A Child's History of England

Transcribed from the 1903 Chapman and Hall Sketches by Boz edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

THE MUDFOG AND OTHER SKETCHES

CONTENTS

PAGE Public Life of Mr. Tulrumble 495 Full Report of the First Meeting of the Mudfog Association 513 for the Advancement of Everything Section A. Zoology and Botany Section B. Anatomy and Medicine Section C. Statistics Section D. Mechanical Science Full Report of the Second Meeting of the Mudfog Association 531 for the Advancement of Everything Section A. Zoology and Botany Section B. Display of Models and Mechanical Science Section C. Anatomy and Medicine Section D. Statistics Supplementary Section, E. Umbugology and Ditchwaterisics The Pantomime of Life 551 Some Particulars Concerning a Lion 558 Mr. Robert Bolton 563 Familiar Epistle from a Parent to a Child 567

PUBLIC LIFE OF MR. TULRUMBLE ONCE MAYOR OF MUDFOG

MUDFOG is a pleasant town—a remarkably pleasant town—situated in a charming hollow by the side of a river, from which river, Mudfog derives an agreeable scent of pitch, tar, coals, and rope-yarn, a roving population in oilskin hats, a pretty steady influx of drunken bargemen, and a great many other maritime advantages. There is a good deal of water about Mudfog, and yet it is not exactly the sort of town for a watering-place, either. Water is a perverse sort of element at the best of times, and in Mudfog it is particularly so. In winter, it comes oozing down the streets and tumbling over the fields,—nay, rushes into the very cellars and kitchens of the houses, with a lavish prodigality that might well be dispensed with; but in the hot summer weather it will dry up, and turn green: and, although green is a very good colour in its way, especially in grass, still it certainly is not becoming to water; and it cannot be denied that the beauty of Mudfog is rather impaired, even by this trifling circumstance. Mudfog is a healthy place—very healthy;—damp, perhaps, but none the worse for that. It’s quite a mistake to suppose that damp is unwholesome: plants thrive best in damp situations, and why shouldn’t men? The inhabitants of Mudfog are unanimous in asserting that there exists not a finer race of people on the face of the earth; here we have an indisputable and veracious contradiction of the vulgar error at once. So, admitting Mudfog to be damp, we distinctly state that it is salubrious.

The town of Mudfog is extremely picturesque. Limehouse and Ratcliff Highway are both something like it, but they give you a very faint idea of Mudfog. There are a great many more public-houses in Mudfog—more than in Ratcliff Highway and Limehouse put together. The public buildings, too, are very imposing. We consider the town-hall one of the finest specimens of shed architecture, extant: it is a combination of the pig-sty and tea-garden-box orders; and the simplicity of its design is of surpassing beauty. The idea of placing a large window on one side of the door, and a small one on the other, is particularly happy. There is a fine old Doric beauty, too, about the padlock and scraper, which is strictly in keeping with the general effect.

In this room do the mayor and corporation of Mudfog assemble together in solemn council for the public weal. Seated on the massive wooden benches, which, with the table in the centre, form the only furniture of the whitewashed apartment, the sage men of Mudfog spend hour after hour in grave deliberation. Here they settle at what hour of the night the public-houses shall be closed, at what hour of the morning they shall be permitted to open, how soon it shall be lawful for people to eat their dinner on church-days, and other great political questions; and sometimes, long after silence has fallen on the town, and the distant lights from the shops and houses have ceased to twinkle, like far-off stars, to the sight of the boatmen on the river, the illumination in the two unequal-sized windows of the town-hall, warns the inhabitants of Mudfog that its little body of legislators, like a larger and better-known body of the same genus, a great deal more noisy, and not a whit more profound, are patriotically dozing away in company, far into the night, for their country’s good.

Among this knot of sage and learned men, no one was so eminently distinguished, during many years, for the quiet modesty of his appearance and demeanour, as Nicholas Tulrumble, the well-known coal-dealer. However exciting the subject of discussion, however animated the tone of the debate, or however warm the personalities exchanged, (and even in Mudfog we get personal sometimes,) Nicholas Tulrumble was always the same. To say truth, Nicholas, being an industrious man, and always up betimes, was apt to fall asleep when a debate began, and to remain asleep till it was over, when he would wake up very much refreshed, and give his vote with the greatest complacency. The fact was, that Nicholas Tulrumble, knowing that everybody there had made up his mind beforehand, considered the talking as just a long botheration about nothing at all; and to the present hour it remains a question, whether, on this point at all events, Nicholas Tulrumble was not pretty near right.

Time, which strews a man’s head with silver, sometimes fills his pockets with gold. As he gradually performed one good office for Nicholas Tulrumble, he was obliging enough, not to omit the other. Nicholas began life in a wooden tenement of four feet square, with a capital of two and ninepence, and a stock in trade of three bushels and a-half of coals, exclusive of the large lump which hung, by way of sign-board, outside. Then he enlarged the shed, and kept a truck; then he left the shed, and the truck too, and started a donkey and a Mrs. Tulrumble; then he moved again and set up a cart; the cart was soon afterwards exchanged for a waggon; and so he went on like his great predecessor Whittington—only without a cat for a partner—increasing in wealth and fame, until at last he gave up business altogether, and retired with Mrs. Tulrumble and family to Mudfog Hall, which he had himself erected, on something which he attempted to delude himself into the belief was a hill, about a quarter of a mile distant from the town of Mudfog.

About this time, it began to be murmured in Mudfog that Nicholas Tulrumble was growing vain and haughty; that prosperity and success had corrupted the simplicity of his manners, and tainted the natural goodness of his heart; in short, that he was setting up for a public character, and a great gentleman, and affected to look down upon his old companions with compassion and contempt. Whether these reports were at the time well-founded, or not, certain it is that Mrs. Tulrumble very shortly afterwards started a four-wheel chaise, driven by a tall postilion in a yellow cap,—that Mr. Tulrumble junior took to smoking cigars, and calling the footman a ‘feller,’—and that Mr. Tulrumble from that time forth, was no more seen in his old seat in the chimney-corner of the Lighterman’s Arms at night. This looked bad; but, more than this, it began to be observed that Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble attended the corporation meetings more frequently than heretofore; and he no longer went to sleep as he had done for so many years, but propped his eyelids open with his two forefingers; that he read the newspapers by himself at home; and that he was in the habit of indulging abroad in distant and mysterious allusions to ‘masses of people,’ and ‘the property of the country,’ and ‘productive power,’ and ‘the monied interest:’ all of which denoted and proved that Nicholas Tulrumble was either mad, or worse; and it puzzled the good people of Mudfog amazingly.

At length, about the middle of the month of October, Mr. Tulrumble and family went up to London; the middle of October being, as Mrs. Tulrumble informed her acquaintance in Mudfog, the very height of the fashionable season.

Somehow or other, just about this time, despite the health-preserving air of Mudfog, the Mayor died. It was a most extraordinary circumstance; he had lived in Mudfog for eighty-five years. The corporation didn’t understand it at all; indeed it was with great difficulty that one old gentleman, who was a great stickler for forms, was dissuaded from proposing a vote of censure on such unaccountable conduct. Strange as it was, however, die he did, without taking the slightest notice of the corporation; and the corporation were imperatively called upon to elect his successor. So, they met for the purpose; and being very full of Nicholas Tulrumble just then, and Nicholas Tulrumble being a very important man, they elected him, and wrote off to London by the very next post to acquaint Nicholas Tulrumble with his new elevation.

Now, it being November time, and Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble being in the capital, it fell out that he was present at the Lord Mayor’s show and dinner, at sight of the glory and splendour whereof, he, Mr. Tulrumble, was greatly mortified, inasmuch as the reflection would force itself on his mind, that, had he been born in London instead of in Mudfog, he might have been a Lord Mayor too, and have patronized the judges, and been affable to the Lord Chancellor, and friendly with the Premier, and coldly condescending to the Secretary to the Treasury, and have dined with a flag behind his back, and done a great many other acts and deeds which unto Lord Mayors of London peculiarly appertain. The more he thought of the Lord Mayor, the more enviable a personage he seemed. To be a King was all very well; but what was the King to the Lord Mayor! When the King made a speech, everybody knew it was somebody else’s writing; whereas here was the Lord Mayor, talking away for half an hour-all out of his own head—amidst the enthusiastic applause of the whole company, while it was notorious that the King might talk to his parliament till he was black in the face without getting so much as a single cheer. As all these reflections passed through the mind of Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble, the Lord Mayor of London appeared to him the greatest sovereign on the face of the earth, beating the Emperor of Russia all to nothing, and leaving the Great Mogul immeasurably behind.

Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble was pondering over these things, and inwardly cursing the fate which had pitched his coal-shed in Mudfog, when the letter of the corporation was put into his hand. A crimson flush mantled over his face as he read it, for visions of brightness were already dancing before his imagination.

‘My dear,’ said Mr. Tulrumble to his wife, ‘they have elected me, Mayor of Mudfog.’

‘Lor-a-mussy!’ said Mrs. Tulrumble: ‘why what’s become of old Sniggs?’

‘The late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble,’ said Mr. Tulrumble sharply, for he by no means approved of the notion of unceremoniously designating a gentleman who filled the high office of Mayor, as ‘Old Sniggs,’—‘The late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble, is dead.’

The communication was very unexpected; but Mrs. Tulrumble only ejaculated ‘Lor-a-mussy!’ once again, as if a Mayor were a mere ordinary Christian, at which Mr. Tulrumble frowned gloomily.

‘What a pity ’tan’t in London, ain’t it?’ said Mrs. Tulrumble, after a short pause; ‘what a pity ’tan’t in London, where you might have had a show.’

‘I might have a show in Mudfog, if I thought proper, I apprehend,’ said Mr. Tulrumble mysteriously.

‘Lor! so you might, I declare,’ replied Mrs. Tulrumble.

‘And a good one too,’ said Mr. Tulrumble.

‘Delightful!’ exclaimed Mrs. Tulrumble.

‘One which would rather astonish the ignorant people down there,’ said Mr. Tulrumble.

‘It would kill them with envy,’ said Mrs. Tulrumble.

So it was agreed that his Majesty’s lieges in Mudfog should be astonished with splendour, and slaughtered with envy, and that such a show should take place as had never been seen in that town, or in any other town before,—no, not even in London itself.

On the very next day after the receipt of the letter, down came the tall postilion in a post-chaise,—not upon one of the horses, but inside—actually inside the chaise,—and, driving up to the very door of the town-hall, where the corporation were assembled, delivered a letter, written by the Lord knows who, and signed by Nicholas Tulrumble, in which Nicholas said, all through four sides of closely-written, gilt-edged, hot-pressed, Bath post letter paper, that he responded to the call of his fellow-townsmen with feelings of heartfelt delight; that he accepted the arduous office which their confidence had imposed upon him; that they would never find him shrinking from the discharge of his duty; that he would endeavour to execute his functions with all that dignity which their magnitude and importance demanded; and a great deal more to the same effect. But even this was not all. The tall postilion produced from his right-hand top-boot, a damp copy of that afternoon’s number of the county paper; and there, in large type, running the whole length of the very first column, was a long address from Nicholas Tulrumble to the inhabitants of Mudfog, in which he said that he cheerfully complied with their requisition, and, in short, as if to prevent any mistake about the matter, told them over again what a grand fellow he meant to be, in very much the same terms as those in which he had already told them all about the matter in his letter.

The corporation stared at one another very hard at all this, and then looked as if for explanation to the tall postilion, but as the tall postilion was intently contemplating the gold tassel on the top of his yellow cap, and could have afforded no explanation whatever, even if his thoughts had been entirely disengaged, they contented themselves with coughing very dubiously, and looking very grave. The tall postilion then delivered another letter, in which Nicholas Tulrumble informed the corporation, that he intended repairing to the town-hall, in grand state and gorgeous procession, on the Monday afternoon next ensuing. At this the corporation looked still more solemn; but, as the epistle wound up with a formal invitation to the whole body to dine with the Mayor on that day, at Mudfog Hall, Mudfog Hill, Mudfog, they began to see the fun of the thing directly, and sent back their compliments, and they’d be sure to come.

Now there happened to be in Mudfog, as somehow or other there does happen to be, in almost every town in the British dominions, and perhaps in foreign dominions too—we think it very likely, but, being no great traveller, cannot distinctly say—there happened to be, in Mudfog, a merry-tempered, pleasant-faced, good-for-nothing sort of vagabond, with an invincible dislike to manual labour, and an unconquerable attachment to strong beer and spirits, whom everybody knew, and nobody, except his wife, took the trouble to quarrel with, who inherited from his ancestors the appellation of Edward Twigger, and rejoiced in the sobriquet of Bottle-nosed Ned. He was drunk upon the average once a day, and penitent upon an equally fair calculation once a month; and when he was penitent, he was invariably in the very last stage of maudlin intoxication. He was a ragged, roving, roaring kind of fellow, with a burly form, a sharp wit, and a ready head, and could turn his hand to anything when he chose to do it. He was by no means opposed to hard labour on principle, for he would work away at a cricket-match by the day together,—running, and catching, and batting, and bowling, and revelling in toil which would exhaust a galley-slave. He would have been invaluable to a fire-office; never was a man with such a natural taste for pumping engines, running up ladders, and throwing furniture out of two-pair-of-stairs’ windows: nor was this the only element in which he was at home; he was a humane society in himself, a portable drag, an animated life-preserver, and had saved more people, in his time, from drowning, than the Plymouth life-boat, or Captain Manby’s apparatus. With all these qualifications, notwithstanding his dissipation, Bottle-nosed Ned was a general favourite; and the authorities of Mudfog, remembering his numerous services to the population, allowed him in return to get drunk in his own way, without the fear of stocks, fine, or imprisonment. He had a general licence, and he showed his sense of the compliment by making the most of it.

We have been thus particular in describing the character and avocations of Bottle-nosed Ned, because it enables us to introduce a fact politely, without hauling it into the reader’s presence with indecent haste by the head and shoulders, and brings us very naturally to relate, that on the very same evening on which Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble and family returned to Mudfog, Mr. Tulrumble’s new secretary, just imported from London, with a pale face and light whiskers, thrust his head down to the very bottom of his neckcloth-tie, in at the tap-room door of the Lighterman’s Arms, and inquiring whether one Ned Twigger was luxuriating within, announced himself as the bearer of a message from Nicholas Tulrumble, Esquire, requiring Mr. Twigger’s immediate attendance at the hall, on private and particular business. It being by no means Mr. Twigger’s interest to affront the Mayor, he rose from the fireplace with a slight sigh, and followed the light-whiskered secretary through the dirt and wet of Mudfog streets, up to Mudfog Hall, without further ado.

Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble was seated in a small cavern with a skylight, which he called his library, sketching out a plan of the procession on a large sheet of paper; and into the cavern the secretary ushered Ned Twigger.

‘Well, Twigger!’ said Nicholas Tulrumble, condescendingly.

There was a time when Twigger would have replied, ‘Well, Nick!’ but that was in the days of the truck, and a couple of years before the donkey; so, he only bowed.

‘I want you to go into training, Twigger,’ said Mr. Tulrumble.

‘What for, sir?’ inquired Ned, with a stare.

‘Hush, hush, Twigger!’ said the Mayor. ‘Shut the door, Mr. Jennings. Look here, Twigger.’

As the Mayor said this, he unlocked a high closet, and disclosed a complete suit of brass armour, of gigantic dimensions.

‘I want you to wear this next Monday, Twigger,’ said the Mayor.

‘Bless your heart and soul, sir!’ replied Ned, ‘you might as well ask me to wear a seventy-four pounder, or a cast-iron boiler.’

‘Nonsense, Twigger, nonsense!’ said the Mayor.

‘I couldn’t stand under it, sir,’ said Twigger; ‘it would make mashed potatoes of me, if I attempted it.’

‘Pooh, pooh, Twigger!’ returned the Mayor. ‘I tell you I have seen it done with my own eyes, in London, and the man wasn’t half such a man as you are, either.’

‘I should as soon have thought of a man’s wearing the case of an eight-day clock to save his linen,’ said Twigger, casting a look of apprehension at the brass suit.

‘It’s the easiest thing in the world,’ rejoined the Mayor.

‘It’s nothing,’ said Mr. Jennings.

‘When you’re used to it,’ added Ned.

