-did-whatever it was
you did, that kept you down?" asked the younger man,
at length.
"I did nothing. It was an accident. Unless,"
added Josephus with a smile-" unless it was the devil.
But devils don't care to meddle with junior clerks.”
"What was the accident, then?"
"It was one day in June; I remember the day quite
well. I was alone in my office, the same office as I am
in still. The others, younger than myself, and I was
204
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
•
then twenty-one, were gone off on business. The safe
stood close to my desk. There was a bundle of papers
in it sealed up, and marked 'Mr. Messenger, Private,'
which had been there a goodish while, so that I sup-
posed they were not important: some of the books were
there as well, and Mr. Messenger himself had sent
down, only an hour before before. IT hap-
pened, a packet of notes to be paid into the bank. The
money had been brought in by our country collectors
-fourteen thousand pounds, in country bank-notes.
Now remember, I was sitting at the desk and the safe
was locked, and the keys were in the desk, and no one
was in the office except me. And I will swear that the
notes were in the safe. I told Mr. Messenger that I
would take my oath to it, and I would still." Josephus
grew almost animated as he approached the important
point in his history.
"Well?"
Things being so-remember, no one but me in the
office, and the keys--"
"I remember.
"I was sent for.”
Get along.
(6
"By Mr. Messenger?"
"Mr. Messenger didn't send for junior clerks. He
used to send for the heads of departments, who sent
for the chief clerks, who ordered the juniors. That
was the way in those days. No, I was sent for to the
chief clerk's office and given a packet of letters for
copying. That took three minutes. When I came
back the office was still empty, the safe was locked, and
the keys in my desk."
"Well?"
در
"Well-but the safe was empty!"
What! all the money gone?”
"All gone, every farthing-with Mr. Messenger's
private papers.
"What a strange thing!"
(C
در
"No one saw anybody going into the office or coming
out. Nothing else was taken."
"Come-with fourteen thousand pounds in his hand,
no reasonable thief would ask for more.
(C
And what is more extraordinary still, not one of
those notes has ever since been presented for payment."
""
1.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
205
"And then, I suppose, there was a row.”
Josephus assented.
"First, I was to be sacked at once; then I was to be
watched and searched; next, I was to be kept on until
the notes were presented and the thief caught. I have
been kept on, the notes have not been presented; and
I've had the same pay, neither more nor less, all the
time. That's all the story. Now, there's to be an end.
of that. I'm to be sent away.
در
Mr. Maliphant had not been listening to the story at
all, being pleasantly occupied with his own reminis-
cences. At this point one of them made him laugh and
rub his hands.
ور
"When Mr. Messenger's father married Susannah
Coppin, I have heard
Here he stopped.
"Halloo!" cried Harry. "Go on, Venerable. Why,
we are cousins or nephews, or something, of Miss Mes-
senger. Josephus, my boy, cheer up!"
Mr. Maliphant's memory now jumped over two gen-
erations, and he went on:
"Caroline Coppin married a sergeant in the army,
and a handsome lad-I forget his name. But Mary
Coppin married Bunker. The Coppins were a good old
Whitechapel stock, as good as the Messengers. As for
Bunker, he was an upstart, he was; and came from
Barking, as I always understood."
Then he was once more silent.
CHAPTER XXI.
LADY DAVENANT.
It was a frequent custom with Lady Davenant to sit
with the girls in the workroom in the morning. She
liked to have a place where she could talk; she took an
ex-professional interest in their occupation; she had
the eye of an artist for their interpretation of the fash-
ion. Moreover, it pleased her to be in the company of
Miss Kennedy, who was essentially a woman's woman.
Men who are so unhappy as to have married a man's
woman will understand perfectly what I mean. On
206
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
I
the morning after Harry's most providential birthday,
therefore, when she appeared no one was in the least
disturbed. But to-day she did not greet the girls with
her accustomed stately inclination of the head which
implied that, although now a peeress, she had been
brought up to their profession and in a republican
school of thought, and did not set herself up above her
neighbors. Yet respect to rank should be conceded,
and was expected. In general, too, she was talkative,
and enlivened the tedium of work with many an anec-
dote illustrating Canaan City and its ways, or showing
the lethargic manners of the Davenants, both her hus-
band and his, to say nothing of the grandfather, con-
tented with the lowly occupation of a wheelwright
while he might have soared to the British House of
Lords. This morning, however, she sat down and was
silent, and her head drooped. Angela, who sat next
her and watched, presently observed that a tear formed
in her eye, and dropped upon her work, and that her
lips moved as if she was holding a conversation with
herself. Thereupon she arose, put her hand upon the
poor lady's arm, and drew her away without a word to
the solitude of the dining-room, where her ladyship
gave way and burst into an agony of sobbing.
Angela stood before her, saying nothing. It was
best to let the fit have its way. When the crying was
nearly over, she laid her hand upon her hair and gently
smoothed it.
"Poor dear lady," she said, "will you tell me what
has happened?”
"Everything," she gasped. "Oh, everything! The
six months are all gone, all but one. Nephew Nathan-
iel writes to say that, as we haven't even made a start
all this time, he reckons we don't count to make any;
and he's got children, and as for business, it's got down
to the hard pan, and dollars are skurce, and we may
come back again right away, and there's the money for
the voyage home whenever we like, but no more.
(6 Oh !" said Angela, beginning to understand.
“And . . . and your husband?”
"There's where the real trouble begins. I wouldn't
mind for myself, money or no money. I would write to
the Queen for money. I would go to the workhouse.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
207
I would beg my bread in the street, but the case I
would never give up-never-never-never."
She clasped her hands, dried her eyes, and sat bolt
upright, the picture of unyielding determination.
"And your husband is not, perhaps, so resolute as
yourself?"
"He says, 'Clara Martha, let us go hum. As for the
title, I would sell it to nephew Nathaniel, who's the
next heir, for a week of square meals; he should have
the coronet, if I'd got it, for a month's certainty of
steaks and chops and huckleberry pie; and as for my
seat in the House of Lords, he should have it for our
old cottage in Canaan City, which is sold, and the
school which I have given up and lost.' He says:
'Pack the box, Clara Martha-there isn't much to pack
-and we will go at once. If the American Minister
won't take up the case for us, I guess that the case
may slide till Nathaniel takes it up for himself.' That
is what he says, Miss Kennedy. Those were his words.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Mr. Feeblemind! Oh! Mr. Facing-
Both-Ways!"
She wrung her hands in despair, for it seemed as if
her husband would be proof against even the scorn and
contempt of these epithets.
CC
66
66
And so shall he, if my
But what do you mean to do?"
I shall stay," she replied.
name is Lady Davenant. Do you think I am going
back to Canaan City to be scorned at by Aurelia
Tucker? Do you think I shall let that poor old man,
who has his good side, Miss Kennedy-and as for vir-
tue he is an angel, and he knows not the taste of to-
bacco or whiskey-face his nephew, and have to say
what good he has done with all those dollars? No,
here we stay." She snapped her lips, and made as if
she would take root upon that very chair. "Shall he
part with his birthright like Esau, because he is hun-
gry?
Never! The curse of Esau would rest upon
us.
"He's at home now," she went on, "preparing for
another day without dinner; groans won't help him
now; and this time there will be no supper-unless Mr.
Goslett has another birthday."
(C
Why! good gracious, you will be starved.”
208
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Be-
"Better starve than to go home as we came.
sides, I shall write to the Queen when there's nothing
left. When Nathaniel's money comes, which may be
to-morrow, and may be next month, I shall give a
month's rent to Mrs. Bormalack, and save the rest for
one meal a day. Yes, as long as the money lasts, he
shall eat meat-once a day-at noon. He's been pam-
pered, like all the Canaan City folk; set up with turkey
roast and turkey boiled, and ducks and beef every day,
and buckwheat cakes and such. Oh! a change of diet
would bring down his luxury and increase his pride."
66
Angela thought that starvation was a new way of
developing pride of birth, but she did not say so. 'Is
there no way," she asked, “in which he can earn
money?"
She shook her head.
"As a teacher he was generally allowed to be learned,
but sleepy. In our city, however, the boys and girls
didn't expect too much, and it's a sleepy place. In
winter they sit round the stove and they go to sleep;
in summer they sit in the shade and they go to sleep.
It's the sleepiest place in the States. No, there's no
kind o' way in which he can earn any money. And if
there were, did you ever hear of a British peer work-
ing for his daily bread?"
"But you, Lady Davenant? Surely your ladyship
would not mind-if the chance offered-if it were a
thing kept secret-if not even your husband knew—
would not object to earning something every week to
find that square meal which your husband so naturally
desires ?"
Her ladyship held out her hands without a word.
Angela, in shameful contempt of political economy,
placed in them the work which she had in her own,
and whispered:
"You had better," she said, "take a week in advance.
Then you can arrange with Mrs. Bormalack for the
usual meals on the old terms; and if you would rather
come here to work, you can have this room to yourself
all the morning. Thank you, Lady Davenant. The
obligation is entirely mine, you know. For, really,
more delicate work, more beautiful work, I never saw.
Do all American ladies work so beautifully?"
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
209
སྭཱ、%f% ¢*
Her ladyship, quite overcome with these honeyed
words, took the work and made no reply.
66
Only one thing, dear Lady Davenant," Angela went
on, smiling: "you must promise me not to work too
hard. You know that such work as yours is worth at
least twice as much as mine. And then you can push
on the case, you know."
The little lady rose, and threw her arms round An-
gela's neck.
66
My dear!" she cried with more tears, "you are
everybody's friend. Oh! yes, I know. And how you
do it and all—I can't think, nor Mrs. Bormalack nei-
ther. But the day may come-it shall come-when we
can show our gratitude.'
"2
She retired, taking the work with her.
Her husband was asleep as usual, for he had had
breakfast, and as yet the regular pangs of noon were
not active. The case was not spread out before him,
as was usual ever since Mr. Goslett had taken it in
hand. It was ostentatiously rolled up, and laid on the
table, as if packed ready for departure by the next mail.
His wife regarded him with a mixture of affection
and contempt.
"He would sell the crown of England," she mur-
mured, "for roast turkey and apple fixin's. The Dave-
nants couldn't have been always like that. It must be
his mother's blood. Yet she was a church-member,
and walked consistent."
She did not wake him up, but sought out Mrs. Bor-
malack, and presently there was a transfer of coins and
the Resurrection of Smiles and Doux Parler, that Fairy
of Sweet Speech, who covers and hides beneath the cold
wind of poverty.
"Tell me, Mr. Goslett," said Angela, that evening,
still thinking over the sad lot of the claimants, "tell
me: you have examined the claim of these people-
what chance have they?"
10
"I should say none whatever."
CC
Then what makes them so confident of success?"
Hush! listen. They are really confident. His
noble lordship perfectly understands the weakness of
his claim, which depends upon a pure assumption, as
you shall hear. As for the little lady, his wife, she has
14
210
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
long since jumped to the conclusion that the assumption
requires no proof. Therefore, save in moments of de-
jection, she is pretty confident. Then they are hope-
lessly ignorant of how they should proceed and of the
necessary delays, even if their case was unanswerable.
They thought they had only to cross the ocean and send
in a statement in order to get admitted to the rank and
privilege of the peerage. And I believe they think that
the Queen will, in some mysterious way, restore the
property to them."
"Poor things!"
"Yes, it's rather sad to think of such magnificent ex-
pectations. Besides, it really is a most beautiful case.
The last Lord Davenant had one son. That only son
grew up, had some quarrel with his father, and sailed
from the port of Bristol, bound for some American
port, I forget which. Neither he nor his ship was
ever heard of again. Therefore the title became ex-
tinct."
-
"Well?"
"Very good. Now the story begins. His name was
Timothy Člitheroe Davenant, the name always given
to the eldest son of the family. Now, our friend's name
is Timothy Clitheroe Davenant, and so was his father's,
and so was his grandfather's.
66
That is very strange.
"It is very strange-what is stranger still is, that his
grandfather was born, according to the date on his
tomb, the same year as the lost heir, and at the same
place-Davenant, where was the family-seat.”
Can there have been two of the same name born in
the same place and in the same year?”
"It seems improbable, almost impossible. Moreover,
the last lord had no brother, nor had his father, the sec-
ond lord. I found that out at the Heralds' College.
Consequently, even if there was another branch, and
the birth of two Timothys in the same year was cer-
tain, they would not get the title. So that their one
hope is to be able to prove what they call the 'connec-
tion.' That is to say, the identity of the lost heir with
this wheelwright."
(C
That seems a very doubtful thing to do, after all
these years.
در
در
""
ו
■
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
211
"It is absolutely impossible, unless some documents
are discovered which prove it. But nothing remains
of the wheelwright."
(6
No book? No papers?"
Nothing, except a small book of songs, supposed to
be convivial, with his name on the inside cover, written
in a sprawling hand, and misspelt, with two v's-'Dav-
venant,' and above the name, in the same hand, the
day of the week in which it was written, 'Satturday,'
with two t's. No Christian name."
"Does it not seem as if the absence of the Christian
name would point to the assumption of the title?"
"Yes: they do not know this, and I have not yet
told them. It is, however, a very small point, and
quite insufficient in itself to establish anything.
""
"Yes," Angela mused. She was thinking whether
something could not be done to help these poor people
and settle the case decisively for them one way or the
other. "What is to be the end of it?"
66
Harry shrugged his shoulders.
Who knows how long they can go on? When there
are no more dollars, they must go home again. I hear
they have got another supply of money: Mrs. Borma-
lack has been paid for a fortnight in advance. After
that is gone-perhaps they had better go too."
"It seems a pity," said Angela, slightly reddening
at mention of the money, "that some researches could
not be made, so as to throw a little light upon this
strange coincidence of names."
66
(C
We should want to know first what to look for.
After that, we should have to find a man to conduct the
search. And then we should have to pay him."
66
As for the man, there is the professor; as for the
place, first, there is the Heralds' College, and secondly,
there are the parish registers of the village of Dave-
nant; and as for the money, why, it would not cost
much, and I believe something might be advanced for
them. If you and I, Mr. Goslett, between us, were to
pay the professor's expenses, would he go about for
us?"
She seemed to assume that he was quite ready to join
her in giving his money for this object. Yet Harry
was now living, having refused his guardian's prof
212
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
fered allowance, on his pay by the piece, which gave
him, as already stated, tenpence for every working
hour.
(6
"What would the professor cost?" she asked.
"The professor is down upon his luck," said Harry.
He is so hard up at present that I believe we would
get it for nothing but his expenses. Eighteen shillings.
a week would buy him outright until his engagements
begin again. If there were any travelling expenses, of
course that would be extra. But the village of Dave-
nant is not a great way off. It is situated in Essex,
and Essex is now a suburb of London, its original
name having been East-End-seaxas, which is not gen-
erally known."
"Very well," she replied gravely. "That would be
only nine shillings apiece, say eleven hours of extra
work for you; and probably it would not last long,
more than a week or two. Will you give two hours a
day to his lordship?"
Harry made a wry face, and laughed. This young
person had begun by turning him into a journeyman
cabinet-maker, and was now making him work extra
time. What next?
"Am I not your slave, Miss Kennedy?"
"O Mr. Goslett, I thought there was to be no more
nonsense of that kind! You know it can lead to noth-
ing-even if you desired that it should."
"Even? Miss Kennedy, can't you see-
"No-I can see nothing-I will hear nothing. Do
not-O Mr. Goslett-we have been-we are-such ex-
cellent friends. You have been so great a help to me:
I look to you for so much more. Do not spoil all; do
not seek for what you could never be: pray, pray, do
not!"
>>
She spoke with so much earnestness; her eyes were
filled with such a frankness; she laid her hand upon
his arm with so charming camaraderie, that he could
not choose but obey.
"It is truly wonderful," he said, thinking, for the
thousandth time, how this pearl among women came
to Stepney Green.
What is wonderful?" she blushed as she asked.
66
"You know what I mean. Let us both be frank
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIÓNS ÓF MEN.
213
You command me not to say the thing I most desire to
say. Very good, I will be content to wait, but under
one promise
""
"What is that?"
66
If the reason or reasons which command my silence
should ever be removed-mind, I do not seek to know
what they are-you will yourself"
"What?" she asked, blushing sweetly.
"You will yourself-tell me so.
ور
She recovered her composure and gave him her hand.
"If at any time I can listen to you, I will tell you
Does that content you?"
SO.
Certainly not, but there was no more to be got;
therefore Harry was fain to be contented whether he
would or not. And this was only one of a hundred lit-
tle skirmishes in which he endeavored to capture an
advanced fort or prepared to lay the siege in form.
And always he was routed with heavy loss.
66
"And now," she went on, we will get back to our
professor."
"Yes. I am to work two extra hours a day that he
may go about in the luxury of eighteen shillings a
week. This it is to be one of the horny-handed. What
is the professor to do first?"
66
Let us," she said, "find him and secure his ser-
vices."
It has been seen that the professor was already come
to the period of waist-tightening, which naturally fol-
lows a too continued succession of banyan-days.
He listened with avidity to any proposition which
held forth a prospect of food. The work, he said, only
partly understanding it, would be difficult, but, there-
fore, the more to be desired. Common conjurers, he
said, would spoil such a case. As for himself, he would
undertake to do just whatever they wanted with the
register, whether it was the substitution of a page or
the tearing out of a page, under the very eyes of the
parish clerk. "There must be," he said, "a patter suit-
able to the occasion. I will manage that for you. I'm
afraid I can't make up as I ought for the part, because
it would cost too much, but we must do without that.
And now, Miss Kennedy, what is it exactly that you
want me to do?"
214
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
He was disappointed on learning that there would be
no "palming" of leaves, old or new, among the regis-
ters; nothing, in fact, but a simple journey, and a sim-
ple examination of the books. And though, as he con-
fessed, he had as yet no experience in the art of falsify-
ing parish registers, where science was concerned its
interests were above those of mere morality.
CHAPTER XXII.
DANIEL FAGG.
C
WHAT would have happened if certain things had
not happened? This is a question which is seldom set
on examination papers, on account of the great scope it
offers to the imaginative faculty, and we all know how
dangerous a thing it is to develop this side of the human
mind. Many a severe historian has been spoiled by
developing his imagination. But for this, Scott might
have been another Alison and Thackeray a Mill. In
this Stepney business the appearance of Angela cer-
tainly worked changes at once remarkable and impossi-
ble to be dissociated from her name. Thus, but for her,
the unfortunate claimants must have been driven back
to their own country like baffled invaders "rolling sul-
lenly over the frontier." Nelly would have spent her
whole life in the sadness of short rations and long
hours, with hopeless prayers for days of fatness.
Re-
bekah and the improvers and the dressmakers and the
apprentices would have endured the like hardness.
Harry would have left the joyless city to its joyless-
ness, and returned to the regions whose skies are all
sunshine to the young and fortunate-and its pave-
ments all of gold. And there would have been no Pal-
ace of Delight. And what would have become of Dan-
iel Fagg, one hardly likes to think. The unlucky
Daniel had, indeed, fallen upon very evil days. There
seemed to be no longer a single man left whom he could
ask for a subscription to his book. He had used them
all up. He had sent begging letters to every Fellow
of every scientific society; he had levied contributions
upon every secretary; he had attacked in person every
«D
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
215
official at the museums of Great Russell Street and
South Kensington; he had tried all the publishers; he
had written to every bishop, nobleman, clergyman, and
philanthropist of whom he could hear, pressing upon
them the claims of his great Discovery. Now he could
do no more. The subscriptions he had received for
publishing his book were spent in necessary food and
lodgings: nobody at the Museum would even see him;
he got no more answers to his letters: starvation stared
him in the face.
For three days he had lived upon ninepence. Three-
pence a day for food. Think of that, ye who are fed
regularly, and fed well. Threepence to satisfy all the
cravings of an excellent appetite! There was now no
more money left. And in two days more the week's
rent would be due.
On the morning when he came forth, hungry and
miserable, without even the penny for a loaf, it hap-
pened that Angela was standing at her upper window,
on the other side of the Green, and, fortunately for the
unlucky scholar that she saw him. His strange be-
havior made her watch him. First he looked up and
down the street in uncertainty; then, as if he had busi-
ness which could not be delayed a moment, he turned
to the right and marched straight away toward the
Mile End Road. This was because he thought he
would go to the Head of the Egyptian Department at
the British Museum and borrow five shillings. Then
he stopped suddenly: this was because he remembered
that he would have to send in his name, and that the
chief would certainly refuse to see him. Then he
turned slowly and walked, dragging his limbs and hang-
ing his head in the opposite direction-because he was
resolved to make for the London Docks, and drop acci-
dentally into the sluggish green water, the first drop
of which kills almost as certainly as a glass of Bourbon
whiskey. Then he thought that there would be some
luxury in sitting down for a few moments to think
comfortably over his approaching demise, and of the
noise it would make in the learned world, and how
remorseful and ashamed the scholars-especially he of
the Egyptian Department-would feel for the short bal-
ance of their sin-laden days, and he took a seat on a
216
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
bench in the green-garden with this view. As he
thought he leaned forward, staring into vacancy, and
in his face there grew so dark an expression of despair
and terror that Angela shuddered and ran for her hat,
recollecting that she had heard of his poverty and dis-
appointments.
66
I am afraid you are not well, Mr. Fagg.
He started and looked up. In imagination he was
already lying dead at the bottom of the green-water,
and before his troubled mind there were floating con-
fused images of his former life, now past and dead and
gone. He saw himself in his Australian cottage arriv-
ing at his grand discovery; he was lecturing about it
on a platform; he was standing on the deck of a ship,
drinking farewell nobblers with an enthusiastic crowd;
and he was wandering hungry, neglected, despised,
about the stony streets of London.
"Well? No: I am not well," he replied presently,
understanding things a little.
CC
Is it distress of mind or of body, Mr. Fagg?"
"Yesterday it was both; to-night it will be both;
just now it is only one."
"Which one?"
""
(C
Mind," he replied fiercely, refusing to acknowledge
that he was starving. He threw his hat back, dashed
his subscription book to the ground, and banged the
unoffending bench with his fists.
"As for mind," he went on, "it's a pity I was born
with any.
I wish I'd had no more mind than my
neighbors. It's mind, and nothing else, that has
brought me to this."
"What is this, Mr. Fagg?"
"Nothing to you. Go your ways; you are young;
you have yet your hopes, which may come to nothing,
same as mine; even though they are not, like mine,
hopes of glory and learning. There's Mr. Goslett in
love with you; what is mind to you? Nothing. And
you in love with him. Very likely he'll go off with
another woman, and then you'll find out what it is to
be disappointed. What is mind to anybody? Noth-
ing. Do they care for it in the Museum? No. Does
the head of the Egyptian Department care for it? Not
he; not a bit. It's a cruel and a selfish country."
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
217
"O Mr. Fagg!" She disregarded his allusion to
herself, though it was sufficiently downright.
"Yes: but I will be revenged. I will do something
-yes-something that shall tell all Australia how I
have been wronged; the colony of Victoria shall ring
with my story. It shall sap their loyalty; they shall
grow discontented; they will import more Irishmen;
there shall be separation. Yes: my friends shall de-
mand reparation in revenge for my treatment."
"It is Christian to forgive, Mr. Fagg."
"I will forgive when I have had my revenge. No
one shall say I am vindictive. Ah!"-he heaved a
profound sigh. "They gave me a dinner before I came
away; they drank my health; they all told me of the
reception I should get, and the glory that awaited me.
Look at me now. Not one penny in my pocket. Not
one man who believes in the Discovery. Therefore I
may truly say that it is better to be born without a
brain."
"This is your subscription-book, I believe." She
took and turned over its pages.
(C
Come, Mr. Fagg, you have come to the fifty-first
copy of the book. Fifty-one copies ordered beforehand
does not look like disbelief. May I add my name?
That will make fifty-two. Twelve shillings and six-
pence, I see. Oh, I shall look forward with the greatest
interest to the appearance of the book, I assure you.
Yet you must not expect of a dressmaker much knowl-
edge of Hebrew, Mr. Fagg. You great scholars must
be contented with the simple admiration of ignorant.
work-girls." He was too far gone in misery to be easily
soothed, but he began to wish he had not said that cruel
thing about possible desertion by her lover.
"Admiration!" he echoed with a hollow groan.
"And yesterday nothing to eat further than three-
pence, and the day before the same, and the day before
that. In Australia, when I was in the shoemaking
line, there was always plenty to eat. Starvation, I
suppose, goes to the brain. And is the cause of sui-
cide, too. I know a beautiful place in the London
Docks, where the water's green with minerals. I shall
go there." He pushed his hands deeper into his pock-
ets, while his bushy eyebrows frowned so horribly that
218
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
two children who were playing in the walk screamed
with terror and fled without stopping. "That water
poisons a man directly.
""
"Come, Mr. Fagg," said Angela, "we allow_some-
thing for the superior activity of great minds. But we
must not talk of despair, when there should be nothing
beyond a little despondency."
He shook his head.
"Too much reading has probably disordered your di-
gestion, Mr. Fagg. You want rest and society, with
sympathy-a woman's sympathy. Scholars, perhaps,
are sometimes jealous."
66
Reading has emptied my purse," he said. Sym-
pathy won't fill it."
66
"I do not know-sympathy is a wonderful medicine
sometimes; it works miracles. I think, Mr. Fagg, you
had better let me pay my subscription in advance-you
can give me the change when you please."
She placed a sovereign in his hand. His fingers
clutched it greedily. Then his conscience smote him-
her kind words, her flattery, touched his heart.
"I cannot take it," he said. "Mr. Goslett warned
me not to take your money. Besides (he gasped, and
pointed to the subscription list)-fifty-one names!
They've all paid their money for printing the book.
I've eaten up all the money, and I shall eat up yours as
well. Take the sovereign back---I can starve. When
I am dead I would rather be remembered for my dis-
covery than for a shameful devourer of subscription
money."
She took him by the arm, and led him unresisting to
the establishment.
"We must look after you, Mr. Fagg," she said.
"Now I have got a beautiful room, where no one sits
all day long except sometimes a crippled girl, and
sometimes myself. In the evening the girls have it.
You may bring your books there, if you like, and sit
there to work when you please. And by the way"-
she added this as if it were a matter of the very least
consequence, hardly worth mentioning-" if you would
like to join us any day at dinner (we take our simple
meals at one), the girls, no doubt, will all think it a
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
215
great honor to have so distinguished a scholar at table
with them."
Mr. Fagg blushed with pleasure. Why-if the Brit-
ish Museum treated him with contumely; if nobody
would subscribe to his book; if he was weary of asking
and being refused-here was a haven of refuge, where
he would receive some of the honor due to a scholar.
66
"And now that you are here, Mr. Fagg" said An-
gela, when she had broken bread and given thanks-
you shall tell me all about your discovery. Because,
you see, we are so ignorant, we girls of the working
classes, that I do not exactly know what is your dis-
covery.
66
He sat down and asked for a piece of paper. With
this assistance he began his exposition.
"I was drawn to my investigation," he said solemnly,
"by a little old book about the wisdom of the ancients;
that is now five years ago, and I was then fifty-five
years of age. No time to be lost (says I to myself) if
anything is to be done. The more I read and the more
I thought I was in the shoemaking trade and I'm not
ashamed to own it; for it's a fine business for such as
are born with a head for thinking—the more I thought,
I say, the more I was puzzled. For there seemed to
me no way possible of reconciling what the scholars
said."
"You have not told me the subject of your research.
yet."
66
رو
Antiquity," he replied grandly. "All antiquity
was the subject of my research. First, I read about
the Egyptians and the hieroglyphics; then I got hold
of a new book, all about the Assyrians and the cuni-
form character."
"I see," said Angela. “You were attracted by the
ancient inscriptions?"
"Naturally. Without inscriptions where are you?
The scholars said this, and the scholars said that-they
talked of reading the Egyptian language and the As-
syrian and the Median and what not. That wouldn't
do for me.
The audacity of the little man excited Angela's curi-
osity, which had been languid.
(6
Pray go on," she said.
""
220
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"The scholars have the same books to go to as me,
yet they don't go-they've eyes as good, but they won't
use them. Now follow me, miss, and you'll be sur-
prised. When Abraham went down into Egypt, did he
understand their language, or didn't he?"
Why, I suppose at least, it is not said that he did
not."
66
Of course he did. When Joseph went there, did he
understand them? Of course he did. When Jacob
and his sons came into the country, did they talk a
strange speech? Not they. When Solomon married
an Egyptian princess, did he understand her talk?
Why, of course he did. Now, do you guess what's
coming next?”
(6
"No-not at all.”
None of the scholars could. Listen, then if they
all understood each other, they must all have talked the
same language-mustn't they?"
""
66
Why, it would seem so.
66
It's a sound argument, which can't be denied.
Nobody can deny it-I defy them. If they understood
each other there must have been a common language.
Where did this common language spread? Over all
the countries thereabout. What was the common lan-
guage? Hebrew."
“Oh,
"Oh," said Angela, "then they all talked Hebrew ?"
"Every man Jack-nothing else known. What
next? They wanted to write it. Now we find what
seems to be one character in Egypt, and another in
Syria, and another in Arabia, and another in Phoe-
nicia, and another in Judæa. Bless you! I know all
about these alphabets. What I say is-if a common
language, then a common alphabet to write it with."
A common alphabet, which you discovered,
"I see.
perhaps?"
"That, young lady, is my discovery-that is the great-
est discovery of the age. I found it myself, once a
small shoemaker in a little Victorian township-I alone
found out that common alphabet, and have come over
here to make it known. Not bad, says you, for a shoe-
maker, who had to teach himself his own Hebrew."
""
And the scholars here
They're jealous-that's what it is; they're jealous,
66
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
221
""
Most of them have written books to prove other things,
and they won't give in and own that they've been
wrong. My word! the scholars- He paused and
shook his hand before her face. 'Some of them have
got the Hebrew alphabet, and try to make out how one
letter is a house and another a bull's head. And so on.
And some have got the cuneiforms, and they make out
that one bundle of arrows is an A and another a B.
And so on. And some have got the hieroglyphic, and
it's the same game with all. While I-if you please-
with my little plain discovery just show that all the
different alphabets-different to outward seeming-are
really one and the same.
""
"This is very interesting," said Angela. The little
man was glowing with enthusiasm and pride. He was
transformed; he walked up and down throwing about
his arms; he stood before her looking almost tall; his
eyes flashed with fire, and his voice was strong.
"And
can you read inscriptions by your simple alphabet?"
"There is not," he replied, "a single inscription in
the British Museum that I can't read. I just sit down
before it, with my Hebrew dictionary in my hand-I
didn't tell you I learned Hebrew on purpose, did I?-
and I read that inscription, however long it is. Ah!"
This seems extraordinary. Can you show me your
alphabet?"
CC
رو
He sat down and began to make figures.
"What is the simplest figure? A circle; a square; a
naught? No. A triangle. Very good, then.
Do
you think they were such fools as to copy a great ugly
bull's head when they'd got a triangle ready to their
hands, and easy to draw? Not they: they just made a
triangle-so- [he drew an equilateral triangle on its
base], "and called it the first letter; and two triangles,
one atop the other-so-and called that the second let-
ter. Then they struck their triangle in another po-
sition, and it was the third letter; and in another, and
its fourth-
Angela felt as if her head was swim-
ming as he manipulated his triangles, and rapidly pro-
duced his primitive alphabet, which really did present
some resemblance to the modern symbols. "There--
and there and there-and what is that; and this?
And so you've got the whole. Now, young lady, with
99
222
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
this in your hand, which is the key to all learning-
and the Hebrew dictionary, there's nothing you can't
manage.
"And an account of this is to be given in your book,
is it?"
CC
That is the secret of my book. Now you know
what it was I found out; now you see why my friends
paid my passage home, and are now looking for the
glory which they prophesied."
"Don't get gloomy again, Mr. Fagg. It is a long
lane, you know, that has no turning. Let us hope for
better luck.”
"No one will ever know," he went on, "the inscrip-
tions that I have found-and read-in the Museum.
They don't know what they've got. I've told nobody
yet, but they are all in the book, and I'll tell you before-
hand, Miss Kennedy, because you've been kind to me.
Yes, a woman is best; I ought to have gone to the wo-
man first. I would marry you, Miss Kennedy--I would
indeed; but I am too old, and besides, I don't think
I could afford a family."
You do me a
"I thank you, Mr. Fagg, all the same.
great honor. But about these inscriptions?"
"Mind, it's a secret.' He lowered his voice to a
whisper. "There's cuniform inscriptions in the Mu-
seum with David and Jonathan on them-ah!—and
Balaam and Balak-Aho!" he positively chuckled
over the thought of these great finds" and the whole life
of Jezebel-Jezebel! What do you think of that? And
what else do you think they have got, only they don't
know it? The two tables of stone! Nothing short of
the two tables, with the Ten Commandments written
out at length!"
ور
Angela gazed with amazement at this admirable.
man: his faith in himself; his audacity; the grandeur
of his conceptions; the wonderful power of his imag-
ination overwhelmed her. But, to be sure, she had
never before met a genuine enthusiast.
"I know where they are kept; nobody else knows. It
is in a dark corner; they are each about two feet high,
and there's a hole in the corner of each for Moses'
thumb to hold them by. Think of that! I've read them
all through-only," he added with a look of bewilder-
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
223
ment, "I think there must be something wrong with
my Hebrew dictionary, because none of the command-
ments read quite right. One or two come out quite sur-
prising. Yet the stones must be right, mustn't they?
There can be no question about that, and the discovery
must be right. No question about that. And as for
the dictionaries-who put them together? Tell me that!
Yah! the scholars!”
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE MISSING LINK.
THE professor then started on his quest with a cheer-
ful heart, caused by the certainty of dinner for some
days to come. But he was an honest Professor, and he
did not prolong his absence for the sake of those din-
ners. On the other hand, he made the most rapid dis-
patch consistent with thorough work, and returned
after an absence of four days, bearing with him the
fruits of his research.
"I think," said Harry, after reading his report, “I
think, Miss Kennedy, that we have found the Missing
Link."
"Then they really will make their claim good?"
"I did not say that-quite. I said that we have
found a Missing Link. There might be, if you will
think of it-two. One of them would have connected
the condescending wheelwright with his supposed par-
ent, the last Lord Davenant. The other would connect
him with quite another father."
The truth, which was for some time carefully con-
cealed from the illustrious pair, was, in fact, this.
There is a village of Davenant, surrounding or adjoin-
ing a castle of Davenant, just as Alnwick, Arundel, Dur-
ham, Lancaster, Chepstow, Ragland, and a great many
more English towns have a castle near them. And
whether Davenant town was built to be protected by the
castle, or the castle for the protection of the town, is a
point on which I must refer you to the county historian,
who knows all about it, and is not likely to deceive you on
so important a point. The castle is now a picturesque
224
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
ruin, with a country-house built beside it. In this
country-house the last Lord Davenant died and the
last heir to the title was born. There is an excellent
old church, with a tower and ivy, and high-pitched
roof, as an ancient church should have, and in the fam-
ily vault under the chancel all the Davenants, except
the last heir, lie buried.
There is also in the village a small country inn called
the Davenant Arms, where the professor put up and
where he made himself extraordinarily popular, be-
cause, finding himself among an assemblage of folk slow
to see and slower still to think, he astonished them for
four nights consecutively. The rustics still tell, and
will continue to tell, so long as memory lasts, of the
wonderful man who took their money out of their
waistcoats, exchanged handkerchiefs, conveyed pota-
toes into strange coat-pockets, read their thoughts,
picked out the cards they had chosen, made them take
a card he had chosen whether they wanted it or not,
caused balls of glass to vanish, changed halfpence into
half-crowns, had a loaded pistol fired at himself and
caught the ball, with other great marvels, all for noth-
ing, to oblige and astonish the villagers, and for the
good of the house. These are the recreations of his
evening hours. The mornings he spent in the vestry
of the old church searching the registers.
There was nothing professional about it, only the
drudgery of clerk's work; to do it at all was almost
beneath his dignity; yet he went through with it con-
scientiously, and restrained himself from inviting the
sexton, who stayed with him, to lend him his hand-
kerchief or to choose a card. Nor did he even hide a
card in the sexton's pocket, and then convey it into the
parish register. Nothing of the sort. He was sternly
practical, and searched diligently. Nevertheless, he
noted how excellent a place for the simple feasts would
be the reading-desk. The fact is, that gentlemen of his
profession never go to church, and, therefore, are ig
norant of the uses of its various parts. On Sunday
morning they lie in bed; on Sunday afternoon they
have dinner, and perhaps the day's paper, and on Sun-
day evening they gather at a certain house of call for
conjurers in Drury Lane, and practise on each other.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
225
There is, therefore, no room in the conjurer's life for
church. Some remedy should be found for this by the
bishops.
"What have I got to look for?" said the professor,
as the sexton produced the old books. "Well, I've got
to find what families there were living here a hundred
years ago, or thereabouts, named Davenant, and what
Christian names they had, and whether there were two
children born and baptized here in one year, both bear-
ing the name of Davenant.'
The sexton shook his head. He was only a middle-
aged man, and therefore not yet arrived at sextonial
ripeness; for a sexton only begins to be mellow when
he is ninety or thereabouts. He knew nothing of the
Davenants except that there were once Lords Dave-
nant, now lying in the family vault below the chancel,
and none of them left in the parish at all, nor any in
his memory, nor in that of his father's before him, so
far as he could tell.
After a careful examination of the books, the pro-
fessor was enabled to state with confidence that at the
time in question the Davenant name was borne by none
but the family at the castle; that there were no cousins
of the name in the place; and that the heir born in that
year was christened on such a day, and received the
name of Timothy Clitheroe.
If this had been the only evidence, the case would
have made in favor of the Canaan City claimant; but,
unfortunately, there was another discovery made by the
professor, at sight of which he whistled, and then shook
his head, and then considered whether it would not be
best to cut out the page, while the sexton thought he
was forcing a card, or palming a ball, or boiling an
egg, or some other ingenious feat of legerdemain. For
he instantly perceived that the fact recorded before his
eyes had an all-important bearing upon the case of his
illustrious friends.
The little story which he saw was, in short, this:
In the same year of the birth of the infant Timothy
Clitheroe, there was born of a poor vagrant woman,
who wandered no one knew where from, into the parish
and died in giving him to the world, a man-child.
There was no one to rejoice over him, or to welcome
15
226
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
him, or to claim him: therefore he became parish prop-
erty, and had to be christened, fed, flogged, admon-
ished, and educated, so far as education in those days
was considered necessary, at the charge of the parish.
The first step was to give him a name. For it was
formerly, and may be still, a custom in country par-
ishes to name a waif of this kind after the village itself,
which accounts for many odd surnames, such as Step-
ney, Marylebone, or Hoxton. It was not a good cus-
tom, because it might lead to complications, as perhaps
it did in this case, when there was already another
family legitimately entitled to bear the name.
The au-
thorities, following this custom, conferred upon the
baby the lordly name of Davenant. Then, as it was
necessary that he should have a Christian name, and it
would be a pity to waste good Richard or Robin upon a
beggar brat, they gave him the day of the week on
which he was born. This was intended to keep him
humble, and to remind him that he had no right to any
of the distinguished Christian names bestowed upon
respectably born children.
He was called Saturday Davenant.
The name, the date, and the circumstances were
briefly recorded in the parish register.
In most cases this book contains three entries for each
name-those of the three important events in his life;
the beginning, the marrying, which is the making oI
the marring, and the ending. One does not of course
count the minor occasions in which he may be men-
tioned, as on the birth or death of a child. The pro-
fessor turned over the pages of the register in vain for
any farther entry of this Saturday Davenant.
He appeared no more. His one public appearance,
as far as history records it, was on that joyful occasion
when, held in hireling arms, he was received into the
Christian Church. The one thing to which he was
born was his brotherhood in the Christian faith-no
doubt the grandest of all possessions, yet in itself not
professing to provide the material comforts of life. The
baby was presented at the font, received a contempt-
uous name, squealed a little, no doubt, when he felt the
cold water, and then-then-nothing more. What he
did, whither he went, where he died, might be left to
ALL SÕRTS AND CÒNDİTIONS OF MËN.
227
conjecture. A parish brat, a cottage home, bread and
bacon to eat, with more bread and bacon, plenty of
stick, the Church Catechism, and particular attention
called to the clauses about picking and stealing; prac-
tical work as a scarecrow at seven; the plough later on;
for pleasures, quarter-staff, wrestling, fighting, bull-
baiting and perhaps poaching, with strong beer and small
beer for drink; presently a wife, then children, then old
age, then death. One was free to conjecture, because
there was no more mention of this baby; he did not marry
in the parish, nor did he die in it. He, therefore, went
away. In those days, if a man went away it was for
two reasons: either he fell into trouble and went away,
to escape the wrath of the squire; or he enlisted,
marched off with beer in his head and ribbons in his
hat, swore terribly with the army in Flanders, and
presently earned the immortal glory which England
rejoices to confer upon the private soldier who falls upon
the ensanguined field. The enjoyment of this glory
is such a solid, substantial, and satisfying thing that
fighting and war and the field of honor are, and al-
ways will be, greatly beloved and desired by private
soldiers.
-
There was no other entry of this boy's name. When
the professor had quite satisfied himself upon this
point he turned back to the first entry, and then became
aware of a note, in faded ink, now barely legible,
written in the margin. It was as follows, and he cop-
ied it exactly:
"Ye above sd Saturday Dnt was a Roag in Grane;
he was bro't up in the fear of God yet Feared Him not;
taught his Duty, yet did it not; admonished without
stint of Rodd in Virtue, yet still inclined to Vice: he
was appd to the wheelwright-was skillful, yet indolent;
notorious as a Poacher who could not be caught; a De-
ceiver of Maidens; a Tosspot and a Striker. Com-
pelled to leave the Parish to avoid Prison and the Lash
he went to London, Latronum officina. Was reported
to have been sent to His Majesty's Plantations in Vir-
ginia, whereof nothing certain is known.
This was the note which the professor read and cop-
228
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MÈN.
ied out, with misgivings that it would not prove accept-
able. Of course, he knew the story and quite under-
stood what this might mean.
The next day, nothing more remaining to be found
in the register, the professor examined the brasses and
tablets in the church, and paid a visit to the castle.
And when he had faithfully executed his commission,
he went away, amid the regrets of the villagers, who
had never before been entertained by so delightful and
surprising a stranger, and brought back his spoils.
"What are we to think," said Harry, after reading
this report. "The Roag in Grane,' this wheelwright
by trade, who can he be but the grandfather of our
poor old friend?”
“I fear it must be so," said Angela. "Saturday
Davenant. Remember the little book.
"Yes," said Harry, "the little book came into my
mind at once."
"Not a doubt," added the professor. "Why, it
stands to reason. The fellow found himself a long way
from England, among strangers, with no money and
only his trade. What was to prevent him from pre-
tending to be one of the family whose name he bore?"
And at the same time," said Harry, "with reserve.
He never seems to have asserted that he was the son
of Lord Davenant: he only threw out ambiguous words;
he fired the imagination of his son; he christened him
by the name of the lost heir; he pretended that it was
his own Christian name, and it was not until they
found out that this was the hereditary name that the
claim was thought of. This poacher and striker seems
to have possessed considerable native talent."
66
66
But what," asked Angela, are we to do?”
"Let us do nothing, Miss Kennedy. We have our
secret, and we may keep it for the present. Meantime,
the case is hopeless on account of the absolute impossi-
bility of connecting the wheelwright with the man sup-
posed to have been drowned. Let them go on 'enjoy-
ing' the title, ignorant of the existence of this unlucky
Saturday Davenant."
So, for the present, the thing was hidden away, and
nothing was said about it. And though about this
time the Professor gave one or two entertainments in
ALL SÕRTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEŃ. 220
the drawing-room, we cannot suppose that his silence
was bought, and it would be unjust to the noble pro-
fession of which he was a member to think that he
would let out the secret had not Miss Kennedy paid him
for their performance. Indeed, the Professor was an
extremely honorable man, and would have scorned to
betray confidence, and it was good to Miss Kennedy to
find out that an evening of magic and miracle would do
the girls good.
But a profound pity seized the heart of Angela.
These poor people who believed themselves to be entitled
to an English peerage, who were so mistaken, who
would be so disappointed, who were so ignorant, who
knew so little what it was they claimed-could not
something be done to lessen their disappointment, to
break their fall?
She pondered long over this difficulty. That they
would in the end have to return to their own country
was a thing about which there could be no doubt what-
ever; that they should return with no knowledge what-
ever of the reality of the thing they had claimed; what
it meant, what it involved, its splendors and its obli-
gations, seemed to her a very great pity. A little ex-
perience, she thought even a glimpse of the life led by
the best bred and most highly cultivated and richest
people in England would be of so much advantage to
them that it would show them their own unfitness for
the rank which they assumed and claimed. And pres-
ently she arrived at a project which she put into exe-
cution without delay. What this was you will pres-
ently see.
CHAPTER XXIV.
LORD JOCELYN'S TROUBLES.
As the season advanced and the autumn deepened.
into winter, Angela found that there were certain social
duties which it was impossible altogether to escape.
The fiction of the country-house was good enough for
the general world, but for her more intimate friends
and cousins this would not do for long. Therefore,
230
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
while she kept the facts of her present occupation and
place of residence a secret from all except Constance
Woodcote, now the unsympathizing, she could not
wholly shut herself off from the old circle. Among
others there was one lady whose invitations she was in
a sense bound to accept. What her obligations were,
and who this lady was, belong in no way to this history
-that is to say, the explanation belongs to Angela's
simple chronicle of the old days, when she was only
Miss Messenger, the heiress presumptive of the great
brewery. Therefore, it need not concern us. Suffice
it to say that she was a lady in society, and that she
gave great dinners, and held other gatherings, and was
at all times properly awake to the attractions which the
young and beautiful and wealthy Angela Messenger
lent to her receptions.
On this occasion Constance Woodcote, among others,
was invited to meet her old friend; she came, but she
was ungracious, and Angela felt, more than she had
expected, how great already was the gulf between the
old days of Newnham and her life of active, practical
work. Six months before such coldness would have
hurt and pained her; now she hardly felt it. Yet Con-
stance meant to demonstrate by a becoming frost of
manner how grievous was her disappointment about
those scholarships. Then there were half a dozen men
3
unmarried men, men in society, men of clubs, men
who felt strongly that the possession of Miss Messen-
ger's millions might reconcile them to matrimony, and
were much interested by the possibility of an introduc-
tion to her, and came away disappointed because they
got nothing out of her, not even an encouragement to
talk; and everybody said that she was singularly cold,
distraite, and even embarrassed that evening; and
those who had heard that Miss Messenger was a young
lady of great conversational powers went away cyn-
ically supposing that any young lady with less than
half her money could achieve the same reputation at
the same cost of energy. The reason of this coldness,
this preoccupation, was as follows.
The dinner-party was large, and the conversation by
no means general. So far as Angela was concerned, it
was held entirely with the man who took her down,
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
231
and his name was Lord Jocelyn le Breton-a rugged-
faced man, with a pleasing manner and an agreeable
voice; no longer young. He talked to her a good deal
in a light, irresponsible vein, as if it mattered very lit-
tle what he said so that it amused the young lady. He
discoursed about many things, principally about din-
ners, asking Angela what were her own views as to din-
ners, and expostulating with her feminine contempt for
the subject. "Each dinner," he said, "should be like a
separate and distinct work of art, and should be con-
trived for different kinds of wine. There should be a
champagne dinner, for instance, light, and composed
of many dishes, but some of these substantial; there
should be a claret dinner, grave and conscientious; a
Burgundy dinner of few courses, and those solid; a
German wine dinner, in which only the simplest plates
should appear. But unto harmony and consistency in
dining we have not yet arrived. Perhaps, Miss Mes-
senger, you may be induced to bring your intellect to
bear upon the subject. I hear you took high honors
at Newnham lately."
-
She laughed.
"You do too much honor to my intellect, Lord Joce-
lyn. At Newnham they teach us political economy,
but they have not trusted us with the art of dining.
Do you know, we positively did not care much what we
had for dinner!"
"My ward, Harry, used to say—but I forget if you
ever met him."
"I think not.
What is his name?”
"Well, he used to bear my name, and everybody
knew him as Harry le Breton; but he had no right to
it, because he was no relation of mine, and so he gave
it up and took his own."
(6
Oh!" Angela felt profoundly uninterested in Mr.
Harry le Breton.
""
“Yes. And now you never will meet him.
For he
is gone.
Lord Jocelyn uttered these words in so sep-
ulchral a tone that Angela gave them greater signifi-
cance than they deserved.
CC
'I am very sorry,” she said.
"No, Miss Messenger, he is not dead. He is only
232
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
•
dead to society. He has gone out of the world; he has
returned to-in fact, his native rank in life.”
Angela reddened. What could he mean?
You interest me, Lord Jocelyn? Do you say that
your ward has voluntarily given up society, and-and
-everything?" She thought of herself for the moment,
and also, but vaguely, of Harry Goslett. For although
she knew that this young man had refused some kind
of offer which included idleness, she had never con-
nected him in her mind quite with her own rank and
station. How could she? He was only a cabinet-
maker, whose resemblance to a gentleman she had
learned to accept without any further wonder.
"He gave up everything; he laughed over it-he took
a header into the mob, just as if he was going to enjoy
the plunge. But did you not hear of it? Everybody
talked about it-the story got into the society journals,
and people blamed me for telling him the truth."
"I have not been in London much this year, there-
fore I heard nothing," said Angela. Just then the din-
ner came to an end.
"Will you tell me more about your ward, Lord Joce-
lyn?" she asked as she left him. His words had raised
in her mind a vague and uncertain anxiety.
Half an hour later he came to her side. The room by
this time was all full, and Angela was surrounded. But
she made room for Lord Jocelyn, and presently the
others dropped away and they could talk. A young
lady began, too, a long and very brilliant piece of music,
under cover of which everybody could talk.
"Do you really want to hear my trouble about
Harry?" he asked. "You look a very sympathetic
young lady, and perhaps you will feel for me.
You see
I brought him up in ignorance of his father, whom he
always imagined to be a gentleman, whereas he was
only a sergeant in a Line regiment. What is it, Miss
Messenger?"
For she became suddenly white in the cheek. Could
there be two Harrys, sons of sergeants, who had taken
this downward plunge? More wonderful than a pair
of Timothy Clitheroes.
"It is nothing, Lord Jocelyn. Pray go on. Your
adopted son, then-"
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
233
"I had always resolved to tell him all about his peo-
ple when he was twenty-three. Who would have
thought, however, that he would take it as he did?”
"You forget that you have not told me what he did
do. If I am to sympathize you must tell me all."
"As far as the world knows, he went away on leave,
so to speak. Perhaps it is only on leave, after all.
But it is a long leave, and it looks more like desertion.”
"You are mysterious, Lord Jocelyn."
"Are you curious, Miss Messenger?"
"Say I am sympathetic. Tell me as much as you
can about your ward.'
Lord Jocelyn looked in his listener's face. Yes;
there was sympathy in it and interest, both, as phre-
nologists say, largely developed.
"Then I will explain to you, Miss Messenger, how
the boy did this most remarkable and unexpected thing."
He paused a moment, considering. "Imagine a boy
whom I had taken away from his own people at three,
or thereabouts, so that he should never know anything
of them at all, or dream about them, or yearn, you
know, or anything of that kind-an orphan, too, with
nothing but an uncle Bunker-it is inconceivable!"
7
"But we do not get on," said Angela, in great impa-
tience; yet relieved to find from the reference to her
worthy friend, Bunker, that there was only one Harry.
"What is inconceivable?"
"I am coming to that. I gave the boy the best edu-
cation I could get for him; he was so eager and apt
that he taught himself more than he could be taught;
if he saw anybody doing a thing well, he was never
satisfied till he could do it as well himself-not better,
mark you! a cad might have wanted to do it better; a
gentleman is content to do it as well as any-any other
gentleman. There is hardly anything he could not do;
there was nobody who did not love him; he was a fa-
vorite in society; he had hosts of friends; nobody cared
who was his father: what did that matter?
As I put
it to him, I said, 'Look at So-and-So and So-and-So,
who are their fathers? Who cares? Who asks?' Yet
when he learned the truth, he broke away, gave up
all, and went back to his own relations-to White-
chapel!"
234
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Angela blushed again, and her lip trembled a little.
Then she said softly:
66
To Whitechapel! That is very interesting to me.
Because, Lord Jocelyn, I belong to Whitechapel my-
self."
"Do you?" She might as well have said that she
belonged to Seven Dials. In fact, much better, because
in his young days, his Corinthian days, Lord Jocelyn
had often repaired to Seven Dials to see noble sports-
men chez Ben Caunt, and rat-killing, and cock-fighting,
and many other beautiful forms of sport. “Do you
really? Do you belong to that remarkable part of
London?"
"Certainly. My grandfather-did you know him?"
Lord Jocelyn shook his head.
"He had the brewery, you know, Messenger, Mars-
den & Company, in Whitechapel. He was born there,
and always called himself a Whitechapel man. He
seemed to be proud of it, so that in common filial respect
I, too, should be proud of it. I am, in fact, a White-
chapel granddaughter.'
"But that does not seem to help my unlucky
Harry."