‘You do it by degrees,’ said the Mayor. ‘You would begin with one piece to-morrow, and two the next day, and so on, till you had got it all on. Mr. Jennings, give Twigger a glass of rum. Just try the breast-plate, Twigger. Stay; take another glass of rum first. Help me to lift it, Mr. Jennings. Stand firm, Twigger! There!—it isn’t half as heavy as it looks, is it?’

Twigger was a good strong, stout fellow; so, after a great deal of staggering, he managed to keep himself up, under the breastplate, and even contrived, with the aid of another glass of rum, to walk about in it, and the gauntlets into the bargain. He made a trial of the helmet, but was not equally successful, inasmuch as he tipped over instantly,—an accident which Mr. Tulrumble clearly demonstrated to be occasioned by his not having a counteracting weight of brass on his legs.

‘Now, wear that with grace and propriety on Monday next,’ said Tulrumble, ‘and I’ll make your fortune.’

‘I’ll try what I can do, sir,’ said Twigger.

‘It must be kept a profound secret,’ said Tulrumble.

‘Of course, sir,’ replied Twigger.

‘And you must be sober,’ said Tulrumble; ‘perfectly sober.’ Mr. Twigger at once solemnly pledged himself to be as sober as a judge, and Nicholas Tulrumble was satisfied, although, had we been Nicholas, we should certainly have exacted some promise of a more specific nature; inasmuch as, having attended the Mudfog assizes in the evening more than once, we can solemnly testify to having seen judges with very strong symptoms of dinner under their wigs. However, that’s neither here nor there.

The next day, and the day following, and the day after that, Ned Twigger was securely locked up in the small cavern with the sky-light, hard at work at the armour. With every additional piece he could manage to stand upright in, he had an additional glass of rum; and at last, after many partial suffocations, he contrived to get on the whole suit, and to stagger up and down the room in it, like an intoxicated effigy from Westminster Abbey.

Never was man so delighted as Nicholas Tulrumble; never was woman so charmed as Nicholas Tulrumble’s wife. Here was a sight for the common people of Mudfog! A live man in brass armour! Why, they would go wild with wonder!

The day—the Monday—arrived.

If the morning had been made to order, it couldn’t have been better adapted to the purpose. They never showed a better fog in London on Lord Mayor’s day, than enwrapped the town of Mudfog on that eventful occasion. It had risen slowly and surely from the green and stagnant water with the first light of morning, until it reached a little above the lamp-post tops; and there it had stopped, with a sleepy, sluggish obstinacy, which bade defiance to the sun, who had got up very blood-shot about the eyes, as if he had been at a drinking-party over-night, and was doing his day’s work with the worst possible grace. The thick damp mist hung over the town like a huge gauze curtain. All was dim and dismal. The church steeples had bidden a temporary adieu to the world below; and every object of lesser importance—houses, barns, hedges, trees, and barges—had all taken the veil.

The church-clock struck one. A cracked trumpet from the front garden of Mudfog Hall produced a feeble flourish, as if some asthmatic person had coughed into it accidentally; the gate flew open, and out came a gentleman, on a moist-sugar coloured charger, intended to represent a herald, but bearing a much stronger resemblance to a court-card on horseback. This was one of the Circus people, who always came down to Mudfog at that time of the year, and who had been engaged by Nicholas Tulrumble expressly for the occasion. There was the horse, whisking his tail about, balancing himself on his hind-legs, and flourishing away with his fore-feet, in a manner which would have gone to the hearts and souls of any reasonable crowd. But a Mudfog crowd never was a reasonable one, and in all probability never will be. Instead of scattering the very fog with their shouts, as they ought most indubitably to have done, and were fully intended to do, by Nicholas Tulrumble, they no sooner recognized the herald, than they began to growl forth the most unqualified disapprobation at the bare notion of his riding like any other man. If he had come out on his head indeed, or jumping through a hoop, or flying through a red-hot drum, or even standing on one leg with his other foot in his mouth, they might have had something to say to him; but for a professional gentleman to sit astride in the saddle, with his feet in the stirrups, was rather too good a joke. So, the herald was a decided failure, and the crowd hooted with great energy, as he pranced ingloriously away.

On the procession came. We are afraid to say how many supernumeraries there were, in striped shirts and black velvet caps, to imitate the London watermen, or how many base imitations of running-footmen, or how many banners, which, owing to the heaviness of the atmosphere, could by no means be prevailed on to display their inscriptions: still less do we feel disposed to relate how the men who played the wind instruments, looking up into the sky (we mean the fog) with musical fervour, walked through pools of water and hillocks of mud, till they covered the powdered heads of the running-footmen aforesaid with splashes, that looked curious, but not ornamental; or how the barrel-organ performer put on the wrong stop, and played one tune while the band played another; or how the horses, being used to the arena, and not to the streets, would stand still and dance, instead of going on and prancing;—all of which are matters which might be dilated upon to great advantage, but which we have not the least intention of dilating upon, notwithstanding.

Oh! it was a grand and beautiful sight to behold a corporation in glass coaches, provided at the sole cost and charge of Nicholas Tulrumble, coming rolling along, like a funeral out of mourning, and to watch the attempts the corporation made to look great and solemn, when Nicholas Tulrumble himself, in the four-wheel chaise, with the tall postilion, rolled out after them, with Mr. Jennings on one side to look like a chaplain, and a supernumerary on the other, with an old life-guardsman’s sabre, to imitate the sword-bearer; and to see the tears rolling down the faces of the mob as they screamed with merriment. This was beautiful! and so was the appearance of Mrs. Tulrumble and son, as they bowed with grave dignity out of their coach-window to all the dirty faces that were laughing around them: but it is not even with this that we have to do, but with the sudden stopping of the procession at another blast of the trumpet, whereat, and whereupon, a profound silence ensued, and all eyes were turned towards Mudfog Hall, in the confident anticipation of some new wonder.

‘They won’t laugh now, Mr. Jennings,’ said Nicholas Tulrumble.

‘I think not, sir,’ said Mr. Jennings.

‘See how eager they look,’ said Nicholas Tulrumble. ‘Aha! the laugh will be on our side now; eh, Mr. Jennings?’

‘No doubt of that, sir,’ replied Mr. Jennings; and Nicholas Tulrumble, in a state of pleasurable excitement, stood up in the four-wheel chaise, and telegraphed gratification to the Mayoress behind.

While all this was going forward, Ned Twigger had descended into the kitchen of Mudfog Hall for the purpose of indulging the servants with a private view of the curiosity that was to burst upon the town; and, somehow or other, the footman was so companionable, and the housemaid so kind, and the cook so friendly, that he could not resist the offer of the first-mentioned to sit down and take something—just to drink success to master in.

So, down Ned Twigger sat himself in his brass livery on the top of the kitchen-table; and in a mug of something strong, paid for by the unconscious Nicholas Tulrumble, and provided by the companionable footman, drank success to the Mayor and his procession; and, as Ned laid by his helmet to imbibe the something strong, the companionable footman put it on his own head, to the immeasurable and unrecordable delight of the cook and housemaid. The companionable footman was very facetious to Ned, and Ned was very gallant to the cook and housemaid by turns. They were all very cosy and comfortable; and the something strong went briskly round.

At last Ned Twigger was loudly called for, by the procession people: and, having had his helmet fixed on, in a very complicated manner, by the companionable footman, and the kind housemaid, and the friendly cook, he walked gravely forth, and appeared before the multitude.

The crowd roared—it was not with wonder, it was not with surprise; it was most decidedly and unquestionably with laughter.

‘What!’ said Mr. Tulrumble, starting up in the four-wheel chaise. ‘Laughing? If they laugh at a man in real brass armour, they’d laugh when their own fathers were dying. Why doesn’t he go into his place, Mr. Jennings? What’s he rolling down towards us for? he has no business here!’

‘I am afraid, sir—’ faltered Mr. Jennings.

‘Afraid of what, sir?’ said Nicholas Tulrumble, looking up into the secretary’s face.

‘I am afraid he’s drunk, sir,’ replied Mr. Jennings.

Nicholas Tulrumble took one look at the extraordinary figure that was bearing down upon them; and then, clasping his secretary by the arm, uttered an audible groan in anguish of spirit.

It is a melancholy fact that Mr. Twigger having full licence to demand a single glass of rum on the putting on of every piece of the armour, got, by some means or other, rather out of his calculation in the hurry and confusion of preparation, and drank about four glasses to a piece instead of one, not to mention the something strong which went on the top of it. Whether the brass armour checked the natural flow of perspiration, and thus prevented the spirit from evaporating, we are not scientific enough to know; but, whatever the cause was, Mr. Twigger no sooner found himself outside the gate of Mudfog Hall, than he also found himself in a very considerable state of intoxication; and hence his extraordinary style of progressing. This was bad enough, but, as if fate and fortune had conspired against Nicholas Tulrumble, Mr. Twigger, not having been penitent for a good calendar month, took it into his head to be most especially and particularly sentimental, just when his repentance could have been most conveniently dispensed with. Immense tears were rolling down his cheeks, and he was vainly endeavouring to conceal his grief by applying to his eyes a blue cotton pocket-handkerchief with white spots,—an article not strictly in keeping with a suit of armour some three hundred years old, or thereabouts.

‘Twigger, you villain!’ said Nicholas Tulrumble, quite forgetting his dignity, ‘go back.’

‘Never,’ said Ned. ‘I’m a miserable wretch. I’ll never leave you.’

The by-standers of course received this declaration with acclamations of ‘That’s right, Ned; don’t!’

‘I don’t intend it,’ said Ned, with all the obstinacy of a very tipsy man. ‘I’m very unhappy. I’m the wretched father of an unfortunate family; but I am very faithful, sir. I’ll never leave you.’ Having reiterated this obliging promise, Ned proceeded in broken words to harangue the crowd upon the number of years he had lived in Mudfog, the excessive respectability of his character, and other topics of the like nature.

‘Here! will anybody lead him away?’ said Nicholas: ‘if they’ll call on me afterwards, I’ll reward them well.’

Two or three men stepped forward, with the view of bearing Ned off, when the secretary interposed.

[Picture: Ned Twigger in the kitchen of Mudfog Hall]

‘Take care! take care!’ said Mr. Jennings. ‘I beg your pardon, sir; but they’d better not go too near him, because, if he falls over, he’ll certainly crush somebody.’

At this hint the crowd retired on all sides to a very respectful distance, and left Ned, like the Duke of Devonshire, in a little circle of his own.

‘But, Mr. Jennings,’ said Nicholas Tulrumble, ‘he’ll be suffocated.’

‘I’m very sorry for it, sir,’ replied Mr. Jennings; ‘but nobody can get that armour off, without his own assistance. I’m quite certain of it from the way he put it on.’

Here Ned wept dolefully, and shook his helmeted head, in a manner that might have touched a heart of stone; but the crowd had not hearts of stone, and they laughed heartily.

‘Dear me, Mr. Jennings,’ said Nicholas, turning pale at the possibility of Ned’s being smothered in his antique costume—‘Dear me, Mr. Jennings, can nothing be done with him?’

‘Nothing at all,’ replied Ned, ‘nothing at all. Gentlemen, I’m an unhappy wretch. I’m a body, gentlemen, in a brass coffin.’ At this poetical idea of his own conjuring up, Ned cried so much that the people began to get sympathetic, and to ask what Nicholas Tulrumble meant by putting a man into such a machine as that; and one individual in a hairy waistcoat like the top of a trunk, who had previously expressed his opinion that if Ned hadn’t been a poor man, Nicholas wouldn’t have dared do it, hinted at the propriety of breaking the four-wheel chaise, or Nicholas’s head, or both, which last compound proposition the crowd seemed to consider a very good notion.

It was not acted upon, however, for it had hardly been broached, when Ned Twigger’s wife made her appearance abruptly in the little circle before noticed, and Ned no sooner caught a glimpse of her face and form, than from the mere force of habit he set off towards his home just as fast as his legs could carry him; and that was not very quick in the present instance either, for, however ready they might have been to carry him, they couldn’t get on very well under the brass armour. So, Mrs. Twigger had plenty of time to denounce Nicholas Tulrumble to his face: to express her opinion that he was a decided monster; and to intimate that, if her ill-used husband sustained any personal damage from the brass armour, she would have the law of Nicholas Tulrumble for manslaughter. When she had said all this with due vehemence, she posted after Ned, who was dragging himself along as best he could, and deploring his unhappiness in most dismal tones.

What a wailing and screaming Ned’s children raised when he got home at last! Mrs. Twigger tried to undo the armour, first in one place, and then in another, but she couldn’t manage it; so she tumbled Ned into bed, helmet, armour, gauntlets, and all. Such a creaking as the bedstead made, under Ned’s weight in his new suit! It didn’t break down though; and there Ned lay, like the anonymous vessel in the Bay of Biscay, till next day, drinking barley-water, and looking miserable: and every time he groaned, his good lady said it served him right, which was all the consolation Ned Twigger got.

Nicholas Tulrumble and the gorgeous procession went on together to the town-hall, amid the hisses and groans of all the spectators, who had suddenly taken it into their heads to consider poor Ned a martyr. Nicholas was formally installed in his new office, in acknowledgment of which ceremony he delivered himself of a speech, composed by the secretary, which was very long, and no doubt very good, only the noise of the people outside prevented anybody from hearing it, but Nicholas Tulrumble himself. After which, the procession got back to Mudfog Hall any how it could; and Nicholas and the corporation sat down to dinner.

But the dinner was flat, and Nicholas was disappointed. They were such dull sleepy old fellows, that corporation. Nicholas made quite as long speeches as the Lord Mayor of London had done, nay, he said the very same things that the Lord Mayor of London had said, and the deuce a cheer the corporation gave him. There was only one man in the party who was thoroughly awake; and he was insolent, and called him Nick. Nick! What would be the consequence, thought Nicholas, of anybody presuming to call the Lord Mayor of London ‘Nick!’ He should like to know what the sword-bearer would say to that; or the recorder, or the toast-master, or any other of the great officers of the city. They’d nick him.

But these were not the worst of Nicholas Tulrumble’s doings. If they had been, he might have remained a Mayor to this day, and have talked till he lost his voice. He contracted a relish for statistics, and got philosophical; and the statistics and the philosophy together, led him into an act which increased his unpopularity and hastened his downfall.

At the very end of the Mudfog High-street, and abutting on the river-side, stands the Jolly Boatmen, an old-fashioned low-roofed, bay-windowed house, with a bar, kitchen, and tap-room all in one, and a large fireplace with a kettle to correspond, round which the working men have congregated time out of mind on a winter’s night, refreshed by draughts of good strong beer, and cheered by the sounds of a fiddle and tambourine: the Jolly Boatmen having been duly licensed by the Mayor and corporation, to scrape the fiddle and thumb the tambourine from time, whereof the memory of the oldest inhabitants goeth not to the contrary. Now Nicholas Tulrumble had been reading pamphlets on crime, and parliamentary reports,—or had made the secretary read them to him, which is the same thing in effect,—and he at once perceived that this fiddle and tambourine must have done more to demoralize Mudfog, than any other operating causes that ingenuity could imagine. So he read up for the subject, and determined to come out on the corporation with a burst, the very next time the licence was applied for.

The licensing day came, and the red-faced landlord of the Jolly Boatmen walked into the town-hall, looking as jolly as need be, having actually put on an extra fiddle for that night, to commemorate the anniversary of the Jolly Boatmen’s music licence. It was applied for in due form, and was just about to be granted as a matter of course, when up rose Nicholas Tulrumble, and drowned the astonished corporation in a torrent of eloquence. He descanted in glowing terms upon the increasing depravity of his native town of Mudfog, and the excesses committed by its population. Then, he related how shocked he had been, to see barrels of beer sliding down into the cellar of the Jolly Boatmen week after week; and how he had sat at a window opposite the Jolly Boatmen for two days together, to count the people who went in for beer between the hours of twelve and one o’clock alone—which, by-the-bye, was the time at which the great majority of the Mudfog people dined. Then, he went on to state, how the number of people who came out with beer-jugs, averaged twenty-one in five minutes, which, being multiplied by twelve, gave two hundred and fifty-two people with beer-jugs in an hour, and multiplied again by fifteen (the number of hours during which the house was open daily) yielded three thousand seven hundred and eighty people with beer-jugs per day, or twenty-six thousand four hundred and sixty people with beer-jugs, per week. Then he proceeded to show that a tambourine and moral degradation were synonymous terms, and a fiddle and vicious propensities wholly inseparable. All these arguments he strengthened and demonstrated by frequent references to a large book with a blue cover, and sundry quotations from the Middlesex magistrates; and in the end, the corporation, who were posed with the figures, and sleepy with the speech, and sadly in want of dinner into the bargain, yielded the palm to Nicholas Tulrumble, and refused the music licence to the Jolly Boatmen.

But although Nicholas triumphed, his triumph was short. He carried on the war against beer-jugs and fiddles, forgetting the time when he was glad to drink out of the one, and to dance to the other, till the people hated, and his old friends shunned him. He grew tired of the lonely magnificence of Mudfog Hall, and his heart yearned towards the Lighterman’s Arms. He wished he had never set up as a public man, and sighed for the good old times of the coal-shop, and the chimney corner.

At length old Nicholas, being thoroughly miserable, took heart of grace, paid the secretary a quarter’s wages in advance, and packed him off to London by the next coach. Having taken this step, he put his hat on his head, and his pride in his pocket, and walked down to the old room at the Lighterman’s Arms. There were only two of the old fellows there, and they looked coldly on Nicholas as he proffered his hand.

‘Are you going to put down pipes, Mr. Tulrumble?’ said one.

‘Or trace the progress of crime to ’bacca?’ growled another.

‘Neither,’ replied Nicholas Tulrumble, shaking hands with them both, whether they would or not. ‘I’ve come down to say that I’m very sorry for having made a fool of myself, and that I hope you’ll give me up the old chair, again.’

The old fellows opened their eyes, and three or four more old fellows opened the door, to whom Nicholas, with tears in his eyes, thrust out his hand too, and told the same story. They raised a shout of joy, that made the bells in the ancient church-tower vibrate again, and wheeling the old chair into the warm corner, thrust old Nicholas down into it, and ordered in the very largest-sized bowl of hot punch, with an unlimited number of pipes, directly.

The next day, the Jolly Boatmen got the licence, and the next night, old Nicholas and Ned Twigger’s wife led off a dance to the music of the fiddle and tambourine, the tone of which seemed mightily improved by a little rest, for they never had played so merrily before. Ned Twigger was in the very height of his glory, and he danced hornpipes, and balanced chairs on his chin, and straws on his nose, till the whole company, including the corporation, were in raptures of admiration at the brilliancy of his acquirements.

Mr. Tulrumble, junior, couldn’t make up his mind to be anything but magnificent, so he went up to London and drew bills on his father; and when he had overdrawn, and got into debt, he grew penitent, and came home again.

As to old Nicholas, he kept his word, and having had six weeks of public life, never tried it any more. He went to sleep in the town-hall at the very next meeting; and, in full proof of his sincerity, has requested us to write this faithful narrative. We wish it could have the effect of reminding the Tulrumbles of another sphere, that puffed-up conceit is not dignity, and that snarling at the little pleasures they were once glad to enjoy, because they would rather forget the times when they were of lower station, renders them objects of contempt and ridicule.

This is the first time we have published any of our gleanings from this particular source. Perhaps, at some future period, we may venture to open the chronicles of Mudfog.

FULL REPORT OF THE FIRST MEETING OF THE MUDFOG ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF EVERYTHING

WE have made the most unparalleled and extraordinary exertions to place before our readers a complete and accurate account of the proceedings at the late grand meeting of the Mudfog Association, holden in the town of Mudfog; it affords us great happiness to lay the result before them, in the shape of various communications received from our able, talented, and graphic correspondent, expressly sent down for the purpose, who has immortalized us, himself, Mudfog, and the association, all at one and the same time. We have been, indeed, for some days unable to determine who will transmit the greatest name to posterity; ourselves, who sent our correspondent down; our correspondent, who wrote an account of the matter; or the association, who gave our correspondent something to write about. We rather incline to the opinion that we are the greatest man of the party, inasmuch as the notion of an exclusive and authentic report originated with us; this may be prejudice: it may arise from a prepossession on our part in our own favour. Be it so. We have no doubt that every gentleman concerned in this mighty assemblage is troubled with the same complaint in a greater or less degree; and it is a consolation to us to know that we have at least this feeling in common with the great scientific stars, the brilliant and extraordinary luminaries, whose speculations we record.

We give our correspondent’s letters in the order in which they reached us. Any attempt at amalgamating them into one beautiful whole, would only destroy that glowing tone, that dash of wildness, and rich vein of picturesque interest, which pervade them throughout.

‘Mudfog, Monday night, seven o’clock.

‘WE are in a state of great excitement here. Nothing is spoken of, but the approaching meeting of the association. The inn-doors are thronged with waiters anxiously looking for the expected arrivals; and the numerous bills which are wafered up in the windows of private houses, intimating that there are beds to let within, give the streets a very animated and cheerful appearance, the wafers being of a great variety of colours, and the monotony of printed inscriptions being relieved by every possible size and style of hand-writing. It is confidently rumoured that Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy have engaged three beds and a sitting-room at the Pig and Tinder-box. I give you the rumour as it has reached me; but I cannot, as yet, vouch for its accuracy. The moment I have been enabled to obtain any certain information upon this interesting point, you may depend upon receiving it.’

‘Half-past seven.

I HAVE just returned from a personal interview with the landlord of the Pig and Tinder-box. He speaks confidently of the probability of Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy taking up their residence at his house during the sitting of the association, but denies that the beds have been yet engaged; in which representation he is confirmed by the chambermaid—a girl of artless manners, and interesting appearance. The boots denies that it is at all likely that Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy will put up here; but I have reason to believe that this man has been suborned by the proprietor of the Original Pig, which is the opposition hotel. Amidst such conflicting testimony it is difficult to arrive at the real truth; but you may depend upon receiving authentic information upon this point the moment the fact is ascertained. The excitement still continues. A boy fell through the window of the pastrycook’s shop at the corner of the High-street about half an hour ago, which has occasioned much confusion. The general impression is, that it was an accident. Pray heaven it may prove so!’

‘Tuesday, noon.

‘AT an early hour this morning the bells of all the churches struck seven o’clock; the effect of which, in the present lively state of the town, was extremely singular. While I was at breakfast, a yellow gig, drawn by a dark grey horse, with a patch of white over his right eyelid, proceeded at a rapid pace in the direction of the Original Pig stables; it is currently reported that this gentleman has arrived here for the purpose of attending the association, and, from what I have heard, I consider it extremely probable, although nothing decisive is yet known regarding him. You may conceive the anxiety with which we are all looking forward to the arrival of the four o’clock coach this afternoon.

‘Notwithstanding the excited state of the populace, no outrage has yet been committed, owing to the admirable discipline and discretion of the police, who are nowhere to be seen. A barrel-organ is playing opposite my window, and groups of people, offering fish and vegetables for sale, parade the streets. With these exceptions everything is quiet, and I trust will continue so.’

‘Five o’clock.

‘IT is now ascertained, beyond all doubt, that Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy will not repair to the Pig and Tinder-box, but have actually engaged apartments at the Original Pig. This intelligence is exclusive; and I leave you and your readers to draw their own inferences from it. Why Professor Wheezy, of all people in the world, should repair to the Original Pig in preference to the Pig and Tinder-box, it is not easy to conceive. The professor is a man who should be above all such petty feelings. Some people here openly impute treachery, and a distinct breach of faith to Professors Snore and Doze; while others, again, are disposed to acquit them of any culpability in the transaction, and to insinuate that the blame rests solely with Professor Wheezy. I own that I incline to the latter opinion; and although it gives me great pain to speak in terms of censure or disapprobation of a man of such transcendent genius and acquirements, still I am bound to say that, if my suspicions be well founded, and if all the reports which have reached my ears be true, I really do not well know what to make of the matter.

‘Mr. Slug, so celebrated for his statistical researches, arrived this afternoon by the four o’clock stage. His complexion is a dark purple, and he has a habit of sighing constantly. He looked extremely well, and appeared in high health and spirits. Mr. Woodensconce also came down in the same conveyance. The distinguished gentleman was fast asleep on his arrival, and I am informed by the guard that he had been so the whole way. He was, no doubt, preparing for his approaching fatigues; but what gigantic visions must those be that flit through the brain of such a man when his body is in a state of torpidity!

‘The influx of visitors increases every moment. I am told (I know not how truly) that two post-chaises have arrived at the Original Pig within the last half-hour, and I myself observed a wheelbarrow, containing three carpet bags and a bundle, entering the yard of the Pig and Tinder-box no longer ago than five minutes since. The people are still quietly pursuing their ordinary occupations; but there is a wildness in their eyes, and an unwonted rigidity in the muscles of their countenances, which shows to the observant spectator that their expectations are strained to the very utmost pitch. I fear, unless some very extraordinary arrivals take place to-night, that consequences may arise from this popular ferment, which every man of sense and feeling would deplore.’

‘Twenty minutes past six.

‘I HAVE just heard that the boy who fell through the pastrycook’s window last night has died of the fright. He was suddenly called upon to pay three and sixpence for the damage done, and his constitution, it seems, was not strong enough to bear up against the shock. The inquest, it is said, will be held to-morrow.’

‘Three-quarters part seven.

‘PROFESSORS Muff and Nogo have just driven up to the hotel door; they at once ordered dinner with great condescension. We are all very much delighted with the urbanity of their manners, and the ease with which they adapt themselves to the forms and ceremonies of ordinary life. Immediately on their arrival they sent for the head waiter, and privately requested him to purchase a live dog,—as cheap a one as he could meet with,—and to send him up after dinner, with a pie-board, a knife and fork, and a clean plate. It is conjectured that some experiments will be tried upon the dog to-night; if any particulars should transpire, I will forward them by express.’

‘Half-past eight.

‘THE animal has been procured. He is a pug-dog, of rather intelligent appearance, in good condition, and with very short legs. He has been tied to a curtain-peg in a dark room, and is howling dreadfully.’

‘Ten minutes to nine.

‘THE dog has just been rung for. With an instinct which would appear almost the result of reason, the sagacious animal seized the waiter by the calf of the leg when he approached to take him, and made a desperate, though ineffectual resistance. I have not been able to procure admission to the apartment occupied by the scientific gentlemen; but, judging from the sounds which reached my ears when I stood upon the landing-place outside the door, just now, I should be disposed to say that the dog had retreated growling beneath some article of furniture, and was keeping the professors at bay. This conjecture is confirmed by the testimony of the ostler, who, after peeping through the keyhole, assures me that he distinctly saw Professor Nogo on his knees, holding forth a small bottle of prussic acid, to which the animal, who was crouched beneath an arm-chair, obstinately declined to smell. You cannot imagine the feverish state of irritation we are in, lest the interests of science should be sacrificed to the prejudices of a brute creature, who is not endowed with sufficient sense to foresee the incalculable benefits which the whole human race may derive from so very slight a concession on his part.’

‘Nine o’clock.

‘THE dog’s tail and ears have been sent down-stairs to be washed; from which circumstance we infer that the animal is no more. His forelegs have been delivered to the boots to be brushed, which strengthens the supposition.’

‘Half after ten.

‘MY feelings are so overpowered by what has taken place in the course of the last hour and a half, that I have scarcely strength to detail the rapid succession of events which have quite bewildered all those who are cognizant of their occurrence. It appears that the pug-dog mentioned in my last was surreptitiously obtained,—stolen, in fact,—by some person attached to the stable department, from an unmarried lady resident in this town. Frantic on discovering the loss of her favourite, the lady rushed distractedly into the street, calling in the most heart-rending and pathetic manner upon the passengers to restore her, her Augustus,—for so the deceased was named, in affectionate remembrance of a former lover of his mistress, to whom he bore a striking personal resemblance, which renders the circumstances additionally affecting. I am not yet in a condition to inform you what circumstance induced the bereaved lady to direct her steps to the hotel which had witnessed the last struggles of her protégé. I can only state that she arrived there, at the very instant when his detached members were passing through the passage on a small tray. Her shrieks still reverberate in my ears! I grieve to say that the expressive features of Professor Muff were much scratched and lacerated by the injured lady; and that Professor Nogo, besides sustaining several severe bites, has lost some handfuls of hair from the same cause. It must be some consolation to these gentlemen to know that their ardent attachment to scientific pursuits has alone occasioned these unpleasant consequences; for which the sympathy of a grateful country will sufficiently reward them. The unfortunate lady remains at the Pig and Tinder-box, and up to this time is reported in a very precarious state.

‘I need scarcely tell you that this unlooked-for catastrophe has cast a damp and gloom upon us in the midst of our exhilaration; natural in any case, but greatly enhanced in this, by the amiable qualities of the deceased animal, who appears to have been much and deservedly respected by the whole of his acquaintance.’

‘Twelve o’clock.

‘I TAKE the last opportunity before sealing my parcel to inform you that the boy who fell through the pastrycook’s window is not dead, as was universally believed, but alive and well. The report appears to have had its origin in his mysterious disappearance. He was found half an hour since on the premises of a sweet-stuff maker, where a raffle had been announced for a second-hand seal-skin cap and a tambourine; and where—a sufficient number of members not having been obtained at first—he had patiently waited until the list was completed. This fortunate discovery has in some degree restored our gaiety and cheerfulness. It is proposed to get up a subscription for him without delay.

‘Everybody is nervously anxious to see what to-morrow will bring forth. If any one should arrive in the course of the night, I have left strict directions to be called immediately. I should have sat up, indeed, but the agitating events of this day have been too much for me.

‘No news yet of either of the Professors Snore, Doze, or Wheezy. It is very strange!’

‘Wednesday afternoon.

‘ALL is now over; and, upon one point at least, I am at length enabled to set the minds of your readers at rest. The three professors arrived at ten minutes after two o’clock, and, instead of taking up their quarters at the Original Pig, as it was universally understood in the course of yesterday that they would assuredly have done, drove straight to the Pig and Tinder-box, where they threw off the mask at once, and openly announced their intention of remaining. Professor Wheezy may reconcile this very extraordinary conduct with his notions of fair and equitable dealing, but I would recommend Professor Wheezy to be cautious how he presumes too far upon his well-earned reputation. How such a man as Professor Snore, or, which is still more extraordinary, such an individual as Professor Doze, can quietly allow himself to be mixed up with such proceedings as these, you will naturally inquire. Upon this head, rumour is silent; I have my speculations, but forbear to give utterance to them just now.’

‘Four o’clock.

‘THE town is filling fast; eighteenpence has been offered for a bed and refused. Several gentlemen were under the necessity last night of sleeping in the brick fields, and on the steps of doors, for which they were taken before the magistrates in a body this morning, and committed to prison as vagrants for various terms. One of these persons I understand to be a highly-respectable tinker, of great practical skill, who had forwarded a paper to the President of Section D. Mechanical Science, on the construction of pipkins with copper bottoms and safety-values, of which report speaks highly. The incarceration of this gentleman is greatly to be regretted, as his absence will preclude any discussion on the subject.

‘The bills are being taken down in all directions, and lodgings are being secured on almost any terms. I have heard of fifteen shillings a week for two rooms, exclusive of coals and attendance, but I can scarcely believe it. The excitement is dreadful. I was informed this morning that the civil authorities, apprehensive of some outbreak of popular feeling, had commanded a recruiting sergeant and two corporals to be under arms; and that, with the view of not irritating the people unnecessarily by their presence, they had been requested to take up their position before daybreak in a turnpike, distant about a quarter of a mile from the town. The vigour and promptness of these measures cannot be too highly extolled.

‘Intelligence has just been brought me, that an elderly female, in a state of inebriety, has declared in the open street her intention to “do” for Mr. Slug. Some statistical returns compiled by that gentleman, relative to the consumption of raw spirituous liquors in this place, are supposed to be the cause of the wretch’s animosity. It is added that this declaration was loudly cheered by a crowd of persons who had assembled on the spot; and that one man had the boldness to designate Mr. Slug aloud by the opprobrious epithet of “Stick-in-the-mud!” It is earnestly to be hoped that now, when the moment has arrived for their interference, the magistrates will not shrink from the exercise of that power which is vested in them by the constitution of our common country.’

‘Half-past ten.

‘THE disturbance, I am happy to inform you, has been completely quelled, and the ringleader taken into custody. She had a pail of cold water thrown over her, previous to being locked up, and expresses great contrition and uneasiness. We are all in a fever of anticipation about to-morrow; but, now that we are within a few hours of the meeting of the association, and at last enjoy the proud consciousness of having its illustrious members amongst us, I trust and hope everything may go off peaceably. I shall send you a full report of to-morrow’s proceedings by the night coach.’