66
"It gives one a little more sympathy, perhaps," she
said. And that is, you know, so very useful a posses-
sion."
در
"Yes," but he did not seem to recognize its usefulness
as regards his ward. "Well, he went to Whitechapel
with a light heart. He would look round him, make
the acquaintance of his own people, then he would come
back again, and we would go on just as usual. At
least he did not exactly say this, but I understood him
SO. Because it seemed impossible that a man who had
once lived in society, among ourselves, and formed one
of us, could ever dream of living down there." An-
gela laughed. From her superior knowledge of "down
there," she laughed.
"He went away and I was left without him, for the
first time for twenty years. It was pretty dull. He
said he would give the thing a trial; he wrote to me
that he was trying it; that it was not so bad as it
seemed, and yet he talked as if the experiment would
be a short one. I left him there. I went away for a
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
235
cruise in the Mediterranean; when I came home he re-
turned to me."
"He did return, then?"
"Yes, he came back one evening, a good deal changed.
I should not have thought it possible for a boy to change
so much in so short a time. He wasn't ill-fed; he
hadn't suffered any privation, apparently; but he was
changed: he was more thoughtful; his smile and his
laugh were not so ready. Poor boy!"
Lord Jocelyn sighed heavily. Angela's sympathy
grew deeper, for he evidently loved the "boy.
"What had he done, then?"
66
""
"He came to say farewell to me; he thanked me, for
you know what a good honest lad would say; and he
told me that he had an offer made to him of an unex-
pected nature which he had determined to accept. You
see, he is a clever fellow with his fingers; he can play
and paint and carve, and do all sorts of things. And
among his various arts and accomplishments he knows
how to turn a lathe, and so he has become a joiner or
a cabinet-maker, and he told me that he has got an ap-
pointment in some great factory or works or something,
as a cabinet-maker in ordinary."
What is his name?"
"Harry Goslett."
Goslett, Goslett!" Here she blushed again, and
once more made play with the fan.
"Has he got a re-
lation, a certain Mr. Bunker?”
66
66
Why-yes-I told you, an uncle Bunker."
Then I remember the name. And, Lord Jocelyn,
I hope you will be grateful to me, because I have been
the humble means of procuring him this distinguished
post. Mr. Bunker, in fact, was, or conceived that he
had been, useful to my grandfather, and was said to be.
disappointed at getting nothing by the will. There-
fore I endeavored to make some return by taking his
nephew into the House. That is all.”
66
And a great deal more than enough, because, Miss
Messenger, you have all out of your kindness done a
great mischief, for if you had not employed him I am
quite certain no one else would. Then he would have
to come back to me. Send him away. Do send him
away. Do send him away, Miss Messenger. There
236
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
are lots of cabinet-makers to be had. Then he will
come back to society, and I will present him to you,
and he shall thank you."
She smiled and shook her head.
"People are never sent away from the brewery so
long as they behave properly. But it is strange in-
deed, that your ward should voluntarily surrender all
the advantages of life and social position for the hard
work and poor pay of an artisan. Was it was it af-
fection for his cousins?" She blushed deeply as she
put this question.
"Strange, indeed. When he came to me the other
night, he told me a long story about men being all alike
in every rank of life. I have noticed much the same
thing in the army; of course he did not have the impu-
dence to say that women are all alike; and he talked a
quantity of prodigious nonsense about living among his
own people. Presently, however, I got out of him the
real truth."
"What was that?"
"He confessed that he was in love."
"With a young lady of Whitechapel? This does
great credit to the excellent education you gave him,
Lord Jocelyn." She blushed for the fourth or fifth
time, and he wondered why, and she held her fan be-
fore her face. But, perhaps," she added, “you are
wrong, and women of all ranks, like men, are the
66
same.
""
"Perhaps I ought not to have told you this, Miss
Messenger. Now you will despise him. Yet he had
the impudence to say that she was a lady-positively a
lady-this Whitechapel dressmaker.”
"A dressmaker!-oh!" She threw into her voice a
little of that icy coldness with which ladies are expected
to receive this kind of announcement.
"Ah! now you care no more about him. I might
have known that your sympathy would cease directly
you heard all. He went into raptures over this young
milliner. She is beautiful as the day; she is graceful,
accomplished, well-bred, well-mannered, a queen
"No doubt," said Angela, still frozen.
Lord Jocelyn, as it is Mr. Goslett, the cabinet-maker,
"But really,
""
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
237
and not you, who is in love with this paragon, we may
be spared her praises.
""
66
And, which is more remarkable still, she won't have
anything to say to him."
"That is indeed remarkable. But perhaps as she is
the Queen of Dressmakers, she is looking for the King
of Cabinet-Makers."
"No doubt," said Lord Jocelyn; "I think the music
is coming to an end. However, Miss Messenger, one
favor."
"A dozen, Lord Jocelyn, if I can grant them."
66
He refuses to take any help from me; he lives on
work paid for at the rate of tenpence an hour. If you
will not send away-then-oh, then--"
"Quick, Lord Jocelyn, what is it?"
"Tax the resources of the brewery. Puton the odd
twopence. It is the gift of the Samaritan—make it a
shilling an hour."
"I will, Lord Jocelyn-hush! The music is just
over, and I hope that the dressmaker will relent, and
there will be a wedding in Stepney Church, and that
they will be happy ever after. O brave and loyal
lover! He gives up all, all"-she looked round the
room, the room filled with guests, and her great eyes
became limpid, and her voice fell to a murmur-
66 for
love, for love. Do you think, Lord Jocelyn, that the
dressmaker will continue to be obdurate? But perhaps
she does not know, or cannot suspect, what he has
thrown away-for her sake-happy dressmaker!"
'I think," said Lord Jocelyn afterward, "that if
Harry had seen Miss Messenger before he saw his dress-
maker we shouldn't have heard so much about the beau-
tiful life of a working-man. Why the devil couldn't I
wait? This girl is a Helen of Troy, and Harry should
have written his name Paris and carried her off, by
gad! before Menelaus or any other fellow got hold of
her. What a woman! What a match it would have
been !"
238
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
CHAPTER XXV.
AN INVITATION.
VERY shortly after the fatal discovery made by the
professor, Lord Davenant received the outside recogni-
tion, so to speak, of his rank. It is true that no one
within a mile of Stepney Green-that is, anywhere be-
tween Aldgate Pump and Bow Church-would have
had the hardihood to express a doubt on the validity of
a claim which conferred a lustre upon the neighbor-
hood; yet even Lord Davenant, not remarkable for
quickness of perception, was sharp enough to know
that recognition at Stepney is not altogether the same
thing as recognition at Westminster. He was now once
more tolerably comfortable in his mind. The agonies
of composition were over, thanks to his young friend's
assistance; the labor of transcription was finished;
he felt, in looking at the bundle of papers, all the dig-
nity of successful authorship; the case, in fact, was
now complete and ready for presentation to the Queen,
or to any one, Lord Chancellor, Prime Minister, Lord
Chamberlain, or American Minister, who would under-
take and faithfully promise to lay it before Her Maj-
esty. For his own part, brought up in the belief that
the British Lion habitually puts his heroic tail between
his legs when the name of America is mentioned, he
thought that the Minister of the States was the proper
person to present his case. Further, the days of fatness
were come again. Clara Martha, in some secret way
only known to herself, was again in command of mon-
ey; once more bacon and tea, and bread and butter, if
not coffee, cream, and buckwheat cakes, with maple
syrup and hot compone-delicacies of his native land-
were spread upon the board at eight in the morning;
and again the succulent steak of Stepney, yielding to
none, not even to him of Fleet Street, appeared at stroke
of one; and the noble lord could put up his feet and rest
the long and peaceful morning through, unreproached
by his consort. Therefore he felt no desire for any
change, but would have been quite content to go on for
3
+
J
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
239
ever enjoying his title among this simple folk, and care-
less about the splendors of his rank. How Clara Mar-
tha got the money he did not inquire. We, who know,
may express our fears that here was another glaring
violation of political economy, and that the weekly
honorarium received every Saturday by Lady Davenant
was by no means adequately accounted for by her
weekly work. Still her style was very fine, and there
were no more delicate workers in the association than
the little peeress with the narrow shoulders and the
bright eyes.
Not one word, mark you, spoken of Saturday Dave-
nant-that "Roag in Grane" and the professor as re-
spectful as if his lordship had sat through thirty years
of deliberation in the Upper House, and Mr. Goslett
humbly deferential to her ladyship, and in secret con-
fidential and familiar, even rollicking, with my lord,
and Miss Kennedy respectfully thoughtful for their
welfare.
This serenity was troubled and dissipated by the arri-
val of a letter addressed to Lady Davenant.
She received it-a simple letter on ordinary note-
paper-with surprise, and opened it with some suspi-
cion. Her experience of letters was not of late happy,
inasmuch as her recent correspondence had been chiefly
with American friends, who reminded her how they
had all along told her that it was no good expecting
that the Davenant claim would be listened to, and now
she saw for herself, and had better come home again
and live among the plain folk of Canaan, and praise
the Lord for making her husband an American citizen;
with much more to the same effect, and cruel words
from nephew Nathaniel, who had no ambition, and
would have sold his heirship to the coronet for a few
dollars.
She looked first at the signature, and turned pale,
for it was from the mysterious young lady, almost di-
vine in the eyes of Stepney, because she was so rich,
Miss Messenger.
Lord!" cried Mrs. Bormalack. "Do read it quick.
Her ladyship read it through very slowly, much too
slowly for her landlady's impatience.
Her pale cheeks flushed with pride and joy when she
>>
240
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
comprehended what the letter meant; she drew herself
up straight, and her shoulders became so sloping that
the uneasy feeling about her clothes, already alluded to,
once more passed through Mrs. Bormalack's sympa-
thetic mind.
"It will be a change, indeed, for us," she murmured,
looking at her husband.
66
Change?" cried the landlady.
"What change?" asked his lordship. "Clara Mar-
tha, I do not want any change; I am comfortable here.
I am treated with respect, the place is quiet; I do not
want to change."
He was a heavy man and lethargic change meant
some kind of physical activity-he disliked movement.
His wife tossed her head with impatience.
"Oh," she cried, "he would rather sit in his armchair
than walk even across the green to get his coronet.
Shame upon him! Oh! Carpenter! Shh!"
His lordship quailed and said no more. That allu-
sion to his father's trade was not intended as a sneer;
the slothfulness of his parent it was which the lady
hurled at his lordship's head. No one could tell, no
living writer is able to depict faithfully, the difficulties
encountered and overcome by this resolute woman in
urging her husband to action; how she had first to per-
suade him to declare that he was the heir to the extinct
title; how she had next to drag him away from Canaan
City; how she had to bear with his moanings, lamen-
tations, and terrors, when he found himself actually on
board the steamer, and saw the land slowly disappear-
ing, while the great ship rolled beneath his unaccus-
tomed feet, and consequences which he had not foreseen
began to follow. These were things of the past, but it
had been hard to get him away even from Wellclose
Square, which he found comfortable, making allowance
for the disrespectful Dane; and now-but it must and
should be done.
66
His lordship," said the little woman, thinking she
had perhaps said too much, "is one of them who take
root wherever you set them down. He takes after his
grandfather, the Honorable Timothy Clitheroe. Set
himself down in Canaan City, and took root at once,
never wanted to go away. And the Davenants, I am
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
241
told, never left the village from the day they built their
castle there till the last lord died there. In other peo-
ple, Mrs. Bormalack, it might be called sloth, but in his
lordship's case we can only say that he is quick to take
root. That is all, ma'am. And when we move him,
it is like tearing him up by the roots.
""
It is," said his lordship, clinging to the arms of the
chair; "it is."
The letter was as follows, and Lady Davenant read
it aloud:
"DEAR LADY DAVENANT: I have quite recently
learned that you and Lord Davenant are staying at a
house on Stepney Green which happens to be my prop-
erty. Otherwise, perhaps, I might have remained in
ignorance of this most interesting circumstance. I have
also learned that you have crossed the Atlantic for the
purpose of presenting a claim to the Davenant title,
which was long supposed to be extinct, and I hasten to
convey to you my most sincere wishes for your success.
"I am at this moment precluded from doing myself
the pleasure of calling upon you, for reasons with which
I will not trouble you. I hope, however, to be allowed
to do so before very long. Meantime, I take the liber-
ty of offering you the hospitality of my own house in
Portman Square, if you will honor me by accepting it,
as your place of residence during your stay in London.
You will perhaps find Portman Square a central place,
and more convenient for you than Stepney Green,
which, though it possesses undoubted advantages in
healthful air and freedom from London fog, is yet not
altogether 'a desirable place of residence for a lady of
your rank.
"I am aware that in addressing you without the
ceremony of an introduction, I am taking what may
seem to you a liberty. I may be pardoned on the
ground that I feel so deep an interest in your romantic
story, and so much sympathy with your courage in
crossing the ocean to prosecute your claim. Such
claims as these are, you know, jealously regarded and
sifted with the greatest care, so that there may be dif-
ficulty in establishing a perfectly made-cut case, and
one which shall satisfy the House of Lords as impreg-
16
242
ALL SORTS ANL CONDITIONS OF MEN.
nable to any attack. There is, however, such a thing
as a moral certainty, and I am well assured that Lord
Davenant would not have left his native country had
he not been convinced in his own mind that his cause
is a just one, and that his claim is a duty owed to his
illustrious ancestors. So that, whether he wins or
loses, whether he succeeds or fails, he must in either
case command our respect and our sympathy. Under
these circumstances I trust that I may be forgiven,
and that your ladyship will honor my poor house with
your presence. I will send, always provided that you
accept, my carriage for you on any day that you may
appoint. Your reply may be directed here, because all
letters are forwarded to me, though I am not, at the
present moment, residing at my own town-house.
"Believe me to remain, dear Lady Davenant, yours
very faithfully,
"ANGELA MARSDEN MESSENGER."
"It is a beautiful letter!" cried Mrs. Bormalack,
"and to think of Miss Messenger knowing that this
house is one of hers! Why, she's got hundreds. Now,
I wonder who could have told her that you were here?"
"No doubt," said her ladyship, "she saw it in the
papers.
""
"What a providence that you came here! If you
had stayed at Wellclose Square, which is a low place
and only fit for foreigners, she never would have heard
about you. Well, it will be a sad blow losing your
ladyship, but of course you must go. You can't refuse
such a noble offer; and though I've done my best, I'm
sure, to make his lordship comfortable, yet I know that
the dinner hasn't always been such as I could wish,
though as good as the money would run to.
And we
can't hope to rival Miss Messenger, of course, in house-
keeping, though I should like to hear what she gives
for dinner."
"You shall, Mrs. Bormalack," said her ladyship; "I
will send you word myself, and I am sure we are very
grateful to you for all your kindness, and especially at
times when my husband's nephew, Nathaniel, who is
not the whole-souled and high-toned man that the heir
to a peerage ought to be-
""
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
243
"Don't speak of it," interrupted the good landlady,
"don't speak of it, your ladyship. It will always be
my pride to remember that yout ladyship thought I did
my little best. But, then, with mutton at eleven-pence
ha'penny!"
The name of Portman Square suggested nothing at
all to the illustrious pair. It might just as well have
been Wellclose Square. But here was an outside rec-
ognition of them; and from a very rich young lady,
who perhaps was herself acquainted with some of the
members of the Upper House.
"It is a proper letter," said Lady Davenant criti-
cally; "a letter written in a becoming spirit. There's
many things to admire in England, but the best thing
is the respect to rank. Now, in our own city did they
respect his lordship for his family? Not a mite. The
boys drew pictures of him on the walls with a crown
on his head and a sword in his hand.”
"Must we go, Clara Martha?" his lordship asked in
a tremulous voice.
(6
'Yes, we must go; we must show people that we are
ready to assume the dignity of the position. As for
my husband, Mrs. Bormalack"-she looked at him side-
ways while she addressed the landlady-" there are times.
when I feel that nothing but noble blood confers real
dignity"-his lordship coughed-"real dignity and a
determination to have your rights, and behavior ac-
cording.'
""
Lord Davenant straightened his back and held up his
head. But when his wife left him he drooped it again
and looked sad.
Lady Davenant took the letter with her to show Miss
Kennedy.
"I shall never forget old friends, my dear," she said
kindly, when Angela had read it through, “never; and
your kindness in my distress I could not forget if I
tried." The tears stood in her eyes as she spoke. "We
are standing now on the very threshold of Greatness;
this is the first step to Recognition; a short time more
and my husband will be in his right place among the
British peers. As for myself, I don't seem to mind
any, Miss Kennedy. It's for him that I mind. Once
in his own place, he will show the world what he is
244
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
capable of. You only think of him as a sleepy old man,
who likes to put up his feet and shut his eyes. So he
is-so he is. But wait till he gets his own.
Then you
will see. As for eloquence, now, I remember one
Fourth of July-but of course we were Americans
then."
66
Indeed, Lady Davenant, we shall all be rejoiced if
you succeed. But do not forget Miss Messenger's warn-
ing. There is a moral success, and there is a legal suc-
cess. You may have to be contented with the former.
But that should be enough for you, and you would then
return to your own people with triumph.
""
66
"Aurelia Tucker," said her ladyship, smiling gently,
will wish she hadn't taken up the prophesyin' line.
I shall forgive her, though envy is indeed a hateful
passion. However, we cannot all have illustrious an-
cestors, though, since our own elevation, there's not a
man, woman, or child in Canaan City, except the
Dutchman, who hasn't connected himself with an Eng-
lish family, and the demand for Red Books and books
of the county families is more than you could believe,
and they do say that many a British peer will have to
tremble for his title."
"Come," said Angela, interrupting these interesting
facts, "come, Lady Davenant. "I knew beforehand of
this letter, and Miss Messenger has given me work in
anticipation of your visit.
""
She led the little lady to the showroom, and here,
laid on chairs, were marvels. For there were dresses
in silk and in velvet: dresses of best silk, moire antique,
brocaded silk, silk that would stand upright of itself,
without the aid of a chair-back, and velvet of the rich-
est, the blackest, and the most costly. There could be
no doubt whatever as to the person for whom these
dresses had been designed, because nobody else had
such narrow and such sloping shoulders. Never in her
dreams had her ladyship thought it possible that she
should wear such dresses.
"They are a present from Miss Messenger," said Miss
Kennedy. "Now, if you please, we will go into the try-
ing-on room.'
Then Lady Davenant discovered that these dresses
were trimmed with lace, also of the most beautiful and
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
245
delicate kind. She had sometimes seen lace during her
professional career, but she never possessed any, and
the sight of it created a kind of yearning in her heart
to have it on, actually on her sleeves and round her
neck.
When she dressed in her velvet with the lace trim-
ming, she looked a very stately little lady. When An-
gela had hung about her neck a heavy gold chain with
a watch and seals; when she had deftly added a touch
to her still luxuriant hair, and set in it a small aigrette
of brilliants; when she had put on her a pair of gloves
and given her a large and beautifully painted fan, there
was no nobler-looking lady in the land, for all she was
so little.
Then Angela courtesied low and begged her ladyship
to examine the dress in the glass. Her ladyship sur-
veyed herself with an astonishment and delight impos-
sible to be repressed, although they detracted somewhat
from the dignity due to the dress.
66
'O Aurelia!" she exclaimed, as if in the joy of her
heart she could have wished her friend to share her
happiness.
Then Miss Kennedy explained to her that the velvet
and magnificent silk dresses were for the evening only,
while for the morning there were other black silk
dresses, with beautiful fur cloaks and things for car-
riage exercise, and all kinds of things provided, so that
she might make a becoming appearance in Portman
Square.
76
As for his lordship," Miss Kennedy went on, "steps
have been taken to provide him also with garments due
to his position. And I think, Lady Davenant, if I may
venture to advise
""
"My dear," said her ladyship, simply, "just tell me,
right away, what am I to do."
"Then you are to write to Miss Messenger and tell
her that you will be ready to-morrow morning, and
say any kind of thing that occurs to your kind heart.
And then you will have undisturbed possession of the
big house in Portman Square, with all its servants,
butler, coachman, footmen, and the rest of them at your
orders. And I beg—that is, I hope that you will make
use of them. Remember that a nobleman's servant ex-
C
246
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
¦
pects to be ordered, not asked. Drive every day; go
to the theatres to amuse yourself-I am sure, after all
this time, you want amusement."
"We had lectures at Canaan City," said her lady-
ship. "Shall we go to lectures?"
"N-no. I think there are none. But you should
go to concerts, if you like them, and to picture galler-
ies. Be seen about a good deal; make people talk about
you, and do not press your case before you have been
talked about."
"Do you think I can persuade Timothy-I mean, his
lordship-to go about with me?”
"You will have the carriage, you know; and if he
likes he can sleep at the theatre; you have only to take
a private box-but be seen and talked about."
This seemed very good advice. Lady Davenant laid
it to her heart. Then she took off her magnificent vel.
vet and put on the humble stuff again, with a sigh.
Happily, it was the last day she would wear it.
On returning to the boarding-house, she found her
husband in great agitation, for he too had been “try-
ing on," and he had been told peremptorily that the
whole of the existing wardrobe must be abolished, and
changed for a new one which had been provided for
him. The good old coat, whose sleeves were so shiny,
whose skirts so curly, whose cuffs so worn, must be
abandoned; the other things, which long custom had
adapted to every projection of his figure, must go too;
and, in place of them, the new things which he had
just been trying on.
"There's a swallow-tail, Clara Martha, for evening
wear. I shall have to change my clothes, they tell me,
every evening; and frock-coats to button down the
front like a congressman in a statue; and-O Clara
Martha, we are going to have a terrible time!"
૮૮
Courage, my lord," she said. "The end will re-
ward us. Only hold up your head, and remember that
you are enjoying the title."
The evening was rather sad, though the grief of the
noble pair at leaving their friends was shared by none
but their landlady, who really was attached to the little
bird-like woman, so resolute and full of courage. As
for the rest, they behaved as members of a happy fam
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
247
ily are expected to behave-that is to say, they paid no
heed whatever to the approaching departure of two out
of their number, and Josephus leaned his head against
the wall, and Daniel Fagg plunged his hands into his
hair, and old Mr. Maliphant sat in the corner with his
pipe in his mouth and narrated bits of stories to him-
self, and laughed.
CHAPTER XXVI.
LORD DAVENANT'S GREATNESS.
PROBABLY no greater event had ever happened within
the memory of Stepney Green than the arrival of Miss
Messenger's carriage to take away the illustrious pair
from the boarding-house. Mrs. Bormalack felt, with a
pang, when she saw the pair of grays, with the coach-
man and footman on the box, actually standing before
her own door, for all to see, as if she had not thor-
oughly appreciated the honor of having a peer and his
consort residing under her roof, and paying every week
for board and lodging the moderate sum of—but she
could not bear to put it into words. Now, however,
they were going.
His lordship, in his new frock-coat tightly buttoned,
stood, looking constrained and stiff, with one hand on
the table and the other thrust into his breast, like a cer-
tain well-known statue of Washington. His wife had
instructed him to assume this attitude. With him were
Daniel Fagg, the professor, and Harry, the rest of the
boarders being engaged in their several occupations.
Mrs. Bormalack was putting the final touches to Lady
Davenant's morning toilet.
"If I was a lord,” said Daniel, "I should become a
great patron to discoverers. I would publish their
works for them."
"I will, Mr. Fagg, I will," said his lordship; "give
me time to look around and see how the dollars come
in. Because, gentlemen, as Clara Martha-I mean her
ladyship-is not ready yet, there is time for me to ex-
plain that I don't quite know what is to happen next,
nor where those dollars are to come from, unless it is
-
248
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
from the Davenant estates. But I don't think, Mr.
Fagg, that we shall forget old friends. A man born to
a peerage, that is an accident, or the gift of Providence;
but to be a Hebrew scholar comes from genius. When
a man has been a school-teacher for near upon forty
years he knows what genius means-and it's skurse,
even in Amer'ca.'
"Then, my lord," said Daniel, producing his note-
book, "I may put your lordship's name down for-
how many copies?"
"Wal, Mr. Fagg, I don't care how many copies you
put my name down for, provided you don't ask for pay-
ment until the way is clear. I don't suppose they will
play it so low on a man as to give him his peerage
without a mite of income, even if it has to be raised by
a tax on something."
"American beef will have to be taxed," said Harry.
"Never fear, my lord, we will pull you through some-
how. As Miss Messenger said, 'moral certainty' is a
fine card to play, even if the committee of the House of
Lords don't recognize the connection."
The professor looked guilty, thinking of that "Roag
in Grane," Saturday Davenant, wheelwright, who went
to the American colonies.
Then her ladyship appeared complete and ready,
dressed in her black silk with a fur cloak and a mag-
nificent muff of sable-stately, gracious, and happy.
After her, Mrs. Bormalack, awed.
"I am ready, my lord," she said, standing in the
doorway. "My friends, we shall not forget those who
were hospitable to us, and kind in the days of our ad-
versity. Mr. Fagg, you may depend upon us. You
have his lordship's permission to dedicate your book to
his lordship. We shall sometimes speak of your dis-
covery. The world of fashionable London shall hear
of your circles."
"Triangles, my lady," said Daniel, bowing.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Fagg; I ought to have
known, and the triangle goes with the fife and the drum
in all the militia regiments. Professor, if there is any
place in Portman Square where an entertainment can
be held, we will remember you. Mr. Goslett-ah, Mr.
Goslett, we shall miss you very much. Often and often
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIÓNS ÓF MEN.
249
has my husband said that, but for your own timely aid,
he must have broken down. What can we now do for
you, Mr. Goslett?"
Nothing could have been more generous than this
dispensing of patronage.
Nothing," said Harry. "But I thank you all the
66
same.
|
""
"Perhaps Miss Messenger wants a cabinet made?"
"No, no," he cried hastily. "I don't want to make
cabinets for Miss Messenger. I mend the office stools
for the brewery, and I work-for-for Miss Kennedy,
he added, with a blush.
Lady Davenant nodded her head and laughed. So
happy was she that she could even show an interest in
something outside the case.
"A handsome couple," she said simply. "Yes, my
dear, go on working for Miss Kennedy, because she is
worth it-and now, my lord. Gentlemen, I wish you
farewell."
She made the most stately, the most dignified obei-
sance, and turned to leave them; but Harry sprang to
the front and offered his arm.
"Permit me, Lady Davenant."
It was extraordinary enough for the coachman to be
ordered to Stepney Green to take up a lord-it was
more extraordinary to see that lord's noble lady falling
on the neck of an ordinary female in a black stuff gown
and an apron-namely, Mrs. Bormalack; and still more
wonderful to see that noble lady led to the carriage by
a young gentleman who seemed to belong to the place.
I know him," said James, the footman, presently.
66 Who is he?”
66
66
"1
"He's Mr. Le Breton, nephew or something of Lord
Jocelyn. I've seen him about; and what he's doing
on Stepney Green the Lord only knows."
(6
James," said the coachman.
John," said the footman.
"When you don't understand what a young gentle-
man is a-doin', what does a man of your experience
conclude?"
66
John," said the footman, "you are right as usual;
but I didn't see her."
There was a little crowd outside, and it was a proud
250
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
moment for Lady Davenant when she walked through
the lane (which she could have wished a mile long)
formed by the spectators, and took her place in the open
carriage, beneath the great fur rug. His lordship fol-
lowed with a look of sadness, or apprehension, rather
than triumph. The door was slammed, the footman
mounted the box, and the carriage drove off-one boy
called "Hooray!" and jumped on the curbstone. To
him Lord Davenant took off his hat. Another turned
catherine-wheels along the road, and Lord Davenant
took off his hat to him, too, with aristocratic impartial-
ity; till the coachman flicked at him with his whip,
and then he ran behind the carriage and used language
for a quarter of a mile.
66
Timothy," said her ladyship—“would that Aurelia
Tucker were here to see!"
He only groaned: how could he tell what sufferings
in the shape of physical activity might be before him?
When would he be able to put up his feet again? One
little disappointment marred the complete joy of the de-
parture: it was strange that Miss Kennedy, who had
taken so much interest in the business-who had herself
tried on the dresses-should not have been there to see.
It was not kind of her, who was usually so very kind,
to be absent on this important occasion. They arrived
at Portman Square a little before one. Miss Messenger
sent them her compliments by her own maid, and hoped
they would be perfectly comfortable in her house, which
was placed entirely at their disposal; she was only
sorry that absence from town would prevent her from
personally receiving Lady Davenant.
The spaciousness of the rooms, the splendor of the
furniture, the presence of many servants, awed the sim-
ple little American woman. She followed her guide,
who offered to show them the house and led them into
all the rooms, the great and splendidly furnished draw-
ing-room, the dining-room, the morning-room, and the
library, without saying a word. Her husband walked
after her in the deepest dejection, hanging his head and
dangling his hands, in forgetfulness of the statuesque
attitude. He saw no chance whatever for a place of
quiet meditation.
Presently they came back to the morning-room-it
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
251
was a pleasant, sunny room; not so large as the great
dining-room, nor so gaunt in its furniture, nor was it
hung with immense pictures of game and fruit, but
with light and bright water-colors.
"I should like," said her ladyship, hesitating, because
she was a little afraid that her dignity demanded that
they should use the biggest room of all-"I should like,
if we could, to sit in this room when we are alone."
66
Certainly, my lady."
"We are simple people," she went on, trying to make
it clear why they liked simplicity; "and accustomed to
a plain way of life-so that his lordship does not look
for the splendor that belongs to his position."
66
No, my lady."
Therefore, if we may use this room mostly, and—
and-keep the drawing-room for when we have com-
pany-
She looked timidly at the grave young wo-
man who was to be her maid.
(6
Certainly, my lady."
"As for his lordship," she went on, "I beg he may be
undisturbed in the morning when he sits in the library
-he is much occupied in the morning."
""
"Yes, my lady.'
(C
19
"I think I noticed," said Lord Davenant, a little
more cheerfully, "as we walked through the library, a
most beautiful chair." He cleared his throat, but said
no more.
Then they were shown to their own rooms, and told
that luncheon would be served immediately.
66
And I hope, Clara Martha," said his lordship, when
they were alone, "that luncheon in this house means
something solid and substantial-fried oysters now,
with a beefsteak and tomatoes, and a little green corn
in the ear, I should like."
"It will be something, my dear, worthy of our rank.
I almost regret now that you are a teetotaler-wine,
somehow, seems to belong to a title. Do you think that
you could break your vow and take one glass, or even
two, of wine—just to show that you are equal to the
position.
"No, Clara Martha," her husband replied with decis
ion. "No-I will not break the pledge-not even for
a glass of old Bourbon."
""
252
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
t
There were no fried oysters at that day's luncheon,
nor any green corn in the ear; but it was the best
square meal that his lordship had ever sat down to in
his life. Yet it was marred by the presence of an im-
posing footman, who seemed to be watching to see how
much an American could eat. This caused his lordship
to drop knives and upset glasses, and went very near
to mar the enjoyment of the meal.
After the luncheon he bethought him of the chair in
the library, and retired there. It was indeed a most
beautiful chair-low in the seat, broad and deep, not
too soft-and there was a footstool.
His lordship sat down in this chair, beside a large
and cheerful fire, put up his feet, and surveyed the
room. Books were ranged round all the walls-books
from floor to ceiling. There was a large table with
many drawers, covered with papers, magazines, and
reviews, and provided with ink and pens. The door
was shut, and there was no sound save of a passing
carriage in the square.
"This," said his lordship "seems better than Stepney
Green; I wish Nathaniel were here to see me.
With these words upon his lips, he fell into a deep
slumber.
At half-past three his wife came to wake him up.
She had ordered the carriage and was ready and eager
for another drive along those wonderful streets which
she had seen for the first time. She roused him with
great difficulty, and persuaded him, not without words.
of refusal, to come with her. Of course she was per-
fectly wide awake.
66
This," she cried, once more in the carriage, “this
is London, indeed. Oh! to think we have wasted
months at Stepney, thinking that was town. Timo-
thy, we must wake up; we have a great deal to see and
to learn. Look at the shops, look at the carriages.
Do tell! It's better than Boston city. Now that we
have got the carriage we will go out every day and see
something; I've told them to drive past the Queen's
Palace, and to show us where the Prince of Wales lives.
Before long we shall go there ourselves, of course, with
the rest of the nobility. There's only one thing that
troubles me."
I
/
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
253
"What is that, Clara Martha? You air thinkin',
perhaps, that it isn't in nature for them to keep the
dinners every day up to the same pitch of elevation?"
She repressed her indignation at this unworthy sug-
gestion.
"No, Timothy; and I hope your lordship will remem-
ber that in our position we can afford to despise mere
considerations of meat and drink, and wherewithal we
shall be clothed." She spoke as if pure Christianity
was impossible beneath their rank, and, indeed, she had
never felt so truly virtuous before. "No, Timothy, my
trouble is that we want to see everything there is to be
seen."
(C
That is so, Clara Martha. Let us sit in this luxu-
rious chaise and see it all. I never get tired o' sittin',
and I like to see things.'
>>
"But we can only see the things that cost nothing or
the outside things, because we've got no money.
"No money at all?"
C6
None; only seven shillings and three-pence in cop-
در
در
pers.
This was the dreadful truth. Mrs. Bormalack had
been paid, and the seven shillings was all that remained.
"And, oh, there is so much to see! We'd always in-
tended to run round some day, only we were too busy
with the case to find the time, and see all the shows
we'd heard tell of-the Tower of London and Westmin-
ster Abbey, and the monument and Mr. Spurgeon's
Tabernacle-but we never thought things were so grand
as this. When we get home we will ask for a guide-
book of London, and pick out all the things that are
open free.”
That day they drove up and down the streets, gazing
at the crowds and the shops. When they got home
tea was brought them in the morning-room, and his
lordship, who took it for another square meal, requested
the loaf to be brought, and did great things with the
bread and butter-and having no footman to fear.
At half-past seven a bell rang, and presently Miss
Messenger's maid came and whispered that it was the
first bell, and would her ladyship go to her own room,
and could she be of any help?
Lady Davenant rose at once, looking, however, much
254
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
surprised. She went to her own room, followed by her
husband, too much astonished to ask what the thing
meant.
There was a beautiful fire in the room, which was
very large and luxuriously furnished, and lit with gas
burning in soft-colored glass.
66
Nothing could be more delightful," said her lady-
ship, "and this room is a picture. But I don't under-
stand it."
"Perhaps it's the custom," said her husband, "for
the aristocracy to meditate in their bedrooms."
"I don't understand it," she repeated. "The girl
said the first bell. What's the second? They can't
mean us to go to bed.”
"They must," said his lordship. "Yes, we must go
to bed. And there will be no supper to-night. To-
morrow, Clara Martha, you must speak about it, and
say we're accustomed to later hours. At nine o'clock
or ten we can go with a cheerful heart-after supper.
But-well-it looks a soft bed, and I dare say I can
sleep in it. You've nothing to say, Clara Martha, be-
fore I shut my eyes. Because if you have, get it off
your mind, so's not to disturb me afterward.”
He proceeded to undress in his most leisurely man-
ner, and in ten minutes or so was getting into bed.
Just as his head fell upon the pillows there was a knock
at the door.
It was the maid who, came to say that she had for-
gotten to tell her ladyship that dinner was at eight.
“What?” cried the poor lady, startled out of her dig-
nity. "Do you mean to say that we've got to have
dinner?"
•
"Certainly, my lady;" this young person was ex-
tremely well behaved, and in presence of her masters
and mistresses and superiors knew not the nature of a
smile.
"My!"
Her ladyship standing at the door, looked first at the
maid without and then at her husband, whose eyes
were closed, and who was experiencing the first and
balmy influences of sweet sleep. She felt so helpless
that she threw away her dignity and cast herself upon
¿
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
255
the lady's maid. "See now!" she said, "what is your
name, my dear?"
"Campion, my lady."
"I suppose you've got a Christian name?”
"I mean that Miss Messenger always calls me Cam-
pion.'
""
"Well, then, I suppose I must, too. We are simple
people, Miss Campion, and not long from America,
where they do things different, and have dinner at half-
past twelve and supper at six. And my husband has
gone to bed. What is to be done?"
That a gentleman should suppose bed possible at
eight o'clock in the evening, was a thing so utterly in-
conceivable that Campion could for the moment sug-
gest nothing. She only stared. Presently she ventured
to suggest that his lordship might get up again.
"Get up, Timothy; get up this minute!" Her lady-
ship shook and pushed him till he opened his eyes and
lifted his head. "Don't stop to ask questions, but get
up right away." Then she ran back to the door.
"Miss Campion!"
66
Yes, my lady."
66
I don't mind much about myself, but it might not
look well for his lordship not to seem to know things.
just exactly how they're done in England. So please
don't tell the servants, Miss Campion.
She laid her hand on the maid's arm, and looked so
earnest, that the girl felt sorry for her.
"No, my lady," she replied. And she kept her word,
so that though the servants all knew how the noble lord
and his lady had been brought from Stepney Green,
and how his lordship floundered among the plates at
lunch, and ate up half a loaf with afternoon tea, they
did not know that he went to bed instead of dressing
for dinner.
ور
"And, Miss Campion," she was now outside the door,
holding it ajar, and the movements of a heavy body
hastily putting on clothes could be distinctly heard,
"you will please tell me, presently, what time they do
have things."
""
"Yes, my lady."
66
Family prayers now? His lordship will lead, of
256
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
course-a thing he is quite used to, and can do better
than most, having always—" Here she stopped, re-
membering that there was no absolute necessity to ex-
plain the duties of a village schoolmaster.
"There are no family prayers, my lady, and your
ladyship can have dinner or any other meal at any time
you please.
>>
"His lordship's time for meals will be those of his
brother peers."
"Yes, my lady. Breakfast at ten?”
"Ten will do perfectly." It was two hours later than
their usual time and her husband's sufferings would be
very great. Still, everything must give way to the
responsibilities of the rank.
"Will your ladyship take luncheon at half-past one,
and tea at half-past five, and dinner at eight?"
"Yes, now that we know them, these hours will suit
me perfectly. We do not in our own country take tea
before dinner, but after it. That is nothing, how-
ever. And supper?"
"Your ladyship can have supper whenever you want
it,” replied the maid. She hesitated for a moment and
then went on. "It is not usual for supper to be served
at all."
"Oh! then we must go without."
By this time her husband was dressed, and, obedient
to instruction, he had put on his new dress-coat, with-
out, however, making any alteration in the rest of his
morning garments. The effect, therefore, when they
descended to the drawing-room would have been very
startling, but for the fact that there was nobody to see it.
If luncheon was a great meal, dinner was far more
magnificent and stately; only there were two footmen
instead of one, and his lordship felt that he could not
do that justice to the dinner which the dinner deserved,
because those two great hulking fellows in livery
watched him all the time. After dinner they sat in
the great drawing-room, feeling very magnificent, and
yet uncomfortable.
"The second dinner," said his lordship, in a half-
whisper, "made me feel, Clara Martha, that we did
right to leave Canaan City. I never before knew what
they really meant by enjoying a title, and I don't think
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
257
I ever thoroughly enjoyed it before. The red mullet
was beautiful, and the little larks in paper baskets
made me feel a lord all over."
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE SAME SIGNS.
"THIS he has done for love."
When Angela returned to her dressmakery, it was
with these words ringing in her ears, like some refrain
which continually returns and will not be silenced.
"This he has done-for love."
It was a great deal to do-a great deal to give up;
she fully realized, after her talk with Lord Jocelyn, how
much it was that he had given up-at her request.
What had she herself done, she asked, in comparison?
She had given money-anybody could give money.
She had lived in disguise, under false pretences, for a
few months; but she never intended to go on living in
the East End, after she had set her association on a
firm basis. To be sure, she had been drawn on into
wider schemes, and could not retire until these, includ-
ing the Palace of Delight, were well started. But this
young man had given up all, cheerfully, for her sake.
Because she was a dressmaker, and lived at Stepney,
he would be a workman and live there as well. For
her sake he had given up for ever the life of ease and
culture which might have been his, among the gentle-
folk to whom he belonged; for her sake he left the man
who stood to him in loco parentis; for her sake he
gave up all things that are dear to young men, and be-
came a servant. And without a murmur. She watched
him going to his work in the morning, cheerful, with
the sunshine ever in his face-in fact, sunshine lived
there his head erect, his eyes fearless, not repenting
at all of his choice, perhaps hopeful that in the long run
those impediments spoken of might be removed; in
that hope he lived. Should that hope be disappointed-
what then? Only to have loved, to have sacrificed so
much for the sake of love, Angela said to herself, think-
ing of something she had read, was enough. Then she
3
17
258
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
laughed, because this was so silly, and the young man
deserved to have some reward.
Then, as a first result of this newly acquired knowl-
edge, the point of view seemed changed. Quite natu-
rally, after the first surprise at finding so much cultiva-
tion in a working-man, she regarded him, like all the
rest, from her own elevated platform. In the same
way he, from his own elevation, had been, in a sense,
looking down upon herself, though she did not suspect
the fact. One might pause here, in order to discuss
how many kinds of people do consider themselves on a
higher level than their neighbors. My own opinion is
that every man thinks himself on so very high a plat-
form as to entitle him to consider the greater part of
mankind quite below him; the fact that no one else
thinks so has nothing to do with it. Any one, how-
ever, can understand how Angela would at first regard
Harry, and Harry the fair dressmaker. Further, that,
whatever acquaintance or intimacy grew up between
them, the first impression would always remain, with
the mental attitude of a slight superiority in both
minds, so long as the first impression, the first belief
as to the real facts, was not removed. Now that it was
removed on one side, Angela, for her part, could no
longer look down; there was no superiority left, except
in so far as the daughter of a Whitechapel brewer might
consider herself of finer clay than the son of a sergeant
in the army, also of Whitechapel origin.
All for love of her.
The words filled her heart: they made her cheeks
burn and her eyes glow. It seemed so great and noble
a thing to do; so grand a sacrifice to make.
She remembered her words of contempt when, in a
shamefaced, hesitating way, as if it was something
wrong, he had confessed that he might go back to a life
of idleness. Why, she might have known-she ought
to have known-that it was not to an ignoble life among
ignoble people that he would go.
Yet she was so
stupid.
What a sacrifice to make! And all for love of her!
Then the flower of love sprang up and immediately
blossomed, and was a beauteous rose, ready for her
ALL SÖRTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
259
lover to gather and place upon his heart. But as yet
she hardly knew it.
Yet she had known all along that Harry loved her.
He never tried to conceal his passion. "Why," she
said to herself, trying to understand the meaning of the
sudden change in herself-"why, it only seemed to
amuse me; the thing was absurd; and I felt pity for
him, and a little anger because he was so presumptuous;
and I was a little embarrassed for fear I had compro-
mised myself with him. But it wasn't absurd at all;
and he loves me, though I have no fortune. Oh,
heaven! I am a she-Dives, and he doesn't know it, and
he loves me all the same."
She was to tell him when the "impediments" were re-
moved. Why, they were removed already. But
should she tell him? How could she dare to tell him?
No girl likes to do her own wooing; she must be
courted; she must be won. Besides-perhaps-but
here she smiled—he was not so very much in love, after
all. Perhaps he would change; perhaps he would
grow tired and go home and desert her; perhaps he
would fall in love with some one else. And perhaps
Angela, the strong-minded student of Newnham, who
would have no love or marriage, or anything of the
kind, in her life, was no stronger than any of her sisters
at the approach of Love the Unconquered.
She came back the evening after that dinner. Her
cheek had a new color upon it; there was a new smile
upon her lips; there was a new softness in her eyes.
"You look so beautiful this evening," said Nelly.
"Have you been happy while you were away?"
"I have heard something that has made me happier,
said Angela. "But you, dear Nelly, have not. Why
are your cheeks so pale, and what is the meaning of
the dark lines under your eyes?"
"9
"It is nothing," the girl replied quickly. "I am
quite well." But she was not. She was nervous and
preoccupied. There was something on her mind.
Then Harry came, and they began to pass the even-
ing in the usual way, practising their songs, with
music, and the little dance, without which the girls could
not have gone away happy. And Angela, for the first
260
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
time, observed a thing which struck a chill to her
heart, and robbed her of half her joy.
Why had she never before discovered this thing?
Ah! ignorant maiden, despite the wisdom of the schools.
Hypatia herself was not more ignorant than Angela,
who knew not that the chief quality of the rose of love
in her heart was to make her read the hearts of others.
Armed with this magic power, she saw what she might
have seen long before.
In the hasty glance, the quick flush, the nervous
trembling of her hands, poor Nelly betrayed her secret.
And by those signs the other girl, who loved the same
man, read that secret.
"Is your
"O selfish woman!" said Angela's heart.
happiness to be bought at such a cost?"
A girl of lower nature might have been jealous.
Angela was not. It seemed to her no sin in Nelly that
she thought too much of such a man. But she pitied
her. Nor did she, as some women might have done,
suspect that Harry had trifled with her feelings. She
knew that he had not. She had seen them together,
day after day; she knew what his bearing had always
been toward her, frank, courteous, and brotherly. He
called her by her Christian name; he liked her, her
presence was pleasant; she was pretty, sweet, and win-
ning. No: she did not suspect him. And yet, what
should she say to the poor girl? How comfort her?
How reconcile her to the inevitable sorrow?
66
Nelly," she whispered at parting, "if you are un-
happy, my child, you must tell me what it is.”
"I cannot," Nelly replied. "But oh! do not think
about me, Miss Kennedy; I am not worth it.
Perhaps she, too, had read those same signs and
knew what they meant.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
HARRY FINDS LIBERTY.
MENTION has been made of the Stepney Advanced
Club, where Dick Coppin thundered, and burning ques-
tions were discussed, and debates held on high political
points, and where more ideas were submitted and more
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MÊN.
261
projects set forth in a single year than in all the rest of
London in two years.
The members of the Advanced
Club were mostly young men, but there was a sprink-
ling among them of grizzled beards who remembered
'48 and the dreams of Chartism. They had got by this
time pretty well all they clamored for in their by-gone
days, and when they thought of this, and remembered
how everything was to go well as soon as the five points
of the Charter were carried, and how everything still
remained in the same upside-down, topsy-turvy, one-
sided, muddle-headed perverseness just as if those
points had not been carried, they became sad. Never-
theless, the habit of demanding remained, because the
reformer is like the daughter of the horse-leech, and
still cries for more. Yet they had less confidence than
of old in the reformer's great nostrum of destruction.
The younger men, of course, were quite sure, absolutely
sure, that with a little more upsetting and down-pulling
the balance would be set right, and a beautiful straight
level of universal happiness would be reached.
Angela heard, from time to time, of the meetings of
this club. Harry told her how his cousin Dick had
surpassed himself; how they were going to abolish
Crown, Church, and House of Lords, with landlordism,
lawyers, established armies, pauperdom, Divesdom,
taxes, and all kinds of things which the hateful Tory
or that pitiful creature the moderate Liberal considers.
necessary for the welfare of the state. And she knew
that Harry went there and spoke occasionally, and that
he had made in a quiet way some sort of mark among
the members. One evening, about this time, she met
Dick Coppin returning from his work, in which, unlike
his cousin, he did not disdain the apron nor the box of
tools.
"There's going to be a debate on Sunday," he said,
half shyly and half boastfully, "at the club. It's on
the abolition of the House of Lords. I am going to
speak, and if you like to come, you and one or two
of the girls, I'll pass you in, and you will hear a thing
or two that will open your eyes.
"That is very good of you, Mr. Coppin. I always
like to have my eyes opened. Will there be many
speakers?"
در
262
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
There will be ME," he replied with simple grand-
eur. "I don't think, when I've said my say, that there
will remain much more to be said by anybody. Cousin
Harry may get up, perhaps "-his face assumed a little
uneasiness-"but no, I don't think he will find any
holes in me. I've got the facts; I've gone to the right
quarter to get 'em. No: he can't deny my facts."
"Very well, Mr. Coppin. Perhaps we will go to hear
you. But be very sure about your facts."
(6
Angela said nothing about the proposed debate or her
intention of being present, but she learned from Harry
that there really was going to be a field-night, and that
Dick Coppin was expected to come out in more than
his usual strength. The informant said nothing about
his own intentions. Indeed, he had none, but he was
falling into the habit of spending an hour or two at the
club on Sunday evening before finishing off with the
girls; sometimes he spoke, but oftener he listened and
came away silent and reflected. The Advanced Club
offered ample material for one who knows how to re-
flect. Humanity is a grand subject, and, in fact, is
the only subject left for an epic poem. But perhaps the
action would drag. Here, Harry saw, was a body of
men, old and young, all firmly persuaded that things
were wrong; that things might be made better, yet cast-
ing about blindly for a remedy, and crying aloud for
a leader. And those who desired to lead them had
nothing to offer but a stone instead of bread. The fact
that this young man did listen and reflect shows how
greatly he was changed from him whom we first met
in the prologue. Regular hours, simple living, reason-
ably hard work strengthened his nerves for anything;
he was harder; the men with whom he talked were
rougher, and the old carelessness was gone.
He kept
his gayety of heart, yet it was sobered; he felt responsi-
ble. He knew so much more than the men around him
that he felt a consuming desire to set them right, but
could not, for he was tongue-tied; he had not yet found
liberty, as the old preachers used to say; when he felt
most strongly that the speakers were on a false track
he spoke most feebly; he wanted to be a prophet, and
there were only confused ideas, blurred perceptions to
work upon. Now the first steps toward being a prophet
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
263
-which is a most laudable ambition-is to see quite
clearly one's self and to understand what one means.
He could set a man right as to facts, he could shut up
a speaker and make the club laugh, but he could not
move them. As yet Harry was only in the position
occupied during a long life by the late prophet of Chel-
sea, inasmuch as he distinctly perceived the folly of
his neighbors, but could teach no way of wisdom.
This is a form of prophetical utterance which has never
possessed much weight with the people; they want di-
rect teaching and a leader who knows what he means
and whither he would conduct them, if it be only in the
direction of one of those poor, old worn-out panaceas
once warranted to guarantee universal happiness, like
the ballot-box. Not that Harry grew miserable over
his failure to prophesy-not at all; he only wished for
words of wisdom and power, and sat meanwhile with
his hands in his pockets and his hat pulled over his
eyes like a minister in the House of Commons, while
the members of the club poured forth their frothy de-
clamation, each louder than his predecessor, trying to
catch the applause of an assembly which generally
shouted for the loudest. The times might be out of
joint, but Harry felt no inspiration as to the way of
setting them right; if a thing came to him he would say
it-if not, he would wait. The great secret about wait-
ing is that while a man waits he thinks, and if he thinks
in solitude and waits long enough, letting words lie in
his brain and listening to ideas which come upon him,
sometimes singly and slowly, sometimes in crowds like
the fancies of a wakeful night, there presents itself an
idea at last which seizes upon him and holds him cap-
tive, and works itself out in his brain while he mechan-
ically goes on with the work, the rest, the toil, and the
pleasure of his daily life. Solitary work is favorable
to meditation; therefore, while Harry was shaping
things at his lathe undisturbed by no one, his brain was
at work. And a thought came to him which lay there
dimly perceived at first, but growing larger daily till it
filled his head and drew unto itself all his other thoughts,
so that everything he saw, or read, or heard, or medi-
tated upon, became like a rill or rivulet which goes to
swell a great river. And it was this thought, growing
264
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
into shape at last, which he proclaimed to the mem
bers of the Advanced Club on the night of their great
debate.
It was not a large hall, but it was perfectly filled
with people; chiefly they were men and young men,
but among them were a good many women and girls.
Does it ever occur to the "better class" that the work of
woman's emancipation is advancing in certain circles
with rapid strides? That is so, nevertheless; and large,
if not pleasant, results may be expected in a few years.
therefrom. It must be remembered that for the most
part they start perfectly free from any trammels of re-
ligion. It has been stated that the basis of all their
philosophy is, and always will be, the axiom that every
one must get as much as possible for herself out of the
rather limited ration of pleasure supplied to humanity.
Whether that is true I know not. Angela watched
these women with curiosity; they were mostly young,
and some of them were pretty, and there was absolutely
nothing to show that they thought differently from any
other women. Some of them had brought their work;
some were talking; they were not excited by the pros-
pect of the coming debate-they expected, in fact, noth-
ing more than they had already heard over and over
again. There was too much gas, the atmosphere was
already heavy and the walls already shiny, before the
meeting began. On the platform was a chair for the
chairman, with a table and a hammer and a decanter
of water and a glass. Angela sat far back against the
door, with Captain Sorensen and Nelly. She was si-
lent, wondering at these people and why they should
trouble themselves about the House of Lords, and
whether they never felt any desire at all for the religion
which brings joy and happiness to so many suffering
lives. Presently she saw Harry walk slowly up the
middle aisle and take a place, for there was no chair,
on the steps which led to the platform. She was so far
back that he could not see her, for which afterward she
was glad.