‘Eleven o’clock.

‘I OPEN my letter to say that nothing whatever has occurred since I folded it up.’

‘Thursday.

‘THE sun rose this morning at the usual hour. I did not observe anything particular in the aspect of the glorious planet, except that he appeared to me (it might have been a delusion of my heightened fancy) to shine with more than common brilliancy, and to shed a refulgent lustre upon the town, such as I had never observed before. This is the more extraordinary, as the sky was perfectly cloudless, and the atmosphere peculiarly fine. At half-past nine o’clock the general committee assembled, with the last year’s president in the chair. The report of the council was read; and one passage, which stated that the council had corresponded with no less than three thousand five hundred and seventy-one persons, (all of whom paid their own postage,) on no fewer than seven thousand two hundred and forty-three topics, was received with a degree of enthusiasm which no efforts could suppress. The various committees and sections having been appointed, and the more formal business transacted, the great proceedings of the meeting commenced at eleven o’clock precisely. I had the happiness of occupying a most eligible position at that time, in

‘SECTION A.—ZOOLOGY AND BOTANY.

GREAT ROOM, PIG AND TINDER-BOX.

President—Professor Snore. Vice-Presidents—Professors Doze and Wheezy.

‘The scene at this moment was particularly striking. The sun streamed through the windows of the apartments, and tinted the whole scene with its brilliant rays, bringing out in strong relief the noble visages of the professors and scientific gentlemen, who, some with bald heads, some with red heads, some with brown heads, some with grey heads, some with black heads, some with block heads, presented a coup d’œil which no eye-witness will readily forget. In front of these gentlemen were papers and inkstands; and round the room, on elevated benches extending as far as the forms could reach, were assembled a brilliant concourse of those lovely and elegant women for which Mudfog is justly acknowledged to be without a rival in the whole world. The contrast between their fair faces and the dark coats and trousers of the scientific gentlemen I shall never cease to remember while Memory holds her seat.

‘Time having been allowed for a slight confusion, occasioned by the falling down of the greater part of the platforms, to subside, the president called on one of the secretaries to read a communication entitled, “Some remarks on the industrious fleas, with considerations on the importance of establishing infant-schools among that numerous class of society; of directing their industry to useful and practical ends; and of applying the surplus fruits thereof, towards providing for them a comfortable and respectable maintenance in their old age.”

‘The author stated, that, having long turned his attention to the moral and social condition of these interesting animals, he had been induced to visit an exhibition in Regent-street, London, commonly known by the designation of “The Industrious Fleas.” He had there seen many fleas, occupied certainly in various pursuits and avocations, but occupied, he was bound to add, in a manner which no man of well-regulated mind could fail to regard with sorrow and regret. One flea, reduced to the level of a beast of burden, was drawing about a miniature gig, containing a particularly small effigy of His Grace the Duke of Wellington; while another was staggering beneath the weight of a golden model of his great adversary Napoleon Bonaparte. Some, brought up as mountebanks and ballet-dancers, were performing a figure-dance (he regretted to observe, that, of the fleas so employed, several were females); others were in training, in a small card-board box, for pedestrians,—mere sporting characters—and two were actually engaged in the cold-blooded and barbarous occupation of duelling; a pursuit from which humanity recoiled with horror and disgust. He suggested that measures should be immediately taken to employ the labour of these fleas as part and parcel of the productive power of the country, which might easily be done by the establishment among them of infant schools and houses of industry, in which a system of virtuous education, based upon sound principles, should be observed, and moral precepts strictly inculcated. He proposed that every flea who presumed to exhibit, for hire, music, or dancing, or any species of theatrical entertainment, without a licence, should be considered a vagabond, and treated accordingly; in which respect he only placed him upon a level with the rest of mankind. He would further suggest that their labour should be placed under the control and regulation of the state, who should set apart from the profits, a fund for the support of superannuated or disabled fleas, their widows and orphans. With this view, he proposed that liberal premiums should be offered for the three best designs for a general almshouse; from which—as insect architecture was well known to be in a very advanced and perfect state—we might possibly derive many valuable hints for the improvement of our metropolitan universities, national galleries, and other public edifices.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to be informed how the ingenious gentleman proposed to open a communication with fleas generally, in the first instance, so that they might be thoroughly imbued with a sense of the advantages they must necessarily derive from changing their mode of life, and applying themselves to honest labour. This appeared to him, the only difficulty.

‘THE AUTHOR submitted that this difficulty was easily overcome, or rather that there was no difficulty at all in the case. Obviously the course to be pursued, if Her Majesty’s government could be prevailed upon to take up the plan, would be, to secure at a remunerative salary the individual to whom he had alluded as presiding over the exhibition in Regent-street at the period of his visit. That gentleman would at once be able to put himself in communication with the mass of the fleas, and to instruct them in pursuance of some general plan of education, to be sanctioned by Parliament, until such time as the more intelligent among them were advanced enough to officiate as teachers to the rest.

‘The President and several members of the section highly complimented the author of the paper last read, on his most ingenious and important treatise. It was determined that the subject should be recommended to the immediate consideration of the council.

‘MR. WIGSBY produced a cauliflower somewhat larger than a chaise-umbrella, which had been raised by no other artificial means than the simple application of highly carbonated soda-water as manure. He explained that by scooping out the head, which would afford a new and delicious species of nourishment for the poor, a parachute, in principle something similar to that constructed by M. Garnerin, was at once obtained; the stalk of course being kept downwards. He added that he was perfectly willing to make a descent from a height of not less than three miles and a quarter; and had in fact already proposed the same to the proprietors of Vauxhall Gardens, who in the handsomest manner at once consented to his wishes, and appointed an early day next summer for the undertaking; merely stipulating that the rim of the cauliflower should be previously broken in three or four places to ensure the safety of the descent.

‘THE PRESIDENT congratulated the public on the grand gala in store for them, and warmly eulogised the proprietors of the establishment alluded to, for their love of science, and regard for the safety of human life, both of which did them the highest honour.

‘A Member wished to know how many thousand additional lamps the royal property would be illuminated with, on the night after the descent.

‘MR. WIGSBY replied that the point was not yet finally decided; but he believed it was proposed, over and above the ordinary illuminations, to exhibit in various devices eight millions and a-half of additional lamps.

‘The Member expressed himself much gratified with this announcement.

‘MR. BLUNDERUM delighted the section with a most interesting and valuable paper “on the last moments of the learned pig,” which produced a very strong impression on the assembly, the account being compiled from the personal recollections of his favourite attendant. The account stated in the most emphatic terms that the animal’s name was not Toby, but Solomon; and distinctly proved that he could have no near relatives in the profession, as many designing persons had falsely stated, inasmuch as his father, mother, brothers and sisters, had all fallen victims to the butcher at different times. An uncle of his indeed, had with very great labour been traced to a sty in Somers Town; but as he was in a very infirm state at the time, being afflicted with measles, and shortly afterwards disappeared, there appeared too much reason to conjecture that he had been converted into sausages. The disorder of the learned pig was originally a severe cold, which, being aggravated by excessive trough indulgence, finally settled upon the lungs, and terminated in a general decay of the constitution. A melancholy instance of a presentiment entertained by the animal of his approaching dissolution, was recorded. After gratifying a numerous and fashionable company with his performances, in which no falling off whatever was visible, he fixed his eyes on the biographer, and, turning to the watch which lay on the floor, and on which he was accustomed to point out the hour, deliberately passed his snout twice round the dial. In precisely four-and-twenty hours from that time he had ceased to exist!

‘PROFESSOR WHEEZY inquired whether, previous to his demise, the animal had expressed, by signs or otherwise, any wishes regarding the disposal of his little property.

‘MR. BLUNDERUM replied, that, when the biographer took up the pack of cards at the conclusion of the performance, the animal grunted several times in a significant manner, and nodding his head as he was accustomed to do, when gratified. From these gestures it was understood that he wished the attendant to keep the cards, which he had ever since done. He had not expressed any wish relative to his watch, which had accordingly been pawned by the same individual.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to know whether any Member of the section had ever seen or conversed with the pig-faced lady, who was reported to have worn a black velvet mask, and to have taken her meals from a golden trough.

‘After some hesitation a Member replied that the pig-faced lady was his mother-in-law, and that he trusted the President would not violate the sanctity of private life.

‘THE PRESIDENT begged pardon. He had considered the pig-faced lady a public character. Would the honourable member object to state, with a view to the advancement of science, whether she was in any way connected with the learned pig?

‘The Member replied in the same low tone, that, as the question appeared to involve a suspicion that the learned pig might be his half-brother, he must decline answering it.

‘SECTION B.—ANATOMY AND MEDICINE.

COACH-HOUSE, PIG AND TINDER-BOX.

President—Dr. Toorell. Vice-Presidents—Professors Muff and Nogo.

‘DR. KUTANKUMAGEN (of Moscow) read to the section a report of a case which had occurred within his own practice, strikingly illustrative of the power of medicine, as exemplified in his successful treatment of a virulent disorder. He had been called in to visit the patient on the 1st of April, 1837. He was then labouring under symptoms peculiarly alarming to any medical man. His frame was stout and muscular, his step firm and elastic, his cheeks plump and red, his voice loud, his appetite good, his pulse full and round. He was in the constant habit of eating three meals per diem, and of drinking at least one bottle of wine, and one glass of spirituous liquors diluted with water, in the course of the four-and-twenty hours. He laughed constantly, and in so hearty a manner that it was terrible to hear him. By dint of powerful medicine, low diet, and bleeding, the symptoms in the course of three days perceptibly decreased. A rigid perseverance in the same course of treatment for only one week, accompanied with small doses of water-gruel, weak broth, and barley-water, led to their entire disappearance. In the course of a month he was sufficiently recovered to be carried down-stairs by two nurses, and to enjoy an airing in a close carriage, supported by soft pillows. At the present moment he was restored so far as to walk about, with the slight assistance of a crutch and a boy. It would perhaps be gratifying to the section to learn that he ate little, drank little, slept little, and was never heard to laugh by any accident whatever.

‘DR. W. R. FEE, in complimenting the honourable member upon the triumphant cure he had effected, begged to ask whether the patient still bled freely?

‘DR. KUTANKUMAGEN replied in the affirmative.

‘DR. W. R. FEE.—And you found that he bled freely during the whole course of the disorder?

‘DR. KUTANKUMAGEN.—Oh dear, yes; most freely.

‘DR. NEESHAWTS supposed, that if the patient had not submitted to be bled with great readiness and perseverance, so extraordinary a cure could never, in fact, have been accomplished. Dr. Kutankumagen rejoined, certainly not.

‘MR. KNIGHT BELL (M.R.C.S.) exhibited a wax preparation of the interior of a gentleman who in early life had inadvertently swallowed a door-key. It was a curious fact that a medical student of dissipated habits, being present at the post mortem examination, found means to escape unobserved from the room, with that portion of the coats of the stomach upon which an exact model of the instrument was distinctly impressed, with which he hastened to a locksmith of doubtful character, who made a new key from the pattern so shown to him. With this key the medical student entered the house of the deceased gentleman, and committed a burglary to a large amount, for which he was subsequently tried and executed.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to know what became of the original key after the lapse of years. Mr. Knight Bell replied that the gentleman was always much accustomed to punch, and it was supposed the acid had gradually devoured it.

‘DR. NEESHAWTS and several of the members were of opinion that the key must have lain very cold and heavy upon the gentleman’s stomach.

‘MR. KNIGHT BELL believed it did at first. It was worthy of remark, perhaps, that for some years the gentleman was troubled with a night-mare, under the influence of which he always imagined himself a wine-cellar door.

‘PROFESSOR MUFF related a very extraordinary and convincing proof of the wonderful efficacy of the system of infinitesimal doses, which the section were doubtless aware was based upon the theory that the very minutest amount of any given drug, properly dispersed through the human frame, would be productive of precisely the same result as a very large dose administered in the usual manner. Thus, the fortieth part of a grain of calomel was supposed to be equal to a five-grain calomel pill, and so on in proportion throughout the whole range of medicine. He had tried the experiment in a curious manner upon a publican who had been brought into the hospital with a broken head, and was cured upon the infinitesimal system in the incredibly short space of three months. This man was a hard drinker. He (Professor Muff) had dispersed three drops of rum through a bucket of water, and requested the man to drink the whole. What was the result? Before he had drunk a quart, he was in a state of beastly intoxication; and five other men were made dead drunk with the remainder.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to know whether an infinitesimal dose of soda-water would have recovered them? Professor Muff replied that the twenty-fifth part of a teaspoonful, properly administered to each patient, would have sobered him immediately. The President remarked that this was a most important discovery, and he hoped the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen would patronize it immediately.

‘A Member begged to be informed whether it would be possible to administer—say, the twentieth part of a grain of bread and cheese to all grown-up paupers, and the fortieth part to children, with the same satisfying effect as their present allowance.

‘PROFESSOR MUFF was willing to stake his professional reputation on the perfect adequacy of such a quantity of food to the support of human life—in workhouses; the addition of the fifteenth part of a grain of pudding twice a week would render it a high diet.

‘PROFESSOR NOGO called the attention of the section to a very extraordinary case of animal magnetism. A private watchman, being merely looked at by the operator from the opposite side of a wide street, was at once observed to be in a very drowsy and languid state. He was followed to his box, and being once slightly rubbed on the palms of the hands, fell into a sound sleep, in which he continued without intermission for ten hours.

‘SECTION C.—STATISTICS.

HAY-LOFT, ORIGINAL PIG.

President—Mr. Woodensconce. Vice-Presidents—Mr. Ledbrain and Mr. Timbered.

‘MR. SLUG stated to the section the result of some calculations he had made with great difficulty and labour, regarding the state of infant education among the middle classes of London. He found that, within a circle of three miles from the Elephant and Castle, the following were the names and numbers of children’s books principally in circulation:—

‘Jack the Giant-killer 7,943 Ditto and Bean-stalk 8,621 Ditto and Eleven Brothers 2,845 Ditto and Jill 1,998 Total 21,407

‘He found that the proportion of Robinson Crusoes to Philip Quarlls was as four and a half to one; and that the preponderance of Valentine and Orsons over Goody Two Shoeses was as three and an eighth of the former to half a one of the latter; a comparison of Seven Champions with Simple Simons gave the same result. The ignorance that prevailed, was lamentable. One child, on being asked whether he would rather be Saint George of England or a respectable tallow-chandler, instantly replied, “Taint George of Ingling.” Another, a little boy of eight years old, was found to be firmly impressed with a belief in the existence of dragons, and openly stated that it was his intention when he grew up, to rush forth sword in hand for the deliverance of captive princesses, and the promiscuous slaughter of giants. Not one child among the number interrogated had ever heard of Mungo Park,—some inquiring whether he was at all connected with the black man that swept the crossing; and others whether he was in any way related to the Regent’s Park. They had not the slightest conception of the commonest principles of mathematics, and considered Sindbad the Sailor the most enterprising voyager that the world had ever produced.

‘A Member strongly deprecating the use of all the other books mentioned, suggested that Jack and Jill might perhaps be exempted from the general censure, inasmuch as the hero and heroine, in the very outset of the tale, were depicted as going up a hill to fetch a pail of water, which was a laborious and useful occupation,—supposing the family linen was being washed, for instance.

‘MR. SLUG feared that the moral effect of this passage was more than counterbalanced by another in a subsequent part of the poem, in which very gross allusion was made to the mode in which the heroine was personally chastised by her mother

“‘For laughing at Jack’s disaster;”

besides, the whole work had this one great fault, it was not true.

‘THE PRESIDENT complimented the honourable member on the excellent distinction he had drawn. Several other Members, too, dwelt upon the immense and urgent necessity of storing the minds of children with nothing but facts and figures; which process the President very forcibly remarked, had made them (the section) the men they were.

‘MR. SLUG then stated some curious calculations respecting the dogs’-meat barrows of London. He found that the total number of small carts and barrows engaged in dispensing provision to the cats and dogs of the metropolis was, one thousand seven hundred and forty-three. The average number of skewers delivered daily with the provender, by each dogs’-meat cart or barrow, was thirty-six. Now, multiplying the number of skewers so delivered by the number of barrows, a total of sixty-two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight skewers daily would be obtained. Allowing that, of these sixty-two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight skewers, the odd two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight were accidentally devoured with the meat, by the most voracious of the animals supplied, it followed that sixty thousand skewers per day, or the enormous number of twenty-one millions nine hundred thousand skewers annually, were wasted in the kennels and dustholes of London; which, if collected and warehoused, would in ten years’ time afford a mass of timber more than sufficient for the construction of a first-rate vessel of war for the use of her Majesty’s navy, to be called “The Royal Skewer,” and to become under that name the terror of all the enemies of this island.

‘MR. X. LEDBRAIN read a very ingenious communication, from which it appeared that the total number of legs belonging to the manufacturing population of one great town in Yorkshire was, in round numbers, forty thousand, while the total number of chair and stool legs in their houses was only thirty thousand, which, upon the very favourable average of three legs to a seat, yielded only ten thousand seats in all. From this calculation it would appear,—not taking wooden or cork legs into the account, but allowing two legs to every person,—that ten thousand individuals (one-half of the whole population) were either destitute of any rest for their legs at all, or passed the whole of their leisure time in sitting upon boxes.

‘SECTION D.—MECHANICAL SCIENCE.

COACH-HOUSE, ORIGINAL PIG.

President—Mr. Carter. Vice-Presidents—Mr. Truck and Mr. Waghorn.

‘PROFESSOR QUEERSPECK exhibited an elegant model of a portable railway, neatly mounted in a green case, for the waistcoat pocket. By attaching this beautiful instrument to his boots, any Bank or public-office clerk could transport himself from his place of residence to his place of business, at the easy rate of sixty-five miles an hour, which, to gentlemen of sedentary pursuits, would be an incalculable advantage.

‘THE PRESIDENT was desirous of knowing whether it was necessary to have a level surface on which the gentleman was to run.

‘PROFESSOR QUEERSPECK explained that City gentlemen would run in trains, being handcuffed together to prevent confusion or unpleasantness. For instance, trains would start every morning at eight, nine, and ten o’clock, from Camden Town, Islington, Camberwell, Hackney, and various other places in which City gentlemen are accustomed to reside. It would be necessary to have a level, but he had provided for this difficulty by proposing that the best line that the circumstances would admit of, should be taken through the sewers which undermine the streets of the metropolis, and which, well lighted by jets from the gas pipes which run immediately above them, would form a pleasant and commodious arcade, especially in winter-time, when the inconvenient custom of carrying umbrellas, now so general, could be wholly dispensed with. In reply to another question, Professor Queerspeck stated that no substitute for the purposes to which these arcades were at present devoted had yet occurred to him, but that he hoped no fanciful objection on this head would be allowed to interfere with so great an undertaking.

‘MR. JOBBA produced a forcing-machine on a novel plan, for bringing joint-stock railway shares prematurely to a premium. The instrument was in the form of an elegant gilt weather-glass, of most dazzling appearance, and was worked behind, by strings, after the manner of a pantomime trick, the strings being always pulled by the directors of the company to which the machine belonged. The quicksilver was so ingeniously placed, that when the acting directors held shares in their pockets, figures denoting very small expenses and very large returns appeared upon the glass; but the moment the directors parted with these pieces of paper, the estimate of needful expenditure suddenly increased itself to an immense extent, while the statements of certain profits became reduced in the same proportion. Mr. Jobba stated that the machine had been in constant requisition for some months past, and he had never once known it to fail.

‘A Member expressed his opinion that it was extremely neat and pretty. He wished to know whether it was not liable to accidental derangement? Mr. Jobba said that the whole machine was undoubtedly liable to be blown up, but that was the only objection to it.

‘PROFESSOR NOGO arrived from the anatomical section to exhibit a model of a safety fire-escape, which could be fixed at any time, in less than half an hour, and by means of which, the youngest or most infirm persons (successfully resisting the progress of the flames until it was quite ready) could be preserved if they merely balanced themselves for a few minutes on the sill of their bedroom window, and got into the escape without falling into the street. The Professor stated that the number of boys who had been rescued in the daytime by this machine from houses which were not on fire, was almost incredible. Not a conflagration had occurred in the whole of London for many months past to which the escape had not been carried on the very next day, and put in action before a concourse of persons.

‘THE PRESIDENT inquired whether there was not some difficulty in ascertaining which was the top of the machine, and which the bottom, in cases of pressing emergency.

‘PROFESSOR NOGO explained that of course it could not be expected to act quite as well when there was a fire, as when there was not a fire; but in the former case he thought it would be of equal service whether the top were up or down.’

---

With the last section our correspondent concludes his most able and faithful Report, which will never cease to reflect credit upon him for his scientific attainments, and upon us for our enterprising spirit. It is needless to take a review of the subjects which have been discussed; of the mode in which they have been examined; of the great truths which they have elicited. They are now before the world, and we leave them to read, to consider, and to profit.

The place of meeting for next year has undergone discussion, and has at length been decided, regard being had to, and evidence being taken upon, the goodness of its wines, the supply of its markets, the hospitality of its inhabitants, and the quality of its hotels. We hope at this next meeting our correspondent may again be present, and that we may be once more the means of placing his communications before the world. Until that period we have been prevailed upon to allow this number of our Miscellany to be retailed to the public, or wholesaled to the trade, without any advance upon our usual price.

We have only to add, that the committees are now broken up, and that Mudfog is once again restored to its accustomed tranquillity,—that Professors and Members have had balls, and soirées, and suppers, and great mutual complimentations, and have at length dispersed to their several homes,—whither all good wishes and joys attend them, until next year!

Signed BOZ.

FULL REPORT OF THE SECOND MEETING OF THE MUDFOG ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF EVERYTHING

IN October last, we did ourselves the immortal credit of recording, at an enormous expense, and by dint of exertions unnpralleled in the history of periodical publication, the proceedings of the Mudfog Association for the Advancement of Everything, which in that month held its first great half-yearly meeting, to the wonder and delight of the whole empire. We announced at the conclusion of that extraordinary and most remarkable Report, that when the Second Meeting of the Society should take place, we should be found again at our post, renewing our gigantic and spirited endeavours, and once more making the world ring with the accuracy, authenticity, immeasurable superiority, and intense remarkability of our account of its proceedings. In redemption of this pledge, we caused to be despatched per steam to Oldcastle (at which place this second meeting of the Society was held on the 20th instant), the same superhumanly-endowed gentleman who furnished the former report, and who,—gifted by nature with transcendent abilities, and furnished by us with a body of assistants scarcely inferior to himself,—has forwarded a series of letters, which, for faithfulness of description, power of language, fervour of thought, happiness of expression, and importance of subject-matter, have no equal in the epistolary literature of any age or country. We give this gentleman’s correspondence entire, and in the order in which it reached our office.

‘Saloon of Steamer, Thursday night, half-past eight.

‘WHEN I left New Burlington Street this evening in the hackney cabriolet, number four thousand two hundred and eighty-five, I experienced sensations as novel as they were oppressive. A sense of the importance of the task I had undertaken, a consciousness that I was leaving London, and, stranger still, going somewhere else, a feeling of loneliness and a sensation of jolting, quite bewildered my thoughts, and for a time rendered me even insensible to the presence of my carpet-bag and hat-box. I shall ever feel grateful to the driver of a Blackwall omnibus who, by thrusting the pole of his vehicle through the small door of the cabriolet, awakened me from a tumult of imaginings that are wholly indescribable. But of such materials is our imperfect nature composed!

‘I am happy to say that I am the first passenger on board, and shall thus be enabled to give you an account of all that happens in the order of its occurrence. The chimney is smoking a good deal, and so are the crew; and the captain, I am informed, is very drunk in a little house upon deck, something like a black turnpike. I should infer from all I hear that he has got the steam up.

‘You will readily guess with what feelings I have just made the discovery that my berth is in the same closet with those engaged by Professor Woodensconce, Mr. Slug, and Professor Grime. Professor Woodensconce has taken the shelf above me, and Mr. Slug and Professor Grime the two shelves opposite. Their luggage has already arrived. On Mr. Slug’s bed is a long tin tube of about three inches in diameter, carefully closed at both ends. What can this contain? Some powerful instrument of a new construction, doubtless.’

‘Ten minutes past nine.

‘NOBODY has yet arrived, nor has anything fresh come in my way except several joints of beef and mutton, from which I conclude that a good plain dinner has been provided for to-morrow. There is a singular smell below, which gave me some uneasiness at first; but as the steward says it is always there, and never goes away, I am quite comfortable again. I learn from this man that the different sections will be distributed at the Black Boy and Stomach-ache, and the Boot-jack and Countenance. If this intelligence be true (and I have no reason to doubt it), your readers will draw such conclusions as their different opinions may suggest.

‘I write down these remarks as they occur to me, or as the facts come to my knowledge, in order that my first impressions may lose nothing of their original vividness. I shall despatch them in small packets as opportunities arise.’

‘Half past nine.

‘SOME dark object has just appeared upon the wharf. I think it is a travelling carriage.’

‘A quarter to ten.

‘NO, it isn’t.’

‘Half-past ten.

‘THE passengers are pouring in every instant. Four omnibuses full have just arrived upon the wharf, and all is bustle and activity. The noise and confusion are very great. Cloths are laid in the cabins, and the steward is placing blue plates—full of knobs of cheese at equal distances down the centre of the tables. He drops a great many knobs; but, being used to it, picks them up again with great dexterity, and, after wiping them on his sleeve, throws them back into the plates. He is a young man of exceedingly prepossessing appearance—either dirty or a mulatto, but I think the former.

‘An interesting old gentleman, who came to the wharf in an omnibus, has just quarrelled violently with the porters, and is staggering towards the vessel with a large trunk in his arms. I trust and hope that he may reach it in safety; but the board he has to cross is narrow and slippery. Was that a splash? Gracious powers!

‘I have just returned from the deck. The trunk is standing upon the extreme brink of the wharf, but the old gentleman is nowhere to be seen. The watchman is not sure whether he went down or not, but promises to drag for him the first thing to-morrow morning. May his humane efforts prove successful!

‘Professor Nogo has this moment arrived with his nightcap on under his hat. He has ordered a glass of cold brandy and water, with a hard biscuit and a basin, and has gone straight to bed. What can this mean?

‘The three other scientific gentlemen to whom I have already alluded have come on board, and have all tried their beds, with the exception of Professor Woodensconce, who sleeps in one of the top ones, and can’t get into it. Mr. Slug, who sleeps in the other top one, is unable to get out of his, and is to have his supper handed up by a boy. I have had the honour to introduce myself to these gentlemen, and we have amicably arranged the order in which we shall retire to rest; which it is necessary to agree upon, because, although the cabin is very comfortable, there is not room for more than one gentleman to be out of bed at a time, and even he must take his boots off in the passage.

‘As I anticipated, the knobs of cheese were provided for the passengers’ supper, and are now in course of consumption. Your readers will be surprised to hear that Professor Woodensconce has abstained from cheese for eight years, although he takes butter in considerable quantities. Professor Grime having lost several teeth, is unable, I observe, to eat his crusts without previously soaking them in his bottled porter. How interesting are these peculiarities!’

‘Half-past eleven.

‘PROFESSORS Woodensconce and Grime, with a degree of good humour that delights us all, have just arranged to toss for a bottle of mulled port. There has been some discussion whether the payment should be decided by the first toss or the best out of three. Eventually the latter course has been determined on. Deeply do I wish that both gentlemen could win; but that being impossible, I own that my personal aspirations (I speak as an individual, and do not compromise either you or your readers by this expression of feeling) are with Professor Woodensconce. I have backed that gentleman to the amount of eighteenpence.’

‘Twenty minutes to twelve.

‘PROFESSOR Grime has inadvertently tossed his half-crown out of one of the cabin-windows, and it has been arranged that the steward shall toss for him. Bets are offered on any side to any amount, but there are no takers.

‘Professor Woodensconce has just called “woman;” but the coin having lodged in a beam, is a long time coming down again. The interest and suspense of this one moment are beyond anything that can be imagined.’

‘Twelve o’clock.

‘THE mulled port is smoking on the table before me, and Professor Grime has won. Tossing is a game of chance; but on every ground, whether of public or private character, intellectual endowments, or scientific attainments, I cannot help expressing my opinion that Professor Woodensconce ought to have come off victorious. There is an exultation about Professor Grime incompatible, I fear, with true greatness.’

‘A quarter past twelve.

‘PROFESSOR Grime continues to exult, and to boast of his victory in no very measured terms, observing that he always does win, and that he knew it would be a “head” beforehand, with many other remarks of a similar nature. Surely this gentleman is not so lost to every feeling of decency and propriety as not to feel and know the superiority of Professor Woodensconce? Is Professor Grime insane? or does he wish to be reminded in plain language of his true position in society, and the precise level of his acquirements and abilities? Professor Grime will do well to look to this.’

‘One o’clock.

‘I AM writing in bed. The small cabin is illuminated by the feeble light of a flickering lamp suspended from the ceiling; Professor Grime is lying on the opposite shelf on the broad of his back, with his mouth wide open. The scene is indescribably solemn. The rippling of the tide, the noise of the sailors’ feet overhead, the gruff voices on the river, the dogs on the shore, the snoring of the passengers, and a constant creaking of every plank in the vessel, are the only sounds that meet the ear. With these exceptions, all is profound silence.

‘My curiosity has been within the last moment very much excited. Mr. Slug, who lies above Professor Grime, has cautiously withdrawn the curtains of his berth, and, after looking anxiously out, as if to satisfy himself that his companions are asleep, has taken up the tin tube of which I have before spoken, and is regarding it with great interest. What rare mechanical combination can be contained in that mysterious case? It is evidently a profound secret to all.’

‘A quarter past one.

‘THE behaviour of Mr. Slug grows more and more mysterious. He has unscrewed the top of the tube, and now renews his observations upon his companions, evidently to make sure that he is wholly unobserved. He is clearly on the eve of some great experiment. Pray heaven that it be not a dangerous one; but the interests of science must be promoted, and I am prepared for the worst.’

‘Five minutes later.

‘HE has produced a large pair of scissors, and drawn a roll of some substance, not unlike parchment in appearance, from the tin case. The experiment is about to begin. I must strain my eyes to the utmost, in the attempt to follow its minutest operation.’

‘Twenty minutes before two.

‘I HAVE at length been enabled to ascertain that the tin tube contains a few yards of some celebrated plaster, recommended—as I discover on regarding the label attentively through my eye-glass—as a preservative against sea-sickness. Mr. Slug has cut it up into small portions, and is now sticking it over himself in every direction.’

‘Three o’clock.

‘PRECISELY a quarter of an hour ago we weighed anchor, and the machinery was suddenly put in motion with a noise so appalling, that Professor Woodensconce (who had ascended to his berth by means of a platform of carpet-bags arranged by himself on geometrical principals) darted from his shelf head foremost, and, gaining his feet with all the rapidity of extreme terror, ran wildly into the ladies’ cabin, under the impression that we were sinking, and uttering loud cries for aid. I am assured that the scene which ensued baffles all description. There were one hundred and forty-seven ladies in their respective berths at the time.

‘Mr. Slug has remarked, as an additional instance of the extreme ingenuity of the steam-engine as applied to purposes of navigation, that in whatever part of the vessel a passenger’s berth may be situated, the machinery always appears to be exactly under his pillow. He intends stating this very beautiful, though simple discovery, to the association.’

‘Half-past ten.

‘WE are still in smooth water; that is to say, in as smooth water as a steam-vessel ever can be, for, as Professor Woodensconce (who has just woke up) learnedly remarks, another great point of ingenuity about a steamer is, that it always carries a little storm with it. You can scarcely conceive how exciting the jerking pulsation of the ship becomes. It is a matter of positive difficulty to get to sleep.’

‘Friday afternoon, six o’clock.

‘I REGRET to inform you that Mr. Slug’s plaster has proved of no avail. He is in great agony, but has applied several large, additional pieces notwithstanding. How affecting is this extreme devotion to science and pursuit of knowledge under the most trying circumstances!

‘We were extremely happy this morning, and the breakfast was one of the most animated description. Nothing unpleasant occurred until noon, with the exception of Doctor Foxey’s brown silk umbrella and white hat becoming entangled in the machinery while he was explaining to a knot of ladies the construction of the steam-engine. I fear the gravy soup for lunch was injudicious. We lost a great many passengers almost immediately afterwards.’

‘Half-past six.

‘I AM again in bed. Anything so heart-rending as Mr. Slug’s sufferings it has never yet been my lot to witness.’

‘Seven o’clock.