-
The chairman, a man stricken in years, with gray
hair and a grizzled beard, and one of those ex-Chartists
of whom we have spoken, took the chair, hammered the
table, and opened the debate. He was a man of great
}
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
265
:
reputation, having been all his life an Irreconcilable,
and he was suspected of being a Socialist, and was cer-
tainly a Red Republican. He began in the usual way
by stating as an axiom that the people can do no wrong;
that to intrust the destinies of a nation to the People
is to insure its greatness; that Manhood is the only
rank—and so forth, all in capital letters with notes of
admiration. The words were strong, but they pro-
duced no effect, because the speech had been made be-
fore a great many times, and the people knew it by
heart. Therefore, though it was the right thing to
say, and the thing expected of a chairman, nobody paid
any attention.
The discussion, which was all one-sided, then began.
Two or three young men rose one after the other; they
were listened to with the indulgence which is always
accorded to beginners. None of them made a point, or
said a good thing, or went outside the theories of un-
taught, if generous youth, and their ignorance was
such as to make Angela almost weep.
Then Dick Coppin mounted the platform, and ad-
vanced, amid the plaudits of the expectant audience.
He ran his fingers through his coarse, black hair,
straightened himself up to his full height of five feet
six, drank a little water, and then, standing beside the
chairman's table with his right hand resting upon it
when he was not waving it about, he began, slowly at
first, but afterward with fluent speech and strong
words, and a ringing voice, the harangue which he had
so carefully prepared. Of course, he condemned the
House of Lords tooth and nail; it must be destroyed
root and branch; it was a standing insult to the common
sense of the nation; it was an effete and worn-out insti-
tution, against which the enlightenment of the age cried
out aloud; it was an obstruction to Progress; it was a
menace to the poeple; it was a thing of the past; it was
an enemy of the working-man; it was a tyrant, who had
the will but not the power to tyrannize any longer; it
was a toothless old wolf, who could bark but could not
bite. Those free and enlightened men sitting before
him, members of the Advanced Club, had pronounced
its doom-therefore, it must go. The time had come
when the nation would endure no longer to have a
<
266
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
privileged class, and would be mocked no more by the
ridiculous spectacle of hereditary legislators.
He pursued this topic with great freedom of language
and a great eloquence of a rough and uncultivated kind;
his hearers, getting gradually warmed, interrupted him
by those plaudits which go straight to the heart of the
born orator, and stir him to his strongest and his best.
Then he changed his line and attempted to show that
the families which compose the Upper House are them-
selves, as well as their institution, worn-out, used up,
and lost to the vigor which first pushed them to the
front. Where were now their fighting men? he asked.
Where were their orators? Which among them all was
of any real importance to his party? Which of them
had in modern times done anything, proposed anything,
or thought of anything for the advancement of knowl-
edge or the good of the people? Not one able man, he
said, among them; luxury had ruined and corrupted
all; their blood was poisoned; they could drink and
eat; they could practise other luxurious habits, which
he enumerated with fidelity, lest there should be any
mistake about the matter; and then they could go to
the House reeling into it drunk with wine, and oppose
the Will of the People.
Then he turned from generalities to particulars, and
entertained his audience with anecdotes gleaned, Heaven
knows how, from the private histories of many noble
families, tending to show the corruption into which the
British aristocracy had fallen. These anecdotes were
received with that keenness which always awaits sto-
ries which show how wicked other people are, and what
are the newest fashions and hitherto unknown forms of
vice. Angela marvelled, on her part, to hear "scandal
about Queen Elizabeth" at Stepney.
Then, after an impeachment which lasted for half an
hour, he thundered forth an appeal-not at all novel to
his hearers, yet still effective, because his voice was
like a trumpet-to the men before him to rise in their
millions, their majesty, and their might, and to bear
the accursed thing down.
-
He sat down, at last, wiping his forehead, and ex-
hausted but triumphant. Never before had he so com-
pletely carried his audience with him; never before
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
267
had he obtained such flow of language, and such mas-
tery over his voice; never before had he realized so
fully that he was, he himself, an orator inferior to none.
As he sat down, while the men clapped their hands and
cheered, a vision of greatness passed before his mind.
He would be the Leader of the People; they should look
to him as they had never yet looked to any man for
guidance. And he would lead them. Whither? But,
this, in the dream of the moment, mattered nothing.
A cold chill came over him as he saw his cousin
Harry leap lightly to the platform and take his place at
the table. For he foresaw trouble; and all the more
because those of the audience who knew Gentleman Jack
laughed in expectation of that trouble. Fickle and fleet-
ing is the breath of popular favor; only a moment be-
fore and they were cheering him to the skies; now they
laughed because they hoped he was to be made to look
a fool.
But the orator took heart, considering that his
facts were undeniable.
When the tumult had subsided, Harry, to everybody
astonishment, laid his hand upon his cousin's shoulder
a gesture of approbation—and looked round the room,
and said quietly, but loud enough to be heard by all:
"My cousin, Dick Coppin, can talk. That was a
very good speech of his, wasn't it?"
Voices were heard asking if he could better it.
"No," Harry replied, "I can't. I wish I could."
He took his place beside the table, and gazed for a few
moments at the faces below him. Angela observed that
his face was pale, though the carriage of his head was
brave. "I wish," he repeated, "that I could. Because,
after all these fireworks, it is such a tame thing just to
tell you that there wasn't a word of sense in the whole
speech.
""
Here there were signs of wrath, but the general feel-
ing was to let the speaker have his say.
66
Do you suppose any of you that Dick believes that
the Lords go rolling drunk to the House? Of course
he doesn't. Do you suppose that he thinks you such
fools as to believe it? Of course he doesn't. But then,
you see, Dick must have his fireworks. And it was a
first-rate speech. Do you suppose he believes the Lords
are a worn-out lot? Not he. He knows better. And
268
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
if any of you feel inclined to think so, go and look at
them. You will find them as well set up as most, and
better. You can hear some of them in the House of
Commons, where you send them, you electors.
Wher-
ever there are Englishmen working, fighting, or sport-
ing, there are some of those families among them. As
for their corruption, that's fireworks, too. Dick has
told you some beautiful stories which he challenged.
anybody to dispute. I dare say they are all true.
What he forgot to tell you is that he has picked out
these stories from the last hundred and fifty years, and
expects you to believe that they all happened yesterday.
Shall we charge you, members of the club, with all the
crimes of the Whitechapel Road for a hundred years?
If you want to upset the House of Lords, go and do it.
But don't do it with lies on your lips, and on false pre-
tences. You know how virtuous and moral you are
yourselves. Then just remember that the members of
the House of Lords are about as moral as you are, or
rather better. Abolish the House of Lords if you like.
How much better will you be when it is gone? You
can go on abolishing. There is the Church. Get it
disestablished. Think how much better you will all be
when the churches are pulled down. Yet you couldn't
stay away any more then than you do. You want the
Land Laws reformed. Get them reformed, and think
how much land you will get for yourselves out of that
reform.
"Dick Coppin says you have got the power. So you
have. He says the last Reform Bill gave it to you.
There he makes a mistake. You have always had the
power. You have always had all the power there is.
It is yours, because you are the people, and what the
people want they will have. Your power is your birth-
right. You are an irresistible giant, who has only to
roar in order to get what he wants.
"Well, why don't you roar? Because you don't
know what you do want. Because your leaders don't
know any more than yourselves; because they go bawl-
ing for things which will do you no good, and don't
know what it is you do want.
-
"You think that by making yourselves into clubs
and calling yourselves Radicals, you are getting for
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
269
ward. You think that by listening to a chap like my
cousin Dick, who's a clever fellow and a devil for fire-
works, you somehow improve your own condition.
Did you ever ask yourselves what difference the form
of government makes? I have been in America where,
if anywhere, the people have it their own way. Do
you think work is more plentiful, wages better, hours
shorter, things cheaper in a republic? Do you think
the heels of your boots last any longer? If you do,
think so no longer. Whether the House of Lords, or
the Church, or the Land Laws stand or fall, that, my
friends, makes not the difference of a penny-piece to
any single man among us. You who agitate for their
destruction are generously giving your time and trouble
for things which help no man. And yet there are so
many things that can help us.
"It comes of your cursed ignorance" (Harry was
warming up)—“I say, your cursed ignorance. You
know nothing; you understand nothing of your own
country. You do not know how its institutions have
grown up; why it is so prosperous; why changes, when
they have to be made, should be made slowly and not
before they are necessary; nor how you yourselves may
climb up, if you will, into a life above you, much hap-
pier, much more pleasant. You do not respect the old
institutions, because you don't know them; you desire
new things because you don't understand the old. Go
-learn-make your orators learn, and make them teach
you. And then send them to the House of Commons
to represent you.
"You think that governments can do everything for
you. You fools! has any government ever done any-
thing for you? Has it raised your wages-has it
shortened your hours? Can it protect you against
rogues and adulterers? Will it ever try to better your
position? Never, never, never!-because it cannot.
Does any government ask what you want-what you
ought to want? No. Can it give you what you want?
No.
"Listen. You want clean streets and houses in
which decent folks can live. The government has ap-
pointed sanitary officers. Yet, look about you! Put
your heads in the courts of Whitechapel. What has
270
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
the sanitary officer done? You want strong and well-
built houses. There are government inspectors; yet,
look at the lath and plaster houses that a child could
kick over. You want honest food-all that you eat and
drink is adulterated. How does the government help
you there?
"You have the power-all the power there is. You
cannot use it, because you don't know how.
You ex-
pect the government to use your power-to do your
work. My friends, I will tell you the secret. What-
ever you want done you must do for yourselves! No
one else will do it for you. You must agree that
such and such shall be done; and then, be very sure,
you will get it done.
"In politics you are used as the counters of a game-
each side plays with you. Not for you, mind. You
get nothing, whichever side is in-you are the pawns.
"It is something, perhaps, to take even so much
part in the game; but, as you get nothing but the
honor, I am rather surprised at your going on with it.
And, if I might advise, it would be that we give that
game over, and play one by ourselves, in which there
really is something to be got.
S
"What we must play for is what we want. What
we have got to do is, to remember that when we say
we will have a thing-nobody can resist us. Have it
we must, because we are the masters.
•
"Now then, what do we want?"
Harry was quite serious by this time, and so were
the faces of those who listened-though there was a lit-
tle angry doubt on some of them. No one replied to
the question. Some of the younger men looked as if
they might, perhaps, have answered in the words of
the sailor—“ More rum.” But they refrained, and pre-
served silence.
What do we want? Has any one of
Has any one of you considered
what we do want? Let me tell you a few things. I
can't think of many; but I know a few that you ought
to put first.
"You want your own local government-what every
little country town has, you have not. You want to
elect your own aldermen, mayors, guardians, and
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
271
:
school-boards-be yourselves-be yourselves.
first, and abolish the House of Lords afterward.
Get that
"There is your food? You ought to get your beef
from America, at threepence a pound, and you are con-
tented to give a shilling. You ought to have your fish
at twopence a pound, and you pay whatever they choose
to charge you. You drink bad beer, bad spirits, bad
tea, bad cocoa, bad coffee, because you don't know that
the things are bad and dear; and because you don't
understand that you have only got to resolve in order
to get all this changed. It is, you see, your cursed
ignorance.
66
There are your houses! The rich people-having
more knowledge than you, and more determination-
have found out how to build houses so as to prevent
fevers. You live in houses built to catch fever-fever-
traps! When you find out what you want, you will
refuse to live in such houses. You will refuse to let
anybody live in such houses. You will come out of
them you will have them pulled down.
"When it comes to building up better houses, you
will remember that paid inspectors are squared by the
builders so that the cement is mud and sand; and the
bricks are crumbling clay; and the walls crack, and the
floors are shaky. Therefore you will be your own in-
spectors.
The Government makes us send our children to
boarding schools to be educated. That would be very
noble of the Government if they had first considered—
which nobody has-what sort of education a working-
man wants. As yet they have only got as far as spell-
ing. When a boy can spell they think he is educated.
Once it was all kings of Israel-now it is all spelling.
Is that what you want? Do you think it matters how
you spell, so that you know? Are you contented that
your children shall know nothing about this great
country-nothing of its wealth and people; nothing
of their duties as citizens; nothing of their own
trade? Shall they not be taught that theirs is the
power-that they can do what they like, and have what
they like, if they like?
"Do you resolve that the education of your children
shall be real, and it will become real; but don't look to
272
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Government to do it or it will continue to be spelling.
Find out the thing that you want, and send your own
men to the school-boards to get that thing done.
"Another thing that you want is pleasure-men can't
do without it. Can Government give you that? They
can shut the public-houses at twelve-what more can
they do? But you-you do not know how to enjoy
yourselves. You don't know what to do. You can't
play music, nor sing, nor paint, nor dance-you can do.
nothing. You get no pleasure out of life, and you
won't get it even by abolishing everything.
Take that simple question of a holiday. We take
ours, like the fools we are, all in droves, by thousands
and millions, on bank holidays. Why do we do that?
Why do we not insist on having our holidays at differ-
ent times in the year, without these monstrous crowds
which render enjoyment impossible? And why do we
not demand-what is granted to every little quill-driv-
ing clerk in the city-our fortnight every year with
nothing to do, and drawing full pay? That is one of
your wants, and you don't know it. The reform of the
land laws, my brothers, will not bring you one inch
nearer getting this want."
At this point the chairman nodded his head approv-
ingly. Perhaps he had never before realized how all
his life he had neglected the substance and swallowed.
the shadow. The old man sat listening patiently with
his head in his hands. Never before had any workman.
-any one of his own class-spoken like this young fel-
low, who talked and looked like a swell-though they
knew him for what he was. Pleasure! Yes--he had
never consisted that life might have its delights. Yet,
what delights?
ww
"There is another thing, and the blackest of all."
Harry paused a moment: but the men were listening,
and now in earnest.
"I mean the treatment of your girls-your sisters
and your daughters! Men, you have combined together
and made your unions for yourselves-you have forced
upon your employers terms which nothing but combi-
nation would have compelled them to accept. You are
paid twice what you received twenty years ago.
go in broadcloth-you are well fed. You have money
You
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
273
in your pocket. But you have clean forgotten the
girls.
Think of the girls.
They have no protection but a Government act for-
bidding more than ten hours' work. Who cares for
a Government act? It is defied daily. Those who
frame these acts know very well that they are power-
less to maintain them; because, my friends, the power
is with the people-you. If you resolve that an act
shall become a law, you make it so. Everything, in
the end, is by the people and through the people.
You have done nothing for your girls-you leave
them to the mercies of employers, who have got to cut
down expenses to the last farthing. They are paid
starvation wages. They are kept in unwholesome
rooms. They are bound to the longest hours. They
are oppressed with fines. The girls grow up narrow-
chested, stooping, consumptive-they are used up
wholesale. And what do you do for them. Nothing.
There are girls and women in this hall: can any one of
them here get up and say that the working-men have
raised a finger for them?
CC
The worst charge any man can bring against you
is that you care nothing for your girls.
(6
'Why, it is only the other day that a Dressmakers'
Association has been opened among you-you all know
where it is. You all know what it tries to do for the
girls. Yet, what single man among you has ever had
the pluck to stand up for his sisters who are working
in it?"
(C
Then Harry stepped right to the edge of the platform
and spread out his hands, changing his voice.
(6
'You are good fellows," he said, "and you've given
me fair play. There isn't a country in the world, ex-
cept Ireland, where I could have had this fair play.
Don't misunderstand me-I tell you, and I don't think
you knew it before, that the time has come when the
people should leave off caring much about the Govern-
ment, or expecting any good thing for themselves from
any government; because it can't be done in that way.
You must find out for yourselves what you want, and
then you must have that done. You must combine for
these things as you did for wages, and you will get
-
18
274
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
them. And if you spend half the energy in working
for yourselves that you have spent in working for
things that do you no good you will be happy indeed.
'Your politics, I say again, will do nothing for you
-do you hear-nothing at all; but yours is the power.
Let us repeat it again and again-all the power is yours.
Try what Government can do. Send Dick Coppin into
Parliament-he's a clever chap-and tell him to do what
he can for you. He will do nothing. Therefore, work
for yourselves, and by yourselves. Make out what you
want, and resolve to have it-nobody can prevent you.
The world is yours to do what you like with. Here in
England, as in America, the working-man is master-
provided the working-man knows what he wants. The
first thing you want, I reckon, is good lodging. The
second, is good food. The third is good drink-good,
unadulterated beer, and plenty of it. The fourth is
good and sensible education. The fifth is holiday and
pleasure; and the last, which is also the first, is justice
for our girls. But don't be fools.
But don't be fools. I have been among
you in this club a good many times. It goes to my
heart every time I come to see so many clever men and
able men wasting their time in grievances which don't
hurt them, when they are surrounded by a hundred
grievances which they have only to perceive in order to
sweep them away.
"I am a Radical, like yourselves; but I am a Social
Radical. As for your political jaw, it plays the game
of those who use you. Politics is a game of lying ac-
cusations and impossible promises. The accusations.
make you angry-the promises make you hopeful. But
you get nothing in the long run; and you never will.
Because promise what they may-it is not laws or
measures that will improve our lot; it is by our own
resolution that it shall be improved. Hold out your
hands and take the things that are offered you-every-
thing is yours if you like to have it. You are in a
beautiful garden filled with fruits, if you care to pick
them; but you do not. You lie grubbing in the mud,
and crying out for what will do you no good. Voices
are calling to you-they offer you such a life as was
never yet conceived by the lordliest House of Lords-
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
275
a life full of work, and full of pleasure. But you don't
hear-you are deaf. You are blind-you are ignorant.
""
He stopped; a hoarse shout greeted his peroration.
Harry wondered for a moment if this was applause or
disapproval. It was the former. Then one man rose
and spoke.
"Damn him!" he cried. Yet the phrase was used
in no condemnatory spirit; as when a mother addresses
her boy as a naughty little rogue-pogue.
"Damn him!
He shall be our next member."
"No," said Harry, clapping his cousin on the shoul-
der, "here is your next member; Dick Coppin is your
boy. He is clever-he is ambitious. Tell him what you
want, and he'll get it for you if any one can. But, O
men! find out what you want, and have it. Yours
-yours-yours is the power. You are the masters
of the world. Leave the humbug of Radicalism, and
Liberalism, and Toryism. Let dead politics bury their
dead-learn to look after your own interests.
You are
the kings and lords of humanity. The old kings and
lords are no more they are swept away! They are
only shadows of the past. With you are the sceptre
and the crown. You sit upon the throne, and when
you know how to reign, you shall reign as never yet
king was known to reign; but first find out what you
want."
He lightly leaped from the platform and stepped down
the hall-he had said his say, and was going. The
men laughed and shouted-half angry, half pleased,
but wholly astonished; and Dick Coppin, with a burn-
ing cheek, sat humiliated yet proud of his cousin.
At the door Harry met Miss Kennedy, with Captain
Sorensen and Nelly.
"We have heard your speech," said Angela, with
brightened eyes and glowing cheeks. "Oh, what did I
tell you? You can speak, you can persuade; you can
lead. What a career-what a career lies before the
man who can persuade and lead !"
276
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE FIGUREHEADS.
-
It was Sunday morning, after breakfast, and Harry
was sitting in the boarding-house common room, si-
lently contemplating his two fellow-boarders, Josephus
and Mr. Maliphant. The circle at Bormalack's was
Not to speak of the loss of the il-
greatly broken up.
lustrious pair, Daniel Fagg had now taken to live en-
tirely among the dressmakers, except in the evenings,
when their music and dancing drove him away; in fact,
he regarded the place as his own, and had so far for-
gotten that he took his meals there by invitation as to
criticise the dinners, which were always good, although
plain, and to find fault with the beer, which came
from Messenger's. Miss Kennedy, too, only slept at
the boarding-house, though by singular forgetfulness
she always paid the landlady every Saturday morning
in advance for a week's board and lodging. Therefore
Josephus and the old man for the most part sat in the
room alone, and were excellent company, because the
ill-used junior clerk never wanted to talk with any-
body, and the aged carver of figureheads never wanted
a listener.
Almost for the first time Harry considered this old
man, the rememberer of fag-ends and middle-bits of
anecdote, with something more than a passing curiosity
and a sense of irritation caused by the incongruity of
the creature. You know that whenever you seriously
address yourself to the study of a person, however in-
significant in appearance, that person assumes an im-
portance equal to any lord. A person, you see, is an
individual, or an indivisible thing. Wherefore, let us
not despise our neighbor. The ancient Mr. Maliphant
was a little, thin old man, with a few gray hairs left,
but not many; his face was inwrapped, so to speak, in
a pair of very high collars, and he wore a black silk
stock, not very rusty, for he had been in the reign of
the fourth George a dapper young fellow, and possessed
a taste in dress beyond the lights of Limehouse. But
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
277
this was in his nautical days, and before he developed his
natural genius for carving ship's figureheads. He had
no teeth left, and their absence greatly shortened the
space between nose and chin, which produced an odd
effect; he was closely shaven; his face was all covered
over like an ocean with innumerable wrinkles, crows-
feet, dimples, furrows, valleys, and winding water-
courses, which showed like the universal smile of an ac-
curate map. His forehead, when the original thatch
was thick, must have been rather low and weak; his
eyes were still bright and blue, though they wandered
while he talked; when he was silent they had a far-off
look; his eyebrows, as often happens with old men, had
grown bushy and were joined across the bridge; when
his memory failed him, which was frequently the case,
they frowned almost as terribly as those of Daniel
Fagg; his figure was spare and his legs thin, and he sat
on one side of the chair with his feet twisted beneath
it; he never did anything, except to smoke one pipe at
night; he never took the least notice of anybody; when
he talked, he addressed the whole company, not any
individual; and he was affected by no man's happiness.
or suffering. He had lived so long that he had no more
sympathy left; the world was nothing more to him; he
had no further interest in it; he had gone beyond it
and out of it; he was so old that he had not a friend
left who knew him when he was young; he lived apart;
he was, perforce, a hermit.
Harry remembered, looking upon this survival, that
the old man had once betrayed a knowledge of his fa-
ther and of the early history of the Coppin and Messen-
ger families. He wondered now why he had not tried
to get more out of him. It would be a family chronicle
of small beer, but there could be nothing, probably,
very disagreeable to learn about the career of the late
sergeant, his father, nor anything painful about the
course of the Coppins. On this Sunday morning, when
the old man looked as if the cares of the week were off
his mind, his memory should be fresh-clearer than on
a week-day.
In the happy family of boarders, none of whom pre-
tended to take the least interest in each other, nobody
ever spoke to Mr. Maliphant, and nobody listened when
278
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
he spoke, except Mrs. Bormalack, who was bound by
rules of politeness, or took the least notice of his coming
or his going; nobody knew how he lived or what he
paid for his board and lodging, or anything else about
him. Once, it was certain, he had been in the mercan-
tile marine. Now he had a "yard;" he went to his
yard every day; it was rumored that in this yard he
carved figureheads all day for large sums of money; he
came home in the evening in time for supper; a fra-
grance, as of rum and water, generally accompanied
him at that time; and after a pipe and a little more
grog, and a few reminiscences chopped up in bits and
addressed to the room at large, the old fellow would re-
tire for the night. A perfectly cheerful and harmless
old man, yet not companionable.
66
"Did you know my father, Mr. Maliphant?" asked
Harry, by way of opening up the conversation. He
was a sergeant, you know, in the army.
""
Mr. Maliphant started and looked bewildered; he had
been, in imagination, somewhere off Cape Horn, and he
could not get back at a moment's notice. It irritated
him to have to leave his old friends.
"Your father, young gentleman?" he asked in a
vexed and trembling quaver. "Did I know your fa-
ther? Pray, sir, how am I to know that you ever had
a father?"
"You said, the other day, that you did. Think again.
My father, you know; married Caroline Coppin.'
(C
99
Ay, ay-Caroline Coppin-I remember Caroline
Coppin. Oh, yes, sister, she was, to Bob-when Bob
was third mate of an East Indiaman; a devil of a fellow
was Bob, though but a boy, and if living now, which
I must misdoubt, would be but sixty or thereabouts.
Everybody, young man, knew Bob Coppin,". . . . here
he relapsed into silence. When he spoke again, he
carried on aloud the subject of his thoughts-" below
he did his duty. Such a man, sir, was Bob Coppin.”
"Thank you, Mr. Maliphant. I seem to know Bob
quite well from your description. And now he's gone
aloft, hasn't he? And when the word comes to pass all
hands, there will be Bob with a hitch of his trousers
and a kick of the left leg. But about my mother."
"Young gentleman, how am I to know that you were
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
279
born with a mother? Law, law! One might as well".
Here his voice dropped again, and he finished the sen-
tence with the silent motion of his lips.
"Caroline Coppin, you know; your old friend."
He shook his head.
(6
No-oh, no! I knew her when she was as high as
that table. My young friend, not my old friend, she
was. How could she be my old friend? She married
Sergeant Goslett, and he went out to India and-and-
something happened there. Perhaps he was cast away.
As many get cast away in those seas.
""
"Is that all you can remember about her?”
"I can remember," said the old man, "a wonderful
lot of things at times. You mustn't ask any man to
remember all at once. Not at his best, you mustn't,
and I doubt I am hardly at what you may call my tip-
top ripest-yet. Wait a bit, young man; wait a bit.
I've been to a many ports and carved figureheads for a
many ships, and they got cast away, one after the other,
but dear to memory still, and paid for. Like Sergeant
Goslett. A handsome man he was, with curly brown
hair, like yours, young gentleman. I remember how
he sang a song in this very house when Caroline-or
was it her sister?-had it, and I forget whether it was
Bunker married her sister or after Caroline's baby was
born, which was when the child's father was dead. A
beautiful evening we had."
Caroline's baby, Harry surmised, was himself.
"Where was Caroline's baby born?" Harry asked.
"Where should he be? Why, o' course, in his
mother's own house.'
CC
Why should he be born in his mother's own house?
I did not know that his mother had a house.”
The old man looked at him with pity.
"Young man," he said, "you know nothing. Your
ignorance is shameful."
"But why?"
66
Enough said, young gentleman," replied Mr. Mali-
phant with dignity. "Enough said: youth should not
sport with age; it doth not become gray hairs to-to-"
He did not finish the sentence, except to himself, but
what he did say was something emphatic and improv-
ing, because he shook his head a good deal over it.
280
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Presently he got up and left the room. Harry
watched him getting his hat and tying his muffler about
his neck. When things were quite adjusted the old
man feebly tottered down the steps. Harry took his
hat and followed him.
66
May I walk with you, sir?" he asked.
'Surely, surely!" Mr. Maliphant was surprised. "It
is an unusual thing for me to have a companion.
Formerly they came-ah-all the way from Rotherhithe
to-to-sing and drink with me.
""
"Will you take my arm?" Harry asked.
The little old man, who wore black trousers and a
dress-coat out of respect of the day, but, although the
month was December, no great-coat-in fact he had
never worn a great-coat in all his life-was trotting
along with steps which showed weakness, but manifest
intention. Harry wondered where he meant to go.
He took the proffered arm, however, and seemed to get
on better for the support.
"Are you going to church, sir," asked Harry, when
they came opposite the good old church of Stepney,
with its vast acres of dead men, and heard the bells
ringing.
66
66
No, young gentleman; no, certainly not. I have
more important business to look after."
He quickened his steps, and they left the church be-
hind them.
"Church?" repeated Mr. Maliphant with severity.
"When there's property to look after the bells may ring
as loud as they please. Church is good for paupers and
church-wardens. Where would the property be, do you
think, if I were not on the spot every day to protect it?"
He turned off the High Street into a short street of
small houses neither better nor worse than the thou-
sands of houses around: it was a cul-de-sac, and ended
in a high brick wall, with a large gateway in the
middle, and square stone pillars, and a ponderous pair
of wooden gates, iron-bound as if they guarded things
of the greatest value. There was also a small wicket
beside it, which the old man carefully unlocked and
opened, looking round to see that no burglars followed.
Harry saw within a tolerably large yard, in the
middle of which was a little house of one room.
The
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
281
house was a most wonderful structure; it was built ap-
parently of packing-cases nailed on four or eight square
posts; it was furnished with a door, a window, and a
chimney, all complete; it was exactly like a doll's house,
only that it was rather larger, being at least six feet
high and eight feet square. The house was painted
green; the roof was painted red; the door blue; there
was also a brass knocker; so that in other respects it
was like a doll's house.
Aha!" cried the old man, rubbing his hands and
pointing to the house. "I built it, young man. That
is my house, that is; I laid the foundations; I put up
the walls; I painted it. And I very well remember
when it was.
Let me see. Mr. Messenger, who was a
younger man than me by four years, married in that
year, or lost his son-I forget which"-(his voice low-
ered, and he went on talking to himself). "Caroline's
grandfather went bankrupt in the building trade; or
her father perhaps, who afterward made money and left
houses. And here I am still. This is my property,
young gentleman, and I come here every day to execute
orders. Oh! yes" he looked about him in mild kind
of doubt-"I execute orders. Perhaps the orders don't
come in so thick as they did. But here I am-ready
for work-always ready, and I see my old friends, too,
aha! They come as thick as ever, bless you, if the
orders don't. Quite a gathering in here some days."
Harry shuddered, thinking who these old friends might
be. Sundays and all I come here, and they come too.
A merry company!"
66
The garrulous old man opened the door of the little
house. Harry saw that it contained a cupboard with
some simple cooking utensils, and a fireplace, where
the proprietor began to make a fire, and one chair, and
a little table, and a rack with tools; there were also one
or two pipes and a tobacco jar.
He looked about the yard. A strange place, indeed!
It was adorned, or rather furnished, with great ships'
figureheads, carved in wood, standing in rows and
circles, some complete, some half-finished, some just
begun; so that here was a Lively Peggy with rudi-
mentary features just emerging from her native wood,
and here a Saucy Sal of Wapping still clothed in oak
282
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
up to her waist; and here a Neptune, his crowned head
only as yet indicated, though the weather-beaten ap-
pearance of his wood showed that the time was long
since he was begun; or a Father Thames, his god-like
face as yet showing like a blurred dream. Or there
were finished and perfect heads, painted and gilded,
waiting for the purchaser who never came. They stood,
or sat-whichever a head and shoulder can be said to
do-with so much pride, each so rejoicing in himself,
and so disdainful of his neighbor, in so haughty a si-
lence that they seemed human and belonging to the first
circles of Stepney; Harry thought, too, that they eyed
him curiously, as if he might be the long-expected ship-
owner come to buy a figurehead.
Here is property, young man!" cried the old man;
he had lit his fire now and came to the door, craning for-
ward and spreading his hands, "Look at the beauties.
There's truth! There's expression! Mine, yourg man,
all mine. Hundreds-thousands of pounds here, to be
protected."
"Do you come here every day?" Harry asked.
"Every day. The property must be looked after.'
"And do you sit here all day by yourself?"
"Why, who else should I sit with? And a man like
me never sits alone. Bless your heart, young gentle-
man, of a morning when I sit before the fire and smoke
a pipe, this room gets full of people. They crowd in,
they do. Dead people, I mean, of course. I know
more dead men than living. They're the best com-
pany, after all. Bob Coppin comes, for one."
""
Harry began to look about, wondering whether the
ghost of Bob might suddenly appear at the door. On
the whole he envied the old man his company of de-
parted friends.
"So you talk," he said; "you and the dead people?"
By this time the old man had got into his chair and
Harry stood in the doorway, for there really was not
room for more than one in the house at the same time,
to say nothing of inconveniencing and crowding the
merry company of ghosts.
"You wouldn't believe," said the old man, "the talks
we have nor the yarns we spin, when we're here to-
gether."
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
283
"It must be a jovial time," said Harry. "Do they
drink?"
Mr. Maliphant screwed up his lips and shook his head
mysteriously.
"Not of a morning," he replied, as if in the evening
the old rollicking customs were still kept up.
"And you talk about old times-eh?"
(6
"There's nothing else to talk about, as I know."
Certainly not. Sometimes you talk about my-
about Caroline Coppin's father, I suppose. I mean the
one who made money, not the one who went bank-
rupt.
19
66
Houses," said Mr. Maliphant; "houses it was."
(6 Oh!"
Twelve houses there were, all his own.
Two sons
and two daughters to divide among. Bob Coppin sold
bis at once-Bunker bought 'em-and we drank up the
money down Poplar-way, him and me and a few friends.
together, in a friendly and comfortable spirit. A fine
time we had, I remember. Jack Coppin was in his
father's trade and he lost his money; speculated, he
did. Builders are a believin' people. Bunker got his
houses too."
66
Jack was my cousin Dick's father, I suppose," said
Harry. "Go ahead, old boy.
Go ahead, old boy. The family history is
reeling on beautifully. Where did the other houses
go?"
"There
But the old man had gone off on another tack.
were more Coppins," he said. "When I was a boy, to
be a Coppin of Stepney was a thing of pride. Jo-
sephus' father was church-warden, and held up his
head."
"Did he, really?"
"If I hadn't the property to look after, I would show
you his tombstone in Stepney church-yard."
CC
That," said Harry, "would be a great happiness for
As for Caroline Coppin, now-
""
me.
"She was a pretty maid, she was," the old man went
"I saw her born and brought up. And she mar
ried a sojer."
on.
"I know, and her three houses were lost, too, I sup-
pose?"
<<
Why should her houses be lost, young man?" Mr.
•
284
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Maliphant asked with severity. "Houses don't run
away. This property doesn't run away. When she
died she left a baby, she did, and when the baby was
took-or was stolen or something-Bunker said those
houses were his. But not lost. You can't lose a
house. You may lose a figurehead." He got up and
looked outside to see if his were safe. "Or a big drum.
But not a house.
"Bunker said the houses were
"Oh!" Harry started.
his, did he?"
CC
Of course he did.”
“And if the baby had not died, those houses would
still be the property of that baby, I suppose.
""
But Mr. Maliphant made no reply. He was now in
the full enjoyment of the intoxication produced by his
morning-pipe, and was sitting in his arm-chair with
his feet on the fender, disposed, apparently, for silence.
Presently he began to talk, as usual, to himself. Nor
could he be induced, by a y leading questions, to re-
member anything more of the things which Harry
wanted him to remember. But he let his imagination
wander. Gradually the room became filled with dead
people, and he was talking with them. Nor did he
seem to know that Harry was with him at all.
Harry slipped quietly away, shutting the door after
him, so that the old man might be left quite alone with
the ghosts.
The yard, littered with wood, crowded with the fig-
ureheads, all of which seemed turning inquiring and
jealous eyes upon the stranger, was silent and ghostly.
Thither came the old man every day, to sit before the
fire in his little red-and-green doll's house, to cook his
own beefsteak for himself, to drink his glass of grog
after dinner, to potter about among his carved heads, to
talk to his friends the ghosts, to guard his property,
and to execute the orders which never came. For the
shipbuilders who had employed old Mr. Maliphant were
all dead and gone, and nobody knew of his yard any
more, and he had it all to himself. The tide of time
had carried away all his friends and left him alone; the
memory of him among active men was gone; no one
took any more interest in him, and he had ceased to
care for anything: to look back was his only pleasure.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
285
No one likes to die at any time, but who would wish to
grow so old?
And those houses. Why, if the old man's memory
was right, then Bunker had simply appropriated his
property. Was that, Harry asked, the price for which
he traded the child away?
He went straight away to his cousin Dick, who,
mindful of the recent speech at the club, was a little
disposed to be resentful. It fortunately takes two to
make a quarrel, however, and one of those two had no
intention of a family row.
'Never mind, Dick," he said in answer to an allusion
to the speech. Hang the club. I want to ask you
about something else. Now, then. Tell me about your
grandfather."
(C
"I cannot. He died before I can remember. He
was a builder.”
"Did he leave property?"
"There were some houses, I believe. My father lost
his share, I know. Speculated it away."
Your uncle Bob. What became of his share?"
"Bob was a worthless chap. He drank everything,
so of course he drank up his houses.'
Then we come to the two daughters.
Bunker mar-
ried one, and of course he got his wife's share. What
became of my mother's share?”
"Indeed, Harry, I do not know."
"Who would know?"
"Bunker ought to be able to tell you all about it.
Of course he knows.
""
(C
Dick," said Harry, "should you be astonished to
learn that the respectable uncle Bunker is a mighty
great rogue? But say nothing, Dick. Say nothing.
Let me consider how to bring the thing home to him."
CHAPTER XXX.
THE PROFESSOR'S PROPOSAL.
WHEN the professor called upon Angela that same
Sunday morning and requested an interview, she per-
ceived that something serious was intended. He had
on, as if for an occasion, a new coat with a flower in
286
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
(5)
the buttonhole, a chrysanthemum. His face was ex-
tremely solemn, and his fingers, which always seemed
restless and dissatisfied unless they were making things.
disappear and come again, were quite still.
Certainly, he had something on his mind.
The drawing-room had one or two girls in it, who
were reading and talking, though they ought to have
been in church-Angela left their religious duties to
their own consciences. But the dining-room was empty
and the interview was held there.
The professor had certainly made up in his own
mind exactly what was going to be said: he had dram-
atized the situation-a very good plan if you are quite
sure of the replies; otherwise, you are apt to be put out.
"Miss Kennedy," he began, with a low voice, "allow
me, first of all, to thank you for your great kindness
during a late season of depression.
""
"I am very glad it is a late season," said Angela;
"that means, I presume, that the depression has passed
away."
"Quite, I am glad to say; in fact," the professor
laughed cheerfully, "I have got engagements from now
to nearly the end of April in the country, and am in
treaty for a West-End engagement in May. Industry
and application, not to speak of talent, will make their
way in the long run. But I hope I am none the less
grateful to you for your loan-let me call it a loan-
when things were tight. I assure you, Miss Kennedy,
that the run into the country, after those parish regis-
ters, was as good as a week's engagement, simple as
it looked, and as for that Saturday night for your
girls-
""
"O Professor, we were agreed that it should appear
to be given by you for nothing.
""
"Never mind what it was agreed. You know very
well what was paid for it. Now, if it hadn't been for
that night's performance and that little trip into the
country, I verily believe they would have had to send
for a nice long box for me-a box that can't be palmed,
and I should have gone off in it to a country where
perhaps they don't care for conjuring."
"In that case, professor, I am very glad to have been
of help.”
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
287
}
E
1
ļ
{
*
"And so," he went on-following the programme he
had laid down in his own mind-"And so I came here
to-day to ask if your interest in conjuring could be
stimulated to a professional height."
Really, I do not know. Professional? You
66
mean
66
در
Anybody can see that you've showed an interest in
the subject beyond what is expected or found in wom-
en. What I came here to-day for is to ask whether you
like the conjurer well enough to take to conjuring?"
Angela laughed and was astonished, after being told
by Daniel Fagg that he would honor her by making
her his wife, but for certain reasons of age. Now, hav-
ing became hardened, it seemed but a small thing to
receive the offer of a conjurer, and the proposal to join
the profession.
CC
"I think it must be the science, professor," she said;
yes, it must be the science that I like so much. Not
the man who exhibits his skill in the science. Yes, I
think of your admirable science."
66
Ah," he heaved a deep sigh, "you are quite right,
miss; science is better than love. Love! What sort of
a thing is that, when you get tired of it in a month?
But science fills up all your life: people are always
learning-always."
"I am so glad, professor, that I can agree with you
entirely.
""
"Which makes me bolder," he said, "because we
could be useful to each other, without pretending to be
in love, or any nonsense of that sort."
"Indeed. Now, I shall be very pleased to be useful
to you without, as you say, any foolish pretence or
nonsense."
"The way is this: you can play, can't you?"
"Yes."
"And sing?"
Yes."
66
"Did you ever dance in tights?"
CC
No, I never did that.”
"Ah, well-it's a pity; but one can't expect every-
thing. And no doubt you'd take to it easy. They all
do. Did you ever sing on the stage-at a music-hall, I
mean?"
288
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"No: I never did."
"There was a chap-but I suppose he was a liar-
said you used to sing under an electric light at the Can-
terbury, with a character dance, and a topical song,
and a kick-up at the finish."
"Yes, professor. I think that 'chap' must certainly
be written down a liar. But go on.
>>
"I told him he was, and he offered to fight me for
half a crown. When I said I'd do it, and willingly, for
a bob, he went away. I think he's the fellow Harry
Goslett knocked down one night. Bunker put him up
to it. Bunker doesn't like you.
Never mind him.
Look here, now.”
"I am looking as hard as I can.
"There's some things that bring the money in, and
some that don't. Dressmaking don't; conjurin' does."
""
"Yet you yourself, professor--
"Why," he asked, "because I am only four-and-
twenty, and not much known as yet. Give me time;
wait. Lord! to see the clumsy things done by the men
who've got a name. And how they go down; and a
child would spot the dodge! Now, mark my words-
if you go in with me, there's a fortune in it."
"For your sake, I am glad to hear it; but it must be
without me.
""
""
(6
It is for your sake that I tell you of it."
He was not in love at all. Love and science have
never yet really composed their differences; and there
was not the least dropping of his voice, or any sign of
passion in his speech.
در
"For your sake," he repeated. "Because, if you can
be got to see your way as I see it, there's a fortune for
both of us.
"Oh!"
Yes: now, miss, listen. Conjuring, like most
things, is makin' believe and deceivin'. What we do
is, to show you one thing and to do another.
The only
thing is, to do it so quick that it shan't be seen even by
the few men who know how it is done. No woman yet
was ever able to be a conjurer, which is a rum thing,
because their fingers do pretty for music, and lace-
work, and such. But for conjurin', they haven't the
mind. You want a man's brain for such work."
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
289
1
}
"I have always," said Angela, "felt what poor, weak
things we are, compared with men.
""
"Yes, you are," continued the professor gallantly.
"But you do have your uses in the world-most things
have. Now, as a confederate or assistant, there's no-
body like a woman. They do what they are told to do.
They are faithful over the secrets. They learn their
place on the platform and they stay there. Some pro-
fessors carry about a boy with them. But you can't
place any real trust in a boy; he's always up to tricks,
and if you wallop him-likely as not, next night he'll
take and spoil your best trick out of revenge. Some
have a man to help, but then he learns the secrets and
tries to cut you out; but with a woman you're always
pretty safe. A daughter's best; because then you
pocket all the money yourself. But a wife is next best
so long as she keeps steady and acts on the square.
""
"I never thought of it before," said Angela, "but I
suppose it is as you say, and the real object for which
women were created must have been the assistance of
conjurers."
"Of course," said the professor, failing to see the
delicate sarcasm of this remark-" of course. What
better thing could they do? Why, here you sit slaving
all day long, and all the year round; and what are you
the better for it? A bare living-that's all you get out
of it. Whether you go into shops, behind a bar, or
into the workroom, it's the same story-a bare living.
Look at the conjurin' line now: you live in splendor;
you go on the stage in a most beautiful costume-silks
and satins, gold and spangles; tights, if you like. You
travel about the country free. You hear the people
clapping their hands whenever you go in; and believ-
in' that you do it all yourself. You've got nothing to
do but just what you are told, and that's your life-
with pockets full of money, and the proud consciousness
that you are making your fortune."
(C
It certainly seems very beautiful to look at; are
there no drawbacks?"
"None," answered the enthusiast. "It's the best
profession in the world-there's no danger in it.
There's no capital required. All it wants is cleverness.
That's why I come to you; because you are a real clever
19
290
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
girl, and what's more, you're good-looking-it is not
always that looks and brains go together."
66
Very well, professor. Let us come to the point-
what is it you want me to do?”
"I want you, Miss Kennedy, to go about the country
with me. You shall be my assistant; you shall play
the piano, and come on dressed in a pink costume-
which generally fetches at an entertainment. Nothing
to say; and I will teach you by degrees all the dodges,
and the way it's done you will learn. You'll be sur-
prised when you find how easy it is, and yet how you
can't do it. And when you hear the people telling
what they saw, and you know just exactly what they
could have seen if they'd had their eyes in their heads,
you'll laugh-you will."
"But I'm afraid I can't think
:
“Don't raise difficulties, now," he spoke persuasively.
"I am coming to them directly. I've got ideas in my
head which I can't carry through without a real, clever
confederate. And you must be that confederate. Elec-
tricity now"-he lowered his voice, and whispered-
"none of the conjurers have got a battery at work.
Think of new feats of marvel and magic never before
considered possible; and done secret by electricity.
What a shame-what a cruel shame, to have let the
world get hold of electricity! Why, it ought to have
been kept for conjurers. And telephones-again, what
a scope there is in a good telephone! You and me to-
gether, Miss Kennedy, could knock up an entertainment
as nobody ever yet dreamed of. If you could dance a
bit it would be an advantage. But, if you won't, of
course, we must give it up. And, as to the dressmak-
ing rubbish, why in a week you will be wondering how
in the world you ever came to waste your time upon it
at all, while such a chance was going about in the
world. Not that I blame you for it; not at all.
It was
your ignorance kept you out of it, and your good luck
threw you in the way of it."
(6
That may be so. But still, I am not sure-
دو
ور
"I haven't done yet. Look here! I've been turning
the thing over in my own mind a good bit. The only
way I can think of for such a girl as you to go about
the country with a show is for you to be married to the
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MĖN.
291
showman-so I'll marry you before we start, and then
we shall be comfortable and happy, and ready for the
fortune to come in. And you'll be quite sure of your
share in it.'
"Thank you, professor.'
CA
"Very good, then; no need for thanks. I've got en-
gagements in the country for over three months. We'll
marry at once, and you can spend that time in learn-
ing.'
""
""
Angela laughed. Were women of "her class," she
thought, so easily won, and so unceremoniously wooed?
Were there no preliminary advances, soft speeches,
words of compliment and flattery?
"I've been laying out a plan," the professor went on,
"for the most complete thing you ever saw! Never be-
fore attempted on any stage! Marvelous optical illu-
sion. Hush-electricity!" [He said this in a stage
whisper.] "You are to be a fairy. Stale old business,
isn't it? But it always pays. Silk stockin's and gauze,
with a wand. I'm Sinbad the Sailor, or Robinson
Crusoe. It doesn't matter what; and then you-
"Stay a moment, professor"--she laid her hand upon
his arm-“ you have not waited for my answer.
I can-
not, unfortunately, marry you; nor can I go about the
country with you; nor can I possibly become your con-
federate and assistant."
"You can't marry me? Why not, when I offer you
a fortune?"
(C
ور
"Not even for fortune.
Why not?"
"Well, for many reasons. One of them is that I
cannot leave my dressmaking-rubbish, as it seems to
you. That is, indeed, a sufficient reason.'
"Oh!"-his face becoming sad-“and I set
and I set my heart
upon it! The very first time I saw you I said to my-
self, 'There's a girl for the business-never was such
a girl!' And to think you're thrown away on a dress-
making business. Oh! it's too bad! and that you're
contented with your lot, humble as it is, when I offer
to make you an artist, and to give you a fortune.
That's what cuts me to the quick-that you should be
contented."
"I am very much ashamed of myself," said Angela,
در
292
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
with contrition; "but, you see, what you ask is impos
sible.'
"And I only made up my mind last night that I
would marry you, if nothing else would do."
"Did you-poor professor! I am quite sorry for
you; but you should never marry a woman unless you
are in love with her. Now it's quite clear that you are
not in love with me."
"Love! I've got my work to think of."
"Then good-morning, professor. Let us part friends,
if I cannot accept your offer.'
He took her offered hand with reluctance, and in sor-
row more than in anger.
"Do you really understand," he asked," what you are
throwing away? Fame and fortune-nothing less."
She laughed, and drew back her hand, shaking her
head.
"Oh, the woman's a fool!" cried the professor, losing
his temper, and slamming the door after him.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CAPTAIN COPPIN.
It was at this time that Tom Coppin, Captain Cop-
pin of the Salvation Army, paid his only visit to An-
gela, that visit that caused so much sensation among
the girls.
He chose a quiet evening early in the week. Why
he came has never been quite clear. It was not curi-
osity, for he had none; nor was it a desire to study the
kind of culture which Angela had introduced among
her friends, for he had no knowledge of, or desire for,
culture at all. Nor does the dressmakers' workshop
afford a congenial place for the exercise of that soldier's
gifts. He came, perhaps, because he was passing on
his way from a red-hot prayer meeting to a red-hot
preaching, and he thought he would see the place which
among others, the Advanced Club for instance, was
keeping his brother from following in his own steps,
and helping him to regard the world, its pleasures and
pursuits, with eyes of affection. One knows not what
V P
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIÓNS OF MEN.
293
he expected to find or what he proposed by going there,
because the things he did find completely upset all his
expectations, if he had any. Visions, perhaps, of the
soul-destroying dance, and the red cup, and the loud
laughter of fools, and the talk that is as the crackling
of thorns, were in his mind.
The room was occupied, as usual, with the girls, An-
gela among them. Captain Sorensen was there too;
the girls were quietly busy, for the most part, over
"their own" work, because, if they would go fine, they
must make their own fineries; it was a frosty night,
and the fire was burning clear; in the most comfortable
chair beside it sat the crippled girl of whom we know;
the place was hers by a sort of right; she was gazing
into the flames, listening lazily to the music-Angela
had been playing-and doing nothing, with content-
ment. Life was so sweet to the child when she was
not suffering pain, and was warm, and was not hungry,
and was not hearing complaints, that she wanted noth-
ing more. Nelly, for her part, sat with hands folded
pensively, and Angela wondered what, of late days, it
was that seemed to trouble her.
Suddenly the door opened, and a man, dressed in a
tight uniform of dark cloth and a cap of the same, with
"S. S." upon it, like the Lord Mayor's gold chain, stood
before them.
He did not remove his cap, but he looked round the
room, and presently called in a loud, harsh voice. :
(C
Which of you here answers to the name of Ken-
nedy?"
"I do," replied Angela; "my name is Kennedy.
What is yours, and why do you come here?”
“My name is Coppin. My work is to save souls. I
tear them out of the very clutches and claws of the
devil; I will have them; I leave them no peace until I
have won them; I cry aloud to them; I shout to them;
I pray for them; I sing to them; I seek them out in
their hiding-places, even in their dens and courts of
sin; there are none too far gone for my work; none
that I will let go once I get a grip of them; once my
hand is on them out they must come if the devil and all
his angels were pulling them the other way. For my
strength is not of myself; it is--"
294
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"But why do you come here?" asked Angela.
The man had the same black hair and bright eyes as
his brother; the same strong voice, although a long
course of street-shouting had made it coarse and
rough; but his eyes were brighter, his lips more sensi-
tive, his forehead higher; he was like his brother in all
respects, yet so unlike that, while the Radical had the
face of a strong man, the preacher had in his the inde-
finable touch of weakness which fanaticism always
brings with it. Whatever else it was, however, the
face was that of a man terribly in earnest.
"I have heard about you," he said. "You are of
entice
those who cry peace when there is no peace; you
the young men and maidens who ought to be seeking
pardon and preaching repentance, and you destroy their
souls with dancing and music. I come here to tell you
that you are one of the instruments of the devil in this
wicked town."
"Have you really come here, Mr. Coppin, on purpose
to tell me that?”
66
That," he said, "is part of my message.'
"Do you think," asked Angela, because this was al-
most intolerable, "that it is becoming a preacher like
yourself to invade a quiet and private house in order to
insult a woman?"
""
"Truth is not insult," he said. "I come here as I
would go to a theatre or a singing-hall or any soul-
destroying place. You shall hear the plain truth.
With your music and your dancing and your pleasant
ways, you are corrupting the souls of many. My
brother is hardened in his unrepentance since he knew
you. My cousin goes on laughing, and dances over
These
the very pit of destruction, through you.
girls"
Oh!" cried Rebekah, who had no sympathy with
the Salvation Army, and felt herself an authority when
the religious question was touched, "they are all mad.
Let him go away.
""
""
"I would," replied the captain, "that you were half
as mad.
Oh! I know you now; I know you snug pro-
fessors of a Saturday religion
"Your mission," Angela interrupted, "is not, I am
Come, Mr. Coppin,
sure, to argue about another sect.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
295
now that you have told us who you are and what is your
profession and why you come here, you might like to
preach to us. Do so, if you will. We were sitting
here quietly when you came, and you interrupt noth-
ing. So that, if it would really make you feel any hap-
pier, you may preach to us for a few minutes.”
He looked about him in hesitation. This kind of
preaching was not in his line: he loved a vast hall with
a thousand faces looking at him; or a crowd of turbu-
lent roughs ready to answer the Message with a volley
of brickbats; or a chance gathering of unrepentant sin-
ners in a wide thoroughfare. He could lift up his
voice to them; but to preach in a quiet room to a dozen
girls was a new experience.
And it was not the place which he had expected.
His brother, in their last interview, had thrown in his
teeth this house and its doings as offering a more rea-
sonable solution of life's problems than his own.
"You
want everybody," he said, "to join you in singing and
preaching every day; what should we do when there
was nobody left to preach at? Now, there, what they
say is, 'Let us make ourselves comfortable.' There's a
deal in that, come to think of.
"Look at those girls now: while you and your Happy
Elizas are trampin' in the mud with your flag and your
procession, and gettin' black eyes and brickbats, they
are singin' and laughin' and dancin', and makin' what
fun they can for themselves. It seems to me, Tom,
that if this kind of thing gets fashionable you and your
army will be played out."
Well, he had come to see this place, which had of-
fered pleasure instead of repentance, as a method of
improving life. They were not laughing and singing
at all; there were no men present except one old gentle-
man in a blue coat with brass buttons. To be sure, he
had a fiddle lying on a chair beside him. There was
no indication whatever of the red cup, and no smell of
tobacco. Now, pleasure without drink, tobacco, and
singing had been in Tom's unregenerate days incom-
"I would rather," said Dick,
prehensible.
army of Miss Kennedy's girls than an army of Hallelu-
jah Polls." Yet they seemed perfectly quiet.