‘A MESSENGER has just come down for a clean pocket-handkerchief from Professor Woodensconce’s bag, that unfortunate gentleman being quite unable to leave the deck, and imploring constantly to be thrown overboard. From this man I understand that Professor Nogo, though in a state of utter exhaustion, clings feebly to the hard biscuit and cold brandy and water, under the impression that they will yet restore him. Such is the triumph of mind over matter.

‘Professor Grime is in bed, to all appearance quite well; but he will eat, and it is disagreeable to see him. Has this gentleman no sympathy with the sufferings of his fellow-creatures? If he has, on what principle can he call for mutton-chops—and smile?’

‘Black Boy and Stomach-ache, Oldcastle, Saturday noon.

‘YOU will be happy to learn that I have at length arrived here in safety. The town is excessively crowded, and all the private lodgings and hotels are filled with savans of both sexes. The tremendous assemblage of intellect that one encounters in every street is in the last degree overwhelming.

‘Notwithstanding the throng of people here, I have been fortunate enough to meet with very comfortable accommodation on very reasonable terms, having secured a sofa in the first-floor passage at one guinea per night, which includes permission to take my meals in the bar, on condition that I walk about the streets at all other times, to make room for other gentlemen similarly situated. I have been over the outhouses intended to be devoted to the reception of the various sections, both here and at the Boot-jack and Countenance, and am much delighted with the arrangements. Nothing can exceed the fresh appearance of the saw-dust with which the floors are sprinkled. The forms are of unplaned deal, and the general effect, as you can well imagine, is extremely beautiful.’

‘Half-past nine.

‘THE number and rapidity of the arrivals are quite bewildering. Within the last ten minutes a stage-coach has driven up to the door, filled inside and out with distinguished characters, comprising Mr. Muddlebranes, Mr. Drawley, Professor Muff, Mr. X. Misty, Mr. X. X. Misty, Mr. Purblind, Professor Rummun, The Honourable and Reverend Mr. Long Eers, Professor John Ketch, Sir William Joltered, Doctor Buffer, Mr. Smith (of London), Mr. Brown (of Edinburgh), Sir Hookham Snivey, and Professor Pumpkinskull. The ten last-named gentlemen were wet through, and looked extremely intelligent.’

‘Sunday, two o’clock, p.m.

‘THE Honourable and Reverend Mr. Long Eers, accompanied by Sir William Joltered, walked and drove this morning. They accomplished the former feat in boots, and the latter in a hired fly. This has naturally given rise to much discussion.

‘I have just learnt that an interview has taken place at the Boot-jack and Countenance between Sowster, the active and intelligent beadle of this place, and Professor Pumpkinskull, who, as your readers are doubtless aware, is an influential member of the council. I forbear to communicate any of the rumours to which this very extraordinary proceeding has given rise until I have seen Sowster, and endeavoured to ascertain the truth from him.’

‘Half-past six.

‘I ENGAGED a donkey-chaise shortly after writing the above, and proceeded at a brisk trot in the direction of Sowster’s residence, passing through a beautiful expanse of country, with red brick buildings on either side, and stopping in the marketplace to observe the spot where Mr. Kwakley’s hat was blown off yesterday. It is an uneven piece of paving, but has certainly no appearance which would lead one to suppose that any such event had recently occurred there. From this point I proceeded—passing the gas-works and tallow-melter’s—to a lane which had been pointed out to me as the beadle’s place of residence; and before I had driven a dozen yards further, I had the good fortune to meet Sowster himself advancing towards me.

‘Sowster is a fat man, with a more enlarged development of that peculiar conformation of countenance which is vulgarly termed a double chin than I remember to have ever seen before. He has also a very red nose, which he attributes to a habit of early rising—so red, indeed, that but for this explanation I should have supposed it to proceed from occasional inebriety. He informed me that he did not feel himself at liberty to relate what had passed between himself and Professor Pumpkinskull, but had no objection to state that it was connected with a matter of police regulation, and added with peculiar significance “Never wos sitch times!”

‘You will easily believe that this intelligence gave me considerable surprise, not wholly unmixed with anxiety, and that I lost no time in waiting on Professor Pumpkinskull, and stating the object of my visit. After a few moments’ reflection, the Professor, who, I am bound to say, behaved with the utmost politeness, openly avowed (I mark the passage in italics) that he had requested Sowster to attend on the Monday morning at the Boot-jack and Countenance, to keep off the boys; and that he had further desired that the under-beadle might be stationed, with the same object, at the Black Boy and Stomach-ache!

‘Now I leave this unconstitutional proceeding to your comments and the consideration of your readers. I have yet to learn that a beadle, without the precincts of a church, churchyard, or work-house, and acting otherwise than under the express orders of churchwardens and overseers in council assembled, to enforce the law against people who come upon the parish, and other offenders, has any lawful authority whatever over the rising youth of this country. I have yet to learn that a beadle can be called out by any civilian to exercise a domination and despotism over the boys of Britain. I have yet to learn that a beadle will be permitted by the commissioners of poor law regulation to wear out the soles and heels of his boots in illegal interference with the liberties of people not proved poor or otherwise criminal. I have yet to learn that a beadle has power to stop up the Queen’s highway at his will and pleasure, or that the whole width of the street is not free and open to any man, boy, or woman in existence, up to the very walls of the houses—ay, be they Black Boys and Stomach-aches, or Boot-jacks and Countenances, I care not.’

‘Nine o’clock.

‘I have procured a local artist to make a faithful sketch of the tyrant Sowster, which, as he has acquired this infamous celebrity, you will no doubt wish to have engraved for the purpose of presenting a copy with every copy of your next number. I enclose it.

[Picture: The Tyrant Sowster]

The under-beadle has consented to write his life, but it is to be strictly anonymous.

‘The accompanying likeness is of course from the life, and complete in every respect. Even if I had been totally ignorant of the man’s real character, and it had been placed before me without remark, I should have shuddered involuntarily. There is an intense malignity of expression in the features, and a baleful ferocity of purpose in the ruffian’s eye, which appals and sickens. His whole air is rampant with cruelty, nor is the stomach less characteristic of his demoniac propensities.’

‘Monday.

‘THE great day has at length arrived. I have neither eyes, nor ears, nor pens, nor ink, nor paper, for anything but the wonderful proceedings that have astounded my senses. Let me collect my energies and proceed to the account.

‘SECTION A.—ZOOLOGY AND BOTANY.

FRONT PARLOUR, BLACK BOY AND STOMACH-ACHE.

President—Sir William Joltered. Vice-Presidents—Mr. Muddlebranes and Mr. Drawley.

‘MR. X. X. MISTY communicated some remarks on the disappearance of dancing-bears from the streets of London, with observations on the exhibition of monkeys as connected with barrel-organs. The writer had observed, with feelings of the utmost pain and regret, that some years ago a sudden and unaccountable change in the public taste took place with reference to itinerant bears, who, being discountenanced by the populace, gradually fell off one by one from the streets of the metropolis, until not one remained to create a taste for natural history in the breasts of the poor and uninstructed. One bear, indeed,—a brown and ragged animal,—had lingered about the haunts of his former triumphs, with a worn and dejected visage and feeble limbs, and had essayed to wield his quarter-staff for the amusement of the multitude; but hunger, and an utter want of any due recompense for his abilities, had at length driven him from the field, and it was only too probable that he had fallen a sacrifice to the rising taste for grease. He regretted to add that a similar, and no less lamentable, change had taken place with reference to monkeys. These delightful animals had formerly been almost as plentiful as the organs on the tops of which they were accustomed to sit; the proportion in the year 1829 (it appeared by the parliamentary return) being as one monkey to three organs. Owing, however, to an altered taste in musical instruments, and the substitution, in a great measure, of narrow boxes of music for organs, which left the monkeys nothing to sit upon, this source of public amusement was wholly dried up. Considering it a matter of the deepest importance, in connection with national education, that the people should not lose such opportunities of making themselves acquainted with the manners and customs of two most interesting species of animals, the author submitted that some measures should be immediately taken for the restoration of these pleasing and truly intellectual amusements.

‘THE PRESIDENT inquired by what means the honourable member proposed to attain this most desirable end?

‘THE AUTHOR submitted that it could be most fully and satisfactorily accomplished, if Her Majesty’s Government would cause to be brought over to England, and maintained at the public expense, and for the public amusement, such a number of bears as would enable every quarter of the town to be visited—say at least by three bears a week. No difficulty whatever need be experienced in providing a fitting place for the reception of these animals, as a commodious bear-garden could be erected in the immediate neighbourhood of both Houses of Parliament; obviously the most proper and eligible spot for such an establishment.

‘PROFESSOR MULL doubted very much whether any correct ideas of natural history were propagated by the means to which the honourable member had so ably adverted. On the contrary, he believed that they had been the means of diffusing very incorrect and imperfect notions on the subject. He spoke from personal observation and personal experience, when he said that many children of great abilities had been induced to believe, from what they had observed in the streets, at and before the period to which the honourable gentleman had referred, that all monkeys were born in red coats and spangles, and that their hats and feathers also came by nature. He wished to know distinctly whether the honourable gentleman attributed the want of encouragement the bears had met with to the decline of public taste in that respect, or to a want of ability on the part of the bears themselves?

‘MR. X. X. MISTY replied, that he could not bring himself to believe but that there must be a great deal of floating talent among the bears and monkeys generally; which, in the absence of any proper encouragement, was dispersed in other directions.

‘PROFESSOR PUMPKINSKULL wished to take that opportunity of calling the attention of the section to a most important and serious point. The author of the treatise just read had alluded to the prevalent taste for bears’-grease as a means of promoting the growth of hair, which undoubtedly was diffused to a very great and (as it appeared to him) very alarming extent. No gentleman attending that section could fail to be aware of the fact that the youth of the present age evinced, by their behaviour in the streets, and at all places of public resort, a considerable lack of that gallantry and gentlemanly feeling which, in more ignorant times, had been thought becoming. He wished to know whether it were possible that a constant outward application of bears’-grease by the young gentlemen about town had imperceptibly infused into those unhappy persons something of the nature and quality of the bear. He shuddered as he threw out the remark; but if this theory, on inquiry, should prove to be well founded, it would at once explain a great deal of unpleasant eccentricity of behaviour, which, without some such discovery, was wholly unaccountable.

‘THE PRESIDENT highly complimented the learned gentleman on his most valuable suggestion, which produced the greatest effect upon the assembly; and remarked that only a week previous he had seen some young gentlemen at a theatre eyeing a box of ladies with a fierce intensity, which nothing but the influence of some brutish appetite could possibly explain. It was dreadful to reflect that our youth were so rapidly verging into a generation of bears.

‘After a scene of scientific enthusiasm it was resolved that this important question should be immediately submitted to the consideration of the council.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to know whether any gentleman could inform the section what had become of the dancing-dogs?

‘A MEMBER replied, after some hesitation, that on the day after three glee-singers had been committed to prison as criminals by a late most zealous police-magistrate of the metropolis, the dogs had abandoned their professional duties, and dispersed themselves in different quarters of the town to gain a livelihood by less dangerous means. He was given to understand that since that period they had supported themselves by lying in wait for and robbing blind men’s poodles.

‘MR. FLUMMERY exhibited a twig, claiming to be a veritable branch of that noble tree known to naturalists as the SHAKSPEARE, which has taken root in every land and climate, and gathered under the shade of its broad green boughs the great family of mankind. The learned gentleman remarked that the twig had been undoubtedly called by other names in its time; but that it had been pointed out to him by an old lady in Warwickshire, where the great tree had grown, as a shoot of the genuine SHAKSPEARE, by which name he begged to introduce it to his countrymen.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to know what botanical definition the honourable gentleman could afford of the curiosity.

‘MR. FLUMMERY expressed his opinion that it was A DECIDED PLANT.

‘SECTION B.—DISPLAY OF MODELS AND MECHANICAL SCIENCE.

LARGE ROOM, BOOT-JACK AND COUNTENANCE.

President—Mr. Mallett. Vice-Presidents—Messrs. Leaver and Scroo.

‘MR. CRINKLES exhibited a most beautiful and delicate machine, of little larger size than an ordinary snuff-box, manufactured entirely by himself, and composed exclusively of steel, by the aid of which more pockets could be picked in one hour than by the present slow and tedious process in four-and-twenty. The inventor remarked that it had been put into active operation in Fleet Street, the Strand, and other thoroughfares, and had never been once known to fail.

‘After some slight delay, occasioned by the various members of the section buttoning their pockets,

‘THE PRESIDENT narrowly inspected the invention, and declared that he had never seen a machine of more beautiful or exquisite construction. Would the inventor be good enough to inform the section whether he had taken any and what means for bringing it into general operation?

‘MR. CRINKLES stated that, after encountering some preliminary difficulties, he had succeeded in putting himself in communication with Mr. Fogle Hunter, and other gentlemen connected with the swell mob, who had awarded the invention the very highest and most unqualified approbation. He regretted to say, however, that these distinguished practitioners, in common with a gentleman of the name of Gimlet-eyed Tommy, and other members of a secondary grade of the profession whom he was understood to represent, entertained an insuperable objection to its being brought into general use, on the ground that it would have the inevitable effect of almost entirely superseding manual labour, and throwing a great number of highly-deserving persons out of employment.

‘THE PRESIDENT hoped that no such fanciful objections would be allowed to stand in the way of such a great public improvement.

‘MR. CRINKLES hoped so too; but he feared that if the gentlemen of the swell mob persevered in their objection, nothing could be done.

‘PROFESSOR GRIME suggested, that surely, in that case, Her Majesty’s Government might be prevailed upon to take it up.

‘MR. CRINKLES said, that if the objection were found to be insuperable he should apply to Parliament, which he thought could not fail to recognise the utility of the invention.

‘THE PRESIDENT observed that, up to this time Parliament had certainly got on very well without it; but, as they did their business on a very large scale, he had no doubt they would gladly adopt the improvement. His only fear was that the machine might be worn out by constant working.

‘MR. COPPERNOSE called the attention of the section to a proposition of great magnitude and interest, illustrated by a vast number of models, and stated with much clearness and perspicuity in a treatise entitled “Practical Suggestions on the necessity of providing some harmless and wholesome relaxation for the young noblemen of England.” His proposition was, that a space of ground of not less than ten miles in length and four in breadth should be purchased by a new company, to be incorporated by Act of Parliament, and inclosed by a brick wall of not less than twelve feet in height. He proposed that it should be laid out with highway roads, turnpikes, bridges, miniature villages, and every object that could conduce to the comfort and glory of Four-in-hand Clubs, so that they might be fairly presumed to require no drive beyond it. This delightful retreat would be fitted up with most commodious and extensive stables, for the convenience of such of the nobility and gentry as had a taste for ostlering, and with houses of entertainment furnished in the most expensive and handsome style. It would be further provided with whole streets of door-knockers and bell-handles of extra size, so constructed that they could be easily wrenched off at night, and regularly screwed on again, by attendants provided for the purpose, every day. There would also be gas lamps of real glass, which could be broken at a comparatively small expense per dozen, and a broad and handsome foot pavement for gentlemen to drive their cabriolets upon when they were humorously disposed—for the full enjoyment of which feat live pedestrians would be procured from the workhouse at a very small charge per head. The place being inclosed, and carefully screened from the intrusion of the public, there would be no objection to gentlemen laying aside any article of their costume that was considered to interfere with a pleasant frolic, or, indeed, to their walking about without any costume at all, if they liked that better. In short, every facility of enjoyment would be afforded that the most gentlemanly person could possibly desire. But as even these advantages would be incomplete unless there were some means provided of enabling the nobility and gentry to display their prowess when they sallied forth after dinner, and as some inconvenience might be experienced in the event of their being reduced to the necessity of pummelling each other, the inventor had turned his attention to the construction of an entirely new police force, composed exclusively of automaton figures, which, with the assistance of the ingenious Signor Gagliardi, of Windmill-street, in the Haymarket, he had succeeded in making with such nicety, that a policeman, cab-driver, or old woman, made upon the principle of the models exhibited, would walk about until knocked down like any real man; nay, more, if set upon and beaten by six or eight noblemen or gentlemen, after it was down, the figure would utter divers groans, mingled with entreaties for mercy, thus rendering the illusion complete, and the enjoyment perfect. But the invention did not stop even here; for station-houses would be built, containing good beds for noblemen and gentlemen during the night, and in the morning they would repair to a commodious police office, where a pantomimic investigation would take place before the automaton magistrates,—quite equal to life,—who would fine them in so many counters, with which they would be previously provided for the purpose. This office would be furnished with an inclined plane, for the convenience of any nobleman or gentleman who might wish to bring in his horse as a witness; and the prisoners would be at perfect liberty, as they were now, to interrupt the complainants as much as they pleased, and to make any remarks that they thought proper. The charge for these amusements would amount to very little more than they already cost, and the inventor submitted that the public would be much benefited and comforted by the proposed arrangement.