'em happy, Tom, first," said Dick, who was still think-
(6
see an
"Make
296
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
ing over Harry's speech as a possible point of depar-
ture. Happiness is not a word in the dictionary of men
like Tom Coppin; they know what it means; they know
a spree; they understand drink; they know misery, be-
cause it is all round them-the misery of hunger, of
disease, of intemperance, of dirt, of evil temper, of vio-
lence; the misery which the sins of one bring all, and
sins of all upon each. Indeed, we need not go to
Whitechapel to find out misery. But they know not
happiness. For such as Captain Coppin there is, as
an alternative for misery, the choice of glory. What
they mean by glory is ecstasy, the rapture, the myste-
ries of emotional religion; he, they believe, is the most
advanced who is most often hysterical; Dick, like many
of his followers, yearned honestly and unselfishly to ex-
tend this rapture which he himself so often enjoyed:
but that there should be any other way out of the mis-
ery save by way of the humble stool of conviction, was
a thing which he could not understand. Happiness,
calm, peace, content, the sweet enjoyment of innocent.
recreation-these things he knew nothing of; they had
not come his way.
He had come; he had seen; no doubt the moment his
back was turned the orgy would begin. But he had
delivered his message: he had warned the young wom-
an who had led the girls-that calm, cold woman who
looked at him with curiosity and was so unmoved by
what he said: he might go. With his whole heart he
had spoken and had so far moved no one except the
daughter of the Seventh-Day Independent-and her only
a little. This kind of thing is very irritating. Sup-
pose you were to put a red-hot poker into a jug of water
without producing any steam or hissing at all, how,
as a natural philosopher, would you feel?
"You may preach to us, if you like," said Miss Ken-
nedy.
She sat before him, resting her chin upon her hand.
He knew that she was beautiful, although women and
their faces, graces, and sweet looks played no part at
all in his thoughts. He felt, without putting the thing
into words, that she was beautiful. Also, that she re-
garded him with a kind of contempt, as well as curios-
ity; also, that she had determined not to be moved by
•
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
297
"
anything he might say; also, that she relied on her
own influence over the girls. And he felt for a moment
as if his trusty arms were dropping from his hands and
his whole armor was slipping from his shoulders. Not
her beauty; no, fifty Helens of Troy would not have
moved this young apostle; but her position as an im-
pregnable outsider. For against the curious outsider,
who regard captains in the Salvation Army only as so
many interesting results of growing civilization, their
officers are powerless indeed.
If there is any real difference between the working-
man of England and the man who does other work, it
is that the former is generally emotional and the latter
is not. To the man of emotion things cannot be stated
too strongly; his leader is he who has the greatest com-
mand of adjectives; he is singularly open to the charm
of eloquence; he likes audacity of statement; he likes
to be moved by wrath, pity, and terror; he has no eye
for shades of color; and when he is most moved he
thinks he is most right. It is this which makes him
so angry with the people who cannot be moved.
Angela was one of those persons who cannot be
moved by the ordinary methods. She looked at Tom
as if he was some strange creature, watching what he
did, listening to what he said, as if she was not like
unto him. It is not quite a fair way of describing An-
gela's attitude of mind; but it is near enough; and it
represents what passed through the brain of the Salva-
tion captain.
"Will you preach to us?" she repeated the third
time.
He mechanically opened his hymn-book.
"Number three hundred and sixty-two," he said
quietly.
He sang the hymn all by himself, at the top of his
voice, so that the windows rattled, to one of those rous-
ing and popular melodies which have been pressed into
the service of the army; it was, in fact, "Molly Dar-
ling," and the people at Stepney Green asked each other
in wonder if a meeting of the Salvation Army was
actually being held at Miss Kennedy's.
When he had finished his hymn he began to preach.
He stammered at first, because the surroundings were
A
298
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
strange; besides, the cold, curious eyes of Miss Ken-
nedy chilled him. Presently, however, he recovered
self-possession, and began his address.
There is one merit, at least, possessed by these preach-
ers; it is that of simplicity. Whatever else they may
be, they are always the same; even the words do not
vary while there is but one idea.
་
If you want to influence the dull of comprehension,
such as the common donkey, there is but one way pos-
sible. He cannot be led, or coaxed, or persuaded; he
must be thwacked. Father Stick explains and makes
apparent, instantly, what the logic of all the schools.
has failed to prove. In the same way, if you wish to
awaken the spiritual emotions among people who have
hitherto been strange to them, your chance is not by
argument, but by appeals, statements, prophecies,
threats, terrors, and pictures, which, in fact, do exactly
correspond, and produce the same effect as Father
Stick; they are so many knock-down blows; they be-
labor and they terrify.
The preacher began: the girls composed themselves
to listen, with the exception of Rebekah, who went on
with her work ostentatiously, partly to show her disap-
proval of such irregular proceedings and partly as one
who, having got the truth from an independent source,
and being already advanced in the narrow way, had no
occasion for the captain's persuasion.
It is one thing to hear the voice of a street preacher in
his own church, so to speak, that is, on the curbstone,
and quite another thing to hear the same man and the
same person in a quiet room. Tom Coppin had only
one sermon, though he dressed it up sometimes, but not
often, in new words. Yet he was relieved of monot-
ony by the earnestness which he poured into it. He
believed in it, himself; that goes a long way. Angela
began by thinking of the doctrine, but presently turned
her attention to the preacher, and began to think what
manner of man he was. Personally he was pale and
thin, with strong black hair, like his brother, and his
eyes were singularly bright.
Here was a man of the people: self-taught; pro-
foundly ignorant as to the many problems of life and
its solutions; filled, however, with that noble sympathy
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
299
which makes prophets, poets, martyrs; wholly pos-
sessed of faith in his narrow creed, owning no author-
ity of church or priest; believing himself under direct
Divine guidance, chosen and called, the instrument of
merciful Heaven to drag guilty souls from the pit; con-
sciously standing as a servant, day and night, before a
Throne which other men regard afar off or cannot see
at all; actually living the life of hardship, privation,
and ill-treatment, which he preached; for the sake of
others, enduring hardness, poverty, contumely; taking
all these things as part and parcel of the day's work;
and, in the name of duty, searching into corners and
holes of this great town for the vilest, the most hard-
ened, the most depraved, the most blinded to a higher
life.
This, if you please, is not a thing to be laughed at.
What did Wesley more? What did Whitfield? Nay,
what did Paul?
They paid him for his services, it is true; they gave
him five-and-twenty shillings a week; some of this
great sum he gave away; the rest provided him with
poor and simple food. He had no pleasures or joys of
life; he had no recreations; he had no hope of any
pleasures; some of the officers of his army-being men
and women as well as preachers-loved each other and
were married: but this man had no thought of any such
thing, he, as much as any monk, was vowed to the ser-
vice of the Master, without rest or holiday, or any other
joy than that of doing the work that lay before him.
A great pity and sympathy filled Angela's heart as
she thought of these things.
W
The man before her was for the moment a prophet;
it mattered nothing that his creed was narrow, his
truths only half truths, his doctrine commonplace, his
language in bad taste, his manner vulgar; the faith of
the man covered up and hid these defects; he had a
message to mankind; he was delivering that message;
to him it was a fresh, new message, never before in-
trusted to any man; he had to deliver it perpetually,
even though he went in starvation.
Angela's heart softened as she realized the loyalty of
the man. He saw the softening in her eyes and
thought it was the first sign of conviction,
800
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
But it was not.
Meantime, if Angela was thinking of the preacher,
the girls, of course with the exception of Rebekah,
were trembling at his words.
Suddenly-the unexpected change was a kind of rhe-
torical trick which often proved effective-the preacher
ceased to denounce and threaten, and spoke of pardon
and peace; he called upon them in softer voice, in ac-
cents full of tears and love, to break down their pride,
to hear the voice that called them.
We know well
enough what he said, only we do not know how he said
it. Angela looked about the room. The Captain sat
with his hands on his knees, and his face dutifully
lifted to the angle which denotes attention; his expres-
sion was unmoved; evidently, the captain was not open
to conviction. As for the girls, they might be divid-
ed into classes. They had all listened to the threats
and the warnings, though they had heard them often
enough before; now, however, some of them seemed as
if they were impatient, and as if with a little encour-
agement they could break into scoffing. But others
were crying, and one or two were steadfastly regarding
the speaker, as if he had mesmerized them. Among
these was Nelly. Her eyes were fixed, her lips were
parted, her breathing was quick, her cheek was pale.
Great and wonderful is the power of eloquence; there
are few orators; this ex-printer, this uneducated man
of the ranks was, like his brother, born with the gift
that is so rare. He should have been taken away and
taught, and kept from danger, and properly fed and
cared for. And now it is too late. They said of him
in his connection that he was blessed in the saving of
souls: the most stubborn, the most hardened, when they
fell under the magic of his presence and his voice, were.
broken and subdued; what wonder that a weak girl
should give way?
C
When he paused he looked round; he noted the faces
of those whom he had mesmerized; he raised his arm;
he pointed to Nelly and beckoned her, without a word,
to rise.
Then the girl stood up as if she could not choose but
obey. She moved a step toward him; in a moment she
would have been at his feet, with sobs and tears, in the
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
301
passion of self-abasement which is so dear to the reviv-
alist. But Angela broke the spell. She sprang toward
her, caught her in her own arms, and passed her hand
before her eyes.
66
Nelly!" she said gently.
"Nelly, dear."
The girl sank back in her chair, and buried her face
in her hands. But the moment was gone, and Captain
Coppin had lost his recruit.
They all breathed a deep sigh. Those who had not
been moved looked at each other and laughed; those
who were, dried their eyes and seemed ashamed.
"Thank you," said Angela to the preacher. "You
have preached very well, and I hope your words will
help us on our way, even though it is not quite your
""
way.
"Then be of our way. Cease from scoffing.
She shook her head.
""
"No, I do not scoff, but I cannot join your way.
Leave us now, Mr. Coppin. You are a brave man.
Let us reverence courage and loyalty. But we will
have no more sermons in this room. Good-night."
She offered him her hand, but he would not take it,
and with a final warning, addressed to Angela in par-
ticular and the room in general, he went as he had
come, without greeting or word of thanks.
gela.
"These Salvation people," said Rebekah, "are all
mad. If people want the way of truth there's the
chapel in Redman's Row, and father's always in it
every Saturday."
(C
What do you say, Captain Sorensen?" asked An-
CC
"The Church of England," said the captain, who had
not been moved a whit, says that two sacraments are
necessary. I find nothing about stools of repentance.
Come, Nelly, my girl, remember that you are a Church-
woman."
CC
Yet," said Angela, "what are we to say when a
man is so brave and true, and when he lives the life?
Nelly dear-girls all-I think that religion should not
be a terror but a great calm and a trust. Let us love
each other and do our work and take the simple happi-
ness that God gives, and have faith. What more can
302
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
we do? To-night, I think, we cannot dance or sing,
but I will play to you."
She played to them-grand and solemn music-so
that the terror went out of their brains, and the hard-
ening out of their hearts, and next day all was forgot-
ten.
In this manner and this once did Tom Coppin cross
Angela's path. Now he will cross it no more, because
his work is over. If a man lives on less than the bare
necessaries in order to give to others; if he does the
work of ten men; if he gives himself no rest any day in
the week, what happens to that man when typhus seizes
him?
He died, as he had lived, in glory, surrounded by
Joyful Jane, Hallelujah Jem, Happy Polly, Thankful
Sarah, and the rest of them. His life has been narrated
in the "War Cry," it is specially recorded of him that
he was always "on the mountains," which means, in
their language, that he was a man of strong faith, free
from doubt, and of emotional nature.
The extremely wicked and hardened family, consist-
ing of an old woman and half a dozen daughters, for
whose soul's sake he starved himself and thereby fell
an easy prey to the disease, have nearly all found a
refuge in the workhouse, and are as hardened as ever,
though not so wicked, because some kinds of wicked-
ness are not allowed in that place of virtue. Therefore
it seems almost as if poor Tom's life has been fooled
away. According to a philosophy which makes a
great deal of noise just now, every life is but a shadow,
a dream, a mockery, a catching at things impossible,
and a waste of good material, ending with the last
breath. Then all our lives are fooled away, and why
not Tom's as well as the rest? But if the older way of
thinking is, after all, right, then that life can hardly
have been wasted which was freely given-even if the
gift was not accepted-for the advantage of others.
Because the memory and the example remain, and ev-
ery example—if boys and girls could only be taught this
copy-book truth-is like an inexhaustible horn, always
filled with precious seed.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
303
1
{
CHAPTER XXXII.
BUNKER AT BAY.
HARRY was thinking a good deal about the old man's
strange story of the houses. There was, to be sure, lit-
tle dependence to be placed in the rambling, disjointed
statements made by so old a man. But, then, this state-
ment was so clear and precise.
There were so many
children-there were so many houses (three for each
child), and he knew exactly what became of all those
houses. If the story had been told by a man in the
prime of life, it could not have been more exact and de-
tailed. But what were the houses-where were they?
And how could he prove that they were his own?
What did Bunker get when he traded the child
away?
Harry had always been of opinion that he got a sum
of money down, and that he was now ashamed of the
transaction, and would fain have it remain unknown.
This solution accounted, or seemed to account, for his
great wrath and agitation when the subject was men-
tioned. Out of a mischievous delight in making his
uncle angry, Harry frequently alluded to this point;
but the story of the houses was a better solution still.
It accounted for Mr. Bunker's agitation as well as his
wrath. But his wrath and his terror appeared to Harry
to corroborate very strongly the old man's story. And
the longer he thought about it the more strongly he be-
lieved it.
Harry asked his landlady whether, in her opinion, if
Mr. Maliphant made a statement, that statement was
to be accepted as true?
Mrs. Bormalack replied that as he never made any
statement, except in reference to events long since
things of the past, it was impossible for her to say
whether they were true or not; that his memory was
clean gone for things of the present-so that of to-day
and yesterday he knew nothing; that his thoughts were
always running on the old days; and that when he
could be heard right through, without dropping his
304
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
voice at all, he sometimes told very interesting and cu
rious things. His board and lodging were paid for
him by his grandson, a most respectable gentleman,
and a dockmaster; and that as to the old man's busi-
ness he had none, and had had none for many years,
being clean forgotten-although he did go every day to
his yard, and stayed there all day long.
Harry thought he would pay him another visit. Per-
haps something more would be remembered.
He went there again in the morning.
The street, at the end of which was the yard, was as
quiet as on the Sunday, the children being at school
and the men at work. The great gates were closed and
locked, but the small side-door was unlocked. When
he opened it all the figureheads turned quickly and
anxiously to look at him. At least Harry declares they
did, and Spiritualists will readily believe him. Was
he, they asked, going to take one of them away and
stick it on the bow of a great ship, and send it up and
down upon the face of the ocean to the four corners of
the world. Ha! They were made for an active life.
They pined away in this inactivity. A fig for the dan-
gers of the deep! From Saucy Sal to Neptune they all
asked the same question in the same hope. Harry
shook his head, and they sighed sadly and resumed
sadly their former positions, as they were, eyes front,
waiting till night should fall and the old man should
go, and they could talk with each other.
"This," thought Harry, "is a strange and ghostly
place."
You know the old and creepy feeling caused by the
presence, albeit unseen, of ghosts. One may feel it
anywhere and at all times-in church, at a theatre, in
bed at night-by broad daylight-in darkness or in twi-
light. This was in the sunshine of a bright December
day-the last days of the year 1881 were singularly
bright and gracious. The place was no dark chamber
or gloomy vault, but a broad and open yard, cheerfully
decorated with carved figureheads. Yet, even here,
Harry experienced the touch of ghostliness. The place
was so strange that it did not astonish him at all to see
the old man suddenly appear in the door of his doll's
house, waving his hand and smiling cheerily, as one
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
305
who speeds the parting guest. The salutations were
not intended for Harry, because Mr. Maliphant was
not looking at him.
Presently he ceased gesticulating, became suddenly
serious (as happens to one when his friend's back is
turned, or he has vanished), and returned to his seat by
the fire.
Harry softly followed, and stood before him waiting
to be recognized.
66
The old man looked up at last, and nodded his head.
Been entertaining your friends, Mr. Maliphant?”
"Bob was here, only Bob. You have just missed
Bob," he replied.
"That's a pity-never mind. Can you, my ancient,
carry your memory back some twenty years? You did
it, you know, last Sunday for me.
"Twenty years? Ay, ay-twenty years. I was only
sixty-five or so then. It seems a long time until it is
gone-twenty years! Well, young man, twenty years
-why, it is only yesterday!"
"I mean to the time when Caroline Coppin, you know
your old friend Caroline, was married."
"That was_twenty years before, and more; when
William the Fourth died and Queen Victoria (then a
young thing) came long to reign over us
"His voice
sank, and he continued the rest of his reminiscence to
himself.
"But Caroline Coppin?"
"I'm telling you about Caroline Coppin, only you
won't listen.”
ور
There was nothing more to be got out of him. His
recent conversation with Bob's spirit had muddled him
for the day, and he mixed up Caroline with her mother
or grandmother. He relapsed into silence, and sat with
his long pipe unfilled in his hand, looking into the fire-
place; gone back in imagination to the past. As the
old man made no sign of conversation, but rather of a
disposition to "drop off" for a few minutes, Harry
began to look about the room. On the table lay a bun-
dle of old letters. It was as if the living and the dead
had been reading them together.
Harry took them up and turned them over, wonder-
ing what secrets of long ago were contained in those
20
C06
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
yellow papers, with their faded ink. The old man's
eyes were closed-he took no heed of his visitor; and
Harry standing at the table began shamelessly to read
the letters. They were mostly the letters of a young
sailor addressed to one apparently a good deal older
than himself—for they abounded in such appellations
as "my ancient," "venerable," "old salt," and so forth.
But the young man did not regard his correspondent
with the awe which age should inspire, "but rather as
a gay and rollicking spirit who would sympathize with
the high-jinks of younger men, even if he no longer
shared in them, and who was an old and still delighted
treader of those flowery paths which are said by mor-
alists to be planted with the frequent pitfall and the
crafty trap."The old man," thought Harry, "must
have been an admirable guide to youth, and the disci-
ple was apt to learn.”
-
Sometimes the letters were signed "Bob," sometimes
"R. Coppin," sometimes "R. C."
sometimes "R. C." Harry, therefore,
surmised that the writer was no other than his own
uncle Bob, whose ghost he had just missed.
Bob was an officer on board of an East Indiaman,
but he spoke not of such commonplace matters as the
face of the ocean or the voice of the tempest. He only
wrote from port, and told what things he had seen and
done, what he had consumed in ardent drink. The let-
ters were brief, which seemed as well, because if liter-
ary skill had been present to dress up effectively the sub-
jects treated, a literary monument might have been
erected, the like of which the world has never seen.
It is, indeed, a most curious and remarkable circum-
stance that even in realistic France the true course of
the prodigal has never been faithfully described. Now
the great advantage formerly possessed by the sailor-
an advantage cruelly curtailed by the establishment of
"homes," and the introduction of temperance-was,
that he could be and was a prodigal at the end of every
cruise; while the voyage itself was an agreeable inter-
val provided for recovery, recollection, and anticipation.
"One
(6
Bob, Uncle Bob, was a flyer," said Harry.
should be proud of such an uncle. With Bob and
Bunker and the bankrupt builder, I am indeed pro-
vided."
ALL SÕRTS AND CONDITIONS OF MÊN.
301
There seemed nothing in the letters which bore upon
the question of his mother's property, and he was going
to put them down again, when he lighted upon a torn
fragment on which he saw in Bob's big handwriting
the name of his cousin Josephus.
(C
Josephus, my cousin, that he will . . . (here a break in
the continuity). . . 'nd the safe the bundle. . . (another
break)... for a lark. Josephus is a square-toes. I hate a
man who wont' drink. He will. . (another break) if he
looks there. Your health and song, shipmate.-R. C."
He read this fragment two or three times over.
What did it mean? Clearly nothing to himself.
The
"Josephus is a square-toes." Very likely.
prodigal Bob was not. Quite the contrary-he was a
young man of extremely mercurial temperament.
Josephus, my cousin, that he will . . . 'nd the safe the
bundle." He put down the paper, and without waking
the old man he softly left the room and the place, shut-
ting the door behind him; and then he forgot imme-
diately the torn letter and its allusion to Josephus. He
thought next that he would go to Bunker and put the
question directly to him. The man might be terrified
-might show confusion-might tell lies. That would
matter little; but if he showed his hand too soon Bunker
might be put upon his guard. Well, that mattered lit-
tle-what Harry hoped was, rather to get at the truth
than to recover his houses.
66
"I want," he said, finding his uncle at home, and en-
gaged in his office drawing up bills-"I want a few
words of serious talk with you, my uncle."
(C
'I am busy; go away-I never want to talk to you.
I hate the very sight of your face."
He looked indeed as if he did-if a flushing cheek
and an angry glare of the eyes are any sign.
"I am not going away until you have answered my
questions. As to your hatred or your affection, that
does not concern me at all. Now will you listen, or
shall I wait?”
"To get rid of you the sooner," growled Bunker, "I
will listen now. If I was twenty years younger I'd
kick you out."
"If you were twenty years younger, there might,
it is true, be a fight. Now then?"
3CS
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"Well, get along-my time is valuable."
"I have several times asked you what you got for
me when you sold me. You have on those occasions
allowed yourself to fall into a rage, which is really dan-
gerous in so stout a man. I am not going to ask you
that question any more."
Mr. Bunker looked relieved.
“Because, you see, I know now what you got.”
Mr. Bunker turned very pale.
(C
What do you know?"
"I know exactly what you got when I was taken
away.”
Mr. Bunker said nothing; yet there was in his eyes
a look as if a critical moment long expected had at last
arrived, and he waited.
"When my mother died and you became my guard-
ian, I was not left penniless."
"It's a lie--you were."
"If I had been, you would have handed me over to
your brother-in-law, Coppin, the builder; but I had
property.'
"You had nothing."
ور
“I had three houses—one of those houses is, I be-
lieve, that which has been rented from you, by Miss
Kennedy. I do not know yet where the other two are;
but I shall find out."
"You are on a wrong tack," said his uncle; "now I
know why you wouldn't go away. You came here to
ferret and fish, did you? You thought you were en-
titled to property, did you? Ho!-you're a nice sort o'
chap to have house property, ain't you? Ha! ho!"
But his laughter was not mirthful.
"Let me point out," Harry went gravely on, "what
it is you have done. The child whom you kept for a
year or two was heir to a small estate, bringing in, I
suppose, about eighty or a hundred pounds a year.
We will say that you were entitled to keep that money
in return for his support; but when that child was car-
ried away and adopted you said nothing about the prop-
erty. You kept it for yourself, and you have received
the rents year after year, as if the house belonged to
you. Shall I go on, and tell you what judges and law-
yers and police people call this sort of conduct?”
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
309
Where's your proofs?" asked the other-his face
betraying his emotion. "Where's your proofs?"
"I have none yet-I am going to search for those
proofs."
"You can't find them-there are none. Now, young
man, you have had your say, and you can go.
Do you
hear? You can go.
"You deny, then, that the houses were mine?"
"If you'd come to me meek and lowly-as is your
humble station in life-I would ha' told you the history
of those houses. Yes, your mother had them, same as
her brothers and her sister. Where are they now?
I've got 'em all-I've got 'em all. How did I get 'em?
By lawful and honorable purchase-I bought 'em. Do
you want proofs? You shan't have any proofs. If you'd
behaved humble you should ha' seen those proofs. Now
you may go away and do your worst. Do you hear? You
may do your worst."
در
He shook his fist in Harry's face. His words were
brave, but his voice was shaky and his lips were trem-
bling.
"I don't believe you," said Harry. "I am certain that
you did not buy my houses. There was no one left to
care for my interests, and you took those houses."
"This is the reward," said Bunker, "for nussin' of this
child for nigh upon three years.
Who would take an
orphan into his bosom? But it was right, and I'd do
it again. Yes. I'd do it again."
66
I don't doubt you," the ungrateful nephew replied,
especially if that other orphan had three substantial
houses, and there was nobody but yourself to look after
him."
66
،،
As for your proofs, go and look for them. When
you've found 'em, bring 'em to me-you and your
proofs."
Harry laughed.
“I shall find them," he said; "but I don't know where
or when. Meantime you will go on as you do now—
thinking continually that they may be found. You
won't be able to sleep at night-you will dream of po-
lice courts. You will let your thoughts run on hand-
cuffs-you will take to drink. You will have no pleas-
ure in your life. You will hasten your end; you will"
T
310
ALL SORTS AND CÒNDITIONS OF MEN.
Here he desisted; for his uncle (dropping into his chair)
looked as if he was about to swoon.
"Remember, I shall find these proofs some day. A
hundred a year, for twenty years, is two thousand
pounds. That's a large sum to hand over; and then,
there is the interest. Upon my word, my uncle, you
will have to begin the world again."
CHAPTER XXXIII.
MR. BUNKER'S LETTER.
Two days after this Angela received a wonderful
letter. It was addressed to Miss Messenger, and was
signed Benjamin Bunker. It ran as follows:
(C
HONORED MISS: As an old and humble friend of
your late lamented grandfather, whose loss I can never
recover from, nor has it yet been made up to me in any
way"-Angela laughed-"I venture to address the fol-
lowing lines in secrecy and confidence, knowing that
what ought not to be concealed should be told in the
proper quarter, which is you, miss, and none other.
"Everybody in these parts knows me; everybody
knows Bunker, your grandfather's right-hand man;
wherefore what I write is with no other design than to
warn you and to put you on your guard against the de-
ceitful, and such as would abuse your confidingness,
being but young-ay, yes, and therefore ignorant of
dodges, and easy to come round.
"You have been come round, and that in such a
shameful way that I cannot bear myself any longer, and
must take the liberty of telling you so, being an old and
confidential adviser. Your grandfather used to say
that even the brewery wouldn't be where it is now if it
hadn't been for me, not to speak of the house property,
which is now a profitable investment, with rents reg-
ular and respectable tenants, whereas before I took it in
hand the houses were out of repair, the rents backward,
and the tenants too often such as would bring discredit
on any estate. I therefore beg to warn you against
two persons-young, I am sorry to say, which makes
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
311
it worse, because it is only the old who should be thus
depraved-whom you have benefited and they are un-
worthy of it.
"One of them is a certain Miss Kennedy, a dress-
maker, at least she says so. The other is-I write this
with a blush of indignant shame-my own nephew,
whose name is Harry Goslett."
"Bunker!" murmured Angela. "Is this fair to your
own tenant and your own nephew?"
"As regards my nephew, you have never inquired
about him, and it was out of your kindness and a desire
to mark your sense of me, that you gave him a berth
in the brewery. That young man, miss, who calls
himself a cabinet-maker and doesn't seem to know that
a joiner is one thing and a cabinet-maker another, now
does the joinery for the brewery, and makes, I am told,
as much as two pounds a week, being a handy chap.
If you asked me first, I should have told you that he is
a lazy, indolent, free and easy, disrespectful, dangerous
young man. He has been no one knows where; no one
knows where he has worked, except that he talks about
America; he looks like a betting man; I believe he
drinks of a night; he has been living like a gentleman,
doing no work, and I believe, though up to the present
I haven't found out for certain, that he has been in
trouble and knows what is a convict's feelings when the
key is turned. Because he is such a disgrace to the
family, for his mother was a Coppin and came of a re-
spectable Whitechapel stock, though not equal to the
Bunkers or the Messengers, I went to him and offered
him five-and-twenty pounds out of my slender stock to
go away and never come back any more to disgrace us.
Five-and-twenty pounds I would have given to save
Messenger's brewery from such a villain."
"Bunker, Bunker!" murmured Angela again.
"But he wouldn't take the money. You thought to
do me a good turn and you done yourself a bad one. I
don't know what mischief he has already done in the
brewery, and perhaps he is watched; if so it may not
yet be too late. Send him about his business. Make
312
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
him go. You can then consider some other way of
making it up to me for all that work for your grand-
father whereof you now sweetly reap the benefit.
(C
The other case, miss, is that of the young woman,
Kennedy by name, the dressmaker."
"What of her, Bunker?" asked Angela.
"I hear that you are givin' her your custom, not
knowing, maybe, the kind of woman she is nor the
mischief she's about. She's got a house of mine on
false pretences."
"Really, Bunker," said Angela, "you are too bad."
Otherwise I wouldn't let her have it, and at the end
of the year out she goes. She has persuaded a lot of
foolish girls, once contented with their lowly lot and
thankful for their wages and their work, nor inclined
to grumble when hours were long and work had to be
done. She has promised them the profits, and mean-
time she feeds them up so that their eyes swell out with
fatness. She gives them short hours, and sends them
out into the garden to play games. Games, if you
please, and short hours for such as them. In the even-
ing it's worse, for then they play and sing and dance,
having young men to caper about with them, and you
can hear them half a mile up the Mile End Road, so
that it is a scandal to Stepney Green, once respectable,
and the police will probably interfere. Where she came
from, who she was, how she got her money, we don't
know. Some say one thing, some say another; what-
ever they say it's a bad way. The worst is that when
she smashes, as she must, because no ladies who respect
virtue and humble-mindedness with contentment will
employ her, that the other dressmakers and shops
will have nothing to do with her girls, so that what
will happen to them no one can tell.
"I thought it right, miss, to give you this infor-
mation, because it is certain that if you withdraw your
support from these two undeserving people, they must
go away, which as a respectable Stepney man, I unite
in wishing may happen before long, when the girls
(6
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
313
J
shall go on again as before and leave off dancing and
singing to the rich, and be humble and contented with
the trust to which they were born.
"And as regards the kindness you were meditating
toward me, miss, I think that I may say that none of
my nephews-one of whom is a Radical, and another
a captain in the Salvation Army-deserves to receive
any benefits at your hands, the least of all that villain
who works in the brewery. Wherefore, it may take
the form of something for myself. And it is not for me
to tell you, miss, how much that something ought to
be for a man in years, of respectable station, and once
the confidential friend of your grandfather, and pre-
vented thereby from saving as much as he had other-
wise a right to expect.
"I remain, miss, your humble servant,
66
'BENJAMIN BUNKER."
"This," said Angela, "is a very impudent letter.
How shall we bring him to book for it?"
When she learned, as she speedily did, the great mys-
tery about the houses and the Coppin property, she be-
gan to understand the letter, the contents of which she
kept to herself for the present. This was perhaps wise, for
the theory implied rather than stated in the letter, that
both should be ordered to go, for if one only was turned
out of work both would stay. This theory made her
smile and blush, and pleased her, insomuch that she
was not so angry as she might otherwise have been, and
should have been, with the crafty double-dealer who
wrote the letter.
It happened that Mr. Bunker had business on Step-
ney Green that morning, while Angela was reading
the letter. She saw him from the window, and could
not resist the temptation of inviting him to step in.
He came, not in the least abashed, and with no tell-tale
signal of confusion in his rosy cheeks.
Come in, Mr. Bunker," said Angela. "Come in;
I want five minutes' talk with you. This way, please,
where we can be alone.'
>>
She led him into the refectory, because Daniel Fagg
was in the drawing room.
"I have been thinking, Mr. Bunker," she said, "how
**
314
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
very, very fortunate I was to fall into such hands as
yours, when I came to Stepney.'
""
66
'You were, miss, you were. That was a fall, as
one may say, which meant a rise.'
""
(6
"I am sure it did, Mr. Bunker. You do not often
come to see us, but I hope you approve of our plans.
'As for that," he replied, "it isn't my business.
People come to me and I put them in the way. How
they run in the way is not my business to inquire. As
for you and your girls, now, if you make the concern
go, you may thank me for it. If you don't, why, it
isn't my fault."
"Very well put, indeed, Mr. Bunker. In six months
the first year, for which I paid the rent, will come to an
end."
رو
"It will."
“We shall then have to consider a fresh agreement.
I was thinking, Mr. Bunker, that, seeing how good a
man you are, and how generous, you would like to
make your rent, like the wages of the girls, depend upon
the profits of the business.
""
"What?" he asked.
Angela repeated her proposition.
He rose, buttoned his coat, and put on his hat.
"Rent depend on profits? Is the girl mad? Rent
comes first and before anything else. Rent is even
before taxes; and as for rates-but you're mad. My
rent depend on profits! Rent, miss, is sacred. Re-
member that."
"Oh!" said Angela.
CC
'And what is more," he added, "people who don't
pay up get sold up. It's a Christian duty to sell 'em
up. I couldn't let off my own nephews."
"As for one of them, you would like to sell him up,
would you not, Mr. Bunker?"
(6
I would," he replied truthfully. "I should like to
see him out of the place. You know what I told you
when you came. Have nothing to do, I said, with that
chap. Keep him at arm's length, for he is a bad lot.
Now you see what he has brought you to. Singin',
dancin', playin', laughin', every night; respectable
ladies driven away from your shop; many actually kept
out of the place; expenses doubled; all through him.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
315
What's more-bankruptcy ahead! Don't I know that
not a lady in Stepney or Mile End comes here? Don't
I know that you depend upon your West End connec-
tion? When that goes, where are you? And all for
the sake of that pink and white chap! Well, when one
goes, the other'll go too, I suppose. Rent out of profits,
indeed! No, no, Miss; it'll do you good to learn a lit-
tle business, even if you do get sold up."
"Thank you, Mr. Bunker. Do you know, I do not
think you will ever have the pleasure of selling me up?”
She laughed so merrily that he felt he hated her quite
as much as he hated his nephew. Why, six months
before, no one laughed in Stepney at all; and to think
that any one should laugh at him, would have been an
impossible dream.
You laugh," he said gravely, "and yet you are on
the brink of ruin. Where's your character? Wrapped
up with the character of that young man.
Where's
your business! Drove away-by him. You laugh.
Ah! I'm sorry for you, miss, because I thought at one
time you were a plain-spoken, honest sort of young wom-
an; if I'd ha' known that you meant to use my house
-mine, the friend of all the respectable tradesmen-
for such wicked fads as now disgrace it, I'd never ha'
taken you for a tenant."
66
She laughed
Oh yes, you would, Mr. Bunker."
again, but not merrily this time.
"Oh yes you
would. You forget the fittings and the furniture, the
rent paid in advance, and the half-crown an hour for
advice. Is there anything, I should like to know, that
you would not do for half a crown an hour?"
66
M
This, which was not altogether a
went straight to Mr. Bunker's heart.
but put on his hat and rushed out.
between them, would drive him mad.
He made no reply.
"Why, again, do you hate your nephew? What
injury have you done him that you should bear him
such ill will?"
shot in the dark,
He said nothing,
Clearly these two,
316
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
PROOFS IN PRINT.
"IT is quite finished now,"" said Daniel Fagg, blot-
ting the last page.
When he began to live with the dressmakers, An-
gela, desiring to find him some employment, had sug-
gested that he should rewrite the whole of his book, and
redraw the illustrations. It was not a large book,
even though it was stuffed and padded with readings.
of inscriptions and tablets. An ordinary writer would
have made a fair copy in a fortnight. But so careful
an author as Daniel, so anxious to present his work
perfect and unassailable, and so slow in the mere me-
chanical art of writing, wanted much more than a fort-
night. His handwriting, like his Hebrew, had been
acquired comparatively late in life; it was therefore
rather ponderous, and he had never learned the art of
writing half a word and leaving the other half to be
guessed. Then there were the Hebrew words, which
took a great deal of time to get right; and the equi-
lateral triangles, which also caused a considerable
amount of trouble. So that it was a good six weeks
before Daniel was ready with a fair copy of his manu-
script. He was almost as happy in making this tran-
script as he had been with the original document; per-
haps more so, because he was now able to consider his
great discovery as a whole, to regard it as an architect.
may regard his finished work, and to touch up, orna-
ment, and improve his translations.
66
"It is quite complete," he repeated, laying the last
page in its place and tapping the roll affectionately.
Here you will find the full account of the two tables
of stone and a translation of their contents, with notes.
What will they say to that, I wonder?"
"But how," asked Angela-"how did the tables of
stone get to the British Museum?"
Mr. Fagg considered his reply for a while.
"There are two ways," he said, "and I don't know
which is the right one. For either they were brought
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
317
here when we, the descendants of Ephraim, as every-
body knows, landed in England, or else they were
brought here by Phoenician traders after the Captivity.
However, there they are, as anybody may see with the
help of my discovery. As for the scholars, how can
they see anything? Wilful ignorance, miss, is their
sin: pride and wilful ignorance. You're ignorant
because you are a woman, and it is your nature too.
But not to love darkness!"
"No, Mr. Fagg. I lament my ignorance."
"Then there's the story of David and Jonathan, and
the history of Jezebel and her great wickedness, and
the life and death of King Jehoshaphat, and a great
deal more. Now read for the first time from the arrow-
headed character-so called-by Daniel Fagg, self-
taught scholar, once shoemaker in the colony of Vic-
toria, discoverer of the Primitive Alphabet and the
Universal Language."
"That is, indeed, a glorious thing to be able to say,
Mr. Fagg.
در
"But now it is written, what next?”
"You mean how can you get it printed ?"
66
Of course that's what I mean," he replied almost
angrily. There's the book and no one will look at it.
Haven't I tried all the publishers? What else should
I mean?"
The old disappointment, kept under and forgotten
during the excitement of re-writing the book, was mak-
ing itself felt again. How much further forward was
he-the work had been finished long before. All he
had done the last six weeks was to write it afresh.
(6
'I've only been wasting my time here," he said quer-
ulously. "I ought to have been up and about. I
might have gone to Oxford, where, I am told, there
are young men who would, perhaps, give me a hearing.
Or, there's Cambridge-where they have never heard
of my discovery. You've made me waste six weeks
and more."
Angela forbore to ask him how he would have lived
during those six weeks. She replied softly: "Nay,
Mr. Fagg; not wasted the time. You were overworked;
you wanted rest. Besides, I think, we may find a plan
to get this book published.”
318
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"What plan-how?"
"If you would trust the manuscript to my hands.
Yes, I know well how precious it is, and what a dread-
ful thing it would be to lose it. But you have a copy,
and you can keep that while I take the other."
Where are you going to take it?"
"I don't know yet-to one of the publishers, I sup-
*pose.
He groaned.
"I have been to every one of them-not a publisher
in London but has had the offer of my book. They
won't have it, any of them. Oh, it's their loss-I
know that. But what is it to me?"
"Will you let me try-will you trust me with the
manuscript?"
""
He reluctantly and jealously allowed her to take
away the precious document. When it was out of his
hands he tried to amuse himself with the first copy, but
found no pleasure in it at all; because he thought con-
tinually of the scorn which had been hurled upon him
and his discovery. He saw the heads of departments,
one after the other, receiving him politely and listening
to what he had to say. He saw them turning impatient
-interrupting him, declining to hear any more-refer-
ring him to certain books in which he would find a
refutation of his theories; and finally refusing even to
see him.
Never was discoverer treated with such contempt-
even the attendants at the Museum took their cue from
the chiefs, and received his advances with scorn.
Should they waste their time-the illiterate-in listen-
ing unprofitably to one whom the learned Dr. Birch
and the profound Mr. Newton had sent away in con-
tempt? Better sit in the spacious halls, bearing the
wand of office and allowing the eyelids to fall gently,
and the mind to wander away among pleasant past-
ures, where there was drink with tobacco. Then there
were the people who had subscribed. Some of them
were gentlemen connected with Australia. They had
tossed him the twelve-and-sixpence in the middle of
his talk, as if to get rid of him. Some of them had
subscribed in pity for his poverty-some persuaded by
his importunity. There was not one among them all
1
1
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
319
(he reflected with humiliation) who subscribed because
he believed. Stay-there was this ignorant dress-
maker. One convert out of all to whom he had ex-
plained his discovery; one, only one.
C
There have been many religious enthusiasts-proph-
ets, preachers, holders of strange doctrines-who have
converted women so that they believed them inspired
of heaven. Yet these men made other converts; where-
as he (Fagg) had but this one, and she was not in love
with him, because he was old now and no longer
comely. This was a grand outcome of that Australian
enthusiasm!
That day Mr. Fagg was disagreeable, considered as
a companion. He found fault with the dinner, which
was excellent, as usual. He complained that the beer
was thick and flat; whereas it sparkled like champagne,
and was as clear as a bell. He was cross in the after-
noon, and wanted to prevent the child who sat in the
drawing-room from practising her music; and he went
out for his walk in a dark and gloomy mood.
Angela let him have his querulous way unrebuked,
because she knew the cause of it. He was suffering
from that dreadful, hopeless anger which falls upon the
unappreciated. He was like some poet, who brings out
volume after volume, yet meets with no admirers, and
remains obscure. He was like some novelist who has
produced a masterpiece-which nobody will read-or
like some actor (the foremost of his age) who depletes
the house; or like a dramatist, from whose acted works
the public fly; or like a man who invents something
which is to revolutionize things. Only people prefer
their old way!
Good heavens! Is it impossible to move this vast
inert mass called the world? Why, there are men who
can move it at their will-even by a touch of their little
finger-and the unappreciated with all their efforts
cannot make the slightest impression. This, from
time to time, makes them go mad! and at such periods
they are unpleasant persons to meet. They growl at
their clubs, they quarrel with their blood relations-
they snarl at their wives, they grumble at their servants!
Daniel was having such a fit.
It lasted two whole days, and on the second Rebekah
820
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
took upon herself to lead him aside and reprove him for
the sin of ingratitude-because it was very well known
to all that the men would have gone to the workhouse
but for Miss Kennedy's timely help.
She asked him sternly what he had done to merit that
daily bread which was given him without a murmur?
And what excuse he could make for his bad temper and
his rudeness toward the woman who had done so much
for him?
He had no excuse to make-because Rebekah would
not have understood the true one-wherefore she bade
him repent and reform, or he would hear more from
her. This threat frightened him, though it could not
remove his irritation and depression; but, on the third
day, sunshine and good cheer and hope, new hope and
enthusiasm, returned to him. For Miss Kennedy
announced to him with many smiles that a publisher had
accepted his manuscript; and that it had already been
sent to the printers.
"He will publish it for you," she said, "at no cost to
yourself. He will give you as many copies as you
wish to have for presentation among your friends and
among your subscribers. You will like to send copies
to your subscribers, will you not?"
He rubbed his hands and laughed aloud.
66
That," he said, "will prove that I did not eat up the
subscriptions."
"Of course,”—Angela smiled, but did not contradict
the proposition-" of course, Mr. Fagg. And if ever
there was any doubt in your own mind about that
money it is now removed, because the book will be in
their hands; and all they wanted was the book.'
""
66
Yes, yes; and no one will be able to say-you
know what. Will they?”
66
No, no; you will have proofs sent you."
Proofs," he murmured, "proofs in print!-will they
send me proofs soon?"
"I believe you will have the whole book set up in a
few weeks."
66
"Oh, the whole book! My book set up in print?"
"Yes. And if I were you, I would send an an-
nouncement of the work by the next mail to your Aus-
tralian friends. Say that vour discovery has at length
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
321
assumed its final shape, and is now ripe for publication,
after being laid before all the learned societies of Lon-
don; and that it has been accepted by Messrs.
well-known publishers, and will be issued almost as
soon as this announcement reaches Melbourne. Here
is a slip that I have prepared for you."
- the
He took it with glittering eyes and stammering voice.
The news seemed too good to be true.
"Now, Mr. Fagg, that this has been settled, there is
another thing which 1 should like to propose for your
consideration. Did you ever hear of that great Roman
who saved his country in a time of peril, and then went
back to the plough?"
Daniel shook his head.
"Is there any Hebrew inscription about him?" he
asked.
6.
Not that I know of. What I mean is this: When
your volume is sent, Mr. Fagg-when you have sent it
triumphantly to all the learned societies and all your
subscribers, and all the papers and everywhere (includ-
ing your Australian friends), because the publisher will
let you have as many copies as you please-would it not
be a graceful thing, and a thing for future historians
to remember, that you left England at the moment of
your greatest fame, and went back to Australia to take
up-your old occupation?"
Daniel never had considered the thing is this light,
and showed no enthusiasm at the proposal.
"When your friends in Victoria prophesied fortune.
and fame, Mr. Fagg, they spoke out of their hopes and
their pride in you. Of course, I do not know much
about these things. How should I? Yet I am quite
certain that it takes a long time for a learned discovery
to make its way. There are jealousies-you have ex-
perienced them-and unwillingness to admit new things.
You have met with that, too; and reluctance to unlearn
old things. Why, you have met with that as well."
"I have," he said, “I have.”
"As for granting a pension to a scholar-or a title,
or anything of that sort-it is really never done. Se
that you would have to make your own living if you
remained here.”
21
322
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"I thought that when the book was published people
would buy it."
Angela shook her head.
Oh, no! That is not the kind of book which is
bought very few people know anything about inscrip-
tions. Those who do will go to the British Museum
and read it there-one copy will do for all.”
(C
Daniel looked perplexed.
You do not go back empty-handed," she said.
"You will have a fine story to tell of how the great
scholars laughed at your discovery, and how you got
about and told people, and they subscribed, and your
book was published, and how you sent it to all of them
-to show the mistake they had made-and how the
English people have got the book now, to confound the
scholars; and how your mission is accomplished, and
you are at home again-to live and die among your
own people. It will be a glorious return, Mr. Fagg. I
envy you the landing at Melbourne-your book under
your arm. You will go back to your old township-
you will give a lecture in the schoolroom on your stay
in England, and your reception. And then you will
take your old place again and follow your old calling,
exactly the same as if you had never left it, but for the
honor and reverence which people will pay you!"
Daniel cooed like a dove.
66
"It may be," the siren went on, "that people will pay
pilgrimages to see you in your old age. They will come
to see the man who discovered the Primitive Alphabet
and the Universal Language. They will say: “This
in Daniel Fagg-the great Daniel Fagg, whose unaided
intellect overset and brought to confusion all the schol-
ars, and showed their learning was but vain pretence;
who proved the truth of the Scriptures by his reading
of tablets and inscriptions; and who returned when he
had finished his task, with the modesty of a great mind,
to his simple calling.
999
"I will go," said Daniel, banging the table with his
fist;
"I will go as soon as the book is ready,'
""
4
-
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
323
CHAPTER XXXV.
THEN WE'LL KEEP COMPANY.
AFTER the celebrated debate on the abolition of the
Lords, Dick Coppin found that he took for the moment
a greatly diminished interest in burning political ques-
tions. He lost, in fact, confidence in himself, and went
about with hanging head. The Sunday evening meet-
ings were held as usual, but the fiery voice of Dick the
Radical was silent, and people wondered. This was
the effect of his cousin's address upon him. As for the
people, it had made them laugh, just as Dick's had
made them angry. They came to the Hall to get these
little emotions, and not for any personal or critical in-
terest in the matter discussed; and this was about all
the effect produced by them.
One evening the old Chartist who had taken the
chair met Dick at the club.
"Come out," he said, "come out and have a crack
while the boys wrangle.
They walked from Redman's Lane, where the club
stands, to the quiet side pavement of Stepney Green,
deserted now because the respectable people were all in
church, and it was too cold for the lounging of the
more numerous class of those who cannot call them-
selves respectable. The ex-Chartist belonged, like Dan-
iel Fagg, to the shoemaking trade in its humbler lines.
The connection between leather and Socialism, Chart-
ism, Radicalism, Atheism, and other things detrimen-
tal to old institutions, has frequently been pointed out,
and need not be repeated. It is a reflecting trade, and
the results of meditation are mainly influenced by the
amount of knowledge the meditation brings with it.
In this respect the Chartist of thirty years ago had a
great advantage over his successors of the present day,
for he had read. He knew the works of Owen, of Hol-
yoke, and of Cobbett. He understood something of
what he wanted, and why ne wanted it. The proof of
which is that they have got all they wanted, and we
still survive.
رو
324
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
When next the people make up their minds that they
want another set of things they will probably get them,
too.
"Let us talk," he said. "I've been thinking a bit
about that chap's speech the other night—I wanted an
answer to it."
Have you got one?"
It's all true what he said—first of all, it's true.
The pinch is just the same.
Whether the Liberals are
in or the Tories, Government don't help us. Why
should we help them?"
"Is that all your answer?”
"Wait a bit, lad-don't hurry a man. The chap
was right. We ought to co-operate and get all he said,
and a deal more; and once we do begin, mind you,
there'll be astonishment-because you see, Dick, my
lad, there's work before us. But we must be educated;
we must all be got to see what we can do if we
like. That chap's clever now, though he looks like a
swell."
66
He's got plenty in him. But he'll never be one of
us."
"If we can use him, what matter whether he is one
of us or not? Come to that-who is 'us'? You don't
pretend before me that you call yourself one of the com-
mon workmen, do you? That does for the club; but,
between ourselves, why, man! you and me, we're lead-
ers. We've got to think for 'em. What I think is-
make that chap draw up a plan, if he can, for getting
the people to work together-for we've got all the power
at last, Dick. We've got all the power. Don't forget
when we old 'uns are dead and gone, who done it for
you.
""
-
He was silent for a moment. Then he went on:
"We've got what we wanted—that's true; and we
seem to be no better off-that's true, too. But we are
better off, because we feel that every man has his share
in the rule of the nation. That's a grand thing. We
are not kept out of our vote--we don't see, as we used
to see, our money spent for us without having a say.
That's a very grand thing, which he doesn't understand,
nor you neither, because you are too young. Every-
thing we get, which makes us feel our power more, is
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
325
good for us. The chap was right; but he was wrong
as well. Don't give up politics, lad.”
"What's the good if nothing comes?"
"There's a chance now for the working-man, such as
he has never had before in history. You are the lad
to take that chance. I've watched you, Dick, since
you first began to come to the club-there's life in you.
Lord! I watch the young fellows one after the other.
They stamp and froth, but it comes to nothing. You're
different-you want to be something better than a bel-
lows; though your speech the other night came pretty
nigh to the bellows kind."
66
Well, what is the chance?"
"The House, Dick. The working-men will send you
there, if you can show them that you've got something
in you. It isn't froth they want-it's a practical man,
with knowledge. You go on reading, go on speaking,
go on debating. Keep it up. Get your name known;
don't demean yourself. Get reported; and learn all
that there is to learn. Once in the House, Dick, if you
are not afraid-
""
"I shall not be afraid."
66
Humph! Well, we shall see. Well, there's your
chance. A working-man's candidate-one of ourselves.
That's a card for you to play; but not so ignorant as
your mates. Eh? Able (if you want) to use the swell's
sneerin' talk-so's to call a man a liar, without sayin'
the words. To make him feel like a fool and a whipped
cur, with just showing your white teeth! Learn them
ways, Dick-they'll be useful.”
But if," said the young man doubtfully, "if I am
to keep on debating, what subjects shall we take up at
the club?"
"I should go in for practical subjects. Say that the
club is ready to vote for the abolition of the Lords and
the Church, and reform of the land laws when the time
comes. You haven't got the choice of subjects that we
had. Lord! what with rotten boroughs and the black
Book of Pensions, and younger sons, and favoritism in
the service, why, our hands were full."
"What practical subjects?"
66
Why, them as your cousin talked about. There's
the wages of the girls-there's food and fish and drink.
326
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
There's high rent-there's a world of subjects. You
go, and find out all about them. Give up the rest for a
spell, and make yourself master of all these questions.
If you do, Dick, I believe your fortune is made.
""
Dick looked doubtful-it seemed disheartening to be
sent back to the paltry matter of wages, prices, and so
on, when he was burning to lead in something great.
Yet the advice was sound.
(6
Sometimes I think, Dick," the old man went on,
"that the working-man's best friend would be the swells,
if they could be got hold of. They've got nothing to
make out of the artisan. They don't run factories, nor
keep shops. They don't care, bless you, how high his
wages are. Why should they? They've got their
farmers to pay the rent; and their houses, and their
money in the funds. What does it matter to them?
They're well brought up, most of them-civil in their
manner, and disposed to be friendly if you're neither
standoffish nor familiar; but know yourself, and talk
accordin'."
"If the swells were to come to us, we ought to go to
them-remember that, Dick. Very soon there will be
no more questions of Tory and Liberal; but only what
is the best thing for us. You play your game by the
newest rules. As for the old ones, they've seen their
day."
Dick left him; but he did not return to the club.
He communed beneath the stars, turning over these and
other matters in his mind.
"Yes, the old man was right. The old indignation
times were over. The long list of crimes which the
political agitator could bring against King, Church,
Lords, and Commons thirty, forty, fifty years ago, are
useless now. They only serve to amuse an audience not
too critical.
He was ashamed of what he had himself said about
the Lords. Such charges are like the oratory of an ex-
minister on the stump-finding no accusation too reck-
less to be hurled against his enemies.
He was profoundly ambitious. To some men, situ-
ated like himself, it might have been a legitimate and
sufficient ambition to recover by slow degrees and thrift,
and in some trading way, the place in the middle class
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
327
from which the Coppins had fallen. Not so to Dick
Coppin-he cared very little about the former greatness
of the Coppins, and the position once occupied by Cop-
pin the builder (his father), before he went bankrupt.