[Picture: Automaton Police Office, and Real Offenders]

‘PROFESSOR NOGO wished to be informed what amount of automaton police force it was proposed to raise in the first instance.

‘MR. COPPERNOSE replied, that it was proposed to begin with seven divisions of police of a score each, lettered from A to G inclusive. It was proposed that not more than half this number should be placed on active duty, and that the remainder should be kept on shelves in the police office ready to be called out at a moment’s notice.

‘THE PRESIDENT, awarding the utmost merit to the ingenious gentleman who had originated the idea, doubted whether the automaton police would quite answer the purpose. He feared that noblemen and gentlemen would perhaps require the excitement of thrashing living subjects.

‘MR. COPPERNOSE submitted, that as the usual odds in such cases were ten noblemen or gentlemen to one policeman or cab-driver, it could make very little difference in point of excitement whether the policeman or cab-driver were a man or a block. The great advantage would be, that a policeman’s limbs might be all knocked off, and yet he would be in a condition to do duty next day. He might even give his evidence next morning with his head in his hand, and give it equally well.

‘PROFESSOR MUFF.—Will you allow me to ask you, sir, of what materials it is intended that the magistrates’ heads shall be composed?

‘MR. COPPERNOSE.—The magistrates will have wooden heads of course, and they will be made of the toughest and thickest materials that can possibly be obtained.

‘PROFESSOR MUFF.—I am quite satisfied. This is a great invention.

‘PROFESSOR NOGO.—I see but one objection to it. It appears to me that the magistrates ought to talk.

‘MR. COPPERNOSE no sooner heard this suggestion than he touched a small spring in each of the two models of magistrates which were placed upon the table; one of the figures immediately began to exclaim with great volubility that he was sorry to see gentlemen in such a situation, and the other to express a fear that the policeman was intoxicated.

‘The section, as with one accord, declared with a shout of applause that the invention was complete; and the President, much excited, retired with Mr. Coppernose to lay it before the council. On his return,

‘MR. TICKLE displayed his newly-invented spectacles, which enabled the wearer to discern, in very bright colours, objects at a great distance, and rendered him wholly blind to those immediately before him. It was, he said, a most valuable and useful invention, based strictly upon the principle of the human eye.

‘THE PRESIDENT required some information upon this point. He had yet to learn that the human eye was remarkable for the peculiarities of which the honourable gentleman had spoken.

‘MR. TICKLE was rather astonished to hear this, when the President could not fail to be aware that a large number of most excellent persons and great statesmen could see, with the naked eye, most marvellous horrors on West India plantations, while they could discern nothing whatever in the interior of Manchester cotton mills. He must know, too, with what quickness of perception most people could discover their neighbour’s faults, and how very blind they were to their own. If the President differed from the great majority of men in this respect, his eye was a defective one, and it was to assist his vision that these glasses were made.

‘MR. BLANK exhibited a model of a fashionable annual, composed of copper-plates, gold leaf, and silk boards, and worked entirely by milk and water.

‘MR. PROSEE, after examining the machine, declared it to be so ingeniously composed, that he was wholly unable to discover how it went on at all.

‘MR. BLANK.—Nobody can, and that is the beauty of it.

‘SECTION C.—ANATOMY AND MEDICINE.

BAR ROOM, BLACK BOY AND STOMACH-ACHE.

President—Dr. Soemup. Vice-Presidents—Messrs. Pessell and Mortair.

‘DR. GRUMMIDGE stated to the section a most interesting case of monomania, and described the course of treatment he had pursued with perfect success. The patient was a married lady in the middle rank of life, who, having seen another lady at an evening party in a full suit of pearls, was suddenly seized with a desire to possess a similar equipment, although her husband’s finances were by no means equal to the necessary outlay. Finding her wish ungratified, she fell sick, and the symptoms soon became so alarming, that he (Dr. Grummidge) was called in. At this period the prominent tokens of the disorder were sullenness, a total indisposition to perform domestic duties, great peevishness, and extreme languor, except when pearls were mentioned, at which times the pulse quickened, the eyes grew brighter, the pupils dilated, and the patient, after various incoherent exclamations, burst into a passion of tears, and exclaimed that nobody cared for her, and that she wished herself dead. Finding that the patient’s appetite was affected in the presence of company, he began by ordering a total abstinence from all stimulants, and forbidding any sustenance but weak gruel; he then took twenty ounces of blood, applied a blister under each ear, one upon the chest, and another on the back; having done which, and administered five grains of calomel, he left the patient to her repose. The next day she was somewhat low, but decidedly better, and all appearances of irritation were removed. The next day she improved still further, and on the next again. On the fourth there was some appearance of a return of the old symptoms, which no sooner developed themselves, than he administered another dose of calomel, and left strict orders that, unless a decidedly favourable change occurred within two hours, the patient’s head should be immediately shaved to the very last curl. From that moment she began to mend, and, in less than four-and-twenty hours was perfectly restored. She did not now betray the least emotion at the sight or mention of pearls or any other ornaments. She was cheerful and good-humoured, and a most beneficial change had been effected in her whole temperament and condition.

‘MR. PIPKIN (M.R.C.S.) read a short but most interesting communication in which he sought to prove the complete belief of Sir William Courtenay, otherwise Thorn, recently shot at Canterbury, in the Homoeopathic system. The section would bear in mind that one of the Homoeopathic doctrines was, that infinitesimal doses of any medicine which would occasion the disease under which the patient laboured, supposing him to be in a healthy state, would cure it. Now, it was a remarkable circumstance—proved in the evidence—that the deceased Thorn employed a woman to follow him about all day with a pail of water, assuring her that one drop (a purely homoeopathic remedy, the section would observe), placed upon his tongue, after death, would restore him. What was the obvious inference? That Thorn, who was marching and countermarching in osier beds, and other swampy places, was impressed with a presentiment that he should be drowned; in which case, had his instructions been complied with, he could not fail to have been brought to life again instantly by his own prescription. As it was, if this woman, or any other person, had administered an infinitesimal dose of lead and gunpowder immediately after he fell, he would have recovered forthwith. But unhappily the woman concerned did not possess the power of reasoning by analogy, or carrying out a principle, and thus the unfortunate gentleman had been sacrificed to the ignorance of the peasantry.

‘SECTION D.—STATISTICS.

OUT-HOUSE, BLACK BOY AND STOMACH-ACHE.

President—Mr. Slug. Vice-Presidents—Messrs. Noakes and Styles.

‘MR. KWAKLEY stated the result of some most ingenious statistical inquiries relative to the difference between the value of the qualification of several members of Parliament as published to the world, and its real nature and amount. After reminding the section that every member of Parliament for a town or borough was supposed to possess a clear freehold estate of three hundred pounds per annum, the honourable gentleman excited great amusement and laughter by stating the exact amount of freehold property possessed by a column of legislators, in which he had included himself. It appeared from this table, that the amount of such income possessed by each was 0 pounds, 0 shillings, and 0 pence, yielding an average of the same. (Great laughter.) It was pretty well known that there were accommodating gentlemen in the habit of furnishing new members with temporary qualifications, to the ownership of which they swore solemnly—of course as a mere matter of form. He argued from these data that it was wholly unnecessary for members of Parliament to possess any property at all, especially as when they had none the public could get them so much cheaper.

‘SUPPLEMENTARY SECTION, E.—UMBUGOLOGY AND DITCHWATERISICS.

President—Mr. Grub. Vice Presidents—Messrs. Dull and Dummy.

‘A paper was read by the secretary descriptive of a bay pony with one eye, which had been seen by the author standing in a butcher’s cart at the corner of Newgate Market. The communication described the author of the paper as having, in the prosecution of a mercantile pursuit, betaken himself one Saturday morning last summer from Somers Town to Cheapside; in the course of which expedition he had beheld the extraordinary appearance above described. The pony had one distinct eye, and it had been pointed out to him by his friend Captain Blunderbore, of the Horse Marines, who assisted the author in his search, that whenever he winked this eye he whisked his tail (possibly to drive the flies off), but that he always winked and whisked at the same time. The animal was lean, spavined, and tottering; and the author proposed to constitute it of the family of Fitfordogsmeataurious. It certainly did occur to him that there was no case on record of a pony with one clearly-defined and distinct organ of vision, winking and whisking at the same moment.

‘MR. Q. J. SNUFFLETOFFLE had heard of a pony winking his eye, and likewise of a pony whisking his tail, but whether they were two ponies or the same pony he could not undertake positively to say. At all events, he was acquainted with no authenticated instance of a simultaneous winking and whisking, and he really could not but doubt the existence of such a marvellous pony in opposition to all those natural laws by which ponies were governed. Referring, however, to the mere question of his one organ of vision, might he suggest the possibility of this pony having been literally half asleep at the time he was seen, and having closed only one eye.

‘THE PRESIDENT observed that, whether the pony was half asleep or fast asleep, there could be no doubt that the association was wide awake, and therefore that they had better get the business over, and go to dinner. He had certainly never seen anything analogous to this pony, but he was not prepared to doubt its existence; for he had seen many queerer ponies in his time, though he did not pretend to have seen any more remarkable donkeys than the other gentlemen around him.

‘PROFESSOR JOHN KETCH was then called upon to exhibit the skull of the late Mr. Greenacre, which he produced from a blue bag, remarking, on being invited to make any observations that occurred to him, “that he’d pound it as that ’ere ’spectable section had never seed a more gamerer cove nor he vos.”

‘A most animated discussion upon this interesting relic ensued; and, some difference of opinion arising respecting the real character of the deceased gentleman, Mr. Blubb delivered a lecture upon the cranium before him, clearly showing that Mr. Greenacre possessed the organ of destructiveness to a most unusual extent, with a most remarkable development of the organ of carveativeness. Sir Hookham Snivey was proceeding to combat this opinion, when Professor Ketch suddenly interrupted the proceedings by exclaiming, with great excitement of manner, “Walker!”

‘THE PRESIDENT begged to call the learned gentleman to order.

‘PROFESSOR KETCH.—“Order be blowed! you’ve got the wrong un, I tell you. It ain’t no ’ed at all; it’s a coker-nut as my brother-in-law has been a-carvin’, to hornament his new baked tatur-stall wots a-comin’ down ’ere vile the ’sociation’s in the town. Hand over, vill you?”

‘With these words, Professor Ketch hastily repossessed himself of the cocoa-nut, and drew forth the skull, in mistake for which he had exhibited it. A most interesting conversation ensued; but as there appeared some doubt ultimately whether the skull was Mr. Greenacre’s, or a hospital patient’s, or a pauper’s, or a man’s, or a woman’s, or a monkey’s, no particular result was obtained.’

---

‘I cannot,’ says our talented correspondent in conclusion, ‘I cannot close my account of these gigantic researches and sublime and noble triumphs without repeating a bon mot of Professor Woodensconce’s, which shows how the greatest minds may occasionally unbend when truth can be presented to listening ears, clothed in an attractive and playful form. I was standing by, when, after a week of feasting and feeding, that learned gentleman, accompanied by the whole body of wonderful men, entered the hall yesterday, where a sumptuous dinner was prepared; where the richest wines sparkled on the board, and fat bucks—propitiatory sacrifices to learning—sent forth their savoury odours. “Ah!” said Professor Woodensconce, rubbing his hands, “this is what we meet for; this is what inspires us; this is what keeps us together, and beckons us onward; this is the spread of science, and a glorious spread it is.”’

THE PANTOMIME OF LIFE

BEFORE we plunge headlong into this paper, let us at once confess to a fondness for pantomimes—to a gentle sympathy with clowns and pantaloons—to an unqualified admiration of harlequins and columbines—to a chaste delight in every action of their brief existence, varied and many-coloured as those actions are, and inconsistent though they occasionally be with those rigid and formal rules of propriety which regulate the proceedings of meaner and less comprehensive minds. We revel in pantomimes—not because they dazzle one’s eyes with tinsel and gold leaf; not because they present to us, once again, the well-beloved chalked faces, and goggle eyes of our childhood; not even because, like Christmas-day, and Twelfth-night, and Shrove-Tuesday, and one’s own birthday, they come to us but once a year;—our attachment is founded on a graver and a very different reason. A pantomime is to us, a mirror of life; nay, more, we maintain that it is so to audiences generally, although they are not aware of it, and that this very circumstance is the secret cause of their amusement and delight.

Let us take a slight example. The scene is a street: an elderly gentleman, with a large face and strongly marked features, appears. His countenance beams with a sunny smile, and a perpetual dimple is on his broad, red cheek. He is evidently an opulent elderly gentleman, comfortable in circumstances, and well-to-do in the world. He is not unmindful of the adornment of his person, for he is richly, not to say gaudily, dressed; and that he indulges to a reasonable extent in the pleasures of the table may be inferred from the joyous and oily manner in which he rubs his stomach, by way of informing the audience that he is going home to dinner. In the fulness of his heart, in the fancied security of wealth, in the possession and enjoyment of all the good things of life, the elderly gentleman suddenly loses his footing, and stumbles. How the audience roar! He is set upon by a noisy and officious crowd, who buffet and cuff him unmercifully. They scream with delight! Every time the elderly gentleman struggles to get up, his relentless persecutors knock him down again. The spectators are convulsed with merriment! And when at last the elderly gentleman does get up, and staggers away, despoiled of hat, wig, and clothing, himself battered to pieces, and his watch and money gone, they are exhausted with laughter, and express their merriment and admiration in rounds of applause.

Is this like life? Change the scene to any real street;—to the Stock Exchange, or the City banker’s; the merchant’s counting-house, or even the tradesman’s shop. See any one of these men fall,—the more suddenly, and the nearer the zenith of his pride and riches, the better. What a wild hallo is raised over his prostrate carcase by the shouting mob; how they whoop and yell as he lies humbled beneath them! Mark how eagerly they set upon him when he is down; and how they mock and deride him as he slinks away. Why, it is the pantomime to the very letter.

Of all the pantomimic dramatis personæ, we consider the pantaloon the most worthless and debauched. Independent of the dislike one naturally feels at seeing a gentleman of his years engaged in pursuits highly unbecoming his gravity and time of life, we cannot conceal from ourselves the fact that he is a treacherous, worldly-minded old villain, constantly enticing his younger companion, the clown, into acts of fraud or petty larceny, and generally standing aside to watch the result of the enterprise. If it be successful, he never forgets to return for his share of the spoil; but if it turn out a failure, he generally retires with remarkable caution and expedition, and keeps carefully aloof until the affair has blown over. His amorous propensities, too, are eminently disagreeable; and his mode of addressing ladies in the open street at noon-day is down-right improper, being usually neither more nor less than a perceptible tickling of the aforesaid ladies in the waist, after committing which, he starts back, manifestly ashamed (as well he may be) of his own indecorum and temerity; continuing, nevertheless, to ogle and beckon to them from a distance in a very unpleasant and immoral manner.

Is there any man who cannot count a dozen pantaloons in his own social circle? Is there any man who has not seen them swarming at the west end of the town on a sunshiny day or a summer’s evening, going through the last-named pantomimic feats with as much liquorish energy, and as total an absence of reserve, as if they were on the very stage itself? We can tell upon our fingers a dozen pantaloons of our acquaintance at this moment—capital pantaloons, who have been performing all kinds of strange freaks, to the great amusement of their friends and acquaintance, for years past; and who to this day are making such comical and ineffectual attempts to be young and dissolute, that all beholders are like to die with laughter.

Take that old gentleman who has just emerged from the Café de l’Europe in the Haymarket, where he has been dining at the expense of the young man upon town with whom he shakes hands as they part at the door of the tavern. The affected warmth of that shake of the hand, the courteous nod, the obvious recollection of the dinner, the savoury flavour of which still hangs upon his lips, are all characteristics of his great prototype. He hobbles away humming an opera tune, and twirling his cane to and fro, with affected carelessness. Suddenly he stops—’tis at the milliner’s window. He peeps through one of the large panes of glass; and, his view of the ladies within being obstructed by the India shawls, directs his attentions to the young girl with the band-box in her hand, who is gazing in at the window also. See! he draws beside her. He coughs; she turns away from him. He draws near her again; she disregards him. He gleefully chucks her under the chin, and, retreating a few steps, nods and beckons with fantastic grimaces, while the girl bestows a contemptuous and supercilious look upon his wrinkled visage. She turns away with a flounce, and the old gentleman trots after her with a toothless chuckle. The pantaloon to the life!