He meant secretly something very much greater for
himself. He would be a member of Parliament-he
would be a working-man's member. There have al-
ready been half a dozen working-men's members in the
House. Their success has not hitherto been marked,
probably because none of them have shown that they
know what they want-if, indeed, they want anything.
Up to the last few days Dick simply desired in the ab-
stract to be one of them; only, of course, a red-hot
Radical-an Irreconcilable.
Now, however, he desired more. His cousin's words
and the Chartist's words fell on fruitful soil. He per-
ceived that to become a power in the House one must
be able to inform the House on the wants-the pro-
gramme of his constituents-what they desire, and
mean to have. Dick always mentally added that
clause, because it belongs to the class of speech in which
he had been brought up-" and we mean to have it.”
You accompany the words with a flourish of the left
hand, which is found to be more effective than the right
for such purposes. They don't really mean to have it,
whatever it may be. But with their audiences it is
necessary to put on the appearance of strength before
there arises any confidence in strength. Disestablishers.
of all kinds invariably mean to have it, and the phrase
is, perhaps, getting played out.
Dick went home to his lodgings and sat among his
books, thinking. He was a man who read. For the
sake of being independent, he became a teetotaler-so
that, getting good wages, he was rich. He would not
marry, because he did not want to be encumbered. He
bought such books as he thought would be useful to
him, and read them, but no others. He was a man of
energy and tenacity, whose chief fault was the entire
absence as yet of sympathy and imagination—if these
could be supplied in any way, Dick Coppin's course
would be assured. For with them would come play of
fancy, repartee, wit, illustration, and the graces as well
as the strength of oratory.
328
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
He went on Monday evening to see Miss Kennedy.
He would find out from her, as a beginning, all that
she could tell him about the wages of women.
"But I have told you," she said, "I told you all the
first night you came here-have you forgotten? Then,
I suppose, I must tell you again.'
ور
The first time he was only bored with the story, be-
cause he did not see how he could use it for his own
purposes therefore he had forgotten the details.
She told him the sad story of woman's wrongs, which
go unredressed while their sisters clamor for female
suffrage and make school boards intolerable by their
squabbles. The women do but copy the men; therefore,
while the men neglect the things that lie ready to their
hand and hope for things impossible, under new forms
of government, what wonder if the women do the
like?
This time Dick listened, because he now understood
that a practical use might be made out of the informa-
tion. He was not a man of highly sensitive organiza-
tion, nor did he feel any indignation at the things An-
gela told him, seeing that he had grown up among these
things all his life, and regarded the inequalities of
wages and work as part of the bad luck of being born
a woman. But he took note of all, and asked shrewd
questions and made suggestions.
66
'If," he said, "there's a hundred women asking for
ten places, of course the governor 'll give them to the
cheapest."
(6
That,” replied Angela, "is a matter of course as
things now are. But there is another way of consider-
ing the question. If we had a Woman's Trade Union,
as we shall have before long, where there are ten places
only ten women should be allowed to apply, and just
wages be demanded.”
"How is that to be done?"
(C
My friend, you have yet a great deal to learn."
Dick reddened and replied rudely, that if he had, he
did not expect to learn it from a woman.
"A great deal to learn," she repeated gently. "Above
all, you have got to learn the lesson which your cousin
began to teach you the other night, the great lesson of
finding out what you want and then getting it for your
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
329
Ꮧ
selves. Governments are nothing; you must help your-
selves; you must combine.”
He was silent. The girl made him angry, yet he
was afraid of her because no other woman he had ever
met spoke as she did or knew so much.
66
Combine," she repeated. "Preach the doctrine of
combination; and teach us the purposes for which we
ought to combine."
The advice was just what the cobbler had given.
"Oh, Mr. Coppin"-her voice was as winning as her
eyes were kind and full of interest-"you are clever;
you are persevering; you are brave; you have so splen-
did a voice; you have such a natural gift of oratory,
that you ought to become you must become one of
the leaders of the people.
""
Pride fell prone, like Dagon-before these words.
Dick succumbed to the gracious influence of a charm-
ing woman.
66
>>
Tell me," he said, reddening, because it is humiliat-
ing to seek help of a girl, "tell me what I am to do.'
You are ambitious, are you not?”
66
"Yes," he replied coldly, "I am ambitious. I don't
tell them outside," he jerked his thumb over his shoul-
der to indicate the Advanced Club, "but I mean to get
into the 'Ouse-I mean the House." One of his little
troubles was the correction of certain peculiarities of
speech common among his class. It was his cousin who
first directed his attention to this point.
"Yes: there is no reason why you should not get into
the House," said Angela. "But it would be a thou-
sand pities if you should get in yet.
66
Why should I wait, if they will elect me?"
Because, Mr. Coppin, you must not try to lead the
people till you know whither you would lead them: be-
cause you must not pretend to represent the people till
you have learned their condition and their wants; be-
cause you must not presume to offer yourself till you
are prepared with a programme."
"Yet plenty of others do."
(C
66
رو
They do; but what else have they done?"
Only tell me--then-tell me what to do.
read?"
"No; you have read enough for the present.
Am I to
Rest
330
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
your eyes from books; open them to the world; see
things as they are. Look out of this window. What
do you see?"
"Nothing; a row of houses; a street; a road."
"I see, besides, that the houses are mean, dirty, and
void of beauty: but I see more. I see an organ player;
on the curbstone the little girls are dancing; in the
road the ragged boys are playing. Look at the freedom
of the girls' limbs; look at the careless grace of the
children. Do you know how clever they are? Some
of them, who sleep where they can and live as they can,
can pick pockets at three, go shop-lifting at four, plot
and make conspiracies at five; see how they run and
jump and climb." They are everywhere. How can we
see them.
help that?"
"You would leave these poor children to the Govern-
ment and the police. Yet I think a better way to re-
deem these little ones is for the working-men to resolve
together that they shall be taken care of, taught, and
apprenticed. Spelling, which your cousin says consti-
tutes most of the School Board education, does not so
much matter. Take them off the streets and train them
to a trade. Do you ever walk about the streets at night?
Be your own police and make your streets clean. Do
you ever go into the courts and places where the dock
laborers sleep? Have a committee for every one such
street or court, and make them decent. When a gang
of roughs make the pavement intolerable, you decent
men step off and leave them to the policeman, if he
dares interfere. Put down the roughs yourselves with
a strong hand. Clear out the thieves' dens, and the
drinking shops; make roughs and vagabonds go else-
where. I am always about among the people; they are
full of sufferings which need not be; there are a great
many workers-ladies, priests, clergymen-among them
trying to remove some of the suffering. But why do
you not do this for yourselves? Be your own almoners.
I find everywhere, too, courage and honesty, and a de-
sire for better things. Show them how their lot may
be alleviated."
"But I don't know how," he replied, humbly.
"You must find out, if you would be their leader.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
331
And you must have sympathy. Never was there yet a
leader of the people who did not feel with them as they
feel."
This saying was too hard for the young man, who
had, he knew, felt hitherto only for himself.
66
You say what Harry says. I sometimes think-
he stopped short, as if an idea had suddenly occurred to
him. "Look here, is it true that you and Harry are
keeping company?"
"No, we are not," Angela replied with a blush.
"Oh! I thought you were. Is it off, then?"
""
"It never was-more-on-than it is at present, Mr.
Coppin.
99
"Oh!" he looked doubtful. "Well," he said, "I sup-
pose there is no reason why a girl should tell a lie about
such a simple thing." He certainly was a remarkably
rude young man. "Either you are, or you ain't.
That's it, isn't it? And you ain't?"
"We are not," said Angela, with a little blush, for
the facts of the case were, from one point of view,
against her.
"Then if you are not-I don't care-though it's
against my rules, and I did say I would never be both-
ered with a woman. Look here you and me.
will."
"Will what?"
"Will keep company," he replied firmly. "Oh! I
know it's a great chance for you-but then, you see,
you ain't like the rest of 'em, and you know things,
somehow, that may be useful-though how you learned
'em, nor where you came from, nor what's your char-
acter-there-I don't care, we'll keep company!"
"Oh!"
"Yes; we'll begin next Sunday. You'll be useful to
me, so that the bargain is not all one side." It was
not till afterward that Angela felt the full force of this
remark. "As for getting married, there's no hurry;
we'll talk about that when I'm member. Of course it
would be silly to get married now.”
6C
Of course," said Angela.
"Let's get well up the tree first. Lord help you!
how could I climb, to say nothing o' you, with a round
half-dozen o' babies at my heels?"
332
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"But, Mr. Coppin," she said, putting aside these pos-
sibilities, “I am sorry to say that I cannot possibly keep
company with you. There is a reason-I cannot tell
you what it is-but you must put that out of your
thoughts.
""
"Oh!" his face fell, "if you won't, you won't. Most
girls jump at a man who's in good wages and a tem-
perance man, and sought after, like me. But-there-
if you won't, there's an end. I'm not going to waste
my time cryin' after any girl."
"We will remain friends, Mr. Coppin?" She held out
her hand.
CC
Friends? what's that? We might ha' been pals-I
mean partners."
66
But I can tell you all I think; I can advise you in
my poor way still, whenever you please to ask my ad-
vice, even if I do not share your greatness. And be-
lieve me, Mr. Coppin, that I most earnestly desire to
see you not only in the House, but a real leader of the
people, such a leader as the world has never yet beheld.
To begin with, you will be a man of the very people."
"Ay!" he said, "one of themselves!"
CC
A man not to be led out of his way by flatterers."
"No," he said with a superior smile, "no one, man
or woman, can flatter me."
"A man who knows the restless unsatisfied yearnings.
of the people, and what they mean, and has found out
how they may be satisfied."
"Ye-yes!" he replied, doubtfully, "certainly."
66
A man who will lead the people to get what is good
for themselves and by themselves, without the help of
Government."
And no thunders in the Commons? No ringing de-
nunciation of the Hereditary House? Nothing at all
that he had looked to do and to say? Call this a leader-
ship? But he thought of the Chartist and his new
methods. By different roads, said Montaigne, we ar-
rive at the same end.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
333
?
J
1
CHAPTER XXXVI.
WHAT WILL BE THE END?
THE end of the year drew near-the end of that last
year of '81, which, whatever its shortcomings, its burn-
ing heat of July and its wretched rain of August, went
out in sweet and gracious sunshine, and a December
like unto the April of a poet.
For six months Angela had been living among her
girls. The place was become homelike to her. The
workwomen were now her friends-her trusted friends.
The voice of calumny about her antecedents was silent,
unless it was the voice of Bunker. The Palace of De-
light (whose meaning was as yet unknown and unsus-
pected, was rising rapidly, and indeed was nearly com-
plete-a shell which had to be filled with things beauti-
ful and delightful, of which Angela did not trust her-
self to speak. She had a great deal to think of in those
last days of the year '81. The dressmaking was noth-
ing-that went on. There was some local custom, and
more was promised. It seemed as if (on the soundest
principles of economy) it would actually pay. There
was a very large acquaintance made at odd times among
the small streets and mean houses of Stepney. It was
necessary to visit these people and to talk with them.
Angela had nothing to do with the ordinary channels
of charity. She would help neither curate nor Sister of
Mercy, nor Bible-woman. Why, she said, do not the
people stand shouldor to shoulder and help themselves?
To be sure, she had the great advantage over profes-
sional visitors that she was herself only a work-woman,
and was not paid for any services; and, as if there was
not already enough to make her anxious, there was that
lover of hers.
Were she and Harry keeping company? Dick Cop-
pin asked this question; and Angela (not altogether
truthfully) said that they were not. What else were
they doing, indeed? No word of love now. Had he
not promised to abstain? Yet she knew his past—she
knew what he had given up for her sake, believing her
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ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
only a poor dressmaker; all for love of her, and she
could not choose but let her heart go forth to so loyal
and true a lover. Many ladies, in many tales of chiv-
alry, have demanded strange services from their lovers:
none so strange as that asked by Angela when she
ordered her lover not only to pretend to be a cabinet-
maker, and a joiner, but to work at his trade and to
live by it. Partly in self-reproach-partly in admira-
tion-she watched him going and coming to and from
the Brewery, where he now earned (thanks to Lord
Jocelyn's intervention) the sum of a whole shilling an
hour. For there was nothing in his bearing or his talk
to show that he repented his decision. He was always
cheerful, always of good courage-more, he was always
in attendance on her. It was he who thought for
her; invented plans to make her evenings attractive;
brought raw lads (recruits in the army of culture) from
the Advanced Club and elsewhere, and set them an
example of good manners; and was her prime minister,
her aide-de-camp, her chief vizier.
And the end of it all-nay, the thing itself being so
pleasant, why hasten the end? And, if there was to
be an end, could it not be connected with the opening of
the Palace? Yes. When the Palace was ready to open
its gates then would Angela open her arms.
For the moment it was the sweet twilight of love-the
half-hour before the dawn. The sweet uncertainty,
when all was certainty. And, as yet, the palace was
only just receiving its roof. The fittings and decora-
tions, the organ and the statues, and all, had still to be
put in.
When everything was ready, then-then-
Angela would somehow, perhaps, find words to bid her
lover be happy, if she could make him happy.
There could be but one end.
Angela came to Whitechapel incognito-a princess
disguised as a milkmaid; partly out of curiosity, partly
to try her little experiment for the good of work-girls,
with the gayety and light heart of youth-thinking that
before long she would return to her old place, just as
she had left it. But she could not. Her old views of
life were changed, and a man had changed them. More
than that a man whose society, whose strength, whose
counsel had become necessary to her.
ALL SORTS AND CÓNDITIONS OF MEN.
335
'Who," she asked herself, "would have thought of
the Palace except him? Could I, could any woman?
I could have given away money-that is all. I could
have been robbed and cheated; but such an idea-so
grand, so simple; it is a man's, not a woman's. When
the Palace is completed; when all is ready for the open-
ing, then " And the air became musical with the
clang and clash of wedding bells-up the scale, down
the scale; in thirds, in fifths; with triple bob-majors
and the shouts of the people, and the triumphant strains
of a wedding march.
How could there be any end but one?-seeing that
not only did this young man present himself nearly ev-
ery evening at the drawing-room, when he was recog-
nized as the director of ceremonies or the leader of the
cotillon or deviser of sports, from an acting proverb
to a madrigal; but that later the custom was firmly es-
tablished that he and Angela should spend their Sun-
days together. When it rained, they went to church
together, and had readings in the drawing-room in the
afternoon, with, perhaps, a little concert in the even-
ing, of sacred music, to which some of the girls would
come. If the day was sunny and bright, there were
many places where they might go-for the East is
richer than the West in pretty and accessible country
places. They would take the tram along the Mile End
Road, past the delightful old church of Bow, to Star-
ing Stratford, with its fine town-hall and its round
dozen of churches and chapels; a town of 50,000 people,
and quite a genteel place, whose residents preserve the
primitive custom of fetching the dinner-beer them-
selves from its native public-houses on Sunday, after
church. At Stratford there are a good many ways open
if you are a good walker, as Angela was.
You may take the Romford road, and presently turn
to the left and find yourself in a grand old forest (only
there is not much of it left) called Hainault Forest.
When you have crossed the Forest you get to Chigwell;
and then, if you are wise, you will take another six
miles (as Angela and Harry generally did) and get to
Epping, where the toothsome steak may be found, or
haply the simple cold beef-not to be despised after a
fifteen miles' walk-and so home by tram.
Or you
CC
-
Mad
336
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
may take the Northern road at Stratford, and walk
through Leytonstone and Woodford; and, leaving Ep-
ping Forest on the right, walk along the bank of the
River Lea till you come to Waltham Abbey, where
there is a church to be seen, and a cross and other mar-
vels. Or you may go still further afield and take train
all the way to Ware, and walk through country roads.
and pleasant lanes, if you have a map, to stately Hat-
field, and on to St. Albans; but do not try to dine there,
even if you are only one-and-twenty, and a girl.
All these walks and many more were taken by An-
gela with her companion on that blessed day, which
should be spent for good of body as well as soul. They
are walks which are beautiful in the winter as well as
in the summer-though the trees are leafless, there is
an underwood faintly colored with its winter tint of
purple; and there are stretches of springy turf and
bushes hung with catkins; and, above all, there was
nobody in the Forest or on the roads except Angela and
Harry. Sometimes night fell on them when they were
three or four miles from Epping. Then, as they walked
in the twilight, the trees on either hand silently glided
past them like ghosts, and the mist rose and made
things look shadowy and large; and the sense of an
endless pilgrimage fell upon them-as if they would al-
ways go on like this, side by side. Then their hearts
would glow within them, and they would talk; and the
girl would think it no shame to reveal the secret thoughts
of her heart, although the man with her was not her
accepted lover.
As for her reputation, where was it? Not gone, in-
deed, because no one among her old friends knew of
these walks and this companionship, but in grievous
peril.
Or, when the day was cloudy, there was the city. I
declare there is no place which contains more delightful
walks for a cloudy Sunday forenoon, when the clang of
the bells has finished, and the scanty worshippers are in
their places, and the sleepy sextons have shut the doors,
than the streets and lanes of the old city.
You must go as Harry did, provided with something
of ancient lore, otherwise the most beautiful places will
quite certainly be thrown away and lost for you. Take
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
337
that riverside walk from Billingsgate to Blackfriars.
Why, here were the quays, the ports, the whole com-
merce of the city in the good old days. Here was Cold
Herbergh, that great many-gabled house, where Harry,
Prince of Wales, "carried on" with Falstaff and his
merry crew. Here was Queen Hithe-here Dowgate
with Walbrook. Here Baynard's Castle, and close by
the Tower of Montfichet; also, a little to the north, a
thousand places dear to the antiquarian-even though
they have pulled down so much. There is Tower
Royal, where Richard the Second lodged his mother.
There is the Church of Whittington, close by the place
where his college stood. There are the precincts of
Paul's, and the famous street of Chepe. Do people
ever think what things have been done in Chepe?
There is Austin Friars, with its grand old church now
given to the Dutch, and its quiet city square, where
only a few years ago lived Lettice Langton (of whom
some of us have heard). There is Tower Hill, on which
was the residence of Alderman Medlycott, guardian of
Nelly Carellis; and west of Paul's there is the place
where once stood the house of Dr. Gregory Shovel, who
received the orphan Kitty Pleydell. But, indeed, there
is no end to the histories and associations of the city;
and a man may give his life profitably to the mastery
and mystery of its winding streets.
Here they would wander in the quiet Sunday fore-
noon, while their footsteps echoed in the deserted street,
and they would walk fearless in the middle of the road,
while they talked of the great town, and its million
dwellers, who come like the birds in the morning, and
vanish like the birds in the evening.
Or they would cross the river and wander up and
down the quaint old town of Rotherhithe, or visit South-
wark, the town of hops and malt, and all kinds of
strange things; or Deptford, the deserted, or even
Greenwich; and if it was rainy they would go to
church. There are a great many places of worship
about Whitechapel, and many forms of creed, from the
Baptist to the man with the biretta; and it would be
dfficult to select one which is more confident than an-
other of possessing the real Philosopher's Stone-the
thing for which we are always searching, the whole
22
338
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
truth. And everywhere church and chapel filled with
the well-to-do and the respectable, and a sprinkling of
the very poor; but of the working-men-none.
66
"Why have they all given up religion?" asked An-
gela. Why should the work-men all over the world
feel no need of religion-if it were only the religious
emotion?"
Harry, who had answers ready for many questions,
could find none for this. He asked his cousin Dick,
but he could not tell. Personally, he said, he had some-
thing else to do; but if the women wanted to go to
church they might. And so long as the parsons and
priests did not meddle with him, he should not meddle
with them.
But these statements hardly seemed an answer to
the question. Perhaps in Berlin or in Paris they could
explain more clearly how this strange thing has come
to pass.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
TRUTH WITH FAITHFULNESS.
To possess pure truth-and to know it-is a thing
which affects people in two ways, both of them uncom-
fortable to their fellow-creatures. It impels some to
go pointing out the purity of truth to the world at
large, insisting upon it, dragging unwilling people
along the road which leads to it, and dwelling upon the
dangers which attend the neglect of so great a chance.
Others it affects with a calm and comfortable sense of
superiority. The latter was Rebekah's state of mind.
To be a Seventh Day Independent was only one degree
removed from belonging to the Chosen People, to begin
with: and that there is but one chapel in all England
where the truth reposes for a space as the Ark of the
Covenant reposed in Shiloh, "in curtains," is, if you
please, a thing to be proud of! It brings with it eleva-
tion of soul.
There is at present, whatever there may once have
been, no proselytizing zeal about the Seventh Day Inde-
pendents; they are, in fact, a torpid body; they are
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
339
contented with the conviction-a very comforting one,
and possessed by other creeds besides their own-that,
sooner or later, the whole world will embrace their
faith. Perhaps the Jews look forward to a day when,
in addition to the Restoration, which they profess to
desire, all mankind will become proselytes in the court
of the Gentiles: it is something little short of this that
the congregation of Seventh Day Independents expect
in the dim future. What a splendid, what a magnifi-
cent field for glory-call it not vain-glory!-does this
conviction present to the humble believer! There are,
again, so very few of them, that each one may feel
himself a visible pillar of the Catholic Church, bearing
on his shoulders a perceptible and measurable quantity
of weight. Each is an Atlas. It is, moreover, pleas-
ing to read the Holy Scriptures, especially the books of
the Prophets, as written especially for a Connection
which numbers just one chapel in Great Britain and
seven in the United States. How grand is the name of
Catholic applied to just one church! Catholicity is as
yet all to come, and exists only as a germ or seedling!
The early Christians may have experienced the same
delight.
Rebekah, best and most careful of shopwomen and
accountants, showed her religious superiority more by
the silence of contempt than by zeal for conversion.
When Captain Tom Coppin, for instance, was preach-
ing to the girls, she went on with her figures, casting
up, ruling in red ink, carrying forward in methodical
fashion, as if his words could not possibly have any
concern with her; and when a church bell rang, or any
words were spoken about other forms of worship, she
became suddenly deaf and blind and cold. But she en-
treated Angela to attend their services.
everybody to come," she said; "we only ask for a single
hearing; come and hear my father preach."
66
"We want
She believed in the faith of the Seventh Day. As for
her father-when a man is paid to advocate the cause
of an eccentric or a ridiculous form of belief; when he
has to plead that cause week by week to the same slen-
der following, to prop up the limp, and to keep together
his small body of believers: when he has to maintain a
show of hopefulness, to strengthen the wavering, to
340
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
confirm the strong, to encourage his sheep in confi-
dence; when he gets too old for anything else, and his
daily bread depends upon this creed and no other-who
shall say what, after a while, that man believes or does
not believe? Red-hot words fall from his lips, but they
fall equally red-hot each week; his arguments are con-
clusive, but they were equally conclusive last week; his
logic is irresistible; his encouragement is warm and
glowing; but logic and encouragement alike are those
of last week and many weeks ago. Surely, surely there
is no worse fate possible for any man than to preach,
week by week, any form whatever of dogmatic belief,
and to live by it; surely, nothing can be more deadly
than to simulate zeal, to suppress doubt, to pretend cer-
tainty. But this is dangerous ground, because others
besides Seventh Day Independents may feel that they
are upon it, and that beneath them are quagmires.
66
Come," said Rebekah. "We want nothing but a
fair hearing."
Their chapel was endowed, which doubtless helped
the flock to keep together. It had a hundred and ten
pounds a year belonging to it, and a little house for the
minister, and there were scanty pew rents, which al-
most paid for the maintenance of the fabric and the old
woman who cleaned the windows and dusted the pews.
If the Reverend Percival Hermitage gave up that
chapel he would have no means of subsistence at all.
Let us not impute motives. No doubt he firmly be-
lieved what he taught: but his words, like his creed,
were stereotyped; they had long ceased to be persuasive;
they now served only to preserve.
If Angela had accepted that invitation for any given
day there would have been, she knew very well, a ser-
mon for the occasion, conceived, written, and argued
out expressly for herself. And this she did not want.
Therefore, she said nothing at all of her intentions, but
chose one Saturday when there was little doing and she
could spare a forenoon for her visit.
The chapel of the Seventh Day Independents stands
at Redman's Lane close to the Advanced Club House.
It is a structure extremely plain and modest in design.
It was built by an architect who entertained humble
views--perhaps he was a Churchman-concerning the
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
341
possible extension of the Connection, because the whole
chapel if quite filled would not hold more than two hun-
dred people. The front, or façade, is flat, consisting of
a surface of gray brick wall, with a door in the middle
and two circular windows, one on each side. Over the
door there are two dates-one of erection, the other of
restoration. The chapel within is a well-proportioned
room, with a neat gallery running round three sides,
resting on low pillars, and painted a warm and cheerful
drab; the pews are painted of the same color. At the
back are two windows with semi-circular arches, and
between the windows stands a small railed platform
with a reading-desk upon it for the minister. Beside
it are high seats with cushions for elders, or other min-
isters if there should be any. But these seats have
never been occupied in the memory of man. The pews
are ranged in front of the platform, and they are of the
old and high-backed kind. It is a wonderful-a truly
wonderful thing that clergymen, priests, ministers,
padres, rabbis, and church architects, with church-
wardens, sidesmen, vergers, bishops, and chapel-keep-
ers of all persuasions, are agreed, whatever their other
differences, in the unalterable conviction that it is im-
possible to be religious, that is, to attend services in a
proper frame of mind, unless one is uncomfortable.
Therefore we are offered a choice. We may sit in
high-backed, narrow-seated pews, or we may sit on low-
backed, narrow-seated benches: but sit in comfort we
may not. The Seventh Day people have got the high-
backed pew (which catches you on the shoulder-blade
and tries the backbone, and affects the brain, causing
softening in the long run) and the narrow seat (which
drags the muscles and brings on premature paralysis of
the lower limbs). The equally narrow, low-backed
bench produces injurious effects of a different kind, but
similarly pernicious. How would it be to furnish one
aisle, at least, of a church with broad, low, and com-
fortable chairs having arms? They should be reserved
for the poor who have so few easy-chairs of their own.
Rightly managed and properly advertised, they might
help toward a revival of religion among the working
r'asses.
Above the reading platform in the little chapel they
J
D
342
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
have caused to be painted on the wall the Ten Com-
mandments the fourth emphasized in red-with a text
or two, bearing on their distinctive doctrine; and in
the corner is a little door leading to a little vestry; but,
as there are no vestments, its use is not apparent.
As for the position taken by these people it is per-
fectly logical, and, in fact, impregnable. There is no
answer to it. They say, "Here is the Fourth Com-
mandment. All the rest you continue to observe.
Why not this? When was it repealed? And by
whom?" If you put these questions to Bishop or Pres-
byter, he has no reply. Because that law has never
been repealed. Yet as the people of the Connection
complain, though they have reason and logic on their
side, the outside world will not listen, and go on break-
ing the commandment with a light and unthinking
heart. It is a dreadful responsibility-albeit a grand
thing to be in possession of so simple a truth of such
vast importance; and yet to get nobody ever to listen.
The case is worse even than that of Daniel Fagg.
-
Angela noted all these things as she entered the little
chapel a short time after the service had commenced.
It was bewildering to step out of the noisy streets,
where the current of Saturday morning was at flood,
into this quiet room with its strange service and its
strange flock of Nonconformists. The thing, at first,
felt like a dream: the people seemed like the ghosts of
an unquiet mind.
There were very few worshippers; she counted them
all: four elderly men, two elderly women, three young
men, two girls, one of whom was Rebekah, and five
boys. Sixteen in all. And standing on the platform
was their leader.
Rebekah's father, the Rev. Percival Hermitage, was
a shepherd who from choice led his flock gently, along
peaceful meadows and in shady, quiet places; he had
no prophetic fire; he had evidently long since acqui-
esced in a certain fact that under him, at least, what-
ever it might do under others, the Connection would
not greatly increase. Perhaps he did not himself de-
sire an increase, which would give him more work.
Perhaps he never had much enthusiasm. By the sim-
ple accident of birth he was a Seventh Day Christian;
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
343
being of a bookish and unambitious turn, and of an in-
dolent habit of body, mentally and physically unfitted
for the life of a shop, he entered the ministry; in course
of time he got this chapel, where he remained, tolerably
satisfied with his lot in life, a simple, self-educated,
mildly pious person, equipped with the phrases of his
craft, and comforted with the consciousness of superior-
ity and separation. He looked up from his book in
gentle surprise when Angela entered the chapel. It
was seldom that a stranger was seen there once, not
long ago, there was a boy who had put his head in at
the door and shouted "Hoo!" and ran away again;
once there was a drunken sailor who thought it was a
public-house, and sat down and began to sing and
wouldn't go, and had to be shoved out by the united
efforts of the whole small congregation. When he was
gone they sang an extra hymn to restore a religious
calm-but never a young lady before. Angela took her
seat amid the wondering looks of the people, and the
minister went on in a perfunctory way with his prayers
and his hymns and his exposition. There certainly did
seem to an outsider a want of heart about the service, but
that might have been due to the emptiness of the pews.
When it came to the sermon, Angela thought the
preacher spoke and looked as if the limit of endurance
had at last almost arrived, and he would not much longer
endure the inexpressible dreariness of the conventicle.
It was not so; he was always mildly sad; he seemed
always a little bored; it was no use pretending to be
eloquent any more; fireworks were thrown away; and
as for what he had to say, the congregation always had
the same thing, looked for the same thing, and would
have risen in revolt at the suggestion of a new thing.
His sermon was neither better nor worse than may be
heard any day in church or chapel; nor was there any-
thing in it to distinguish it from the sermons of any
other body of Christians. The outsider left off listen-
ing and began to think of the congregation. In the
pew with her was a man of sixty or so, with long black
hair streaked with gray, brushed back behind his ears.
He was devout and followed the prayers audibly, and
sang the hymns out of a manuscript music-book, and
read the text critically. His face was the face of a bull-
314
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
dog for resolution. The man, she thought, would enjoy
going to the stake for his opinions, and if the Sevent]
Day Independents were to be made the National Estab-
lished Church he would secede the week after and mak?
a new sect, if only by himself. Such men are not happy
under authority; their freedom of thought is as the
breath of their nostrils, and they cannot think like other
people. He was not well dressed, and was probably a
shoemaker or some such craftsman. In front of her sat
a family of three. The wife was attired in a sealskin
rich and valuable, and the son, a young man of one or
two and twenty, had the dress and appearance of a
gentleman that is to say, of what passes for such in
common city parlance. What did these people do in
such a place? Yet they were evidently of the religion.
Then she noticed a widow and her boy. The widow
was not young; probably, Angela thought, she had
married late in life. Her lips were thin and her face
was stern. "The boy," thought Angela, "will have
the doctrine administered with faithfulness." Only
sixteen altogether; yet all, except the pastor, seemed to
be grimly in earnest and inordinately proud of their
sect. It was as if the emptiness of their benches and
their forsaken condition called upon them to put on a
greater show of zeal and to persuade themselves that
the cause was worth fighting for. The preacher alone
seemed to have lost heart. But his people, who were
accustomed to him, did not notice this despondency.
Then Angela, while the sermon went slowly on, be-
gan to speculate on the conditions belonging to such a
sect. First of all, with the apparent exception of the
lady in sealskin and her husband and son, the whole
sixteen-perhaps another two or three were prevented
from attending-were of quite the lower middle class;
they belonged to the great stratum of society whose
ignorance is as profound as their arguments are loud.
But the uncomfortableness of it! They can do no work
on the Saturday—“neither their man-servant nor their
maid-servant”—their shops are closed and their tools
put aside. They lose a sixth part of the working time.
The followers of this creed are as much separated from
their fellows as the Jews. On the Sunday they may
work if they please, but on that day all the world is at
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
345
church or at play. Angela looked round again. Yes,
the whole sixteen had upon their faces the look of
pride; they were proud of being separated; it was a
distinction, just as it is to be a Samaritan. Who
would not be one of the recipients, however few they be
in number, of Truth? And what a grand thing, what
an inspiriting thing, it is to feel that some day or other,
perhaps not to-day nor to-morrow, nor in one's life-
time at all, the whole world will rally round the poor
little obscure banner, and shout all together, with voice
of thunder, the battle-cry which now sounds no louder
than a puny whistle-pipe! Yet, on the whole, Angela
felt it must be an uncomfortable creed; better be one of
the undistinguished crowd which flocks to the parish
church and yearns not for any distinction at all. Then
the sermon ended and they sang another hymn-the
collection in use was a volume printed in New York,
and compiled by the committee of the Connection, so
that there were manifestly congregations on the other
side of the Atlantic living in the same discomfort of
separation.
At the departure of the people Rebekah hurried out
first, and waited in the doorway to greet Angela.
"I knew you would come some day," she said, "but
oh! I wish you had told me when you were coming, so
that father might have given one of his doctrine ser-
mons. What we had to-day was one of the comforta-
ble discourses to the professed members of the church
which we all love so much. I am so sorry. Oh, he
would convince you in ten minutes!"
CC
But, Rebekah," said Angela, “I should be sorry to
have seen your service otherwise than usual. Tell
me, does the congregation to-day represent all your
strength?"
Rebekah colored. She could not deny that they
were, numerically, a feeble folk.
66
We rely," she said, "on the strength of our cause
and some day-oh! some day-the world will rally
round us. See, Miss Kennedy, here is father; when he
has said good-by to the people"-he was talking to a
lady in sealskin-" he will come and speak to us."
"I suppose," said Angela, "that this lady is a mem-
ber of your chapel?"
346
ALL SÕRTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Yes," Rebekah whispered. "Oh, they are quite
rich people-the only rich people we have. They live
at Leytonstone; they made their money in the book-
binding, and are consistent Christians. Father,"-for
at this moment Mr. Hermitage left his rich followers.
in the porch-"this is Miss Kennedy, of whom you
have heard so much."
CC
Mr. Hermitage took her hand with a weary smile, and
asked Rebekah if Miss Kennedy would come home with
her.
They lived in a small house next door to the chapel.
It was so small that there was but one sitting-room,
and this was filled with books.
"Father likes to sit here," said Rebekah, "by him-
self all day. He is quite happy if he is let alone.
Sometimes, however, he has to go to Leytonstone."
"To the rich people?"
66
"Yes," Rebekah looked troubled. "A minister must
visit his flock, you know: and if they were to leave us
it would be bad for us, because the endowment is only
a hundred and ten pounds a year, and out of that the
church and the house have got to be kept in repair.
However, a clergyman must not be dictated to, and I
tell father he should go his own way and preach his
Whatever people say, truth must not
be hidden away as if we were ashamed of it! Hush!
Here he is."
own sermons.
The good man welcomed Angela, and said some sim-
ple words of gratitude about her reception of his daugh-
He had a good face, but he wore an anxious ex-
pression as if something was always on his mind; and
he sighed when he sat down at his table.
ter.
Angela stayed for half an hour, but the minister said
nothing more to her; only when she rose to go he mur-
mured with another heavy sigh, "There's an afternoon
service at three."
It is quite impossible to say whether he intended this
announcement as an invitation to Angela, or whether it
was a complaint, wrung from a heavy heart, of a
trouble almost intolerable.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
347
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
I AM THE DRESSMAKER.
IT happened on this very same Saturday that Lord
Jocelyn, feeling a little low, and craving for speech with
his ward, resolved that he would pay a personal visit to
him in his own den, where, no doubt, he would find
him girt with a fair white apron and crowned with
brown paper, proudly standing among a lot of his
brother workmen-glorious fellows!-and up to his
knees in shavings.
It is easy to take a cab and tell the driver to go to
the Mile End Road. Had Lord Jocelyn taken more
prudent counsel with himself he would have bidden
him drive straight to Messenger's Brewery; but he got
down where the Whitechapel road ends and the Mile
End road begins, thinking that he would find his way
to the Brewery with the greatest ease. First, however,
he asked the way of a lady with a basket on her arm; it
was, in fact, Mrs. Bormalack going a-marketing, and
anxious about the price of greens; and he received a
reply so minute, exact, and bewildering, that he felt,
as he plunged into the labyrinthine streets of Stepney,
like one who dives into the dark and devious ways of
the catacombs.
First of all, of course, he lost himself; but as the
place was strange to him, and a strange place is always
curious, he walked along in great contentment. Noth-
ing remarkable in the streets and houses unless, per-
haps, the entire absence of anything to denote inequal-
ity of wealth and position, so that, he thought with sat-
isfaction, the happy residents in Stepney all receive the
same salaries and make the same income, contribute
the same amount to the tax collectors, and pay the same
rent. A beautiful continuity of sameness; a divine.
monotony realizing partially the dreams of the socialist.
Presently he came upon a great building which seemed
rapidly approaching completion; not a beautiful build-
ing, but solid, big, well proportioned and constructed
of real red brick, and without the "Queen Anne" con-
ceits which mostly go with that material. It was so
G
348
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
large and so well built that it was evidently intended
for some special purpose; a purpose of magnitude and
responsibility, requiring capital; not a factory, because
the windows were large and evidently belonged to great
halls, and there were none of the little windows in rows
which factories must have in the nature of things; not
a prison, because prisons are parsimonious to a fault in
the matter of external windows; nor a school-yet it
might be a school; then-how should so great a school
be built in Stepney? It might be a superior almshouse,
or union-yet this could hardly be. While Lord Joce-
lyn looked at the building, a working-man lounged
along, presumably an out-of-working man, with his
hands in his pockets and kicking stray stones in the
road, which is a sign of the penniless pocket, because
he who yet can boast the splendid shilling does not
slouch as he goes, or kick stones in the road, but holds
his head erect and anticipates with pleasure six half-
pints in the immediate future. Lord Jocelyn asked
that industrious idle, or idle industrious, if he knew the
object of the building. The man replied that he did
not know the object of the building; and to make it
quite manifest that he really did not know he put an
adjective before the word object, and another-that is,
the same before the word building. With that he
passed upon his way, and Lord Jocelyn was left mar-
velling at the slender resources of our language which
makes one adjective do duty for so many qualifications.
Presently, he came suddenly upon Stepney Church,
which is a landmark or initial point, like the man on
the chair in the maze of Hampton Court. Here he
again asked his way, and then, after finding it and los-
ing it again six times more, and being generally treated
with contumely for not knowing so simple a thing, he
found himself actually at the gates of the Brewery,
which he might have reached in five minutes had he
gone the shortest way.
"So," he said, "this is the property of that remarka-
bly beautiful girl, Miss Messenger; who could wish to
start better? She is young; she is charming, she is
queenly, she is fabulously rich; she is clever; she is-
ah! if only Harry had met her before he became an
ass!"
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
349
He passed the gate and entered the courtyard, at one
side of which he saw a door on which was painted the
word "Office." The Brewery was conservative; what
was now a hive of clerks and writers was known by
the same name and stood upon the same spot as the
little room built by itself in the open court in which
King Messenger I., the inventor of the Entire, had
transacted by himself, having no clerks at all, the whole
business of the infant Brewery for his great invention.
Lord Jocelyn pushed open the door and stood irresolute,
looking about him; a clerk advanced and asked his
business. Lord Jocelyn was the most polite and con-
siderate of men: he took off his hat, humbly bowed, and
presented his card.
"I am most sorry to give trouble," he said. "I came
to see-
CC
رو
Certainly, my lord." The clerk, having been intro-
duced to Lord Davenant, was no longer afraid of tack-
ling a title, however grand, and would have been.
pleased to show his familiarity with the great even to
a Royal Highness. "Certainly, my lord. If your lord-
ship will be so good as to write your lordship's name in
the visitors' book, a guide shall take your lordship
round the Brewery immediately."
"Thank you, I do not wish to see the Brewery," said
the visitor. "I came to see a-a-a young man who,
I believe, works in this establishment: his name is Gos-
lett.'
"",
"Oh!" replied the clerk, taken aback, "Goslett? Can
any one," he asked generally of the room he had just
left, "tell me whether there's a man working here
named Goslett?"
Josephus-for it was the juniors' room-knew and
indicated the place and man.
"If, my lord," said the clerk, loath to separate him-
self from nobility, "your lordship will be good enough
to follow me, I can take your lordship to the man your
lordship wants. Quite a common man, my lord-quite.
A joiner and carpenter. But if your lordship wants
to see him
""
He led Lord Jocelyn across the court, and left him
at the door of Harry's workshop.
It was not a great room with benches, and piles of
350
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
shavings, and a number of men. Not at all; there were
racks with tools, a bench, and a lathe; there were pieces
of furniture about waiting repair; there was an unfin-
ished cabinet with delicate carved work, which Lord
Jocelyn recognized at once as the handiwork of his boy;
and the boy himself stood in the room, his coat off and
his cuffs turned up, contemplating the cabinet. It is
one of the privileges of the trade that it allows-nay,
requires a good deal of contemplation. Presently
Harry turned his head and saw his guardian standing
in the doorway. He greeted him cheerfully and led
him into the room, where he found a chair with four
legs and begged him to sit down and talk.
"You like it, Harry?"
Harry laughed. "Why not?" he said. "You see I
am independent, practically. They pay me pretty well
according to the work that comes in. Plain work, you
see-joiners' work."
"Yes, yes, I see. But how long, my boy-how
long?"
"Well, sir, I cannot say. Why not all my life?”
Lord Jocelyn groaned.
"I admit," said Harry, "that if things were different
I should have gone back to you long ago. But now I
cannot, unless"
"Unless what?”
"Unless the girl who keeps me here goes away her-
self or bids me go.
دو
"Then you are really engaged to the dress-I mean
-the young lady?"
Nor has she shown the least sign
Yet I am her devoted and humble
"No, I am not.
of accepting me.
servant.
""
"Is she a witch-this woman? Good heavens,
Harry! Can you, who have associated with the most
beautiful and best-bred women in the world, be so in-
fatuated about a dressmaker?"
"It is strange, is it not? But it is true. The thought
of her fills my mind day and night. I see her con-
stantly. There is never one word of love, but sho
knows already, without that word."
66
Strange, indeed," repeated Lord Jocelyn. "But it,
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
351
will pass.
You will awake, and find yourself again in
your right mind, Harry.
He shook his head.
"From this madness," he said, “I shall never re-
cover—for it is my life. Whatever happens, I am her
servant."
"It is incomprehensible,” replied his guardian; “you
were always chivalrous in your ideas of women. They
are unusual in young men of the present day; but they
used to sit well upon you. Then, however, your ideal
was a lady."
"It is a lady still," said the lover, "and yet a dress-
maker. How this can be, I do not know; but it is.
In the old days men became the servants of ladies. I
know now what a good custom it was, and how salu-
tary to the men. Petit Jehan de Saintre, in his early
days, had the best of all possible training.
"But if Petit Jehan had lived at Stepney--?"
"Then there is another thing—the life here is use-
ful."
"You now tinker chairs, and get paid a shilling an
hour. Formerly, you made dainty, carved workboxes
and fans, and pretty things for ladies, and got paid by
their thanks. Which is the more useful life?"
"It is not the work I am thinking of-it is the-
Do you remember what I said the last time I saw you?”
"Perfectly-about your fellow-creatures, was it not?
My dear Harry, it seems to me as if our fellow-men get
on very well in their own way without our interfer-
ence.
(C
ور
ور
Yes-that is to say, no. They are all getting on
as badly as possible; and somehow I want, before I go
away, to find out what it is they want. They don't
know; and how they should set about getting it—if it
is to be got-as I think it is. You will not think me a
prig, sir?"
"You will never be a prig, Harry, under any circum-
stances. Does, then, the lady of your worship approve
of this?-this study of humanity?"
"Perfectly-if this lady did not approve of it, I
should not be engaged upon it.”
(C
Harry, will you take me to see this goddess of Step-
ney Green-it is there, I believe, that she resides?"
352
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"Yes; I would rather not. Yet (the young man
hesitated for a moment)-Miss Kennedy thinks that I
have always been a working-man." I would not unde-
ceive her yet. I would rather she did not know that I
have given up, for her sake, such a man as you, and
such companionship as yours.
He held out both his hands to his guardian, and his
eyes for a moment were dim.
""
Lord Jocelyn made no reply for a moment-then he
cleared his throat and said he must go; asked Harry
rather piteously could he do nothing for him at all?
and made slowly for the door. The clerk who received
the distinguished visitor was standing at the door of
the office, waiting for another glimpse of the noble and
illustrious personage. Presently he came back and re-
ported that his lordship had crossed the yard on the
arm of the young man called Goslett, and that on part-
ing with him he had shaken him by the hand, and
called him "my boy." Whereat many marvelled, and
the thing was a stumbling-block; but Josephus said it
was not at all unusual for members of his family to be
singled out by the great for high positions of trust;
that his own father had been churchwarden of Stepney,
and he was a far-off cousin of Miss Messenger's; and
that he could himself have been by this time superin-
tendent of his Sunday-school if it had not been for his
misfortunes. Presently the thing was told to the chief
accountant, who told it to the chief brewer; and if there
had been a chief baker one knows not what would have
happened.
Lord Jocelyn walked slowly away in the direction of
Stepney Green. She lived there, did she? Oh, and
her name was Miss Kennedy; ah, and a man, by call-
ing upon her, might see her. Very good-he would
call. He would say that he was the guardian of Harry,
and that he took a warm interest in him; and that the
boy was pining away-which was not true; and that
he called to know if Miss Kennedy as a friend would
divine the cause--which was crafty. Quite a little
domestic drama he made up in his own mind, which
would have done beautifully had it not been completely
shattered by the surprising things which happened, as
will immediately be seen.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
353
Presently he arrived at Stepney Green and stopped to
look about him. A quiet, George-the-Third looking
place, with many good and solid houses, and a narrow
strip of garden running down the middle-in which of
these houses did Miss Kennedy dwell?
There came along the asphalt walk an old, old man;
he was feeble, and tottered as he went. He wore a
black silk stock and a buttoned-up frock-coat. His face
was wrinkled and creased. It was, in fact, Mr. Mali-
phant going rather late (because he had fallen asleep.
by the fire) to protect the property.
Lord Jocelyn asked him politely if he would tell him
where Miss Kennedy lived.
The patriarch looked up, laughed joyously, and shook
his head-then he said something inaudibly, but his
lips moved; and then pointing to a large house on the
right, he said aloud:
"Caroline Coppin's house it was-she that married
Sergeant Goslett. Mr. Messenger, whose grandmother
was a Coppin, and a good old Whitechapel family, had
the deeds. My memory is not so good as usual this
morning, young man, or I could tell you who had the
house before Caroline's father; but I think it was old
Mr. Messenger, because the young man who died the
other day, and was only a year or two older than me,
was born there himself." Then he went on his way,
laughing and wagging his head.
"That is a wonderful old man," said Lord Jocelyn.
"Caroline Coppin's house-that is, Harry's mother's
house. Pity she couldn't keep it for her son-the ser-
geant was a thrifty man, too. Here is another native;
let us try him."
This time it was Daniel Fagg, and in one of his de-
spondent moods, because none of the promised proofs
had arrived.
"Can you tell me, sir," asked Lord Jocelyn, "where
Miss Kennedy lives?"
The "native," who had sandy hair and a gray beard,
and immense sandy eyebrows, turned upon him fiercely,
shaking a long finger in his face, as if it was a sword.
"Mind you," he growled, "Miss Kennedy's the only
man among you! You talk of your scholars! Gar!
-jealousy and envy. But I've remembered her-pos-
23
354
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
terity shall know her when the head of the Egyptian
department is dead and forgotten.
""
(C
Thank you," said Lord Jocelyn, as the man left
him. I am likely to be forwarded at this rate.'
He tried again.
This time it happened to be none other than Mr.
Bunker. The events of the last few weeks were prey-
ing upon his mind-he thought continually of handcuffs
and prisons. He was nervous and agitated.
But he replied courteously, and pointed out the house.
"Ah!" said Lord Jocelyn, "that is the house which
an old man, whom I have just asked, said was Caro-
line Coppin's.
ور
“Old man-what old man?" (Mr. Bunker turned
pale-it seemed as if the atmosphere itself was full of
dangers.) "Ouse was whose? That 'ouse, sir, is mine
-mine, do you hear?"
Lord Jocelyn described the old man-in fact, he was
yet within sight.
"I know him," said Mr. Bunker. "He's mad, that
old man-silly with age; nobody minds him. That
'ouse, sir, is mine."
"Oh! And you" (for Lord Jocelyn now recollected
him)-"are Mr. Bunker, are you? Do you remember
me? Think, man.
""
Mr. Bunker thought his hardest; but if you do not
remember a man, you might as well stand on your
head as begin to think.
"Twenty years ago," said Lord Jocelyn, "I took
away your nephew, who has now come back here."
(C
"You did, you did," cried Bunker eagerly. Ah,
sir, why did you let him come back here? A bad busi-
-a bad business.”
ness-
"I came to see him to-day, perhaps to ask him why
he stays here."
Take him away again, sir-don't let him stay.
Rocks ahead, sir!" Mr. Bunker put up hands in warn-
ing. "When I see youth going to capsize on virtue it
makes my blood, as a Christian man, to curdle-take
him away.”
"Certainly it does you great credit, Mr. Bunker, as
a Christian man; because curdled blood must be un-
pleasant. But what rocks?"
1
*
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
355
(6
A rock-one rock, a woman. In that 'ouse, sir, she
lives; her name is Miss Kennedy-that is what she
calls herself. She's a dressmaker by trade, she says;
and a captivator of foolish young men by nature-don't
go anigh her. She may captivate you. Daniel Fagg
made her an offer of marriage, and he's sixty. He con-
fessed it to me. She tried it on with me; but a man of
principles is proof. The conjurer wanted to marry
her. My nephew, Dick Coppin, is a fool about her."
'She must be a very remarkable woman," said Lord
Jocelyn.
"As for that boy, Harry Goslett" (Bunker uttered the
name with an obvious effort) - 'he's further gone than
all the rest put together. If it wasn't for her, he would
go back to where he came from.
""
"Ah! and where is that?"
'Don't you know, then? You, the man who took
him away? Don't you know where he came from?
Was it something very bad?"
There was a look of eager malignity about the man's
face he wanted to hear something bad about his
nephew.
Lord Jocelyn encouraged him.
"Perhaps I know-perhaps I do not."
"A disgraceful story, no doubt," said Bunker, with
a pleased smile. "I dreaded the worst when I saw him
with his white hands, and his sneerin', fleerin' ways. I
thought of Newgate and jailbirds-I did, indeed, at
once. O prophetic soul! Well, now we know the
worst, and you had better take him away before all the
world knows it. I shan't talk, of course.”
(C
"Thank you, Mr. Bunker; and about this Miss Ken-
nedy, is there anything against her except that the men
fall in love with her?"
"There is plenty against her; but I'm not the man
to take away a woman's character. Reports are about
her that would astonish you. If all secrets were
known, we should find what a viper we've been cher-
ishing. At the end of her year, out she goes of my
'ouse-bag and baggage, she goes; and wherever she
goes, that boy'll go after her unless you prevent it."
"Thank you again, Mr. Bunker. Good-morning.
Angela (just returned from her chapel) was sitting
""
356
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS ÒF MỀN.
at the window of the workroom, in her usual place;
she looked out upon the green now and again.
Presently she saw Mr. Maliphant creep slowly along
the pavement, and observed that he stopped and spoke
to a gentleman. Then she saw Daniel Fagg swinging
his arms and gesticulating, as he rehearsed to himself
the story of his wrongs, and he stopped and spoke to
the same man. Then she saw Mr. Bunker walking
moodily on his way, and he stopped, too, and conversed
with the stranger. Then he turned, and she saw his
face.
It was Lord Jocelyn le Breton, and he was walking
with intention toward her own door!
She divined the truth in a moment-he was coming
to see the "dressmaker" who had bewitched his boy.
She whispered to Nelly that a gentleman was coming
to see her who must be shown upstairs. She took
refuge in the drawing-room, which was happily empty;
and she awaited him with a beating heart.
She heard his footsteps on the stairs-the door
opened. She rose to meet him.
66
You here, Miss Messenger! This is, indeed, a sur-
prise.'
"No, Lord Jocelyn," she replied, confused, yet try-
ing to speak confidently; "in this house, if you please,
I am not Miss Messenger. I am Miss Kennedy, the-
the
در
Now she remembered exactly what her next words
would mean to him, and she blushed violently. "I am
the-the dressmaker."
CHAPTER XXXIX.
THRICE HAPPY BOY.
A MAN of the world at forty-five seldoms feels sur-
prised at anything, unless, indeed, like Molière, he en-
counters virtue in unexpected quarters. This, however,
was a thing so extraordinary that Lord Jocelyn gasped.
"Pardon me, Miss Messenger," he said, recovering
himself. "I was so totally unprepared for this—this
discovery."
ALL SORTS AND CÓNDITIONS OF MEN.
351
"Now that you have made it, Lord Jocelyn, may I
ask you most earnestly to reveal it to no one? I mean
no one at all.”
"I understand perfectly. Yes, Miss Messenger, I
will keep your secret. Since it is a secret, I will tell
it to none. But I would ask a favor in return, if I
may."
"What is that?"
"Take me further into your confidence.
Let me
know why you have done this most wonderful thing.
I hope I am not impertinent in asking this of you.'
""
""
"Not impertinent, certainly. And the thing must
seem strange to you. And after what you told me
some time ago, about-
She hesitated a moment, and
then turned her clear brown eyes straight upon his
face, "about your ward, perhaps some explanation is
due to you."
"Thank you, beforehand."
"First, however, call me Miss Kennedy here; pray-
pray, do not forget that there is no Miss Messenger
nearer than Portman Square."
“I will try to remember.”
"I came here," she went on, "last July, having a
certain problem in my mind. I have remained here
ever since, working at that problem. It is not nearly
worked out yet, nor do I think that in the longest life
it could be worked out. It is a most wonderful prob-
lem, for one thing leads to another, and great schemes
rise out of small, and there are hundreds of plans spring-
ing out of one-if I could only carry them out."
To assist you in carrying them out, you have se-
cured the services of my ward, I learn.
""
"Yes; he has been very good to me.
"I have never," said Lord Jocelyn, "been greatly
tempted in the direction of philanthropy. But pray
go on."
66
""
The first thing I came to establish was an association
of dressmakers, myself being one. That is very sim-
ple. I have started them with a house free of rent and
the necessary furniture-which I know is wrong, be-
cause it introduces an unfair advantage--and we divide
all the money in certain proportions. That is one
thing."
358
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"But, my dear young lady, could you not have done
this from Portman Square?"
"I could, but not so well. To live here as a work-
woman among other workwomen is, at least, to avoid
the danger of being flattered, deceived, and paid court
to. I was a most insignificant person when I came.
am now so far advanced that a great many employers
of women's labor cordially detest me, and would like to
see my association ruined.
I
"O Lord Jocelyn," she went on, after a pause,
"you do not know, you cannot know the dreadful dan-
gers which a rich woman has to encounter. If I had
come here in my own name I should have been besieged
by every plausible rogue who could catch my ear for
half an hour. I should have all the clergy round me
imploring help for their schools and their churches; I
should have had every unmarried curate making love
to me; I should have paid ten times as much as anybody
else; and, worse than all, I should not have made a
single friend. My sympathies, whenever I read the
parable, are always with Dives, because he must have
been so flattered and worshipped before his pride be-
became intolerable."
"I see.
All this you escaped by your assumption of
the false name."
(6
Yes. I am one of themselves; one of the people; I
have got my girls together; I have made them under-
stand my project; they have become my fast and faith-
ful friends. The better to inspire confidence, I even
sheltered myself behind myself. I said Miss Messen-
ger was interested in our success. She sends us orders.
I went to the West End with things made up for her.
Thanks mainly to her, we are flourishing. We work
for shorter hours and for greater pay than other girls:
I could already double my staff if I could only, which
I shall soon, double the work. We have recreation,
too, and we dine together, and in the evening we have
singing and dancing. My girls have never before
known any happiness: now they have learned the hap-
piness of quiet, at least, with a little of the culture, and
some of the things which make rich people happy.
Oh! would you have me go away and leave them, when
I have taught these things of which they never dreamed
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
359
before? Should I send them back to the squalid house
and the bare pittance again? Stay and take your
luncheon with us when we dine, and ask yourself
whether it would not be better for me to live here alto-
gether-never to go back to the West End at all-than
to go away and desert my girls?"
She was agitated because she spoke from her heart.
She went on without waiting for any reply:
"If you knew the joyless lives, the hopeless days of
these girls, if you could see their workrooms, if you
knew what is meant by their long hours and their in-
sufficient food, you would not wonder at my staying
here, you would cry shame upon the rich woman so
selfish as to spend her substance in idle follies, when
she might have spent it upon her unfortunate sisters."
"I think," said Lord Jocelyn, "that you are a very
noble girl."
"Then there is another scheme of mine: a project so
great and generous-nay, I am not singing my own
praises, believe me that I can never get it out of my
mind. This project, Lord Jocelyn, is due to your
ward.'
ور
"Harry was always an ingenious youth. But pray
tell me what it is."
"I cannot," she replied; "when I put the project into
words they seem cold and feeble. They do not express
the greatness of it. They would not rouse your enthu-
siasm. I could not make you understand in any de-
gree the great hopes I have of this enterprise."
"And it is Harry's invention?"
"Yes-his.
carry it out.”
"That is a good part of any enterprise, however."
At this point the bell rang.
"That is the first bell," said Angela; "now they lay
down their work and scamper about-at least the
younger ones do-for ten minutes before dinner. Come
with me to the dining-room."
All I have done is to find the money to
Presently the girls came trooping in, fifteen or so,
with bright eyes and healthy cheeks. Some of them
were pretty one, Lord Jocelyn thought, of a peculiarly
graceful and delicate type, though too fragile in ap-
pearance. This was Nelly Sorensen. She looked more
360
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
fragile than usual to-day, and there were black lines
under her lustrous eyes. Another, whom Miss Ken-
nedy called Rebekah, was good-looking in a different
way, being sturdy, rosy-cheeked, and downright in her
manner. Another, who would otherwise have been
quite common in appearance, was made beautiful—al-
most-by the patient look which had followed years of
suffering; she was a cripple; all their faces during the
last few months had changed for the better; not one
among them all bore the expression which is described
by the significant words "bold" and "common." Six
months of daily drill and practice in good manners had
abolished that look at any rate.
The dinner was perfectly plain and simple, consisting
of a piece of meat with plenty of vegetables and bread,
and nothing else at all. But the meat was good and
well cooked, and the service was on fair white linen.
Moreover, Lord Jocelyn, sitting down in this strange
company, observed that the girls behaved with great
propriety. Soon after they began, the door opened and
a man came in. It was one of those to whom Lord
Jocelyn had spoken on the green, the man with the
bushy sandy eyebrows. He took his seat at the table
and began to eat his food ravenously. Once he pushed
his plate away as if in a temper, and looked up as if he
was going to complain. Then the girl they called Re-
bekah-she came to dinner on Saturdays, so as to have
the same advantages as the rest, though she did no
work on that day-held up her forefinger and shook it
at him, and he relapsed into silence. He was the only
one who behaved badly, and Miss Kennedy made as if
she had not seen.
During the dinner the girls talked freely among them-
selves without any of the giggling and whispering
which, in some circles, is considered good manners;
they all treated Miss Kennedy with great respect, though
she was only one workwoman among the rest. Yet
there was a great difference, and the girls knew it;
next to her on her left sat the pretty girl whom she
called Nelly.
When dinner was over, because it was Saturday there
was no more work. Some of the girls went into the
drawing-room to rest for an hour and read; Rebekah
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
361
went home again to attend the afternoon service; some
went into the garden, although it was December, and
began to play lawn-tennis on the asphalt; the man with
the eyebrows got up and glared moodily around from
under those shaggy eyebrows and then vanished. An-
gela and Lord Jocelyn remained alone.
"You have seen us," she said;
of us?"
66
what do you think
"I have nothing to say, and I do not know what to
think."
"Your ward is our right hand. We women want a
man to work for us always. It is his business, and his
pleasure, too, to help us to amuse ourselves. He finds
diversions; he invents all kinds of things for us. Just
now he is arranging tableaux and plays for Christmas."
"Is it-is it-oh, Miss Kennedy-is it for the girls
only?"
"That is dangerous ground," she replied, but not
severely. "Do you think we had better discuss the
subject from that point of view?"
"It is the point of
"Poor boy!" said Lord Jocelyn.
view from which I must regard it."
She blushed again—and her beautiful eyes grew lim-
pid.
"Do you think," she said, speaking low,
66 do you
think I do not feel for him? Yet there is a cause-a
sentiment, perhaps. The time is not quite come.
Jocelyn, be patient with me!"
Lord
'You will take pity on him?"
CC
Oh!" she took the hand he offered her. "If I can
make him happy-
66
If not," replied Lord Jocelyn, kissing her hand, “he
would be the most ungrateful dog in all the world. If
not, he deserves to get nothing but a shilling an hour
for the miserable balance of his days. A shilling? No;
let him go back to his tenpence. My dear young lady,
you have made me at all events, the happiest of men!
No, do not fear: neither by word nor look shall Harry
-shall any one-know what you have been so very, very
good, so generous, and so thoughtful as to tell me."
"He loves me for myself," she murmured.
"He does
not know that I am rich. Think of that, and think of
the terrible suspicions which grow up in every rich
در
362
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
woman's heart when a man makes love to her. Now I
can never, never doubt his honesty. For my sake he
has given up so much; for my sake-mine! oh! Why
are men so good to women?”
"No," said Lord Jocelyn.
"Ask what men can ever
do that they should be rewarded with the love and trust
of such a woman as you?"
That is, indeed, a difficult question, seeing in what
words the virtuous woman has been described by one
who writes as if he ought to have known. As a pen-
dant to the picture 'tis pity, 'tis great pity we have not
the eulogy of the virtuous man. But there never were
any, perhaps.
Lord Jocelyn stayed with Angela all the afternoon.
They talked of many things; of Harry's boyhood, of his
gentle and ready ways, of his many good qualities, and
of Angela herself, her hopes and ambitions, and of their
life at Bormalack's. And Angela told Lord Jocleyn
about her protégés, the claimants to the Davenant
peerage, with the history of the "Roag in Grane," Sat-
urday Davenant; and Lord Jocelyn promised to call
upon them.
It was five o'clock when she sent him away, with
permission to come again. Now this, Lord Jocelyn
felt, as he came away, was the most satisfactory, nay
the most delightful, day that he had ever spent.
That lucky rascal Harry! To think of this tremen-
dous stroke of fortune! To fall in love with the richest
heiress in England; to have that passion returned, to
be about to marry the most charming, the most beau-
tiful, the sweetest woman that had ever been made.
Happy, thrice happy boy! What wonder, now, that he
found tinkering chairs, in company, so to speak, with
that incomparable woman, better than the soft divans.
of his club or the dinners and dances of society? What
had he, Lord Jocelyn, to offer the lad, in comparison
with the delights of this strange and charming court-
ship?
·
•
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
363
CHAPTER XL.
SWEET NELLY.
In every love-story there is always, though it is not
always told, a secondary plot, the history of the man or
woman who might have been left happy but for the
wedding bells which peal for somebody else and end the
tale. When these ring out, the hopes and dreams of
some one else, for whom they do not ring, turn at last
to dust and ashes. We are drawing near the church;
we shall soon hear those bells. Let us spare a moment
to speak of this tale untold, this dream of the morning,
doomed to disappointment.
It is only the dream of a foolish girl; she was young
and ignorant; she was brought up in a school of hard-
ship until the time when a gracious lady came to rescue
her. She had experienced, outside the haven of rest,
where her father was safely sheltered, only the buffets
of a hard and cruel world, filled with greedy task-
masters who exacted the uttermost farthing in work and
paid the humblest farthing for reward. More than this,
she knew, and her father knew, that when his time
came for exchanging that haven for the cemetery, she
would have to fight the hard battle alone, being almost
a friendless girl, too shrinking and timid to stand up
for herself. Therefore, after her rescue, at first she was
in the seventh heaven; nor did her gratitude and love
toward her rescuer ever know any abatement. But
there came a time when gratitude was called upon to
contend with another feeling.
From the very first Harry's carriage toward Nelly
was marked by sympathetic and brotherly affection.
He really regarded this pretty creature, with her soft
and winning ways, as a girl whom he could call by her
Christian name and treat as one treats a sweet and
charming child. She was clever at learning-nobody,
not even Miss Kennedy, danced better; she was docile;
she was sweet-tempered and slow to say or think evil.
She possessed naturally, Harry thought-but then he
forgot that her father had commanded an East India-
364
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
man -a refinement of thought and manner far above
the other girls; she caught readily the tone of her pa-
tron; she became in a few weeks, this young dress-
maker, the faithful effigies of a lady under the instruc-
tion of Miss Kennedy, whom she watched and studied
day by day. It was unfortunate that Harry continued
to treat her as a child, because she was already a woman.
Presently she began to think of him, to watch for
him, to note his manner toward herself.
Then she began to compare and to watch his manner
toward Miss Kennedy.
Then she began to wonder if he was paying attention
to Miss Kennedy, if they were engaged, if they had an
understanding.
She could find none. Miss Kennedy was always
friendly toward him, but never more. He was always
at her call, her faithful servant, like the rest of them,
but no more.
Remember that the respect and worship with which
she regarded Miss Kennedy were unbounded. But
Harry she did not regard as on the same level. No
one was good enough for Miss Kennedy. And Harry,
clever and bright and good as he seemed, was not too
good for herself.
They were a great deal together. All Nelly's even-
ings were spent in the drawing-room; Harry was there
every night; they read together; they talked and danced
and sang together. And though the young man said
no single word of love, he was always thoughtful for her
in ways that she had never experienced before. Below
a certain level, men are not thoughtful for women.
The cheapeners of women's labor at the East End are
not by any means thoughtful toward them. No one
had ever considered Nelly at all, except her father.
Need one say more? Need one explain how tender
flowers of hope sprang up in this girl's heart, and be-
came her secret joy?
This made her watchful, even jealous. And when a
change came in Miss Kennedy's manner-it was after
her first talk with Lord Jocelyn-when Nelly saw her
color heighten and her eyes grow brighter when Harry
appeared, a dreadful pain seized upon her, and she
knew, without a word being spoken, that all was over
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
365
for her. For what was she compared with this glorious
woman, beautiful as the day, sweet as a rose in June,
full of accomplishments? How could any man regard
her beside Miss Kennedy? How could any man think
of any other woman when such a goddess had smiled
upon him?
In some stories, a girl who has had to beat down and
crush the young blossoms of love goes through a great
variety of performances, always in the same order.
The despair of love demands that this order shall be
obeyed. She turns white; she throws herself on her
bed, and weeps by herself, and miserably owns that she
loves him; she tells the transparent fib to her sister or
mother; she has received a blow from which she never
will recover; if she is religious, it brings her nearer to
heaven-all this we have heard over and over again.
Poor little Nelly knew nothing about her grander sis-
ters in misfortune; she knew nothing of what is due to
self-respect under similar circumstances; she only per-
ceived that she had been foolish, and tried to show as if
that was not so. It was a make-believe of rather a sorry
kind. When she was alone she reproached herself;
when she was with Miss Kennedy she reproached her-
self; when she was with Harry she reproached herself.
Always herself to blame, no one else, and the imme-
diate result was that her great limpid eyes were sur-
rounded by dark rings and her cheeks grew thin.
Perhaps there is no misfortune more common among
women-especially among women of the better class-
than that of disappointed hope. Girls who are hard
worked in shops have no time, as a rule, to think of
love at all. Love, like other gracious influences, does
not come in their way. It is when leisure is arrived
at, with sufficiency of food and comfort, of shelter and
good clothing, that love begins.
K
To most of Angela's girls, Harry Goslett was a creat-
ure far above their hopes or thoughts. It was pleasant
to dance with him; to hear him play, to hear him talk;
but he did not belong to them. It was not for nothing
that their brothers called him "Gentleman Jack." They
were, in fact, “common girls," although Angela, by
the quiet and steady force of example, was introducing
such innovations in the dressing of the hair, the car-
366
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
riage of the person, and the style of garments, that they
were rapidly becoming uncommon girls. But they oc-
cupied à position lower than that of Nelly, who was
the daughter of a ship's captain now in the asylum; or
of Rebekah, who was the daughter of a minister, and
had the key to all truth.
To Nelly, therefore, there came for a brief space this
dream of love. It lasted, indeed, so brief a space-it
had such slender foundations of reality-that when it
vanished she ought to have let it go without a sigh,
and have soon felt as if it never had come to her at all.
This is difficult of accomplishment, even for women of
strong nerves and good physique; but Nelly tried it and
partially succeeded. That is, no one knew her secret
except Angela, who divined it-having special reason
for this insight; and Rebekah, who perhaps had also
her own reasons; but she was a self-contained woman,
who kept her own secret.
"She cannot," said Rebekah, watching Angela and
Harry, who were walking together on the green-" she
cannot marry anybody else. It is impossible."
"But why," said Nelly-"why do they not tell us, if
they are to be married?"
"There are many things," said Rebekah, "which
Miss Kennedy does not tell us. She has never told us
who she is or where she came from, or how she gets
command of money; or how she knows Miss Messen-
ger; or what she was before she came to us. Because,
Nelly, you may be sure of one thing-that Miss Ken-
nedy is a lady, born and bred. Not that I want to
know more than she chooses to tell, and I am as certain
of her goodness as I am certain of anything. And
what this place will do for the girls if it succeeds, no
one can tell. Miss Kennedy will tell us, perhaps, some
day why she has come among us, pretending to be a
dressmaker."
"Oh!" said Nelly, "what a thing for us that she did
pretend! And oh, Rebekah, what a thing it would be
if she were to leave off pretending! But she would
never desert us-never."
"No, she never would."
Rebekah continued to watch them.
"You see, Nelly, if she is a lady, he is a gentleman."
ALL SÕRTS AND CONDITIÓNS OF MEN.
367
Nelly blushed; and then blushed again for very shame
at having blushed at all. "Some gentleman, I am told,
take delight in turning girls' heads. He doesn't do that.
Has he ever said a word to you that he shouldn't?"
"No," said Nelly, "never."
66
Well, and he hasn't to me; though, as for you, he
goes about saying everywhere that you are the prettiest
girl in Stepney, next to Miss Kennedy. And as for me
and the rest, he has always been like a brother; and a
good deal better than most brothers are to their sisters.
Being a gentleman, I mean he is no match for you and
me, who are real work-girls. And there is nobody in
the parish except Miss Kennedy for him.'
"Yet he works for money.'
b
"So does she. My dear, I don't understand it-I
never could understand it. Perhaps some day we shall
know what it all means. There they are, making
believe. They go on making believe and pretending,
and they seem to enjoy it. Then they walk about to-
gether, and play in words with each other-one pretend-
ing not to understand and so on. Miss Kennedy says,
"But then I speak from hearsay, for I am only a dress-
maker.' And he says, 'So I read, because, of course,
a cabinet-maker can know nothing of these things.
Mr. Bunker, who ought to be made to learn the Epistle
of St. James by heart, says dreadful things of both of
them, and one his own nephew; but what does he
know?-nothing."
ور
در
""
"But, Rebekah, Mr. Goslett cannot be a very great
gentleman, if he is Mr. Bunker's nephew; his father
was a sergeant in the army.
"
"He is a gentleman by education and training. Well,
some day we shall learn more. Meantime, I for one am
contented that they should marry. Are you, Nelly?"
'I, too,” she replied, "am contented, if it will make
Miss Kennedy happy.
66
CC
As
He is not convinced of the truth," said Rebekah,
making her little sectarian reservation, "but any woman
who would want a better husband must be a fool.
for you and me, now, after knowing these two, it will
be best for us never to marry, rather than to marry one
of the drinking, tobacco-smoking workmen, who would
have us.
368
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"Yes," said Nelly, "much best. I shall never marry
anybody."
Certainly it was not likely that more young gentle-
men would come their way. One Sunday evening, the
girl, being alone with Miss Kennedy, took courage and
dared to speak to her.
In fact, it was Angela herself who began the talk.
"Let us talk, Nelly," she began; "we are quite alone.
Tell me, my dear, what is on your mind?”
"Nothing," said Nelly.
"Yes there is something-tell me what it is."
"Oh, Miss Kennedy, I cannot tell you. It would be
rudeness to speak of it."
"There can be no rudeness, Nelly, between you and
Tell me what you are thinking.
,,
Angela knew already what was in her mind, but after
the fashion of her sex she dissembled. The brutality
of truth among the male sex is sometimes very painful;
and yet we are so proud, some of us, of our earnest at-
tachment to truth.
me.
"Oh, Miss Kennedy, can you not see that he is suf
fering?"
"Nelly!" but she was not displeased.
"He is getting thinner. He does not laugh as he
used to; and he does not dance as much as he did. Oh,
Miss Kennedy, can you not take pity on him?”
"Nelly, you have not told me whom you mean.
Nay," as with a sudden change of tone she threw her
arms about Nelly's neck and kissed her, "nay. I know
very well whom you mean, my dear."
"I have not offended you?"
"No, you have not offended me. But, Nelly, an-
swer me one question-answer it truthfully. Do you,
from your own heart, wish me to take pity on him?"
Nelly answered frankly and truthfully:
Yes; because how can I wish anything but what
will make you happy? Oh, how can any of us help
wishing that; and he is the only man who can make
you happy. And he loves you.
""
"You want him to love me for my sake; for my own
sake. Nelly, dear child, you humble me."
But Nelly did not understand. She had secretly
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
363
offered up her humble sacrifice-her pair of turtle-
doves; and she knew not that her secret was known.
"She loves him herself," Angela was thinking, "and
she gives him up for my sake.”
He is not," Nelly went on-as if she could by any
words of hers persuade Angela-"he is not like any of
the common workmen. See how he walks, and how
independent he is, and he talks like a gentleman. And
he can do all the things that gentlemen learn to do.
Who is there among us all that he could look at, except
you?"
"Nelly-do not make me vain.
"As for you, Miss Kennedy, there is no man fit for
you in all the world. You call yourself a dressmaker,
but we know better; oh, you are a lady! My father
says so. He used to have great ladies sometimes on
board his ship. He says that never was any one like
you for talk and manner. Oh, we don't ask your se-
cret, if you have one-only some of us (not I, for one) are
afraid that some day you will go away, and never come
back to us again. What should we do then?”
"My dear, I shall not desert you."
66
And, if you marry him, you will remain with us?
A lady should marry a gentleman, I know; she could
not marry any common man. But you are, so you tell
us, only a dressmaker. And he, he says, only a cabinet-
maker; and Dick Coppin says that, though he can use
the lathe, he knows nothing at all about the trade-not
even how they talk, nor anything about them. If
you two have secrets, Miss Kennedy, tell them to each
other."
رو
"My secrets, if I have any, are very simple, Nelly,
and very soon you shall know them; and, as for his, I
know them already."
Angela was silent awhile, thinking over this thing;
then she kissed the girl, and whispered: “Patience
yet a little while, dear Nelly. Patience, and I will do,
perhaps, what you desire."
در
"Father," said Nelly, later on that night, sitting to-
gether by the fire, "father, I spoke to Miss Kennedy
to-night.
(C
'What did you speak to her about, my dear?"
24
370
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"I told her that we knew (you and I) that she is a
lady, whatever she may pretend.'
""
"That is quite true, Nelly.'
"And I said that Mr. Goslett is a gentleman, what-
ever he may pretend."
"That may be true-even though he is not a gentle-
man born—but that's a very different thing, my dear."
"Why is it different?"
"Because there are many ladies who go about among
poor people; but no gentleman, unless it's the clergy-
men. Ladies seem to like it-they do it, however hard
the work, for nothing and all because it is their duty,
and an imitation of the Lord. Some of them go out
nursing. I have told you how I took them out to Scu-
tari. Some of them go, not a bit afraid, into the foul
courts, and find out the worst creatures in the world,
and help them. Many of them give up their whole
lives for the poor and miserable. My dear, there is
nothing that a good woman will shrink from—no mis-
ery, no den of wickedness-nothing. Sometimes I think
Miss Kennedy must be one of those women. Yes, she's
got a little money, and she has come here to work in
her own way among the people here."
"And Mr. Goslett, father?”
"Men don't do what women do. There may be some-
thing in what Mr. Bunker says-that he has reasons of
his own for coming here and hiding himself.'
"Oh, father, you don't mean it; and his own uncle,
too, to say such a thing."
66
Yes, his own uncle.
در
Mr. Goslett, certainly, does
belong to the place; though why Bunker should bear
him so much malice is more than I can tell."
"And, father, there is another reason why he should
stay here." Nelly blushed, and laughed merrily.
66
What is that, my dear?"
Nelly kissed him and laughed again.
"It is your time for a pipe-let me fill it for you.
And the Sunday ration, here it is; and here is a light.
Oh, father, to be a sailor so long and have no eyes in
your head!"
66
What"-he understood now—" you mean Miss Ken-
nedy! Nell, my dear, forgive me-I was thinking
that perhaps you——”
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
341
"No, father," she replied hurriedly, “that could never
be. I want nothing but to stay on here with you and
Miss Kennedy, who has been so good to us that we can
never, never thank her enough; nor can we wish her
too much joy. But, please, never-never say that
again."
Her eyes filled with tears.
Captain Sorensen took a book from the table—it was
that book which so many people have constantly in their
mouths, and yet it never seems to get into their hearts;
the book which is so seldom read and so much com-
mented upon.
He turned it over till he found a cer-
tain passage beginning, "Who can find a virtuous wom-
an?" He read this right through to the end. One
passage, "She stretcheth out her hand to the poor.
Yea, she reacheth forth her hands unto the needy," he
read twice; and the last line, "Let her own works praise
her in the gates," he read three times.
"My dear" he concluded, "to pleasure Miss Kennedy
you would do more than give up a lover; ay, and with
a cheerful heart."
CHAPTER XLI.
BOXING-NIGHT.
"LET us keep Christmas," said Angela, "with some-
thing like original treatment. We will not dance, be-
cause we do that nearly every night."
"Let us," said Harry, "dress up and act."
What were they to act? That he would find for
them. How were they to dress? That they would have
to find for themselves. The feature of the Christmas
festival was that they were to be mummers, and that
there was to be mummicking, and of course there would
be a little feasting, and perhaps a little singing.
66
We must have just such a programme," said Angela
to their master of ceremonies, "as if you were preparing
it for the Palace of Delight."
"This is the only Palace of Delight," said Harry,
that we shall ever see. For my own part I desire no
other."
372
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
But, you know, we are going to have another one,
much larger than this little place. Have you forgotten
all your projects?"
Harry laughed; it was strange how persistently Miss
Kennedy returned to the subject again and again; how
seriously she talked about it; how she dwelt upon it.
66
We must have," she continued, "sports which will
cost nothing, with dresses which we can make for our-
selves. Of course we must have guests to witness
them.
66
"Guests cost money," said Harry. "But, of course,
in a Palace of Delight money must not be considered.
That would be treason to your principles."
"We shall not give our guests anything except the
cold remains of the Christmas dinner. As for cham-
pagne, we can make our own with a few lemons and a
little sugar. Do not forbid us to invite an audience."
Fortunately, a present which arrived from their
patron, Miss Messenger, the day before Christmas Day,
enabled them to give their guests a substantial supper,
at no cost whatever. The present took the form of sev-
eral hampers, addressed to Miss Kennedy, with a note
from the donor conveying her love to the girls and best
wishes for the next year, when she hoped to make their
acquaintance. The hampers contained turkeys, sau-
sages, ducks, geese, hams, tongues, and the like.
Meantime, Harry, as stage manager and dramatist,
had devised the tableaux, and the girls between them had
devised the dresses from a book of costumes. Christ-
mas Day, as everybody remembers, fell last year on a
Sunday. This gave the girls the whole of Saturday
afternoon and evening, with Monday morning for the
conversion of the trying-on room into the stage, and
the show-room for the audience. But the rehearsals
took a fortnight, for some of the girls were stupid and
some were shy, though all were willing to learn, and
Harry was patient. Besides, there was the chance of
wearing the most beautiful dresses, and no one was left
out; in the allegory, a pastoral, invented by their man-
ager, there was a part for every one.
The gift of Miss Messenger made it possible to have
two sets of guests; one set consisting of the girls' fe-
male relations, and a few private friends of Miss Ken-
{
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
373
nedy's who lived and suffered in the neighborhood, for
the Christmas dinner, held on Monday; and the other
set was carefully chosen from a long list of the select
audience in the evening. Among them were Dick and
his friend, the ex-Chartist cobbler, and a few leading
spirits of the Advanced Club. They wanted an audi-
ence who would read between the lines.
The twenty-sixth day of last December was, in
the neighborhood of Stepney, dull and overcast; it
promised to be a day of rebuke for all quiet folk, be-
cause it was a general holiday, one of those four terrible
days when the people flock in droves to favorite haunts
if it is in the summer, or hang about public-houses if it
is winter; when, in the evening, the air is hideous with
the shouts of those who roll about the pavements; a day
when even Comus and his rabble rout are fain to go
home for fear of being hustled and evilly treated by the
holiday-makers of famous London town, a day when
the peaceful and the pious, the temperate and the timid,
stay at home. But to Angela it was a great day, sweet
and precious-to use the language of an ancient Puritan
and modern prig-because it was the first attempt to-
ward the realization of her great dream; because her
girls on this night for the first time showed the fruits.
of her training in the way they played their parts, their
quiet bearing and their new refinement. After the per-
formances of this evening she looked forward with con-
fidence to her palace.
ner.
The day began, then, at half-past with the big din-
All the girls could bring their mothers, sisters,
and female relations generally, who were informed that
Miss Messenger, the mysterious person who interfered.
perpetually, like a goddess out of a machine, with some
new gift, or some device for their advantage, was the
giver of the feast.
It was a good and ample Christmas dinner served in
the long work-room by Angela and the girls them-
selves. There were the turkeys of the hamper, roasted
with sausages, and roast beef and roast fowls, and
roast geese and roast pork, with an immense supply of
the vegetables dear to London people; and after this
first course, there were plum-pudding and mince-pies.
Messenger's ale, with the stout so much recommended
374
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
by Bunker, flowed freely, and after dinner there was
handed to each a glass of port. None but women and
children-no boy over eight being allowed-were pres-
ent at the feast, and when it was over most of the wom-
en got up and went away, not without some little
talk with Angela and some present in kind from the
benevolent Miss Messenger. Then they cleared all
away and set out the tables again, with the same pro-
visions, for the supper in the evening, at which there
would be hungry men.
All the afternoon they spent in completing their ar-
rangements. The guests began to arrive at five. The
music was supplied by Angela herself, who did not act,
with Captain Sorensen and Harry. The piano was
brought downstairs and stood in the hall outside the try-
ing-on room.
The performance was to commence at six, but every-
body had come long before half-past five. At a quarter
to six the little orchestra began to play the old English
tunes dear to pantomimes.
At the ringing of a bell, the music changed to a low
monotonous plaint and the curtain slowly rose on the
tableau.
There was a large, bare, empty room; its sole furni-
ture was a table and three chairs; in one corner was
a pile of shavings; upon them sat, crouching with her
knees drawn up, the pale and worn figure of a girl;
beside her were the crutches which showed that she
was a cripple; her white cheek was wasted and hollow;
her chin was thrust forward as if she was in suffering
almost intolerable. During the tableau she moved not,
save to swing slowly backward and forward upon the
shavings which formed her bed.
On the table, for it was night, was a candle in a gin-
ger-beer bottle, and two girls sat at the table working
hard; their needles were running a race with starva-
tion; their clothes were in rags; their hair was gathered
up in careless knots; their cheeks were pale; they were
pinched and cold and feeble with hunger and privation.
Said one of the women present, "Twopence an hour,
they can make. Poor things! poor things!"
CC
Dick," whispered the cobbler, "you make a note of
it; I guess what's coming.
""
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
975
The spectators shivered with sympathy. They knew
so well what it meant; some of them had themselves
dwelt amid these garrets of misery and suffering.
Then voices were heard outside in the street singing.
They were the waits, and they sang the joyful hymns
of Christmas. When the working-girls heard the sing-
ing, they paid no heed whatever, plying the needle fast
and furiously; and the girl in the shavings paid no heed,
slowly swinging to and fro in her pain and hunger.
At the sight of this callous contempt, this disregard of
the invitation to rejoice, as if there were neither hope
nor joy for such as themselves, with only a mad desire
to work for something to stay the dreadful pains of
hunger, some of the women among the spectators wept
aloud.
Then the waits went away; and there was silence
again.
Then one of the girls-it was Nelly-stopped, and
leaned back in her chair, with her hand to her heart;
the work fell from her lap upon the floor; she sprang to
her feet, threw up her hands, and fell in a lifeless heap
upon the floor. The other girl went on with her sew-
ing; and the cripple went on swinging backward and
forward. For they were all three so miserable that the
misery of one could no more touch the other two.
The curtain dropped. The tableau represented, of
course, the girls who work for an employer.
After five minutes it rose again. There were the
same girls and others; they were sitting at work in a
cheerful and well-furnished room; they were talking
and laughing. The clock struck six, and they laid
aside their work, pushed back the table and advanced
to the front singing all together. Their faces were
bright and happy; they were well dressed, they looked
well fed; there was no trouble among them at all; they
chatted like singing-birds; they ran and played.
Then Captain Sorensen came in with his fiddle, and
first he played a merry tune, at the sound of which the
girls caught each other by the waist, and fell to danc-
ing the old Greek ring. Then he played a quadrille,
and they danced that simple figure, and as if they liked
it; and then he played a waltz, and they whirled round
and round.
376
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
This was the labor of girls for themselves. Every-
body understood perfectly what was meant without the
waste of words. Some of the mothers present wiped
their eyes and told their neighbors that this was no play
acting, but the sweet and blessed truth; and that the
joy was real, because the girls were working for them-
selves and there were no naggings, no fines, no temper,
no bullying, no long hours.
After this there was a concert, which seemed a fall-
ing off in point of excitement. But it was pretty.
Captain Sorensen played some rattling sea ditties; then
Miss Kennedy and Mr. Goslett played a duet; then the
girls sang a madrigal in parts, so that it was wonder-
ful to hear them, thinking how ignorant they were six
months before. Then Miss Kennedy played a solo, and
then the girls sang another song. By what magic, by
what mystery, were girls so transformed? Then the
audience talked together, and whispered that it was all
the doing of that one girl-Miss Kennedy—who was
believed by everybody to be a lady born and bred, but
pretended to be a dressmaker. She it was who got the
girls together, gave them the house, found work for
them, arranged the time and duties, and paid them
week by week for shorter hours better wages. It was
she who persuaded them to spend their evenings with
her instead of trapesing about the streets, getting into
mischief; it was she who taught them the singing, and
all manner of pretty things; and they were not spoiled
by it, except that they would have nothing more to say
to the rough lads and shopboys who had formerly paid
them rude court and jested with them on Stepney
Green. Uppish they certainly were; what mother
would find fault with a girl for holding up her head
and respecting herself? And as for manners, why, no
one could tell what a difference there was.
The Chartist looked on with a little suspicion at first,
which gradually changed to the liveliest satisfaction.
"Dick," he whispered to his friend and disciple, "I
am sure that, if the working-men like, they may find
the swells their real friends. See, now we've got all
the power; they can't take it from us; very good then,
who are the men we should suspect? Why, those
who've got to pay the wages-the manufacturers and
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
371
such. Not the swells. Make a note of that, Dick.
It may be the best card you've got to play. A thou-
sand places such as this-planted all about England-
started at first by a swell-why, man, the working
classes would have not only all the power but all the
money. Oh, if I were ten years younger! What are
they going to do next?"
The next thing they did pleased the women, but the
men did not seem to care much about it, and the
Chartist went on developing the new idea to Dick, who
drank it all in, seeing that here, indeed, was a practical
and attractive idea even though it meant a new depart-
ure. But the preacher of a new doctrine has generally
a better chance than one who only hammers away at
an old one.
The stage showed one figure. A beautiful girl, her
hair bound in a fillet, clad in Greek dress, simple, flow-
ing, graceful, stood upon a low pedestal. She was in-
tended-it was none other than Nelly-to represent
woman dressed as she should be. One after the other
there advanced upon the stage and stood beside this
statue, women dressed as women ought not to be; there
they were, the hideous fashions of generations; the
pinched waists, monstrous hats, high peaks, hoops and
crinolines, hair piled up, hair stuffed out, gigot sleeves,
high waists, tight skirts, bending walk, boots with high
heels-an endless array.
When Nelly got down from her pedestal and the show
was over, Harry advanced to the front and made a little
speech. He reminded his hearers that the Association
was only six months old; he begged them to consider
what was its position now. To be sure, the girls had
been started, and, that he said, was the great difficulty;
but, the start once made and prejudice removed, they
found themselves with work to do, and they were now
paying their own way and doing well; before long
they would be able to take in more hands; it was not
all work with them, but there was plenty of play, as
they knew. Meantime the girls invited everybody to
have supper with them, and after supper there would
be a little dance.
They stayed to supper, and they appreciated the gift
of Miss Messenger; then they had the little dance-
378
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Dick Coppin now taking his part without shame.
While the dancing went on the Chartist sat in the
corner of the room, talking with Angela. When he
went away, his heart-which was large and gene-
rous-burned within him, and he had visions of a
time when the voices of the poor shall not be raised
against the rich nor the minds of the rich hardened
against the poor. Perhaps he came unconsciously
nearer to Christianity, this man who was a scoffer
and an unbeliever, that night than he had ever before.
To have faith in the future forms, indeed, a larger
part of the Christian religion than some of us ever
realize. And to believe in a single woman is one step,
however small, toward believing in the Divine Man.
CHAPTER XLII.
NOT JOSEPHUS, BUT ANOTHER.
THE attractions of a yard peopled with ghosts, dis-
contented figure-heads, and an old man, are great at
first, but not likely to be lasting if one does not person-
ally see or converse with the ghosts and if the old man
becomes monotonous. We expect too much of old men.
Considering their years, we think their recollections.
must be wonderful. One says, "Good heavens! Me-
thuselah must recollect William the Conqueror and
King John, and Sir John Falstaff, to say nothing of
the battle of Waterloo!" As a matter of fact, Me-
thuselah generally remembers nothing except that
where Cheapside now stands was once a green field.
As for Shakespeare, and Coleridge, and Charles Lamb,
he knows nothing whatever about them. You see if he
had taken so much interest in life as to care about
things going on, he would very soon, like his contem-
poraries, have worn out the machine, and would be ly-
ing, like them, in the grassy inclosure.
Harry continued to go to the carver's yard for some
time, but nothing more was to be learned from him. He
knew the family history, however, by this time, pretty
well. The Coppins of Stepney, like all middle-class
families, had experienced many ups and downs. They
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
379
had been churchwardens; they had been bankrupts;
they had practised many trades; and once there was
a Coppin who died, leaving houses-twelve houses-
three apiece to his children-a meritorious Coppin.
Where were those houses now? Absorbed by the om-
nivorous Uncle Bunker. And how Uncle Bunker got
those belonging to Caroline Coppin could not now be
ascertained, except from Uncle Bunker himself. Every-
where there are scrapers and scatterers; the scrapers
are few, and the scatterers many. By what scatterer
or what process of scattering did Caroline lose her
houses?
Meantime, Harry did not feel himself obliged to
hold his tongue upon the subject; and everybody knew,
before long, that something was going on likely to be
prejudicial to Mr. Bunker. People whispered that
Bunker was going to be caught out; this rumor lent to
the unwilling agent some of the interest which attaches
to a criminal. Some went so far as to say that they had
always suspected him because he was so ostentatious.
in his honesty; and this is a safe thing to say, because
any person may be reasonably suspected; and if we did
not suspect all the world, why the machinery of bolts.
and bars, keys and patent safes? But it is the wise
man who suspects the right person, and it is the justly
proud man who strikes an attitude and says:
"What
did I tell you?" As yet, however, the suspicions were
vague. Bunker, for his part, though not generally a
thin-skinned man, easily perceived that there was a
change in the way he was received and regarded; peo-
ple looked at him with marked interest in the streets;
they turned their heads and looked after him; they
talked about him as he approached; they smiled with
meaning; Josephus Coppin met him one day, and asked
him why he would not tell his nephew how he obtained
those three houses and what consideration he gave for
them. He began, especially of an evening, over brandy
and water, to make up mentally, over and over again,
his own case, so that it might be presented at the right
moment absolutely perfect and without a flaw; a para-
gon among cases. His nephew, whom he now regarded
with a loathing almost lethal, was impudent enough to
go about saying that he had got those houses unlaw-
380
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
fully. Was he? Very good; he would have such law
as is to be had in England, for the humiliation, pun-
ishment, stamping out, and ruining of that nephew;
aye, if it cost him five hundred pounds he would. He
should like to make his case public; he was not afraid;
not a bit; let all the world know; the more the story
was known, the more would his contemporaries admire
his beautiful and exemplary virtue, patience, and mod-
eration. There were, he said, with the smile of benev-
olence and blush of modesty which so well become the
good man, transactions, money transactions, between
himself and his sister-in-law, especially after her mar-
riage with a man who was a secret scatterer. These
money matters had been partly squared by the transfer
of the houses, which he took in part payment; the rest
he forgave when Caroline died, and when, which
showed his goodness in an electric light, he took over
the boy to bring him up to some honest trade, though
he was a beggar. Where were the proofs of those
transactions? Unfortunately they were all destroyed
by fire some years since, after having been carefully
preserved, and docketed, and indorsed, as is the duty
of every careful man of business.
Now by dint of repeating this precious story over and
over again, the worthy man came to believe it entirely,
and to believe that other people would believe it as
well. It seemed, in fact, so like the truth, that it
would deceive even experts, and pass for that priceless
article. At the time when Caroline died, and the boy
went to stay with him, no one asked any questions, be-
cause it seemed nobody's business to inquire into the
interest of the child. After the boy was taken away it
gradually became known among the surviving members
of the family that the houses had long before, owing to
the profligate extravagance of the sergeant—as careful a
man as ever marched-passed into the hands of Bunker,
who now had all the Coppin houses. Everything was
clean forgotten by this time. And the boy must needs.
turn up again, asking questions. A young villain! A
serpent! But he should be paid out.
A very singular accident prevented the "paying out"
quite in the sense intended by Mr. Bunker. It hap-
pened in this way;
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
381
One day when Miss Messenger's cabinet-maker and
joiner-in-ordinary, having little or nothing to do, was
wandering about the Brewery, looking about him, lazily
watching the process of beer-making on a large exten-
sive scale, and exchanging the compliments of the
season, which was near the new year, with the work-
men, it happened that he passed the room in which
Josephus had sat for forty years among the juniors.
The door stood open, and he looked in, as he had often
done before, to nod a friendly salutation to his cousin.
There Josephus sat, with gray hair, an elderly man
among boys, mechanically ticking off entries among
the lads. His place was in the warm corner near the
fire; beside him stood a large and massive safe; the
same safe out of which, during an absence of three min-
utes, the country notes had been so mysteriously stolen.
The story, of course, was well known. Josephus'
version of the thing was also well known. Everybody
further knew that, until the mystery of that robbery
was cleared up, Josephus would remain a junior on
30s. a week. Lastly, everybody (with the kindliness
of heart common to our glorious humanity) firmly be-
lieved that Josephus had really cribbed those notes, but
had been afraid to present them, and so dropped them
into a fire, or down a drain. It is truly remarkable
to observe how deeply we respect, adore, and venerate
virtue-insomuch that we all go about pretending to be
virtuous; yet how little we believe in the virtue of each
other! It is also remarkable to reflect upon the exten-
sive fields still open to the moralist, after all these years
of preaching and exhorting.
66
G
Now, as Harry looked into the room, his eye fell upon
the safe, and a curious thing occurred. The fragment
of a certain letter from Bob Coppin (in which he sent a
message by his friend to his cousin, Squaretoes Jo-
sephus) quite suddenly and unexpectedly returned to
his memory-further, the words assumed a meaning.
"Josephus," he said, stepping into the office, "lend
me a piece of paper and a pencil. Thank you."
He wrote down the words exactly as he recollected
them-half destroyed by the tearing of the letter.
.. Josephus, my cousin, that he will. . .'nd the
safe the bundle. . . or a lark. Josephus is a squaretoes.
382
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
I hate a man who won't drink. He will... if he looks
there.
When he had written these words down he read them
over again, while the lads looked on with curiosity and
some resentment. Cabinet-makers and joiners have no
business to swagger about the office of young gentle-
men who are clerks in breweries, as if it were their
own place. It is an innovation-a levelling of rank.
"Josephus," Harry whispered, "you remember your
cousin, Bob Coppin?”
Conversation is
"Yes; but these are office hours.
not allowed in the juniors' room."
He spoke as if he was still a boy-as indeed, he was,
having been confined to the society of boys, and hav-
ing drawn the pay of a boy for so many years.
"Never mind rules-tell me all about Bob."
"He was a drinker and a spendthrift-that's enough
about him."
Josephus spoke in a whisper, being anxious not to
discuss the family disgrace among his fellow-clerks.
66
Good! Were you a friend as well as a cousin of his?”
"No, I never was-I was respectable in those days,
and desirous of getting my character high for steadi-
ness. I went to evening lectures and taught in the
Wesleyan Sunday-schools. Of course, when the notes
were stolen, it was no use trying any more for character
-that was gone. A young man suspected of stealing
£14,000 can't get any character at all. So I gave up
attending the evening lectures, and left off teaching in
the school, and going to church, and everything."
"You were a great fool, Josephus-you ought to
have gone on and fought it out. Now then, on the day
that you lost the money, had you seen Bob-do you re-
member?"
"That day?" the unlucky junior replied; "I remem-
ber every hour as plain as if it was to-day. Yes, I saw
Bob. He came to the office half an hour before I lost
the notes. He wanted me to go out with him in the
evening, I forget where-some gardens, and dancing,
and prodigalities. I refused to go. In the evening I
saw him again, and he did nothing but laugh while I
was in misery. It seemed cruel; and the more I suf-
fered he louder he laughed,"
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
383
"Did you never see Bob again?"
CC
'No; he went away to sea, and he came home and
went away again; but somehow I never saw him. It
is twenty years now since he went away last, and was
never heard of, nor his ship-so, of course, he's dead
long ago. But what does it matter about Bob? And
these are office hours; and there will, really, be things
said if we go on talking-do go away.
Harry obeyed, and left him; but he went straight to
the office of the chief accountant and requested an in-
terview.
The chief accountant sent word that he could com-
municate his business through one of the clerks. Harry
replied that his business was of a nature which could
not be communicated by a clerk-that it was very seri-
ous and important business, which must be imparted to
the chief alone; and that he would wait his convenience
in the outer office. Presently he was ushered into the
presence of the great man.
"This is very extraordinary," said the official.
"What can your business be, which is so important
that it must not be intrusted to the clerks? Now come
to the point, young man-my time is valuable."
"I want you to authorize me to make a little ex-
amination in the junior clerks' room.
"What examination, and why?"
room.
66
ور
""
""
Harry gave him the fragment of the letter, and ex-
plained where he found it.
"I understand nothing. What do you learn from
this fragment?"
"There is no date," said Harry, "but that matters
very little. You will observe that it clearly refers to
my cousin Josephus Coppin.
"That seems evident-Josephus is not a common
name."
"You know my cousin's version of the loss of those
notes?"
CC
Certainly-he said they must have been stolen dur-
ing the two or three minutes that he was out of the
""
Yes-now" (Harry wrote a few words to fill up the
broken sentences of the letter) "read that, sir."
66
Good heavens !"
384
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"My cousin tells me, too," he went on, "that this fel-
low, Bob Coppin, was in the office half an hour before
the notes were missed-why, very likely he was at the
time hanging about the place and that in the evening,
when his cousin was in an agony of distress, Bob was
laughing as if the whole thing was a joke.”
(6
Upon my word," said the chief, "it seems plausible."
"We can try the thing at once," said Harry. “But
I should like you to be present when we do."
"Undoubtedly I will be present-come, let us go at
once. By the way, you were the young man recom-
mended by Miss Messenger; are you not?"
"Yes. Not that I have the honor of knowing Miss
Messenger personally."
The chief accountant laughed. Cabinet-makers do
not generally know young ladies of position; and this
was such a remarkably cheeky young workman.
They took with them four stout fellows from those
who toss about the casks of beer. The safe was one of
the larger kind, standing three feet six inches high, on
a strong wooden box, with an open front-it was in the
corner next to Josephus' seat. Between the back of
the safe and the wall was a space of an inch or so.
"I must trouble you to change your seat," said the
chief accountant to Josephus, "we are about to move
this safe."
Josephus rose, and the men presently, with mighty
efforts, lugged the great heavy thing a foot or two from
its place.
"Will you look, sir?" asked Harry. "If there is any-
thing there, I should like you, who know the whole
story, to find it.”
The chief stooped over the safe and looked behind it.
Everybody was now aware that something was going
to happen; and though pens continued to be dipped into
inkstands with zeal, and heads to be bent over desks with
the devotion which always seizes a junior clerk in pres-
ence of his chief, all eyes were furtively turned to Jo-
sephus' corner.
"There is a bundle of papers," he said. "Thank you."
Harry picked them up and placed them in his hands.
The only person who paid no heed to the proceedings
was the most concerned.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
385
The chief accountant received them (a rolled bundle,
not a tied-up parcel, and covered inch deep with black
dust). He opened it and glanced at the contents—then
a strange and unaccountable look came into his eyes as
he handed them to Josephus.
"Will you oblige me, Mr. Coppin," he said, "by ex-
amining those papers?"
It was the first time that the title of "Mr." had been
bestowed upon Josephus during all the years of his long
servitude. He was troubled by it, and he could not
understand the expression in his chief's eyes; and
when he turned to Harry for an explanation he met
yes in which the same sympathy and pity were ex-
pressed. When he turned to the boys, his fellow-
olerks, he was struck by their faces of wondering ex-
pectation.
-
What was going to happen?
▼
Recovering his presence of mind, he held out the
dusty papers and shook the dust off them.
Then he began slowly to obey orders, and to examine
them.
Suddenly he began to turn them over with fierce
eagerness. His eyes flashed-he gasped.
66
Come, Josephus," said his cousin, taking his arm,
"gently gently. What are they, these papers?"
The man laughed, a hysterical laugh.
66
They are. Ha! ha! they are-ha! ha! ha!"
He did not finish because his voice failed him; but
he dropped into a chair, with his head in his hands.
"They are country bank-notes and other papers," said
Harry, taking them from his cousin's hands-he had
interpreted the missing words rightly.
The chief looked round the room. "Young men," he
said solemnly, "a wonderful thing has happened. Af-
*er many years of undeserved suspicion and unmerited
punishment, Mr. Coppin's character is cleared at last.
We cannot restore to him the years he has lost, but we
can rejoice that his innocence is established."
"Come, Josephus," said Harry, "bear your good fort-
une as you have borne the bad-rouse yourself.”
The senior junior clerk lifted his head and looked
around. His cheeks were white. His eyes were filled
with tears; his lips were trembling.
25
386
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
"Take your cousin home," said the chief to Harry,
and then come back to my office.”
(C
Harry led Josephus unresisting home to the board-
ing-house.
"We have had a shock, Mrs. Bormalack. Nothing to
be alarmed about-quite the contrary. The bank-notes
have been found after all these years, and my cousin
has earned his promotion and recovered his character.
Give him some brandy and water, and make him lie
down for a bit."
For the man was dazed-he could not understand as
yet what had happened.
Harry placed him in the armchair, and left him to
the care of the landlady. Then he went back to the
brewery.
The chief brewer was with the chief accountant, and
they were talking over what was best to be done; said
very kind things about intelligence, without which
good fortune and lucky finds are wasted. And they
promised to represent Harry's conduct in a proper light
to Miss Messenger, who would be immediately commu-
nicated with; and Josephus would at once receive a
very substantial addition to his pay, a better position,
and more responsible work.
"May I suggest, gentlemen," said Harry, "that a
man who is fifty-five, and has all his life been doing
the simple work of a junior, may not be found equal to
more responsible work.
"That may be the case.
66
'My cousin, when the misfortune happened, left off
taking any interest in things-I believe he has never
opened a book or learned anything in all these years."
Well, we shall see. A workman was not to be
taken into counsel. "There is, however, something
here which seems to concern yourself.
66
Your mother
was one Caroline Coppin, was she not?"
"Yes.'
""
ور
ور
"Then these papers which were deposited by some
persons unknown with Mr. Messenger-most likely for
greater care—and placed in the safe by him, belong to
you; and I hope will prove of value to you."
Harry took them without much interest, and came
away.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
387
In the evening Josephus held a reception. All his
contemporaries in the brewery-the men who entered
with himself-all those who had passed over his head,
all those with whom he had been a junior in the brew-
ery, called to congratulate him. At the moment he felt
as if this universal sympathy fully made up for all his
sufferings of the past. Nor was it until the morning
that he partly perceived the truth-that no amount of
sympathy would restore his vanished youth, and give
him what he had lost.
But he will never quite understand this; and he
looked upon himself as having begun again from the
point where he stopped. When the reception was over
and the last man gone, he began to talk about his fu-
ture.
"I shall go on again with the evening course," he
said, "just where I left off. I remember we were hav-
ing Monday for book-keeping by single and double en-
try; Tuesday for French; Thursday for arithmetic-
we were in mixed fractions; and Friday for Euclid.
Then I shall take up my class at the Sunday-school
again, and shall become a full church-member of the
Wesleyan connection-for though my father was once
churchwarden at Stepney church, I always favored the
Wesleyans myself."
He talked as if he was a boy again, with all his life
before him, and, indeed, at the moment he thought he
was.
CHAPTER XLIII.
O MY PROPHETIC SOUL!
HARRY thought nothing about the papers which were
found among the notes that evening, because he was
wholly engaged in the contemplation of a man who
had suddenly gone back thirty-five years in his life.
The gray hairs, thin at the top and gone at the temples,
were not, it is true, replaced by the curly brown locks
of youth, though one thinks that Josephus must always
have been a straight-haired young man.
But it was
remarkable to hear that man of fifty-five talking as if
388
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
the years had rolled backward, and he could take up the
thread of life where he had dropped it so long ago.
He spoke of his evening lectures and his Sunday-school
with the enthusiasm of a boy. He would study-work
of that sort always paid: he would prepare his lessons
for the school beforehand, and stand well with the
superintendent: it was good for men in business offices,
he said, to have a good character with the superinten-
dent. Above all, he would learn French and bookkeep-
ing, with mensuration, gauging, and astronomy, at
the Beaumont Institute. All these things would come
in useful, some time or the other, at the brewery; be-
sides, it helps a man to be considered studious in his
haibts. He became, in fact, in imagination a young
man once more. And because in the old days, when
he had a character to earn, he did not smoke tobacco,
so now he forgot that former solace of the day, his even-
ing pipe.
The brewery," he said, "is a splendid thing to get
into. You can rise: you may become-ah! even chief
accountant: you may look forward to draw over a
thousand a year at the brewery, if you are steady and
well conducted, and get a good name.
It is not every
one, mind you, gets the chance of such a service. And
once in, always in. That's the pride of the brewery.
No turning out: there you stay, with your salary al-
ways rising, till you die."
In the morning, the exultation of spirits was ex-
changed for a corresponding depression. Josephus went
to the brewery, knowing that he should sit on that old
seat of his no longer.
He went to look at it: the wooden stool was worn
black; the desk was worn black; he knew every cut
and scratch in the lid at which he had written so many
years. There were all the books at which he had
worked so long: not hard work, nor work requiring
thought, but simple entering and ticking off of names,
which a man can do mechanically-on summer after-
noons, with the window open and an occasional bee
buzzing in from Hainault Forest, and the sweet smell
of the vats and the drowsy rolling of the machinery-
one can do the work half asleep and never make a mis-
take. Now he would have to undertake some different
I
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
389
kind of work, more responsible work: he would have
to order and direct; he would have a chair instead of a
stool, and a table instead of a desk. So that he began
to wish that he had in the old days gone further in his
studies-but he was always slow at learning-before
the accident happened; and to wonder if anything at
all remained of the knowledge he had then painfully
acquired after all these years.
As a matter of fact, nothing remained. Josephus
had become perfectly, delightfully, inconceivably stu-
pid. He had forgotten everything, and could now learn
no new thing. Pending the decision of Miss Messen-
ger, to whom the case was referred, they tried him with
all sorts of simple work-correspondence, answering
letters, any of the things which require a little intelli-
gence. Josephus could do nothing. He sat like a
helpless boy and looked at the documents. Then they
let him alone, and for a while he came every day, sat all
day long, half asleep, and did nothing, and was much
less happy than when he had been kept at work from
nine o'clock in the morning till six o'clock at night.
When Harry remembered the packet of papers placed
in his hand, which was on the following morning, he
read them. And the effect of his reading was that he
did not go to work that morning at all.
He was not a lawyer, and the principal paper was a
legal instrument, the meaning of which it took him
some little time to make out.
"Hum-hum-um-why can't they write plain Eng-
lish. 'I give to my said trustees, John Skelton and
Benjamin Bunker, the three freehold houses as follows:
that called number twenty-nine on Stepney Green,
forty-five in Beaumont Square, and twenty-three in
Redman's Row, upon trust to apply the rents and in-
come of the same as in their absolute discretion they
may think fit for the maintenance, education, and bene-
fit of the said Caroline, until she be twenty-one years
old or until she marry, and to invest from time to time
the accumulations of such rents and income as is here-
intofore provided, and to apply the same when invested
in all respects as I direct concerning the last above-
mentioned premises. And when the said Caroline shall
attain the age of twenty-one, or marry, I direct my said
390
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
I
I
trustees to pay to her the said rents and income and the
income of the accumulation of the same, if any during
her life, by four equal quarterly payments for her sole
and separate use, free from the debts and engagements
of any husband or husbands she may marry; and I di-
rect that on the death of the said Caroline my said trus-
tees shall hold and stand possessed of all the said prem-
ises for such person or persons and in such maner in
all respects as the said Caroline shall by deed or will
appoint. And in default of such appointment and so
far as the same shall not extend upon trust'—and so on
and so on.
""
Harry read this document with a sense, at first, of
mystification. Then he read it a second time, and be-
gan to understand it.
"The houses," he said, "my mother's houses, are
hers, free from any debts contracted by her husband:
they are vested in trustees for her behalf; she could not
sell or part with them. And the trustees were John
Skelton and Benjamin Bunker. John Skelton-gone
to Abraham's bosom, I suppose. Benjamin Bunker-
where will he go to? The houses were tied up-set-
tled-entailed."
He read the document right through for the third
time.
"So," he said. "The house at number twenty-nine
Stepney Green. That is the house which Bunker calls.
his own; the house of the Associated Dressmakers; and
it's mine-mine." He clinched his fist and looked dan-
gerous. "Then the house at twenty-three Redman's
Row, and at forty-five Beaumont Square. Two more.
houses. Also mine. And Bunker, the perfidious Bun-
ker, calls them all his own! What shall be done to
Bunker?"
"Next," he went on, after reading the document
again, "Bunker is a fraudulent trustee, and his brother
trustee too, unless he has gone dead. Of that there can
be no doubt whatever. That virtuous and benevolent
Bunker was my mother's trustee-and mine. And he
calmly appropriates the trust to his own uses-Uncle
Bunker! Uncle Bunker!"
“I knew from the beginning that there was some-
thing wrong. First, I thought he had taken a sum of
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
391
money from Lord Jocelyn. Then I found out that he
had got possession of houses in a mysterious manner.
And now I find that he was simply the trustee.
Wicked Uncle Bunker!"
Armed with his precious document, he put on his hat
and walked straight off, resolution on his front, toward
his uncle's office. He arrived just when Mr. Bunker
was about to start on a daily round among his houses.
By this frequent visitation he kept up the hearts of his
tenants, and taught them the meaning of necessity;
so that they put by their money and religiously paid
the rent. Else
"Pray," said Harry, "be so good as to take off your
hat, and sit down and have five minutes' talk with
me."
"No, sir," said Bunker, "I will not. You can go
away, do you hear? Be off; let me lock my office and
go about my own business."
"Do take off your hat, my uncle."
"Go, sir, do you hear?"
"Sit down and let us talk-my honest-trustee!"
Mr. Bunker dropped into a chair.
In all the conversations and dramatic scenes made
up in his own mind to account for the possession of the
houses, it had never occurred to him that the fact of his
having been a trustee would come to light.
All were
dead, except himself, who were concerned in that trust:
he had forgotten by this time that there was any deed:
by ignoring the trust he simplified, to his own mind,
the transfer of the houses; and during all these years
he had almost forgotten the obligations of the trust.
"What do you mean?" he stammered.
Virtuous uncle! I mean that I know all. Do you
quite understand me? I mean really and truly all.
Yes: all that there is to know-all that you hide away
in your own mind and think that no one knows."
What-what-what do you know?"
First, I know which the houses are-I mean my
houses-my mother's houses. The house in Stepney
Green that you have let to Miss Kennedy is one; a house
in Beaumont Square-do you wish to know the num-
ber?-is another; and a house in Redman's Row-and
do you want to know the number of that?—is the third.
CC
(C
392
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
You have collected the rents of those houses and paid
those rents to your own account for twenty years and
more.'
66 Go on.
Let us hear what you pretend to know.
Suppose they were Caroline's houses, what then?" He
spoke with an attempt at bounce; but he was pale, and
his eyes were unsteady.
"This next. These houses, man of probity, were not
my
mother's property to dispose of as she pleased."
Oh! whose were they, then?”
They were settled upon her and her heirs after her;
and the property was placed in the hands of two trus-
tees yourself, my praiseworthy; and a certain John.
Skelton, of whom I know nothing. Presumably, he is
dead."
Mr. Bunker made no reply at all. But his cheek
grew paler.
"Shall I repeat this statement, or is that enough for
you?" asked Harry. "The situation is pretty, perhaps
not novel: the heir has gone away, probably never to
come back again; the trustee, sole surviving, no doubt
receives the rents. Heir comes back. Trustee swears
the houses are his own. When the trustee is brought
before a court of law and convicted, the judge says that
the case is one of peculiar enormity, and must be met
by transportation for five-and-twenty years; five-and
-twenty-years, my patriarch! think of that, in uni-
form and with short hair.'
""
(4
""
Mr. Bunker said nothing. But by the agitation of
his fingers it was plain that he was thinking a great
deal.
"I told you," cried Harry. "I warned you, some time
ago, that you must now begin to think seriously about
handcuffs and prison, and men in blue. The time has
come now, when, unless you make restitution of all that
you have taken, action will be taken, and you will real-
ize what it is that people think of the fraudulent trustee.
Uncle Bunker, my heart bleeds for you.
""
"Why did you come here?" asked his uncle, pit-
eously. "Why did you come here at all? We got on
very well without you-very well and comfortably, in-
deed."
This seemed a feeble sort of bleat. But, in fact, the
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
393
Bunker's mind was for the moment prostrated.
had no sound resistance left.
He
"I offered you," he went on, "twenty-five pounds-
to go. I'll double it-there. I'll give you fifty pounds
to go, if you'll go at once. So that there will be an end
to all this trouble.'
"Consider," said Harry, "there's the rent of Miss
Kennedy's house-sixty-five pounds a year for that;
there's the house in Beaumont Square-fifty for that;
and the house in Redman's Row at five-and-twenty at
least: comes to a hundred and forty pounds a year,
which you have drawn, my precious uncle, for twenty-
one years at least. That makes, without counting in-
terest, two thousand nine hundred and forty pounds.
And you want to buy me off for fifty pounds!"
"Not half the money-not half the money!" his uncle
groaned. "There's repairs and painting-and bad ten-
ants; not half the money."
66
"We will say, then," lightly replied his nephew, as
if nine hundred were a trifle, we will say two thou-
sand pounds. The heir to that property has come back;
he says, 'Give me my houses, and give me an account
of the discharge of your trust.' Now"-Harry rose
from the table on which he had been sitting-"let us
have no more bounce: the game is up.
I have in my
pocket-here," he tapped his coat-pocket, "the original
deed itself. Do you want to know where it was found?
Behind a safe at the Brewery, where it was hidden by
your brother-in-law, Bob Coppin, with all the country
notes which got Josephus into a mess. As for the date
I will remind you that it was executed about thirty-five
years ago, when my mother was still a girl and unmar-
ried, and you had recently married her sister. I have
the deed here. What is more, it has been seen by the
chief accountant at the Brewery, who gave it me.
Bunker, the game is up."
He moved toward the door.
"Have you anything to say before I go? I am now
going straight to a lawyer."
"What is the-the-lowest-O good Lord!-the
very lowest figure that you will take to square it? Oh!
be merciful; I am a poor man, indeed a very poor man,
394
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
though they think me warm.
save to get along at all."
"Two thousand," said Harry.
Yet I must scrape and
Make it fifteen hundred. Oh! fifteen hundred to
clear off all scores, and then you can go away out of the
place; I could borrow fifteen hundred."
"Two thousand," Harry repeated. "Of course, be-
sides the houses, which are mine.”
"Besides the houses? Never. You may do your
worst. You may drag your poor old uncle, now sixty
years of age, before the courts, but two thousand be-
sides the houses? Never!"
He banged the floor with his stick, but his agitation
was betrayed by the nervous tapping of the end upon.
the oil-cloth which followed the first hasty bang.
"No bounce, if you please." Harry took out his
watch. "I will give you five minutes to decide; or, if
your mind is already made up, I will go and ask advice
of a lawyer at once."
"I cannot give you that sum of money," Bunker de-
clared; "it is not that I would not; I would if I could.
Business has been bad; sometimes I've spent more than
I've made; and what little I've saved I meant always
for you I did, indeed. I said, 'I will make it up to
him. He shall have it back with
رود
"One minute gone," said Harry, relentlessly.
"Oh! this is dreadful. Why, to get even fifteen
hundred I should have to sell all my little property at a
loss; and what a dreadful thing it is to sell property at
a loss! Give me more time to consider, only a week or
so, just to look round.”
"Three minutes left," said Harry the hardened.
66
66 'Oh! oh! oh!" He burst into tears and weeping of
genuine grief, and shame, and rage. Oh, that a
nephew should be found to persecute his uncle in such
a way! Where is your Christian charity? Where is
forgiving and remitting?"
"Only two minutes left," said Harry, unmoved.
Then Bunker fell upon his knees: he grovelled and
implored pardon; he offered one house, two houses, and
twelve hundred pounds, fifteen hundred pounds, eigh
teen hundred pounds.
"One minute left," said Harry.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
395
Then he sat down and wiped the tears from his eyes,
and in good round terms-in Poplar, Limehouse, Shad-
well, Wapping, and Ratcliff Highway terms-he cursed
his nephew, and the houses, and the trust, and all that
therein lay, because, before the temptation came, ho
was an honest man, whereas now he should never be
able to look Stepney in the face again.
"Time's up," said Harry, putting on his hat.
In face of the inevitable, Mr. Bunker showed an im-
mediate change of front. He neither prayed, nor wept,
nor swore. He became once more the complete man
of business. He left the stool of humiliation, and seated
himself on his own Windsor chair before his own table.
Here, pen in hand, he seemed as if he were dictating
rather than accepting terms.
"Don't go," he said. "I accept.'
"Very good," Harry replied. "You know what is
best for yourself. As for me, I don't want to make
more fuss than is necessary. You know the terms?"
"Two thousand down; the three houses; and a com-
plete discharge in full of all claims. Those are the con-
ditions."
CC
'Yes, those are the conditions."
"I will draw up the discharge," said Mr. Bunker,
"and then no one need be any the wiser.”
Harry laughed. This cool and business-like compro-
mise of felony pleased him.
"You may draw it up if you like. But my opinion
of your ability is so great, that I shall have to show the
document to a solicitor for his approval and admira-
tion."
66
ور
(C
Mr. Bunker was disconcerted.
He had hoped-that
is, thought-he saw his way; but never mind. He
quickly recovered and said, with decision:
CC
Go to Lawyer Pike, in the Mile End Road."
Why? Is the Honorable Pike a friend of yours?"
CC
No, he isn't; that is why I want you to go to him.
Tell him that you and I have long been wishing to clear
up these accounts, and that you've agreed to take the
two thousand with the houses." Mr. Bunker seemed
now chiefly anxious that the late deplorable scene should
be at once forgotten and forgiven. "He said the other
day that I was nothing better than a common grinder
396
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
and oppressor. Now, when he sees what an honorable
trustee I am, he will be sorry he said that. You can
tell everybody if you like. Why, what is it? Here's
my nephew comes home to me and says, 'Give me my
houses.' I say, 'Prove your title. Didn't I say so?
How was I to know that he was my nephew? Then
the gentleman comes who took him away, and says,
'He is your long-lost nephew;' and I say, "Take your
houses, young man, with the accumulations of the rent
hoarded up for you.' Why, you can tell everybody that
story."
"I will leave you to tell it, Bunker, your own way.
Everybody will believe that way of telling the story.
What is more, I will not go out of my way to contra-
dict it."
"Very good, then. And on that understanding I
withdraw all the harsh things I may have said to you,
nephew. And we can be good friends again."
66
Certainly, if you like," said Harry, and fairly ran
away for fear of being called upon to make more con-
cessions.
66
"It's a terrible blow!" The old man sat down and
wiped his forehead. To think of two thousand down!
But it might have been much worse. Ah! it might
have been very, very much worse. I've done better
than I expected, when he said he had the papers. The
young man's a fool-a mere fool. The houses let for
£150 a year, and they have never been empty for six
months together; and the outside repairs are a trifle,
and I've saved it all every year. Ha! now a hundred
and fifty pounds a year for twenty years and more,
at compound interest only five per cent., is close on
£5,000. I've calculated it out often enough to know.
Yes, and I've made five per cent. on it, and sometimes
six and seven, and more, with no losses. It might
have been far, far worse. It's come to £7,000 if it's a
penny. And to get rid of that awful fear and that
devil of a boy with his grins and his sneers at £2,000,
why, it's cheap, I call it cheap. As for the houses, I'll
get them back, see if I don't.
در
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
397
CHAPTER XLIV.
A FOOL AND HIS MONEY.
MR. PIKE, the solicitor of the Mile End Road, does
not belong to the story-which is a pity, because he has
many enviable qualities-further than is connected with
Harry's interview with him.
""
He read the documents and heard the story from be-
ginning to end. When he had quite mastered all the
details he began mildly to express astonishment and
pity that any young man could be such a fool. This
was hard, because Harry really thought he had done a
"You have been taken in, sir,'
mighty clever thing.
said Mr. Pike, "in a most barefaced and impudent
manner. Two thousand pounds! Why, the mere rent
alone, without counting interest, is three thousand.
Go away, sir; find out this fraudulent impostor, and tell
him that you will have nothing to do with him short of
a full account and complete restitution."
"I cannot do that," said Harry.
66
Why not?"
“Because I have passed my word."
"I think, young man, you said you were a cabinet-
maker-though you look something better."
"Yes, I belong to that trade."
"Since when, may I ask, have cabinet-makers been
so punctilious as to their promises?"
"The fact is," said Harry gravely, "we have turned
over a new leaf, and are now all on the side of truth
and honor.
""
(6
Humph! Then there is nothing to do but to give
the man a receipt in full and a discharge. You are of
age; you can do this if you like. Shall I draw it up
for you, and receive the money, and take over the
houses?"
This was settled, therefore, and in this way Harry
became a rich man, with houses and money in the
funds.
As for Bunker, he made the greatest mistake in his
398
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
life when he sent his nephew to Mr. Pike. He should
have known, but he was like the ostrich when he runs
his head into the sand, and believes from the secure re-
treat that he is invisible to his hunters. For his own
version of the incident was palpably absurd; and, be-
sides, Mr. Pike heard Harry's account of the matter.
Therefore, though Bunker thought to heap coals of fire
upon his enemy's head, he only succeeded in throwing
them under his feet, which made him kick-"for who
can go upon hot coals and his feet not be burned?" The
good man is now, therefore, laboring under a cloud of
prejudice which does not seem to lift, though perhaps he
will live it down. Other events have happened since,
which have operated to his prejudice. Everybody
knows how he received his nephew; what wicked things
he said everywhere about him; and what rumors he
spread about Miss Kennedy: everybody knows that he
had to disgorge houses-actually, houses-which he had
appropriated. This knowledge is common property;
and it is extremely unpleasant for Mr. Bunker when he
takes his walks abroad to be cruelly assailed by ques-
tions which hit harder than any brickbat: they are
hurled at him by working-men and by street boys.
"Who stole the 'ouse?" for instance, is a very nasty
thing to be said to a gentleman who is professionally
connected with house property. I know not how this
knowledge came to be so generally known. Certainly
Harry did not spread it abroad. People, however, are
not fools, and can put things together; where the evil-
doings and backslidings of their friends are concerned
they are surprisingly sharp.
Now when the ownership of the house in Stepney
Green became generally known, there immediately
sprang up, as always happens on occasions of discovery,
rooting-out of facts, or exposure of wickedness, quite a
large crop of old inhabitants ready to declare that they
knew all along that the house on Stepney Green was
one of those belonging to old Mr. Coppin. He bought
it, they said, of Mr. Messenger, who was born there;
and it was one of three left to Caroline, who died
young. Who would believe that Mr. Bunker could
have been so wicked? Where is faith in brother man
since so eminent a professor of honesty has fallen?
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
399
Mr. Bunker suffers, but he suffers in silence; he may
be seen any day in the neighborhood of Stepney Green,
still engaged in his usual business; people may talk be-
hind his back, but talk breaks no bones; they don't
dare talk before his face; though he has lost two thous-
and pounds, there is still money left-he feels that he
is a warm man, and has money to leave behind him;
it will be said of him that he cut up well. Warmth of
all kinds comforts a man; but he confesses with a pang
that he did wrong to send his nephew to that lawyer,
who took the opportunity, when he drew up the dis-
charge and receipt, of giving him an opinion-unasked
and unpaid for-as to his conduct in connection with
the trust. There could be no mistake at all about the
meaning and force of that opinion. And, oddly
enough, whenever Mr. Bunker sees the queen's omni-
bus-that dark painted vehicle, driven by a policeman-
pass along the road, he thinks of Mr. Pike, and that
opinion returns to his memory, and he feels just exactly
as if a bucket of cold water was trickling down his
back by the nape of the neck. Even in warm weather
this is disagreeable. And it shows that the lawyer
must have spoken very strong words indeed, and that
although Mr. Bunker, like the simple ones and the
scorners, wished for none of the lawyer's counsel, un-
like them he did not despise their reproof. Yet he is
happier, now that the blow has fallen, than he was
while he was awaiting it and dreaming of handcuffs.
We anticipate; but we have, indeed, seen almost the
last of Mr. Bunker. It is sad to part with him. But
we have no choice.
In the evening Harry went as usual to the draw-
ing-room. He stayed, however, after the girls went
away. There was nothing unusual in his doing so.
"Girls in my position," said the dressmaker, "are not
tied by the ordinary rules." To-night, however, he
had something to say.
"Congratulate me," he cried, as soon as they were
alone. "I have turned out, as the story-books say, to
be the heir to vast sums of money.
""
Angela turned pale. She was reassured, however,
on learning the extent of the heritage.
"Consider my romantic story," said Harry. "In-
400
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
stead of finding myself the long-lost heir, strawberry-
mark and all, to an earldom, I am the son of a sergeant
in the Line. And then, just as I am getting over the
blow, I find myself the owner of three houses and
two thousand pounds. What workman ever had two
thousand pounds before? There was an under-gardener
I knew," he went on meditatively, "who once got a
hundred; he called it a round hundred, I remember.
He and his wife went on the hospitable drink for a
fortnight; then they went to hospital for a month with
trimmings; and then went back to work—the money
all gone-and joined the Primitive Methodists. Can't
we do something superior in the shape of a burst or
a boom, for the girls, with two thousand pounds?"
66
Tell me," said Angela, "how you got it."
He narrated the whole story, for her instruction and
amusement, with some dramatic force, impersonating
Bunker's wrath, terror, and entreaties, and final busi-
ness-like collapse.
"So that," said Angela, "you are now a man of
property, and will, I suppose, give up the work at the
brewery.
">
"Do you think I should?"
"I do not like to see any man idle, and❞—she hesi-
tated-" especially you."
(C
Thank you," said Harry.
" said Harry. "Then I remain. The
question of the two thousand pounds-my cool two
thousand-I am the winner of the two thousand-in re-
serve. As for this house, however, decided steps must
be taken. Listen, Queen of the Mystery of Dress! You
pay Bunker sixty-five pounds a year or so for the rent
of this house; that is a good large deduction from the
profits of the Association. I have been thinking, if you
approve, that I will have this house conveyed to you in
trust for the Association. Then you will be rent-free."
'But that is a very, very generous offer. You really
wish to give us this house altogether for ourselves!"
"If you will accept it."
(C
"You have only these houses, and you give us the
best of them. Is it right and just to strip yourself?"
"
How many houses should I have? Now there are
two left, and their rent brings in seventy pounds a year,
and I have two thousand pounds which will bring in
?
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
401
IF
another eighty pounds a year. I am rich-much too
rich for a common cabinet-maker.'
"Oh!" she said, "what can we do but accept? And
how shall we show our gratitude? But, indeed, we
can do nothing."
"I want nothing," said Harry. "I have had so
much happiness in this place that I can want for noth-
ing. It is for me to show my gratitude.
""
"Thank you," she replied, giving him her hand. He
stooped and kissed it, but humbly, as one who accepts
a small favor gratefully and asks for no more.
They were alone in the drawing-room; the fire was
low; only one lamp was burning; Angela was sitting
beside the fire; her face was turned from him. A
mighty wave of love was mounting in the young man's
brain; but a little more, a very little more, and he
would have been kneeling at her feet. She felt the
danger; she felt it the more readily because she was.
so deeply moved herself. What had she given the
girls, out of her abundance, compared with what he
had given out of his slender portion? Her eyes filled
with tears. Then she sprang to her feet and touched
his hand again.
"Do not forget your promise," she said.
(6
""
'My promise? Oh! how long-
"Patience," she replied. "Give me a little while-a
little while-only-and-
"Forgive me," he said, kissing her hand again.
"Forgive me."
"Let me go," she went on. "It is eleven o'clock."
They put out the lamp and went out. The night was
clear and bright.
"Do not go in just yet," said Harry. "It is pleasant
out here, and I think the stars are brighter than they
are at the West End."
66
رو
Everything is better here," said Angela, "than at
the West End. Here we have hearts, and can feel for
each other. Here we are all alike-workmen and work-
women together."
"You are a prejudiced person. Let us talk of the
Palace of Delight-your dream."
"Your invention," said Angela.
-
Won't my two thousand go some way in starting
26
402
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
it? Perhaps, if we could just start it, the thing would
go on of its own accord. Why, see what you have
done with your girls already."
"But I must have a big Palace-a noble building, fur-
nished with everything that we want. No, my friend,
we will take your house because it is a great and noble
gift, but you shall not sacrifice your money. Yet we
will have that Palace, and before long. And when it
99
is ready-
"Yes, when it is ready."
"Perhaps the opening of the Palace will be, for all
of us, the beginning of a new happiness."
""
"You speak in a parable.
"No," she said, "I speak in sober earnestness.
Now
let me go. Remember what I say; the opening of the
Palace may be, if you will-for all of us
"For you and me?”
'For-yes-for you-and for me. Good-night."
در
رو
CHAPTER XLV.
LADY DAVENANT'S DINNER-PARTY.
LADY DAVENANT had now been in full enjoyment of
her title in Portman Square, where one enjoys such
things more thoroughly than on Stepney Green, for
four or five weeks. She at first enjoyed it so much that
she thought of nothing but the mere pleasure of the
greatness. She felt an uplifting of heart every time
she walked up and down the stately stairs; another
every time she sat at the well-furnished dinner table;
and another whenever she looked about her in the
drawing-room. She wrote copious letters to her friend
Aurelia Tucker during these days. She explained with
fulness of detail, and in terms calculated to make that
lady expire of envy, the splendor of her position; and
for at least five weeks she felt as if the hospitality of
Miss Messenger actually brought with it a complete re-
cognition of her claim. Her husband, not so sanguine
as herself, knew very well that the time would come
when the Case would have to be taken up again and
sent in to the proper quarter for examination. Mean-
+
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
403
time he was resigned, and even happy. Three square
meals a day, each of them abundant, each a masterpiece.
of art, were enough to satisfy that remarkable twist
which, as her ladyship was persuaded, one knows not
on what grounds, had always been a distinguishing
mark of the Davenants. Familiarity speedily recon-
ciled him to the presence of the footmen; he found in
the library a most delightful chair in which he could
sleep all the morning; and it pleased him to be driven
through the streets in a luxurious carriage under soft,
warm furs, in which one can take the air and get a
splendid appetite without fatigue.
They were seen about a great deal. It was a part of
Angela's design that they should, when the time came
for going back again, seem to themselves to have
formed a part of the best society in London. There-
fore she gave instructions to her maid that her visitors
were to go to all the public places, the theatres, con-
certs, exhibitions, and places of amusement. The little
American lady knew so little what she ought to see and
whither she ought to go, that she fell back on Campion
for advice and help. It was Campion who suggested a
theatre in the evening, the Exhibition of Old Masters
or the Grosvenor Gallery in the morning, and Regent
Street in the afternoon; it was Campion who pointed
out the recognized superiority of Westminster Abbey,
considered as a place of worship for a lady of exalted
rank, over a chapel up a back street, of the Baptist per-
suasion, to which at her own home Lady Davenant had
belonged. It was Campion who went with her and
showed her the shops, and taught her the delightful art
of spending her money-the money "lent" ber by Miss.
Messenger-in the manner becoming to a peeress. She
was so clever and sharp, that she caught at every hint
dropped by the lady's-maid; she reformed her husband's
ideas of evening-dress; she humored his weaknesses;
she let him keep his eyes wide open at a farce or a bal-
let on the understanding that at a concert or a sermon
he might blamelessly sleep through it; she even began
to acquire rudimentary ideas on the principles of art.
"I confess, my dear Aurelia," she wrote, "that habit
soon renders even these marble halls familiar. I have
become perfectly reconciled to the splendor of English
404
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
patrician life, and now feel as if I had been born to it.
Tall footmen no longer frighten me, nor the shouting
of one's name after the theatre. Of course the outward
marks of respect one receives as one's due, when one
belongs, by the gift of Providence, to a great and noble
house.'
This was all very pleasant; yet Lady Davenant be-
gan to yearn for somebody, if it were only Mrs. Bor-
malack, with whom she could converse. She wanted
a long chat. Perhaps Miss Kennedy or Mrs. Bor-
malack, or the sprightly Mr. Goslett, might be induced
to come and spend a morning with her, or a whole day,
if only they would not feel shy and frightened in so
splendid a place.
Meantime some one connected with the Press" got
to hear of a soi-disant Lord Davenant who was often
to be seen with his wife in boxes at theatres and other
places of resort. He heard, this intellectual connection
of the Press, people asking each other who Lord Dave-
nant was; he inquired of the Red Book, and received
no response; he thereupon perceived that here was an
opportunity for a sensation and a mystery. He found
out where Lord Davenant was living, by great good
luck-it was through taking a single four of whiskey
in a bar frequented by gentlemen in plush; and he pro-
ceeded to call upon his lordship and to interview him.
The result appeared in a long communique which
attracted general and immediate interest. The jour-
nalist set forth at length and in the most graphic man-
ner the strange and romantic career of the condescend-
ing wheelwright; he showed how the discovery was
made, and how, after many years, the illustrious pair
had crossed the Atlantic to put forward their claim; and
how they were offered the noble hospitality of a young
lady of princely fortune. It was a most delightful god-
send to the paper in which it appeared, and it came at
a time when the House was not sitting, and there was
no wringle-wrangle of debates to furnish material for
the columns of big type which are supposed to sway
the masses. The other papers therefore seized upon the
topic and had leading articles upon it, in which the
false Demetrius, the pretending Palæologus, Perkin
Warbeck, Lambert Simnel, George Psalmanazar, the
(C

ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
405
1
.
:
E
Languishing Nobleman, the Earl of Mar, the Count of
Albany, with other claims and claimants, furnished
illustrations to the claims of the Davenants. The pub-
licity given to the Case by these articles delighted her
ladyship beyond everything, while it abashed and con-
founded her lord. He saw in it the beginning of more
exertion, and strenuous efforts after the final recog-
nition. And she carefully cut out all the articles and
sent them to her nephew Nicholas, to her friend Au-
relia Tucker, and to the editor of the Canaan City
Express with her compliments. And she felt all the
more, in the midst of this excitement, that if she did
not have some one to talk to she must go back to Step-
ney Green and spend a day. Or she would die.
It was at this juncture that Campion, perhaps in-
spired by secret instructions, suggested that her lady-
ship must be feeling a little lonely, and must want
to see her friends. Why not, she said, ask them to
dinner?
-
A dinner-party, Lady Davenant reflected, would
serve not only to show her old friends the reality of her
position, but would also please them as a mark of kindly
remembrance. Only, she reflected, dinner at Stepney
Green had not the same meaning that it possesses at
the West End. The best dinner in that locality is that
which is most plentiful, and there are no attempts made
to decorate a table. Another thing, dinner is taken
universally between one o'clock and two. "I think,
Clara Martha," said his lordship, whom she consulted
in this affair of state, "that at any time of day such a
Feast of Belshazzar as you will give them will be grate-
ful; and they may call it dinner or supper, which ever
they please.
""
Thereupon Lady Davenant wrote a letter to Mrs.
Bormalack inviting the whole party. She explained
that they had met with the most splendid hospitality
from Miss Messenger, in whose house they were still
staying; that they had become public characters, and
had been the subject of discussion in the papers, which
caused them to be much stared at and followed in the
streets, and in theatres and concert-rooms; that they
were both convinced that their case would soon be tri-
umphant; that they frequently talked over old friends
1
406
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
of Stepney, and regretted that the distance between
them was so great-though distance, she added kindly,
cannot divide hearts; and that, if Mrs. Bormalack's
party would come over together and dine with them,
it would be taken as a great kindness, both by herself
and by his lordship. She added that she hoped they
would all come, including Mr. Fagg and old Mr. Mal-
iphant and Mr. Josephus, "though," she added with a
little natural touch, "I doubt whether Mr. Maliphant
ever gave me a thought; and Mr. Josephus was always
too much occupied with his own misfortunes to mind
any business of mine. And, dear Mrs. Bormalack,
please remember that when we speak of dinner we mean
what you call supper. It is exactly the same thing,
only served a little earlier. We take ours at eight
o'clock instead of nine. His lordship desires me to add
that he shall be extremely disappointed if Mr. Goslett
does not come; and you will tell Miss Kennedy, whose
kindness I can never forget, the same from me, and
that she must bring Nelly and Rebekah and Captain
Sorensen."
The letter was received with great admiration. Jo-
sephus, who had blossomed into a complete new suit of
clothes of juvenile cut, declared that the invitation did
her ladyship great credit, and that now his misfortunes.
were finished he should be rejoiced to take his place
in society. Harry laughed, and said that of course he
would go.
"And you, Miss Kennedy?"
Angela colored. Then she said that she would try
to go.
And if Mr. Maliphant and Daniel only go too," said
Harry, “we shall be as delightful a party as were ever
gathered together at one dinner-table."
It happened that about this time Lord Jocelyn re-
membered the American claimants, and his promise to
call upon them. He therefore called, and was received
with the greatest cordiality by her little ladyship, and
with wondrous affability, as becomes one man of rank
toward another, by Lord Davenant.
It was her ladyship who volubly explained their
claim to him, and the certainty of the assumption that
their Timothy Clitheroe was the lost heir to the same
two Christian names; her husband only folded his fat
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
407
hands over each other, and from time to time wagged
his head.
"You are the first of my husband's brother peers,
she said, "who has called upon us. We shall not for-
get this kindness from your lordship."
66
But I am not a peer at all," he explained; "I am
only a younger son with a courtesy title. I am quite a
small personage."
""
"Which makes it all the kinder," said her ladyship;
"and I must say that, grand as it is, in this big house,
one does get tired of hearin' no voice but your own-
and my husband spends a good deal of his time in the
study. Oh! a man of great literary attainments, and
a splendid mathematician. I assure your lordship not
a man or a boy in Canaan City can come near him in
algebra."
66
Up to a certain point, Clara Martha," said her hus-
band, meaning that there might be lofty heights in
science to which even he himself could not soar.
(C
Quadratic equations, my lord."
Lord Jocelyn made an original remark about the im-
portance of scientific pursuits.
"And since you are so friendly," continued her lady-
ship, "I will venture to invite your lordship to dine
with us.
دو
"Certainly. I shall be greatly pleased."
"We have got a few friends coming to-morrow even-
ing," said her ladyship, rather grandly. "Friends from
Whitechapel."
Lord Jocelyn looked curious.
"Yes, Mr. Josephus Coppin and his cousin Mr. Gos-
lett, a sprightly young man who respects rank."
"He is coming, is he?" asked Lord Jocelyn, laughing.
And then there is Miss Kennedy-
66
""
"She is coming too?" He rose with alacrity. "Lady
Davenant, I shall be most happy to come, I assure you."
It was most unfortunate that next day Miss Kennedy
had such a dreadful headache, that she found herself
prevented from going with the rest. This was a great
disappointment, and at the last moment old Mr. Mali-
phant could not be found, and they had to start without
him.
How they performed the journey, how Harry man-
408
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
aged to let most of the party go on before, because of
his foolish pride, which would not let him form one of
a flock all going out together, and how he with Captain
Sorensen and Nelly came on after the rest, may be
passed over.
When he got to Portman Square, he found the first
detachment already arrived, and, to his boundless
astonishment, his guardian. Lady Davenant, arrayed
in her black velvet and the jewels which Angela gave
her, looked truly magnificent. Was it possible, Mrs.
Bormalack thought, that such a transformation could
be effected in a woman by a velvet gown? She even
looked tall. She received her friends with unaffected
kindness, and introduced them all to Lord Jocelyn.
"Mrs. Bormalack, your lordship, my former land-
lady, and always my very good friend. Professor
Climo, your lordship, the famous conjurer. And I'm
sure the way he makes things disappear makes you
believe in magic. Mr. Fagg, the great scholar; of
whom, perhaps, your lordship has heard. Mr. Josephus
Coppin, who has been unfortunate." Lord Jocelyn
wondered what that meant. "Miss Rebekah Hermitage,
whose father is minister of the Seventh Day Indepen-
dents, and a most respectable connection, though small
in number. Captain Sorensen, your lordship, who comes
from the Trinity Almshouse, and Nellie his daughter;
and Mr. Goslett. And I think that is all; and the
sooner they let us have dinner the better."
Lord Jocelyn shook hands with everybody. When
it came to Harry, he laughed, and they both laughed,
but they did not say why.
"And where is Miss Kennedy?" asked her ladyship.
And there were great lamentations.
"I wanted your
lordship to see Miss Kennedy. Oh, there's nobody like
Miss Kennedy-is there, Nelly?"
"Nobody," said Nelly. "There can be nobody like
Miss Kennedy." Lord Jocelyn was struck with the
beauty of this girl, whom he remembered seeing at the
dressmakery. He began to hope that she would sit
next to him at dinner.
66
Nobody half so beautiful in all Stepney, is there?"
"Nobody half so good," said Rebekah.
Then the dinner was announced, and there was con-
!
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
409
1
fusion in going down, because nobody would go before
Lord Jocelyn, who, therefore, had to lead the way.
Lord Davenant offered his arm to Mrs. Bormalack,
Harry to Nelly, and Captain Sorensen to Rebekah.
The professor, Mr. Fagg, and Josephus came last.
“To be sure,” said Mrs. Bormalack, looking about
her, thankful that she had put on her best cap, "mag-
nificence was expected, as was your lordship's due, but
such as this-no, young man, I never take soup unless
I've made it myself, and am quite sure-such as this,
my lord, we did not expect.
>>
She was splendid in her beautiful best cap, all rib-
bons and bows, with an artificial dahlia in it of a far-
off fashion-say, the forties; the sight of the table,
with its plate and flowers and fruit, filled her with ad-
miration, but, as she now says in recalling that stu-
pendous feed, there was too much ornament, which
kept her mind off the cooking, so that she really car-
ried away no new ideas for Stepney use. Nelly did sit
next to Lord Jocelyn, who talked with her, and found
that she was shy until he touched upon Miss Kennedy.
Then she waxed eloquent, and told him marvels, for-
getting that he was a stranger who probably knew and
cared nothing about Miss Kennedy. But Nelly be-
longed to that very numerous class which believes its
own affairs of the highest interest to the world at
large, and in this instance Miss Kennedy was a subject
of the deepest interest to her neighbors. Wherefore he
listened while she told what had been done for the
workgirls by one woman, one of themselves.
Opposite, on Lady Davenant's left, sat Captain Sor-
ensen. In the old days the captains of East Indiamen
were not unacquainted with great men's tables, but
it was long since he had sat at such a feast. Presently
Lord Jocelyn began to look at him curiously.
"Who is the old gentleman opposite?" he whispered
to Nelly.
(6
That is my father; he was a captain once, and com-
manded a great ship."
V
"I thought so," said Lord Jocelyn. "I remember
him, but he has forgotten me."
Next to the captain sat Rebekah, looking prepared for
any fate, and not unduly uplifted by the splendor of
410
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
the scene.
But for her, as well as for nearly all who
were present, the word dinner will henceforth have
a new and exalted meaning. The length of the feast,
the number of things offered, the appointments of the
table, struck her imagination; she thought of Belshazzar
and of Herod; such as the feast before her were those
feasts of old; she tasted the champagne, and it took
away her breath; yet it seemed good. Mr. Goslett
seemed to think so too, because he drank so many
glasses.
So did the others, and, being inexperienced in wine,
they drank with more valor than discretion, so that
they began to talk loud, but that was not till later.
"Do people-rich people always dine like this?"
asked Nelly of her neighbor.
"Something like this; yes, that is, some such dinner,
though simpler, is always prepared for them."
"I was thinking," she said, "how differently people
live. I would rather live in our way-with Miss Ken-
nedy-than in so much grandeur."
Grandeur soon becomes a matter of habit.
But as
for Miss Kennedy, you cannot live always with her,
can you?"
66
"Why not?"
“Well, she may marry, you know.”
Nelly looked across the table at Harry.
"I suppose she will; we all of us hope she will, if it
is to stay with us; but that need not take her away
from us.
""
"Do you know Miss Messenger?"
"No," said Nelly; "she has been very kind to us
she is our best customer, she sends us all sorts of kind
messages, and presents even; and she sends us her love
and best wishes; I think she must be very fond of
Miss Kennedy. She promises to come some day and
visit us.
Whenever I think of Miss Messenger, I
think, somehow, that she must be like Miss Kennedy;
only I cannot understand Miss Kennedy being rich and
the owner of this great house.”
When the ladies retired, at length, it became mani-
fest that Josephus had taken more wine than was good
for him. He laughed loudly; he told everybody that
he was going to begin all over again, classes and lect-
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
411
ures and everything, including the Sunday-school and
the church membership. The professor, who, for his
part, seemed indisposed for conversation, retained the
mastery over his fingers, and began to prepare little
tricks, and presently conveyed oranges into Lord Dave-
nant's coat-tails without moving from his chair. And
Daniel Fagg, whose cheek was flushed, and whose
eyes were sparkling, rose from his chair, and attacked
Lord Jocelyn, note-book in hand.
"Is your lo'ship," he began, with a perceptible thick-
ness of speech-Lord Jocelyn recognized him as the
man whom he had accosted at Stepney Green, and who
subsequently took dinner with the girls-"is your
lo'ship int'rested in Hebrew schriptions?"
"Very much indeed," said Lord Jocelyn, politely.
"Low me to put your lo'ship's name down for schrip-
tion, twelve-and-six? Book will come out next month,
Miss Ken'dy says so.
""
"Put up your book, Daniel," said Harry sternly,
"and sit down."
“I want-show-his lo'ship-a Hebrew schription."
He sat down, however, obediently, and immediately
fell fast asleep.
Said Lord Jocelyn to Captain Sorensen:
"I remember you, captain, very well indeed, but you
have forgotten me. Were you not in command of the
Sussex in the year of the Mutiny? Did you not take
me out with the 120th?”
66
To be sure to be sure I did; and I remember your
lordship very well, and am very glad to find you re-
member me. You were younger then.”
"I was; and how goes it with you now, captain?
Cheerfully as of old?"
66
Ay, ay, my lord. I'm in the Trinity Almshouse,
and my daughter is with Miss Kennedy, bless her!
Therefore I've nothing to complain of."
May I call upon you, some day, to talk over old
times? You used to sing a good song in those days,
and play a good tune, and dance a good dance."
<<
Come, my lord, as often as you like," he replied in
great good-humor. "The cabin is small, but it's cozy,
and the place is hard to get at.
"It is the queerest dinner I ever had, Harry," Lord
CC
412
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Jocelyn whispered. "I like our old captain and his
daughter. Is the hard-hearted dressmaker prettier than
Nellie?"
"Prettier! why, there is no comparison possible."
"Yet Nelly hath a pleasing manner."
"Miss Kennedy turns all her girls into ladies. Come
and see her."
66
Perhaps, Harry, perhaps; when she is no longer
hard-hearted; when she has named the happy day."
"This evening," said Lady Davenant, when they
joined her, “will be one that I never can forget. For
I've had my old friends round me, who were kind in
our poverty and neglect; and now I've your lordship,
too, who belongs to the new time. So that that it is a
joining together, as it were, and one don't feel like step-
ping out of our place into another quite different, as I
shall tell Aurelia, who says she is afraid that splendor
may make me forget old friends; whereas there is no-
body I should like to have with us this moment better
than Aurelia. But perhaps she judges others by her-
self."
"Lor!” cried Mrs. Bormalack, "to hear your lady-
ship go on! It's like an angel of goodness.
And the only thing that vexes me-it's enough to
spoil it all-is that Miss Kennedy couldn't come. Ah!
my lord, if you had only seen Miss Kennedy! Re-
bekah and Nelly are two good girls and pretty, but
you are not to compare with Miss Kennedy—are you,
dears?"
رو
They both shook their heads, and were not offended.
It was past eleven when they left to go home in cabs;
one contained the sleeping forms of Josephus and Mr.
Fagg; the next contained Captain Sorensen and Nelly,
with Harry. The Professor, who had partly revived,
came with Mrs. Bormalack and Rebekah in the last.
"You seemed to know Lord Jocelyn, Mr. Goslett,"
said the captain.
"I ought to," replied Harry simply; "he gave me
my education.'
"He was always a brave and generous officer, I re-
member," the captain went on. "Yes, I remember him
well; all the men would have followed him everywhere,
Well, he says he will come and see me,
ور
I
1
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
413
""
"Then he will come," said Harry, "if he said so.
Very good; if he comes, he shall see Miss Kennedy
،،
too."
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE END OF THE CASE.
THIS dinner, to which her ladyship will always look
back with the liveliest satisfaction, was the climax, the
highest point, so to speak, of her greatness, which was
destined to have a speedy fall. Angela asked Lord
Jocelyn to read through the papers and advise. She
told him of the professor's discovery, and of the book
which had belonged to the wheelwright, and every-
thing. Of course the opinion which he formed was
exactly that formed by Angela herself, and he told her
So.
"I have asked them to my house," Angela wrote, "be-
cause I want them to go home to their own people with
pleasant recollections of their stay in London. I should
like them to feel, not that their claim had broken down,
and that they were defeated, but that it had been ex-
amined, and was held to be not proven. I should be
very sorry if I thought that the little lady would cease
to believe in her husband's illustrious descent. Will
you help me to make her keep her faith as far as
possible and go home with as little disappointment as
possible?"
(C
"I will try," said Lord Jocelyn.
He wrote to Lady Davenant that he had given care-
ful consideration to the Case, and had taken opinions,
which was also true, because he made a lawyer, a her-
ald, and a peer all read the documents, and write him
a letter on the subject. He dictated all three letters,
it is true; but there is generally something to conceal
in this world of compromises.
He went solemnly to Portman Square bearing these
precious documents with him. To Lady Davenant his
opinion was the most important step which had yet
occurred in the history of the claim; she placed her
husband in the hardest arm-chair that she could find,
414
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
with strict injunctions to keep broad awake; and she
had a great array of pens and paper laid out on the
tabe in order to look business-like. It must be owned
that the good feeling of the last two months, with car-
riage exercise, had greatly increased his lordship's ten-
dency to sleep and inaction. As for the Case, he had
almost ceased to think of it. The Case meant worry,
copying out, writing and re-writing, hunting up facts,
and remembering; when the Case was put away he
could give up his mind to breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Never had the present moment seemed so delightful to
him.
Lord Jocleyn wore an expression of great gravity,
as befitted the occasion. In fact, he was intrusted with
an exceedingly delicate mission; he had to tell theso
worthy people that there was not the slightest hope for
them; to recommend them to go home again; and,
though the counsel would be clothed in sugared words,
to renounce forever the hope of proving their imaginary
claim. But it is better to be told these things kindly
and sympathetically, by a man with a title, than by
any coarse or common lawyer.
"Before I begin"-Lord Jocelyn addressed himself
to the lady instead of her husband-"I would ask if
you have any relic at all of that first Timothy Clitheroe
who is buried in your cemetery at Canaan City?"
"There is a book," said her ladyship.
"Here it is."
She handed him a little book of songs, roughly bound
in leather; on the title-page was written at the top
"Satturday," and at the bottom "Davvenant."
Lord Jocelyn laid the book down and opened his case.
First, he reminded them that Miss Messenger in her
first letter had spoken of a possible moral, rather than
legal, triumph; of a possible failure to establish the
claim before a committee of the House of Peers to whom
it would be referred. This, in his opinion, was the
actual difficulty; he had read the Case, as it had been
carefully drawn up and presented by his lordship-and
he complimented the writer upon his lucid and excellent
style of drawing up of facts-and he had submitted the
Case for the opinion of friends of his own, all of them
gentlemen eminently proper to form and to express an
opinion on such a subject. He held the opinions of
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
415
these gentlemen in his hands. One of them was from
Lord de Lusignan, a nobleman of very ancient descent.
His lordship wrote that there were very strong grounds
for supposing it right to investigate a case which pre-
sented, certainly, very remarkable coincidences, if noth-
ing more; that further investigations ought to be made
on the spot; and that, if this Timothy Clitheroe Dave-
nant turned out to be the lost heir, it would be another
romance in the history of the Peerage. And his lord-
ship concluded by a kind expression of hope that more
facts would be discovered in support of the claim.
"You will like to keep this letter," said the reader,
giving it to Lady Davenant. She was horribly pale and
trembled, because it seemed as if everything was slip-
ping from her.
66
The other letters," Lord Jocelyn went on,
66 are to the
same effect. One is from a lawyer of great eminence,
and the other is from a herald. You will probably like
to keep them, too, when I have read them."
Lady Davenant took the letters, which were cruel in
their kindness, and the tears came into her eyes.
Lord Jocelyn went on to say that researches made in
their interest in the parish registers had resulted in a
discovery which might even be made into an argument
against the claim. There was a foundling child bap-
tized in the church in the same year as the young heir;
he received the name of the village, with the day of the
week on which he was found for Christian name; that
is to say, he was called Saturday Davenant.
Then, indeed, his lordship became very red, and her
ladyship turned still paler, and both looked guilty.
Saturday Davenant! the words in the book. Suppose
they were not a date and a name, but a man's whole
name instead!
"He left the parish," said Lord Jocelyn, "and was
reported to have gone to America."
Neither of them spoke. His lordship looked slowly
around the room, as if expecting that everything, even
the solid mahogany of the library shelves, would van-
ish suddenly away. And he groaned, thinking of the
dinners which would soon be things of the golden past.
"But, my friends," Lord Jocelyn went on, "do not
be downcast. There is always a possibility of new
416
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
facts turning up. Your grandfather's name may have
been really Timothy Clitheroe, in which case I have
very little doubt that he was the missing heir; but he
may, on the other hand, have been the Saturday Dave-
nant, in which case he lived and died with a lie on his
lips, which one would be sorry to think possible.
""
66
Well, sir-if that is so-what do you advise that we
should do now?" asked the grandson of this mystery.
He seemed to have become an American citizen again,
and to have shaken off the aristocratic manner.
"What I should advise is this. You will never,
most certainly never get recognition of your claim
without stronger evidence than you at present offer.
On the other hand, no one will refuse to admit that you
have a strong case. Therefore I would advise you to
go home to your own people, to tell them what has hap-
pened-how your case was taken up and carefully con-
sidered by competent authorities" - here he named
again the lawyer, the herald, and the peer-" to show
them their opinions, and to say that you have come
back for further evidence, if you can find any, which
will connect you beyond a doubt with the lost heir."
"That is good advice, sir," said the claimant. "No,
Clara Martha, for once I will have my own way. The
connection is the weak point; we must go home and
make it a strong point, else we had better stay there.
I said, all along, that we ought not to have come.
Nevertheless, I'm glad we came, Clara Martha. I
shan't throw it in your teeth that we did come.
grateful to you for making us come. We've made good
friends here, and seen many things which we shouldn't
otherwise have seen. And the thought of this house
and the meals we've had in it-such breakfasts, such
luncheons, such dinners-will never leave us, I am
sure."
I'm
Lady Davenant could say nothing. She saw every-
thing torn from her at a rough blow-her title, her con-
sideration, the envy of her fellow-citizens, especially of
Aurelia Tucker. She put her handkerchief to her eyes
and sobbed aloud.
"You should not go back as if you were defeated,"
Lord Jocelyn went on, in sympathy with the poor little
woman. "You are as much entitled to the rank you
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
417
M
claim as ever. More: your case has been talked about;
it is known; should any of the antiquaries who are al-
ways grubbing about parish records find any scrap of
information which may help, he will make a note of it
for you.
When you came you were friendless and un-
known. Now the press of England has taken you up;
your story is romantic; we are all interested in you, and
desirous of seeing you succeed. Before you go you will
write to the papers stating why you go, and what you
hope to find. All these letters and papers and proofs of
the importance of your claim should be kept and shown
to your friends.”
((
We feel mean about going back, and that's a fact,"
said his lordship. "Still, if we must go back, why,
we'd better go back with drums and trumpets than
sneak back-
""
"Ah!" said his wife, "if you'd only shown that spirit
from the beginning, Timothy!"
He collapsed.
"If we go back," she continued, thoughtfully, “I
suppose there's some sort of work we can find, between
us. Old folks hadn't ought to work like the young,
But-
and I'm sixty-five, and so is my husband.
She stopped, with a sigh.
"I am empowered by Miss Messenger," Lord Jocelyn
-went on, with great softness of manner, "to make you
a little proposition. She thinks that it would be most
desirable for you to have your hands free while you
make those researches which may lead to the discover-
ies we hope for. Now, if you have to waste the day in
work you will never be able to make any research.
'Therefore Miss Messenger proposes-if you do not mind
-if you will accept-an annuity on your joint lives of
six hundred dollars. You may be thus relieved of all
anxiety about your personal wants. And Miss Mes-
senger begs only that you may let this annuity appear
the offering of sympathizing English friends."
"But we don't know Miss Messenger," said her lady-
ship.
"Has she not extended her hospitality to you for two
months and more? Is not that a proof of the interest
she takes in you?"
"Certainly it is. Why-see now-we've been living
ور
4
27
418
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
here so long, that we've forgotten it is all Miss Messen
ger's gift.
""
"Then you will accept?"
"Oh, Lord Jocelyn, what can we do but accept?"
"And with grateful hearts," added his lordship.
"Tell her that. With grateful hearts. They've a way
of serving quail in her house, that" He stopped
and sighed.
They have returned to Canaan City; they live in
simple sufficiency. His lordship, when he is awake,
has many tales to tell of London. His friends believe
Stepney Green to be a part of May-fair, and Mrs. Bor-
malack to be a distinguished though untitled ornament
of London society; while as for Aurelia Tucker, who
fain would scoff, there are her ladyship's beautiful and
costly dresses, and her jewels, and the letters from
Lord Jocelyn le Breton and the rich Miss Messenger,
and the six hundred dollars a year drawn monthly,
which proclaim aloud that there is something in the
claim.
There are things which cannot be gainsaid.
Nevertheless, no new discoveries have yet rewarded
his lordship's researches.
CHAPTER XLVII.
A PALACE OF DELIGHT.
DURING this time the Palace of Delight was steadily
rising. Before Christmas its walls were completed and
the roof on. Then began the painting, the decorating,
and the fittings. And Angela was told that the build-
ing would be handed over to her, complete according to
the contract, by the first of March.
The building was hidden away, so to speak, in a
corner of vast Stepney, but already rumors were abroad
concerning it, and the purpose for which it was erected.
They were conflicting rumors. No one knew at all
what was intended by it; no one had been within the
walls; no one knew who built it. The place was sit-
uated so decidedly in the very heart and core of Step-
•
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
419
ney, that the outside public knew nothing at all about it,
and the rumors were confined to the small folk round
it. So it rose in their midst without being greatly re-
garded. No report or mention of it came to Harry's
ears, so that he knew nothing of it, and suspected noth-
ing any more than he suspected Miss Kennedy of being
some other person.
The first of March in this present year of grace 1882
fell upon a Wednesday. Angela resolved that the open-
ing-day should be on Thursday, the second, and that she
would open it herself; and then another thought came
into her mind; and the longer she meditated upon it,
the stronger hold did the idea take upon her.
The Palace of Delight was not, she said, her own
conception; it was that of the man-the man she loved.
Would it not be generous, in giving this place over to
the people for whom it was built, to give its real founder
the one reward which he asked?
Never any knight of old had been more loyal. He
obeyed in the spirit as well as the letter her injunction
not to speak of love; not only did he refrain from those
good words which he would fain have uttered, but he
showned no impatience, grumbled not, had no fits of
sulking; he waited, patient. And in all other things
he did her behest, working with a cheerful heart for
her girls, always ready to amuse them, always at her
service for things great and small, and meeting her
mood with a ready sympathy.
One evening, exactly a fortnight before the proposed
opening-day, Angela invited all the girls, and with
them her faithful old captain and her servant Harry,
to follow her because she had a thing to show them.
She spoke with great seriousness, and looked overcome
with the gravity of this thing. What was she going
to show them?
They followed, wondering, while she led the way to
the church, and then turned to the right among the nar-
row lanes of a part where, by some accident, none of
the girls belonged.
Presently she stopped before a great building,. It
was not lit up, and seemed quite dark and empty. Out-
side, the planks were not yet removed, and they were
covered with gaudy advertisements, but it was too dark
C
420
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
to see them. There was a broad porch above the en-
trance, with a generously ample ascent of steps like
unto those of St. Paul's Cathedral. Angela rang a bell
and the door was opened. They found themselves in
an entrance-hall of some kind, imperfectly lighted by
a single gas-jet. There were three or four men stand-
ing about, apparently waiting for them, because one
stepped forward, and said:
Miss Messenger's party?"
"We are Miss Messenger's party," Angela replied.
"Whoever we are," said Harry, "we are a great
mystery to ourselves.
دو
"Patience," Angela whispered; "part of the mystery
is going to be cleared up.
""
66
Light up, Bill," said one of the men.
Then the whole place passed suddenly into daylight,
for it was lit by the electric globes. It was a lofty
vestibule. On either side were cloak-rooms; opposite
were entrance-doors. But what was on the other side
of these entrance-rooms none of them could guess.
"My friend," said Angela to Harry, "this place
should be yours. It is of your creation.
"What is it, then?"
"It is your Palace of Delight. Yes; nothing short
of that. Will you lead me into your palace?”
She took his arm while he marvelled greatly and asked
himself what this might mean. One of the men then
opened the doors, and they entered, followed by the
wondering girls.
They found themselves in a lofty and very spacious
hall. At the end was a kind of throne-a red velvet
divan, semicircular under a canopy of red velvet. Stat-
ues stood on either side; behind them was a great organ;
upon the walls were pictures. Above the pictures were
trophies in arms; tapestry carpets-all kinds of beauti-
ful things. Above the entrance was a gallery for mu-
sicians; and on either side were doors leading to places
of which they knew nothing.
Miss Kennedy led the way to the semicircular divan
at the end. She took the central place, and motioned
the girls to arrange themselves about her. The effect
of this little group sitting by themselves and in silence,
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN. 421
1
at the end of the great hall, was very strange and
wonderful.
"My dears," she said, after a moment-and the girls
saw that her eyes were full of tears-"my dears, I have
got a wonderful story to tell you. Listen.
"There was a girl, once, who had the great misfor-
tune to be born rich. I is a thing which many people
desire. She, however, who had it knew what a misfor-
tune it might become to her. For the possessor of
great wealth, more especially if it be a woman, attracts
all the designing and wicked people in the world, all
the rogues and all the pretended philanthropists to her,
as wasps are attracted by honey; and presently, by sad
experience, she gets to look on all mankind as desirous.
only of robbing and deceiving her. This is a dreadful
condition of mind to fall into, because it stands in the
way of love and friendship and trust, and all the sweet
confidences which make us happy.
"This girl's name was Messenger. Now, when she
was quite young she knew what was going to happen,
unless she managed somehow differently from other
women in her unhappy position. And she determined
as a first step to get rid of a large quantity of her wealth,
so that the cupidity of the robbers might be diverted.
"Now, she had a humble friend-only a dressmaker,
—who, for reasons of her own, loved her and would have
served her if she could. And this dressmaker came
to live at the East End of London.
66
And she saw that the girls who have to work for
their bread are treated in such a way that slavery
would be a better lot for most of them. For they have
to work twelve hours in the day, and sometimes more;
they sit in close, hot rooms, poisoned by gas; they get
no change of position as the day goes on; they have no
holiday, no respite, save on Sunday; they draw miser-
able wages, and they are indifferently fed. So that she
thought one good thing Miss Messenger could do was
to help those girls, and this was how our Association
was founded."
But we shall thank you, all the same," said Nelly.
"Then another thing happened. There was a young
-gentleman," Angela went on, "staying at the East
End too. He called himself a working-man, said he was
422 ALL SORTS AND CÔNDÍTIONS OF MEN.
the son of a sergeant in the army, but everybody knew
he was a gentleman. This dressmaker made his ac-
quaintance, and talked with him a great deal. He was
full of ideas, and one day he proposed that we should
have a Palace of Delight. It would cost a great deal
of money; but they talked as if they had that sum, and
more, at their disposal. They arranged it all; they
provided for everything. When the scheme was fully
drawn up, the dressmaker took it to Miss Messenger.
O my dear girls! this is the Palace of Delight. It
is built as they proposed; it is finished; it is our own;
and here is its inventor."
She took Harry's hand. He stood beside her, gaz-
ing upon her impassioned face; but he was silent. "It
looks cold and empty now, but when you see it on the
opening day; when you come here night after night;
when you get to feel the place to be a part, and the best
part, of your life, then remember that what Miss Mes-
senger did was nothing compared with what this-this
young gentleman did. For he invented it."
66
Now," she said, rising-they were all too much
astonished to make any demonstration-"now let us
examine the building. This hall is your great reception-
room. You will use it for the ball nights, when you
give your great dances; a thousand couples may dance
here without crowding. On wet days it is to be the
playground of the children. It will hold a couple of
thousand, without jostling against each other. There
is the gallery for the music, as soon as you have got
any."
""
She led the way to a door on the right.
"This," she said, "is your theatre."
It was like a Roman theatre, being built in the form
of a semicircle, tier above tier, having no distinction in
places, save that some were nearer the stage and some
further off.
66
Do not think that
Here," she said, "you will act.
players will be found for you. If you want a theatre
you must find your own actors. If you want an or-
chestra you must find your own for your theatre, be-
cause in this place everything will be done by your
selves."
K
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
423
They came out of the theatre. There was one other
door on that side of the hall.
(6
This," said Angela, opening it, "is the concert-
room. It has an organ and a piano and a platform.
When you have got people who can play and sing, you
will give concerts."
They crossed the hall. On the other side were two
more great rooms, each as big as the theatre and the
concert-room. One was a gymnasium, fitted up with
bars and ropes, and parallel rods and trapezes.
'This is for the young men," said Angela. "They
will be stimulated by prizes to become good gymnasts.
The other room is the library. Here they may come,
when they please, to read and study."
It was a noble room, fitted with shelves and the be-
ginning of a great library.
"Let us go upstairs," said Angela.
Upstairs the rooms were all small, but there were a
great many of them.
Thus there were billiard-rooms, card-rooms, rooms
with chess, dominos, and backgammon-tables laid out,
smoking-rooms for men alone, tea and coffee rooms,
rooms where women could sit by themselves if they
pleased, and a room where all kinds of refreshments
were to be procured. Above these was a second floor,
which was called the School. This consisted of a great
number of quite small rooms, fitted with desks, tables,
and whatever else might be necessary. Some of these
rooms were called music-rooms, and were intended for
instruction and practice on different instruments.
Others were for painting, drawing, sculpture, model-
ling, wood-carving, leather-work, brass-work, embroid-
ery, lace-work, and all manner of small arts.
"In the Palace of Delight," said Angela, "we shall
not be like a troop of revellers, thinking of nothing but
dance and song and feasting. We shall learn some-
thing every day; we shall all belong to some class.
Those of us who know already will teach the rest. And
oh! the best part of all has to be told. Everything in
the palace will be done for nothing except the mere
cleaning and keeping in order. And if anybody is paid
anything, it will be at the rate of a working-man's
wage-no more. For this is our own palace, the club
424
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
of the working-people; we will not let anybody make
money out of it. We shall use it for ourselves, and we
shall make our enjoyment by ourselves.
"All this is provided in the deed of trust by which
Miss Messenger hands over the building to the people.
There are three trustees. One of these, of course, is
you-Mr. Goslett."
"I have been so lost in amazement," said Harry,
"that I have been unable to speak. Is this, in very
truth, the Palace of Delight that we have battled over
so long and so often?”
"It is none other. And you are a trustee to carry
out the intentions of the founder-yourself."
They went downstairs again to the great hall.
(C
Captain Sorensen," Angela whispered, "will you
go home with the girls? I will follow in a few min-
utes.'
دو
Harry and Angela were left behind in the hall.
She called the man in charge of the electric light,
and said something to him. Then he went away and
turned down the light, and they were standing in dark-
ness, save for the bright moon which shone through the
windows and fell upon the white statues and made them
look like two ghosts themselves standing among rows
of other ghosts.
66
Harry," said Angela.
"Do not mock me," he replied: "I am in a dream.
This is not real. The place"
"It is your own Palace of Delight. It will be given.
to the people in a fortnight. Are you pleased with
your creation?”
"Pleased? And you?"
"I prom-
"I am greatly pleased. Harry"—it was the first time
she had called him by his Christian name-
ised you-I promised I would tell you-I would tell you
-if the time should come
99
(6
Has the time come? O my dear love, has the
time come?"
"There is nothing in the way. But oh!-Harry-
are you in the same mind? No-wait a moment." She
held him by the wrists. "Remember what you are do-
ing. Will you choose a lifetime of work among work-
{
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
425
1
I
ing-people? You can go back, now, to your old life;
but perhaps you will not be able to go back, then."
"I have chosen, long ago. You know my choice-
O love my love."
(6
Then, Harry, if it will make you happy-are you
quite sure it will?-you shall marry me on the day
when the Palace is opened."
"You are sure," she said, presently "that you can
love me, though I am only a dressmaker?”
"Could I love you," he replied, passionately, “if you
were anything else?"
"You have never told me," he said, presently, "your
Christian name.
""
"It is Angela."
66
Angela! I should have known it could have been
no other. Angela, kind heaven surely sent you down
to stay awhile with me. If, in time to come, you should
be ever unhappy with me, dear, if you should not be
able to bear any longer with my faults, you would leave
me and go back to the heaven whence you came.
""
They parted, that night, on the steps of Mrs. Borma-
lack's dingy old boarding-house, to both so dear. But
Harry, for half the night, paced the pavement, trying
to calm the tumult of his thoughts. "A life of work-
with Angela-with Angela? Why, how small, how
pitiful seemed all other kinds of life in which Angela
was not concerned!"
CHAPTER XLVIII.
"
MY LADY SWEET.
My story, alas! has come to an end, according to the
nature of all earthly things. The love vows are ex-
changed, the girl has given herself to the man-rich or
poor. My friends, if you come to think of it, no girl is
so rich that she can give more, or so poor that she can
give less, than herself; and in love one asks not for
more or less. Even the day is appointed, and nothing
is going to happen which will prevent the blessed wed-
426
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
ding-bells from ringing, or the clergyman from the sa
cred joining together of man and of maid, till death do
part them. What more to tell? We ought to drop the
curtain while the moonlight pours through the windows
of the silent palace upon the lovers, while the gods and
goddesses, nymphs, naiads, and oreads in marble look
on in sympathetic joy. They, too, in the far-off ages,
among the woods and springs of Hellas, lived and loved,
though their forests know them no more. Yet, because
this was no ordinary marriage, and because we are
sorry to part with Angela before the day when she bc-
gins her wedded life, we must fain tell of what passed
in that brief fortnight before the Palace was opened,
and Angela's great and noble dream became a reality.
There was, first of all, a great deal of business to be
set in order. Angela had interviews with her lawyers,
and settlements had to be drawn up about which Harry
knew nothing, though he would have to sign them;
then there were the trust-deeds for the Palace. An-
gela named Harry, Dick Coppin, the old Chartist, now
her firm and fast friend, and Lord Jocelyn, as joint
trustees. They were to see, first of all, that no one got
anything out of the Palace unless it might be work-
men's wages for work done. They were to carry out
the spirit of the house in making the place support and
feed itself, so that whatever amusements, plays, dances,
interludes, or mummeries were set afoot, all might be
by the people themselves for themselves; and they were
to do their utmost to keep out of the discordant ele-
ments of politics, religion, and party controversy.
All the girls knew by this time that Miss Kennedy
was to be married on the second of March-the day
when the Palace was to be opened. They also learned,
because the details were arranged and talked over every
evening, that the opening would be on a very grand
scale indeed. Miss Messenger herself was coming to
hand it over in person to the trustees on behalf of the
people of Stepney and Whitechapel. There was to be
the acting of a play in the new theatre, a recital on the
new organ, the performance of a concert in the new
concert-room, playing all the evening long by a military
band, some sort of general entertainment; and the
whole was to be terminated by a gigantic supper given
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
427
by Miss Messenger herself, to which fifteen hundred
guests were bidden-namely, first, all the employees of
the brewery with their wives, if they had any, from the
chief brewer and the chief accountant down to the hum-
blest boy in the establishment; and, secondly, all the
girls in the Association, with two or three guests for
each; and, thirdly, a couple of hundred or so chosen
from a list drawn up by Dick Coppin, and the cobbler,
and Harry.
As for Harry, he had now, by Angela's recommen-
dation, resigned his duties at the Brewery, in order to
throw his whole time into the arrangement for the open-
ing day; and this so greatly occupied him that he some-
times even forgot what the day would mean to him.
The invitations were sent in Miss Messenger's own
name. They were all accepted, although there was nat-
urally some little feeling of irritation at the brewery
when it became known that there was to be a general
sitting down of all together. Miss Messenger also ex-
pressed her wish that the only beverage at the supper
should be Messenger's beer, and that of the best quality.
The banquet, in imitation of the Lord Mayor's dinner
on the ninth of November, was to be a cold one, and
solid, with plenty of ices, jellies, puddings, and fruit.
But there was something said about glasses of wine for
every guest after supper.
-
"I suppose," said Angela, talking over this pleasant
disposition of things with Harry, "that she means one
or two toasts to be proposed. The first should be to the
success of the Palace. The second, I think”—and she
blushed-"will be the health of you, Harry, and of
me."
"I think so much of you," said Harry, "all day long,
that I never think of Miss Messenger at all. Tell me
what she is like, this giver and dispenser of princely
gifts. I suppose she really is the owner of boundless
wealth ?"
"She has several millions, if you call that boundless.
She has been a very good friend to me, and will con-
tinue so."
"You know her well?"
"I know her very well. O
any more about her or myself,
Harry, do not ask me
When we are married
428
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
I will tell you all about the friendship of Miss Messen-
ger to me. You trust me, do you not?"
"Trust you! O Angela!"
"My secret, such as it is, is not a shameful one, Har-
ry; and it has to do with the very girl, this Miss Mes-
senger. Leave me with it till the day of our wedding.
I wonder how far your patience will endure my secrets?
for here is another. You know that I have a little
money?"
"I am afraid, my Angela," said Harry, laughing,
CC that you must have made a terrible hole in it since
you came here. Little or much, what does it matter to
us? Haven't we got the two thousand? Think of that
tremendous lump."
"What can it matter?" she cried. "O Harry, I
thank Heaven for letting me, too, have this great gift
of sweet and disinterested love. I thought it would
never come to me."
"To whom, then, should it come?"
"Don't, Harry, or-yes-go on thinking me all that
you say, because it may help to make me all that you
think. But that is not what I wanted to say. Would
you mind very much, Harry, if I asked you to take my
name?"
"I will take any name you wish, Angela. If I am
your husband, what does it matter about any other
name?"
Will your
'And then one other thing, Harry.
guardian give his consent?"
(C
Yes, I can answer for him that he will. And he
will come to the wedding if I ask him."
"Then ask him, Harry."
"So," said Lord Jocelyn, "the dressmaker has re-
lented, has she? Why, that is well. And I am to give.
my consent? My dear boy, I only want you to be
happy. Besides, I am quite sure and certain that you
will be happy."
"Everybody is, if he marries the woman he loves,"
said the young man sententiously.
"Yes-yes, if he goes on loving the woman he has
married. However, Harry, you have my best wishes
and consent, since you are good enough to ask for it.
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
429
Wait a bit." He got up and began to search about in
drawers and desks. "I inust give your fiancée a pres-
ent, Harry. See here is something good. Will you
give her, with my best love and good wishes, this? It
was once my mother's."
Harry looked at the gaud, set with pearls and rubies
in old-fashioned style.
"Is it not," he asked, "rather too splendid for a-
poor people in our position?"
Lord Jocelyn laughed aloud.
"Nothing," he said, "can be too splendid for a beau-
tiful woman. Give it her, Harry, and tell her I am
glad she has consented to make you happy. Tell her I
am more than glad, Harry. Say that I most heartily
thank her. Yes, thank her. Tell her that. Say that
I thank her from my heart.”
As the day drew near the girls became possessed of a
great fear. It seemed to all as if things were going to
undergo some great and sudden change. They knew
that the house was secured to them free of rent; but
they were going to lose their queen, that presiding
spirit who not only kept them together, but also kept
them happy. In her presence there were no little tem-
pers, and jealousies were forgotten. When she was
with them they were all on their best behavior. Now
it is an odd thing in girls, and I really think myself
privileged, considering my own very small experience
of the sex, in being the first to have discovered this.
important truth-that, whereas to boys good behavior is
too often a géne and a bore, girls prefer behaving well.
They are happiest when they are good, nicely dressed,
and sitting all in a row with company manners.
But
who, when Miss Kennedy went away, would lead them
in the drawing-room? The change, however, was go-
ing to be greater than they knew or guessed; the draw-
ing-room itself would become before many days a thing
of the past, but the Palace would take its place.
They all brought gifts; they were simple things, but
they were offered with willing and grateful hearts.
Rebekah brought the one volume of her father's library
which was well bound. It was a work written in imi-
tation of Hervey's "Meditations," and dwelt princi-
pally with tombs, and was therefore peculiarly appro-
430
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
priate as a wedding present. Nelly brought a ring
which had been her mother's, and was so sacred to her
that she felt it must be given to Miss Kennedy; the
other girls gave worked handkerchiefs, and collars, and
such little things.
Angela looked at the table on which she had spread
all her wedding presents: the plated teapot from Mrs.
Bormalack; the girls' work; Nelly's ring; Rebekah's
book; Lord Jocelyn's bracelet. She was happier with
these trifles than if she had received in Portman Square
the hundreds of gifts and jewelled things which would
have poured in for the young heiress.
And in the short fortnight she thought for every-
body. Josephus received a message that he might im-
mediately retire on the pension which he would have
received had he been fortunate in promotion, and been
compelled to go by ill-health: in other words, he was
set free with three hundred pounds a year for life. He
may now be seen any day in the Mile End Road or on
Stepney Green, dressed in the fashion of a young man
of twenty-one or so, walking with elastic step, because
he is so young, yet manifesting a certain gravity, as
becomes one who attends the evening lectures of the
Beaumont Institute in French and arithmetic, and
takes a class on the Sabbath in connection with the
Wesleyan body. After all, a man is only as old as he
feels; and why should not Josephus, whose youth was
cruelly destroyed, feel young again, now that his honor
has been restored to him?
On the morning before the wedding, Angela paid two
visits of considerable importance.
The first was to Daniel Fagg, to whom she carried a
small parcel. "My friend," she said, "I have observed
your impatience about your book. Your publisher
thought that, as you are inexperienced in correcting
proofs, it would be best to have the work done for you.
And here, I am truly happy to say, is the book itself."
He tore the covering from the book, and seized it as
a mother would seize her child.
"My book!" he gasped, "my book!"
Yes, his book; bound in sober cloth, with an equi-
lateral triangle on the cover for simple ornament. "The
Primitive Alphabet, by Daniel Fagg!" "My book!"
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
431
Angela explained to him that his passage to Mel-
bourne was taken, and that he would sail in a week;
and that a small sum of money would be put into his
hands on landing: and that a hundred copies of the
book would be sent to Australia for him, with more if
he wanted them. But she talked to idle ears, for Dan-
iel was turning over the leaves and devouring the con-
tents of his book.
"At all events," said Angela, "I have made one man
happy."
Then she walked to the Trinity Almshouse, and
sought her old friend, Captain Sorensen.
To him she told her whole story from the very begin-
ning, begging only that he would keep her secret till
the next evening.
66
But, of course," said the sailor, "I knew, all along,
that you were a lady born and bred. You might de-
ceive the folk here, who've no chance, poor things, of
knowing a lady when they see one-how should they?
But you could not deceive a man who's had his quarter-
deck full of ladies. The only question in my mind was,
why you did it.”
"You did not think that what Bunker said was true
-did you, Captain Sorensen?"
66
Nay," he replied. "Bunker never liked you; and
how I am to thank you enough for all you've done for
my poor girl-
"Thank me by continuing to be my dear friend and
adviser," said Angela. "If I thought it would pleas-
ure you to live out of this place-
"No, no," said the captain, "I could not take your
money; any one may accept the provision of the asy-
lum and be grateful.'
""
در
""
در
"I knew you would say so. Stay on, then, Captain
Sorensen. And as regards Nelly, my dear and fond
Nelly
It needs not to tell what she said and promised on
behalf of Nelly.
And at the house the girls were trying on the new
white frocks and white bonnets in which they were to
go to the wedding. They were all bridemaids, but
Nelly had the post of honor.
432
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
!
CHAPTER XLIX.
(C UPROUSE YE THEN, MY MERRY, MERRY MEN."
AT nine in the morning Harry presented himself at
the house, no longer his own, for the signing of certain
papers. The place was closed for a holiday, but the
girls were already assembling in the show-room, getting
their dresses laid out, trying on their gloves, and chat-
tering like birds up in the branches on a fine spring
morning. He found Angela sitting with an elderly
gentleman-none other than the senior partner of the
firm of her solicitors. He had a quantity of documents
on the table before him, and as Harry opened the door
he heard these remarkable words:
So the young man does not know-even at the elev-
enth hour?"
What it was he would learn, Harry cared not to in-
quire. He had been told that there was a secret of
some sort which he would learn in the course of the
day.
"These papers, Harry," said his bride, "are certain
documents which you have to sign, connected with that
little fortune of which I told you.
""
"I hope," said Harry, "that the fortune, whatever it
is, has all been settled upon yourself absolutely."
"You will find, young gentleman," said the solicitor,
gravely, "that ample justice-generous justice has
been done you. Very well, I will say no more.”
"Do you want me to sign without reading, Angela?"
If you will so far trust me.
(6
""
He took the pen and signed where he was told to
sign, without reading one word. If he had been or-
dered to sign away his life and liberty, he would have
done so blindly and cheerfully at Angela's bidding.
The deed was signed, and the act of signature was wit-
nessed.
So that was done. There now remained only the
ceremony.
While the solicitor, who evidently disliked
the whole proceeding, as irregular and dangerous, was
putting up the papers, Angela took her lover's hands
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
433
in hers, and looked into his face with her frank and
searching look.
"You do not repent, my poor Harry?"
"Repent?"
"You might have done so much better: you might
have married a lady"
The solicitor, overhearing these words, sat down and
rubbed his nose with an unprofessional smile.
Shall I not marry a lady?"
"You might have found a rich bride: you might
have led a lazy life, with nothing to do, instead of
which-O Harry, there is still time! We are not due
at the church for half an hour yet. Think. Do you
deliberately choose a life of work and ambition-with
-perhaps-poverty?"
At this point the solicitor rose from his chair and
walked softly to the window, where he remained for
five minutes looking out upon Stepney Green with his
back to the lovers. If Harry had been watching him,
he would have remarked a curious tremulous movement
of the shoulders.
"There is one thing more, Harry, that I have to ask
you.'
>>
CC
Of course, you have only to ask me, whatever it is.
Could I refuse you anything, who will give me so
much?"
Their fingers were interlaced, their eyes were looking
into each other. No; he could refuse her nothing.
"I give you much? O Harry! what is a woman's
gift of herself?"
Harry restrained himself. The solicitor might be
sympathetic; but, on the whole, it was best to act as if
he were not. Law has little to do with love; Cupid
has never yet been represented with the long gown.
"It is a strange request, Harry. It is connected
with my-my little foolish secret. You will let me go
away directly the service is over, and you will consent
not to see me again until the evening, when I shall re-
turn. You, with all the girls, will meet me in the
porch of the Palace at seven o'clock exactly. And, as
Miss Messenger will come too, you will make your-
perhaps your last appearance-my poor boy-in the
character of a modern English gentleman in evening-
28
434
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
dress. Tell your best man that he is to give his arm to
Nelly; the other girls will follow two and two. Oh,
Harry, the first sound of the organ in your Palace will
be your own wedding march: the first festival in your
Palace will be in your own honor. Is not that what it
should be?"
"In your honor, dear, not mine. And Miss Messen-
ger? Are we to give no honor to her who built the
Palace?"
66
Ch, yes—yes—yes!" She put the question by with
a careless gesture. "But any one who happened to
have the money could do such a simple thing. The
honor is yours because you invented it.”
"From your hands, Angela, I will take all the honor
that you please to give. So am I doubly honored."
M
There were no wedding bells at all: the organ was
mute; the parish church of Stepney was empty; the
spectators of the marriage were Mrs. Bormalack and
Captain Sorensen, besides the girls and the bride-
groom, aud Dick, his best man. The captain in the
Salvation Army might have been present as well;
he had been asked, but he was lying on the sick-bed
from which he was never to rise again. Lord and
Lady Davenant were there: the former sleek, well con-
tented, well dressed in broadcloth of the best; the latter
agitated, restless, humiliated, because she had lost the
thing she came across the Atlantic to claim, and was
going home, after the splendor of the last three months,
to the monotonous level of Canaan City. Who could
love Canaan City after the West End of London!
What woman would look forward with pleasure to the
dull and uneventful days, the local politics, the chapel
squabbles, the little gatherings for tea and supper, after
the enjoyment of a carriage and pair and unlimited
theatres, operas, and concerts, and footmen, and such
dinners as the average American, or the average Eng-
lishman either, seldom arrives at seeing, even in vis-
ions? Sweet content was gone; and though Angela
meant well, and it was kind of her to afford the ambi-
tious lady a glimpse of that great world into which she
desired to enter, the sight-even this Pisgah glimpse―
of a social paradise to which she could never belong
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
435
}
1
destroyed her peace of mind, and she will for the rest
of her life lie on a rock deploring. Not so her husband:
his future is assured; he can eat and drink plentifully;
he can sleep all the morning undisturbed; he is relieved
of the anxieties connected with his Case; and, though
the respect due to rank is not recognized in the States,
he has to bear none of its responsibilities, and has alto-
gether abandoned the grand manner. At the same
time, as one who very nearly became a British peer,
his position in Canaan City is enormously raised.
They, then, were in the church. They drove thith-
er, not in Miss Messenger's carriage, but with Lord
Jocelyn.
They arrived a quarter of an hour before the cere-
mony. When the curate who was to perform the cere-
mony arrived, Lord Jocelyn sought him in the vestry
and showed him a special license by which it was pro-
nounced lawful, and even laudable, for Harry Goslett,
bachelor, to take unto wife Angela Marsden Messenger,
spinster.
And at sight of that name did the curate's knees be-
gin to tremble, and his hands to shake.
"Angela Marsden Messenger? is it then," he asked,
"the great heiress?”
"It is none other," said Lord Jocelyn. "And she
marries my ward-here is my card-by special li-
cense."
"But-but-is it a clandestine marriage?"
"Not at all. There are reasons why Miss Messenger
desires to be married in Stepney. With them we have
nothing to do. She has, of late, associated herself with
many works of benevolence, but anonymously. In fact,
my dear sir"-here Lord Jocelyn looked profoundly
knowing-"my ward, the bridegroom, has always
known her under another name, and even now does not
know whom he is marrying. When we sign the books
we must, just to keep the secret a little longer, manage
that he shall write his own name without seeing the
names of the bride."
This seemed very irregular in the eyes of the curate,
and at first he was for referring the matter to the rec-
tor, but finally gave in, on the understanding that he
was to be no party to any concealment.
›
436
ALL SORTS AND CÒNDÎTIONS OF MEN.
And presently the wedding party walked slowly up
the aisle, and Harry, to his great astonishment, saw his
bride on Lord Jocelyn's arm. There were cousins of
the Messengers in plenty who should have done this
duty, but Angela would invite none of them. She
came alone to Stepney; she lived and worked in the
place alone; she wanted no consultation or discussion
with the cousins; she would tell them when all was
done; and she knew very well that so great an heiress
as herself could do nothing but what is right, when one
has time to recover from the shock, and to settle down
and think things over.
No doubt, though we have nothing to do with the
outside world in this story, there was a tremendous
rustling of skirts, shaking of heads, tossing of curls,
wagging of tongues, and uplifting of hands, the next
morning when Angela's cards were received, and the
news was in all the papers. And there was such a run
upon interjections that the vocabulary broke down, and
people were fain to cry to one another in foreign
tongues.
For thus the announcement ran:
"On Thursday, March 20, at the parish church,
Stepney, Harry, son of the late Samuel Goslett, Ser-
geant in the 120th Regiment of the Line, to Angela
Marsden, daughter of the late John Marsden Messen-
ger, and granddaughter of the late John Messenger, of
Portman Square and Whitechapel."
This was a pretty blow among the cousins. The
greatest heiress in England, who they had hoped would
marry a duke, or a marquis, or an earl at least, had
positively and actually married the son of a common
soldier-well, a non-commissioned officer-the same
thing. What did it mean? What could it mean?
Others, who knew Harry and his story, who had
sympathy with him on account of his many qualities-
who owned that the obscurity of his birth was but an
accident, shared with him by many of the most worthy,
excellent, brilliant, useful, well-bred, delightful men of
the world rejoiced over the strange irony of fate
which had first lifted this soldier's son out of the gut-
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
437
ter, and then, with apparent malignity, dropped him
back again, only, however, to raise him once more far
higher than before. For, indeed, the young man was
now rich—with his vats and his mashtubs, his millions
of casks, his Old and his Mild and his Bitter, and his
Family at nine shillings the nine-gallon cask, and his
accumulated millions, "beyond the potential dream of
avarice." If he chooses to live more than half his time
in Whitechapel, that is no concern of anybody's; and
if his wife chooses to hold a sort of court at the aban-
doned East, to surround herself with people unheard of
in society, not to say out of it, why should she not?
Any of the royal princes might have done the same
thing if they had chosen and had been well-advised.
Further, if, between them, Angela and her husband
have established a superior Aquarium, a glorified Crys-
tal Palace, in which all the shows are open, all the per-
formers are drilled and trained amateurs, and all the
work actually is done for nothing; in which the man-
agement is by the people themselves, who will have no
interference from priest or parson, rector or curate,
philanthropist or agitator; and no patronage from so-
cieties, well-intentioned young ladies, meddling benevo-
lent persons and officious promoters, starters, and shov-
ers-along, with half an eye fixed on heaven and the
remaining eye and a half on their own advancement—
if, in fact, they choose to do these things, why not? It
is an excellent way of spending their time, and a
change from the monotony of society.
Again, it is said that Harry, now Harry Messenger
by the provision of old John Messenger's will, is the
President, or the Chairman, or the Honorary Secretary-
in fact, the spring and stay and prop of a new and
most formidable Union or Association, which threat-
ens, unless it be nipped in the bud, very considerable
things of the greatest importance to the country. It is,
in fact, a League of Working-men for the promotion
and advancement of their own interests. Its prospectus
sets forth that, having looked in vain among the candi-
dates for the House of Commons for any representative
who had been in the past, or was likely to be in the fu-
ture, of the slightest use to them in the House; having
found that neither Conservatives, nor Liberals, nor
438
ALL SÕRTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
Radicals have ever been, or are ever likely to be, pre-
pared with any real measure which should in the least
concern themselves and their own wants; and fully rec-
ognizing the fact that in the debates of the House the
interests of labor and the duties of Government toward
the laboring classes are never recognized or understood
-the working-men of the country hereby form them-
selves into a General League or Union, which shall
have no other object whatever than the study of their
own rights and interests. The question of wages will
be left to the different unions, except in such cases
where there is no union, or where the men are inarticu-
late (as in the leading case, now some ten years old, of
the gas-stokers) through ignorance and drink. And
the immediate questions before the union will be, first,
the dwelling-houses of the working-men, which are to
be made clean, safe, and healthy; next, their food and
drink, which are to be unadulterated, pure, and genuine,
and are to pass through no more hands than is neces-
sary, and to be distributed at the actual cost price
without the intervention of small shops; next, instruc-
tion, for which purpose the working-men will elect
their own school boards, and burn all the foolish read-
ing-books at present in use, and abolish spelling as a
part of education, and teach the things necessary for
all trades; next, clothing, which will be made for them
by their own men working for themselves, without
troubling the employers of labor at all; next, a news-
paper of their own, which will refuse any place to po-
litical agitators, leaders, partisans, and professional
talkers, and be devoted to the questions which really
concern working-men, and especially the question of
how best to employ the power which is in their hands,
and report continually what is doing, what must be
done, and how it must be done. And lastly, emigra-
tion, so that in every family it shall be considered nec-
essary for some to go, and the whole country shall be
mapped out into districts, and only a certain number
be allowed to remain.
Now, the world being so small as it is, and English-
men and Scotchmen being so masterful that they must
needs go straight to the front and stay there, it cannot
but happen that the world will presently-that is, in
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
439
two generations, or three at the most-be overrun with
the good old English blood: whereupon till the round
earth gets too small, which will not happen for another
ten thousand years or so, there will be the purest, most
delightful, and most heavenly Millennium. Rich peo-
ple may come into it if they please, but they will not
be wanted: in fact, rich people will die out, and it will
soon come to be considered an unhappy thing, as it un-
doubtedly is, to be born rich.
-"Whose daughters ye are," concluded the curate,
closing his book, "as long as ye do well, and are not
afraid with any amazement."
He led the way into the vestry, where the book lay
open, and sitting at the table he made the proper en-
tries.
Then Harry took his place and signed. Now, be-
hold! as he took the pen in his hand, Lord Jocelyn art-
fully held blotting-paper in readiness, and in such a
manner as to hide the name of the bride; then Angela
signed; then the witnesses, Lord Jocelyn and Captain
Sorensen. And then there were shaking of hands and
kissing. And before they came away the curate ven-
tured timidly to whisper congratulations and that he
had no idea of the honor. And then Angela stopped
him, and bade him to her wedding-feast that evening
at the new Palace of Delight.
Then Lord Jocelyn distributed largess, the largest
kind of largess, among the people of the church.
But it surely was the strangest of weddings. For
when they reached the church door the bride and bride-
groom kissed each other, and then he placed her in the
carriage, in which the Davenants and Lord Jocelyn
also seated themselves, and so they drove off.
"We shall see her again to-night," said Harry.
"Come, Dick, we have got a long day to get through-
seven hours. Let us go for a walk. I can't sit down;
I can't rest; I can't do anything. Let us go for a walk
and wrangle.'
""
They left the girls and strode away, and did not re-
turn until it was past six o'clock, and already growing
dark.
The girls, in dreadful lowness of spirits, and feeling
440
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
as flat as so many pancakes, returned to their house and
sat down with their hands in their laps, to do nothing
for seven hours. Did one ever hear that the maidens
at a marriage-do the customs of any country present
an example of such a thing-returned to the bride's
house without either bride or bridegroom? Did one
ever hear of a marriage where the groom left the bride
at the church door, and went away for a six hours'
walk?
As for Captain Sorensen, he went to the Palace and
pottered about, getting snubbed by the persons in au-
thority. There was still much to be done before the
evening, but there was time: all would be done. Pres-
ently he went away; but he, too, was restless and agi-
tated; he could not rest at home; the possession of the
secret, the thought of his daughter's future, the strange
and unlooked-for happiness that had come to him in hist
old age-these things agitated him; nor could even his
fiddle bring him any consolation; and the peacefulness
of the Almshouse, which generally soothed him, this
day irritated him. Therefore he wandered about, and
presently appeared at the House, were he took dinner
with the girls, and they talked about what would hap-
pen.
The first thing that happened was the arrival of a
cart-a spring-cart-with the name of a Regent Street
firm upon it. The men took out a great quantity of
parcels and brought them into the show-room.
the girls ran down to see what it meant, because on so
great a day everything, said Nelly, must mean some-
thing.
All
"This is for
"Name of Hermitage?" asked the man.
Name of Sorensen? This is for you."
you, miss.
And so on, a parcel for every one of the girls.
Then he went away, and they all looked at each
other.
"Hadn't you better," asked Captain Sorensen, "open
the parcels, girls?"
They opened them.
"Oh-h!"
Behold! for every girl such a present as none of them
had ever imagined! The masculine pen cannot describe
the sweet things which they found there; not silks and
1
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIÓNS ÓF MEN.
441
satins, but pretty things; with boots, because dress-
makers are apt to be shabby in the matter of boots;
and with handkerchiefs and pretty scarfs and gloves
and serviceable things of all sorts.
More than this: there was a separate parcel tied up
in white paper for every girl, and on it, in pencil," For
the wedding supper at the Palace of Delight." And
in it gauze, or lace, for bridemaid's head-dress, and
white kid gloves, and a necklace with a locket, and in-
side the locket a portrait of Miss Kennedy, and outside
her Christian name, Angela. Also, for each girl a lit-
tle note, "For with Miss Messenger's love;" but
for Nelly, whose parcel was like Benjamin's mess, the
note was, "For Nelly, with Miss Messenger's kindest
,
love.
66
""
That," said Rebekah, but without jealousy, "is be-
cause you were Miss Kennedy's favorite. Well! Miss
Messenger must be fond of her, and no wonder!"
"No wonder at all," said Captain Sorensen.
And nobody guessed. Nobody had the least suspi-
cion.
While they were all admiring and wondering, Mrs.
Bormalack ran over breathless.
66
My dears!" she cried, "look what's come!”
Nothing less than a beautiful black silk dress.
"Now go away, Captain Sorensen," she said; "you
men are only hindering. And we've got to try on
things. Oh, good gracious! To think that Miss Mes-
senger would remember me, of all people in the world!
To be sure, Mr. Bormalack was one of her collectors,
and she may have heard about me-
""
"No," said Rebekah, "it is through Miss Kennedy;
no one has been forgotten who knew her."
At seven o'clock that evening the great hall of the
Palace was pretty well filled with guests. Some of
them, armed with white wands, acted as stewards, and
it was understood that on the arrival of Miss Messenger
a lane was to be formed, and the procession to the dais
at the end of the hall was to pass through that lane.
Outside, in the vestibule, stood the wedding-party,
waiting the bridegroom, with his best man, and the
bridemaids in their white dresses, flowing gauze and
442
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
necklaces, and gloves, and flowers-a very sweet and
beautiful bevy of girls; Harry for the last time in his.
life, he thought with a sigh, in evening-dress. Within
the hall there were strange rumors flying about. It
was said that Miss Messenger herself had been married
that morning, and that the procession would be for her
wedding; but others knew better: it was Miss Ken-
nedy's wedding; she had married Harry Goslett, the
man they called Gentleman Jack; and Miss Kennedy,
everybody knew, was patronized by Miss Messenger.
At ten minutes past seven, two carriages drew up.
From the first of these descended Harry's bride, led by
Lord Jocelyn; and from the second the Davenants.
Yes, Harry's bride. But whereas in the morning
she had been dressed in a plain white frock and white
bonnet like her bridemaids-she was now arrayed in
white satin, mystic, wonderful, with white veil and
white flowers, and round her white throat a necklace
of sparkling diamonds, and diamonds in her hair.
Harry stepped forward with beating heart.
"Take her, boy," said Lord Jocelyn, proudly. "But
you have married-not Miss Kennedy at all—but An-
gela Messenger."
Harry took his bride's hand in a kind of stupor.
What did Lord Jocelyn mean?
"Forgive me, Harry," she said, "say you forgive
me."
Then he raised her veil and kissed her forehead before
them all. But he could not speak, because all in a mo-
ment the sense of what this would mean poured upon
his brain in a great wave, and he would fain have been
alone.
It was Miss Kennedy, indeed, but glorified into a
great lady; oh!-oh-MISS MESSENGER!
The girls, frightened, were shrinking together; even
Rebekah was afraid at the great and mighty name of
Messenger.
Angela went among them, and kissed them all with
words of encouragement.
"Can you not love me,
Nelly," she said, as well when I am rich as when I
was poor?"
66
Then the chief officers of the brewery advanced, of-
fering congratulations in timid accents, because they
Г
;
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
443
knew now that Miss Kennedy, the dressmaker, of whom
such hard things had been sometimes said in their own
presence and by their own wives, was no other than
the sole partner in the brewery, and that her husband
had worked among them for a daily wage. What did
these things mean? They made respectable men afraid.
One person there was, however, who at sight of Miss
Messenger, for whom he was waiting with anxious
heart, having a great desire to present his own case of
unrewarded zeal, turned pale, and broke through the
crowd with violence and fled. It was Uncle Bunker.
And then the stewards appeared at the open doors,
and the procession was formed.
First the stewards themselves-being all clerks of the
brewery-walked proudly at the head, carrying their
white wands like rifles. Next came Harry and the
bride, at sight of whom the guests shouted and roared;
next came Dick Coppin with Nelly, and Lord Jocelyn
with Rebekah, and the chief brewer with Lady Dave-
nant, of course in her black velvet and war-paint, and
Lord Davenant with Mrs. Bormalack, and the chief
accountant with another bridemaid, and Captain Soren-
sen with another, and then the rest.
Then the organ burst into a wedding march, rolling
and pealing about the walls and roof of the mighty hall,
and amid its melodious thunder, and the shouts of the
wedding-guests, Harry led his bride slowly through the
lane of curious and rejoicing faces, till they reached the
dais.
When all were arranged with the bride seated in the
middle, her husband standing at her right and the
bridemaids grouped behind them, Lord Jocelyn stepped
to the front and read in a loud voice part of the deed of
gift, which he then gave with a profound bow to An-
gela, who placed it in her husband's hands.
Then she stepped forward and raised her veil, and
stood before them all, beautiful as the day, and with
tears in her eyes. Yet she spoke in firm and clear ac-
cents which all could hear. It was her first and last
public speech; for Angela belongs to that rapidly di-
minishing body of women who prefer to let the men do
all the public speaking.
"My dear friends," she said, "my kind friends: I
444
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
wish first that you should clearly understand that this
Palace has been invented and designed for you by my
husband. All I have done is to build it. Now it is
yours, with all it contains. I pray God that it may be
used worthily, and for the joy and happiness of all. I
declare this Palace of Delight open, the property of the
people, to be administered and governed by them, and
them alone, in trust for each other.”
This was all she said; and the people cheered again,
and the organ played "God Save the Queen.'
With this simple ceremony was the Palace of Delight
thrown open to the world. What better beginning
could it have than a wedding party? What better
omen could there be than that the Palace, like the Gar-
den of Eden, should begin with the happiness of a
wedded pair?
ور
At this point there presented itself, to those who drew
up the programme, a grave practical difficulty. It was
this. The Palace could only be declared open in the
great hall itself. Also, it could be only in the great
hall that the banquet could take place. Now, how were
the fifteen hundred guests to be got out of the way and
amused while the tables were laid and the cloth spread?
There could not be, it is true, the splendor and costly
plate and épergnes and flowers of my Lord Mayor's
great dinner, but ornament of some kind there must
be upon the tables; and even with an army of drilled
waiters it takes time to lay covers for fifteen hundred
people.
But there was no confusion. Once more the proces-
sion was formed and marched round the hall, headed
by the band of the Guards, visiting first the gymna-
sium, then the library, then the concert-room, and lastly
the theatre. Here they paused, and the bridal party
took their seats. The people poured in; when every
seat was taken, the stewards invited the rest into the
concert-room. In the theatre a little sparkling comedy
was played; in the concert-room a troupe of singers dis-
coursed sweet madrigals and glees. Outside the wait-
ers ran backward and forward as busy as Diogenes with
his tub, but more to the purpose.
When, in something over an hour, the performances
[
i
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
445
were finished, the stewards found that the tables were
laid, one running down the whole length of the hall,
and shorter ones across the hall. Everybody had a card
with his place upon it; there was no confusion, and,
while trumpeters blared a welcome, they all took their
places in due order.
Angela and her husband sat in the middle of the long
table; at Angela's left hand was Lord Jocelyn, at Har-
ry's right Lady Davenant. Opposite the bride and
bridegroom sat the chief brewer and the chief account-
ant. The bridemaids spread out right and left. All
Angela's friends and acquaintances of Stepney Green
were there, except three. For old Mr. Maliphant was
sitting as usual in the boarding-house, conversing with
unseen persons, and laughing and brandishing a pipe;
and with him Daniel Fagg sat hugging his book. And
in his own office sat Bunker, sick at heart. For he re-
membered his officious private letter to Miss Messenger,
and he felt that he had indeed gone and done it.
The rest of the long table was filled up by the clerks
and superior officers of the brewery; at the shorter
tables sat the rest of the guests, including even the
draymen and errand-boys. And so the feast began,
while the band of the Guards played for them.
It was a royal feast, with the most magnificent cold
sirloins of roast beef and rounds of salt beef, legs of
mutton, saddles of mutton, loins of veal, ribs of pork,
legs of pork, great hams, huge turkeys, capons, fowls,
ducks, and geese, all done to a turn; so that the honest
guests fell to with a mighty will, and wished that such
a wedding might come once a month at least, with such
a supper. And Messenger's beer, as much as you
pleased, for everybody. At a moment like this, would
one, even at the high table, venture to ask, to say noth-
ing of wishing for, aught but Messenger's beer?
After the hacked and mangled remains of the first
course were removed, there came puddings, pies, cakes,
jellies, ices, blanc-mange, all kinds of delicious things.
And after this was done and eating was stayed and
only the memory left of the enormous feed, the chief
brewer rose and proposed in a few words the health of
the bride and bridegroom. He said that it would be a
lasting sorrow to all of them that they had not been
446
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
present at the auspicious event of the morning; but that
it was in some measure made up to them by the happi-
ness they had enjoyed together that evening. If any-
thing, he added, could make them pray more heartily
for the happiness of the bride, it would be the thought
that she refused to be married from her house in the
West End, but came to Stepney among the workmen
and managers of her own brewery, and preferred to cele-
brate her wedding-feast in the magnificent hall which
she had given to the people of the place. And he had
one more good thing to tell them. Miss Messenger,
when she gave that precious thing, her hand, retained
her name. There would still be a Messenger at the
head of the good old house.
Harry replied in a few words, and the wedding-cake
went round. Then Dick Coppin proposed success to the
Palace of Delight.
(6
Harry," whispered Angela, "if you love me, speak
now, from your very heart."
He sprang to his feet, and spoke to the people as they
had never heard any yet speak.
After telling them what the Palace was, what it was
meant to be, a place for the happiness and recreation of
all; how they were to make their own amusements for
themselves; how there were class-rooms where all kinds
of arts and accomplishments would be taught; how, to
insure order and good behavior, it was necessary that
they should form their own volunteer police; how there
were to be no politics and no controversies within those
walls, and how the management of all was left to com-
mittees of their own choosing, he said:
"Friends all, this is indeed such a thing as the world
has never yet seen. You have been frequently invited
to join together and combine for the raising of wages;
you are continually invited to follow leaders who prom-
ise to reform land laws, when you have had no land and
never will have any; to abolish the House of Lords, in
which you have no part, share, or lot; to sweep away a
church which does not interfere with you; but who
have nothing-no nothing to offer you, out of which
any help or advantage will come to you. And you are.
always being told to consider life as a long period of
resignation under inevitable suffering; and you are told
}
1
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
447
to submit your reason, your will, yourselves, to author-
ity, and all will be well with you. No one yet has given
you the chance of making yourselves happy. In this
place you will find, or you will make for yourselves, all
the things which make the lives of the rich happy.
Here you will have music, dancing, singing, acting,
painting, reading, games of skill, games of chance, com-
panionship, cheerfulness, light, warmth, comfort-ev-
erything. When these things have been enjoyed for a
time they will become a necessity for you, and a part
of the education for your young people. They will go
on to desire other things which cannot be found by any
others for you, but which must be found by yourselves
and for yourselves. My wife has placed in your hands.
the materials for earthly joy; it lies with you to learn
how to use them; it lies with you to find what other
things are necessary; how the people, who have all the
power there is, must find out what they want, and help
themselves to it, standing shoulder to shoulder by means
of that power; how those enemies are not the rich,
whom your brawlers in Whitechapel Road ignorantly
accuse, but quite another kind—and you must find out
for yourselves who these are. It is not by setting poor
against rich, or by hardening the heart of rich against
poor, that you will succeed; it is by independence and
by knowledge. All sorts and conditions of men are
alike. As are the vices of the rich, so are your own;
as are your virtues, so are theirs. But, hitherto, the
rich have had things which you could not get. Now
all that is altered: in the Palace of Delight we are equal
to the richest; there is nothing which we, too, cannot
have; what they desire we desire; what they have we
shall have; we can all love; we can all laugh; we can
all feel the power of music; we can dance and sing; or
we can sit in peace and meditate. In this Palace, as in
the outer world, remember that you have the power.
The time for envy, hatred, and accusations has gone
by; because we working-men have, at last, all the power
there is to have. Let us use it well. But the Palace
will be for joy and happiness, not for political wrangles.
Brothers and sisters, we will no longer sit down in res-
ignation; we will take the same joy in this world that
the rich have taken. Life is short for us all; let us
448
ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.
make the most of it for ourselves and for each other.
There are so many joys within our reach; there are
so many miseries we can abolish. In this house, which
is a Temple of Praise, we shall all together continually
be thinking how to bring more sunshine into our lives,
more change, more variety, more happiness.
""
A serious ending; because Harry spoke from his heart.
As he took his seat in deep silence, the organ broke
forth again and played, while the people stood, the
grand Old Hundredth Psalm.
A serious ending to the feast; but life is serious.
Ten minutes later the bride rose, and the band played
a joyful march, while the wedding-procession once more
formed and marched down the hall, and the people
poured out into the streets to cheer, and Angela and her
husband drove away for their honeymoon.
The Palace of Delight is in working order now, and
Stepney is already transformed. A new period began
on the opening night for all who were present. For
the first time they understood that life may be happy;
for the first time they resolved that they would find out
for themselves the secret of happiness. The angel with
the flaming sword has at last stepped from the gates of
the earthly Paradise, and we may now enter therein
and taste, unreproved, of all the fruits except the apples
of the Tree of Life-which has been removed, long
since, to another place,
THE END.
JUN 9 1917

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