But the close resemblance which the clowns of the stage bear to those of every-day life is perfectly extraordinary. Some people talk with a sigh of the decline of pantomime, and murmur in low and dismal tones the name of Grimaldi. We mean no disparagement to the worthy and excellent old man when we say that this is downright nonsense. Clowns that beat Grimaldi all to nothing turn up every day, and nobody patronizes them—more’s the pity!

‘I know who you mean,’ says some dirty-faced patron of Mr. Osbaldistone’s, laying down the Miscellany when he has got thus far, and bestowing upon vacancy a most knowing glance; ‘you mean C. J. Smith as did Guy Fawkes, and George Barnwell at the Garden.’ The dirty-faced gentleman has hardly uttered the words, when he is interrupted by a young gentleman in no shirt-collar and a Petersham coat. ‘No, no,’ says the young gentleman; ‘he means Brown, King, and Gibson, at the ’Delphi.’ Now, with great deference both to the first-named gentleman with the dirty face, and the last-named gentleman in the non-existing shirt-collar, we do not mean either the performer who so grotesquely burlesqued the Popish conspirator, or the three unchangeables who have been dancing the same dance under different imposing titles, and doing the same thing under various high-sounding names for some five or six years last past. We have no sooner made this avowal, than the public, who have hitherto been silent witnesses of the dispute, inquire what on earth it is we do mean; and, with becoming respect, we proceed to tell them.

It is very well known to all playgoers and pantomime-seers, that the scenes in which a theatrical clown is at the very height of his glory are those which are described in the play-bills as ‘Cheesemonger’s shop and Crockery warehouse,’ or ‘Tailor’s shop, and Mrs. Queertable’s boarding-house,’ or places bearing some such title, where the great fun of the thing consists in the hero’s taking lodgings which he has not the slightest intention of paying for, or obtaining goods under false pretences, or abstracting the stock-in-trade of the respectable shopkeeper next door, or robbing warehouse porters as they pass under his window, or, to shorten the catalogue, in his swindling everybody he possibly can, it only remaining to be observed that, the more extensive the swindling is, and the more barefaced the impudence of the swindler, the greater the rapture and ecstasy of the audience. Now it is a most remarkable fact that precisely this sort of thing occurs in real life day after day, and nobody sees the humour of it. Let us illustrate our position by detailing the plot of this portion of the pantomime—not of the theatre, but of life.

The Honourable Captain Fitz-Whisker Fiercy, attended by his livery servant Do’em—a most respectable servant to look at, who has grown grey in the service of the captain’s family—views, treats for, and ultimately obtains possession of, the unfurnished house, such a number, such a street. All the tradesmen in the neighbourhood are in agonies of competition for the captain’s custom; the captain is a good-natured, kind-hearted, easy man, and, to avoid being the cause of disappointment to any, he most handsomely gives orders to all. Hampers of wine, baskets of provisions, cart-loads of furniture, boxes of jewellery, supplies of luxuries of the costliest description, flock to the house of the Honourable Captain Fitz-Whisker Fiercy, where they are received with the utmost readiness by the highly respectable Do’em; while the captain himself struts and swaggers about with that compound air of conscious superiority and general blood-thirstiness which a military captain should always, and does most times, wear, to the admiration and terror of plebeian men. But the tradesmen’s backs are no sooner turned, than the captain, with all the eccentricity of a mighty mind, and assisted by the faithful Do’em, whose devoted fidelity is not the least touching part of his character, disposes of everything to great advantage; for, although the articles fetch small sums, still they are sold considerably above cost price, the cost to the captain having been nothing at all. After various manœuvres, the imposture is discovered, Fitz-Fiercy and Do’em are recognized as confederates, and the police office to which they are both taken is thronged with their dupes.

Who can fail to recognize in this, the exact counterpart of the best portion of a theatrical pantomime—Fitz-Whisker Fiercy by the clown; Do’em by the pantaloon; and supernumeraries by the tradesmen? The best of the joke, too, is, that the very coal-merchant who is loudest in his complaints against the person who defrauded him, is the identical man who sat in the centre of the very front row of the pit last night and laughed the most boisterously at this very same thing,—and not so well done either. Talk of Grimaldi, we say again! Did Grimaldi, in his best days, ever do anything in this way equal to Da Costa?

The mention of this latter justly celebrated clown reminds us of his last piece of humour, the fraudulently obtaining certain stamped acceptances from a young gentleman in the army. We had scarcely laid down our pen to contemplate for a few moments this admirable actor’s performance of that exquisite practical joke, than a new branch of our subject flashed suddenly upon us. So we take it up again at once.

All people who have been behind the scenes, and most people who have been before them, know, that in the representation of a pantomime, a good many men are sent upon the stage for the express purpose of being cheated, or knocked down, or both. Now, down to a moment ago, we had never been able to understand for what possible purpose a great number of odd, lazy, large-headed men, whom one is in the habit of meeting here, and there, and everywhere, could ever have been created. We see it all, now. They are the supernumeraries in the pantomime of life; the men who have been thrust into it, with no other view than to be constantly tumbling over each other, and running their heads against all sorts of strange things. We sat opposite to one of these men at a supper-table, only last week. Now we think of it, he was exactly like the gentlemen with the pasteboard heads and faces, who do the corresponding business in the theatrical pantomimes; there was the same broad stolid simper—the same dull leaden eye—the same unmeaning, vacant stare; and whatever was said, or whatever was done, he always came in at precisely the wrong place, or jostled against something that he had not the slightest business with. We looked at the man across the table again and again; and could not satisfy ourselves what race of beings to class him with. How very odd that this never occurred to us before!

We will frankly own that we have been much troubled with the harlequin. We see harlequins of so many kinds in the real living pantomime, that we hardly know which to select as the proper fellow of him of the theatres. At one time we were disposed to think that the harlequin was neither more nor less than a young man of family and independent property, who had run away with an opera-dancer, and was fooling his life and his means away in light and trivial amusements. On reflection, however, we remembered that harlequins are occasionally guilty of witty, and even clever acts, and we are rather disposed to acquit our young men of family and independent property, generally speaking, of any such misdemeanours. On a more mature consideration of the subject, we have arrived at the conclusion that the harlequins of life are just ordinary men, to be found in no particular walk or degree, on whom a certain station, or particular conjunction of circumstances, confers the magic wand. And this brings us to a few words on the pantomime of public and political life, which we shall say at once, and then conclude—merely premising in this place that we decline any reference whatever to the columbine, being in no wise satisfied of the nature of her connection with her parti-coloured lover, and not feeling by any means clear that we should be justified in introducing her to the virtuous and respectable ladies who peruse our lucubrations.

We take it that the commencement of a Session of Parliament is neither more nor less than the drawing up of the curtain for a grand comic pantomime, and that his Majesty’s most gracious speech on the opening thereof may be not inaptly compared to the clown’s opening speech of ‘Here we are!’ ‘My lords and gentlemen, here we are!’ appears, to our mind at least, to be a very good abstract of the point and meaning of the propitiatory address of the ministry. When we remember how frequently this speech is made, immediately after the change too, the parallel is quite perfect, and still more singular.

Perhaps the cast of our political pantomime never was richer than at this day. We are particularly strong in clowns. At no former time, we should say, have we had such astonishing tumblers, or performers so ready to go through the whole of their feats for the amusement of an admiring throng. Their extreme readiness to exhibit, indeed, has given rise to some ill-natured reflections; it having been objected that by exhibiting gratuitously through the country when the theatre is closed, they reduce themselves to the level of mountebanks, and thereby tend to degrade the respectability of the profession. Certainly Grimaldi never did this sort of thing; and though Brown, King, and Gibson have gone to the Surrey in vacation time, and Mr. C. J. Smith has ruralised at Sadler’s Wells, we find no theatrical precedent for a general tumbling through the country, except in the gentleman, name unknown, who threw summersets on behalf of the late Mr. Richardson, and who is no authority either, because he had never been on the regular boards.

But, laying aside this question, which after all is a mere matter of taste, we may reflect with pride and gratification of heart on the proficiency of our clowns as exhibited in the season. Night after night will they twist and tumble about, till two, three, and four o’clock in the morning; playing the strangest antics, and giving each other the funniest slaps on the face that can possibly be imagined, without evincing the smallest tokens of fatigue. The strange noises, the confusion, the shouting and roaring, amid which all this is done, too, would put to shame the most turbulent sixpenny gallery that ever yelled through a boxing-night.

It is especially curious to behold one of these clowns compelled to go through the most surprising contortions by the irresistible influence of the wand of office, which his leader or harlequin holds above his head. Acted upon by this wonderful charm he will become perfectly motionless, moving neither hand, foot, nor finger, and will even lose the faculty of speech at an instant’s notice; or on the other hand, he will become all life and animation if required, pouring forth a torrent of words without sense or meaning, throwing himself into the wildest and most fantastic contortions, and even grovelling on the earth and licking up the dust. These exhibitions are more curious than pleasing; indeed, they are rather disgusting than otherwise, except to the admirers of such things, with whom we confess we have no fellow-feeling.

Strange tricks—very strange tricks—are also performed by the harlequin who holds for the time being the magic wand which we have just mentioned. The mere waving it before a man’s eyes will dispossess his brains of all the notions previously stored there, and fill it with an entirely new set of ideas; one gentle tap on the back will alter the colour of a man’s coat completely; and there are some expert performers, who, having this wand held first on one side and then on the other, will change from side to side, turning their coats at every evolution, with so much rapidity and dexterity, that the quickest eye can scarcely detect their motions. Occasionally, the genius who confers the wand, wrests it from the hand of the temporary possessor, and consigns it to some new performer; on which occasions all the characters change sides, and then the race and the hard knocks begin anew.

We might have extended this chapter to a much greater length—we might have carried the comparison into the liberal professions—we might have shown, as was in fact our original purpose, that each is in itself a little pantomime with scenes and characters of its own, complete; but, as we fear we have been quite lengthy enough already, we shall leave this chapter just where it is. A gentleman, not altogether unknown as a dramatic poet, wrote thus a year or two ago—

‘All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players:’

and we, tracking out his footsteps at the scarcely-worth-mentioning little distance of a few millions of leagues behind, venture to add, by way of new reading, that he meant a Pantomime, and that we are all actors in The Pantomime of Life.

SOME PARTICULARS CONCERNING A LION

WE have a great respect for lions in the abstract. In common with most other people, we have heard and read of many instances of their bravery and generosity. We have duly admired that heroic self-denial and charming philanthropy which prompts them never to eat people except when they are hungry, and we have been deeply impressed with a becoming sense of the politeness they are said to display towards unmarried ladies of a certain state. All natural histories teem with anecdotes illustrative of their excellent qualities; and one old spelling-book in particular recounts a touching instance of an old lion, of high moral dignity and stern principle, who felt it his imperative duty to devour a young man who had contracted a habit of swearing, as a striking example to the rising generation.

All this is extremely pleasant to reflect upon, and, indeed, says a very great deal in favour of lions as a mass. We are bound to state, however, that such individual lions as we have happened to fall in with have not put forth any very striking characteristics, and have not acted up to the chivalrous character assigned them by their chroniclers. We never saw a lion in what is called his natural state, certainly; that is to say, we have never met a lion out walking in a forest, or crouching in his lair under a tropical sun, waiting till his dinner should happen to come by, hot from the baker’s. But we have seen some under the influence of captivity, and the pressure of misfortune; and we must say that they appeared to us very apathetic, heavy-headed fellows.

The lion at the Zoological Gardens, for instance. He is all very well; he has an undeniable mane, and looks very fierce; but, Lord bless us! what of that? The lions of the fashionable world look just as ferocious, and are the most harmless creatures breathing. A box-lobby lion or a Regent-street animal will put on a most terrible aspect, and roar, fearfully, if you affront him; but he will never bite, and, if you offer to attack him manfully, will fairly turn tail and sneak off. Doubtless these creatures roam about sometimes in herds, and, if they meet any especially meek-looking and peaceably-disposed fellow, will endeavour to frighten him; but the faintest show of a vigorous resistance is sufficient to scare them even then. These are pleasant characteristics, whereas we make it matter of distinct charge against the Zoological lion and his brethren at the fairs, that they are sleepy, dreamy, sluggish quadrupeds.

We do not remember to have ever seen one of them perfectly awake, except at feeding-time. In every respect we uphold the biped lions against their four-footed namesakes, and we boldly challenge controversy upon the subject.

With these opinions it may be easily imagined that our curiosity and interest were very much excited the other day, when a lady of our acquaintance called on us and resolutely declined to accept our refusal of her invitation to an evening party; ‘for,’ said she, ‘I have got a lion coming.’ We at once retracted our plea of a prior engagement, and became as anxious to go, as we had previously been to stay away.

We went early, and posted ourselves in an eligible part of the drawing-room, from whence we could hope to obtain a full view of the interesting animal. Two or three hours passed, the quadrilles began, the room filled; but no lion appeared. The lady of the house became inconsolable,—for it is one of the peculiar privileges of these lions to make solemn appointments and never keep them,—when all of a sudden there came a tremendous double rap at the street-door, and the master of the house, after gliding out (unobserved as he flattered himself) to peep over the banisters, came into the room, rubbing his hands together with great glee, and cried out in a very important voice, ‘My dear, Mr. — (naming the lion) has this moment arrived.’

Upon this, all eyes were turned towards the door, and we observed several young ladies, who had been laughing and conversing previously with great gaiety and good humour, grow extremely quiet and sentimental; while some young gentlemen, who had been cutting great figures in the facetious and small-talk way, suddenly sank very obviously in the estimation of the company, and were looked upon with great coldness and indifference. Even the young man who had been ordered from the music shop to play the pianoforte was visibly affected, and struck several false notes in the excess of his excitement.

All this time there was a great talking outside, more than once accompanied by a loud laugh, and a cry of ‘Oh! capital! excellent!’ from which we inferred that the lion was jocose, and that these exclamations were occasioned by the transports of his keeper and our host. Nor were we deceived; for when the lion at last appeared, we overheard his keeper, who was a little prim man, whisper to several gentlemen of his acquaintance, with uplifted hands, and every expression of half-suppressed admiration, that—(naming the lion again) was in such cue to-night!

The lion was a literary one. Of course, there were a vast number of people present who had admired his roarings, and were anxious to be introduced to him; and very pleasant it was to see them brought up for the purpose, and to observe the patient dignity with which he received all their patting and caressing. This brought forcibly to our mind what we had so often witnessed at country fairs, where the other lions are compelled to go through as many forms of courtesy as they chance to be acquainted with, just as often as admiring parties happen to drop in upon them.

While the lion was exhibiting in this way, his keeper was not idle, for he mingled among the crowd, and spread his praises most industriously. To one gentleman he whispered some very choice thing that the noble animal had said in the very act of coming up-stairs, which, of course, rendered the mental effort still more astonishing; to another he murmured a hasty account of a grand dinner that had taken place the day before, where twenty-seven gentlemen had got up all at once to demand an extra cheer for the lion; and to the ladies he made sundry promises of interceding to procure the majestic brute’s sign-manual for their albums. Then, there were little private consultations in different corners, relative to the personal appearance and stature of the lion; whether he was shorter than they had expected to see him, or taller, or thinner, or fatter, or younger, or older; whether he was like his portrait, or unlike it; and whether the particular shade of his eyes was black, or blue, or hazel, or green, or yellow, or mixture. At all these consultations the keeper assisted; and, in short, the lion was the sole and single subject of discussion till they sat him down to whist, and then the people relapsed into their old topics of conversation—themselves and each other.

We must confess that we looked forward with no slight impatience to the announcement of supper; for if you wish to see a tame lion under particularly favourable circumstances, feeding-time is the period of all others to pitch upon. We were therefore very much delighted to observe a sensation among the guests, which we well knew how to interpret, and immediately afterwards to behold the lion escorting the lady of the house down-stairs. We offered our arm to an elderly female of our acquaintance, who—dear old soul!—is the very best person that ever lived, to lead down to any meal; for, be the room ever so small, or the party ever so large, she is sure, by some intuitive perception of the eligible, to push and pull herself and conductor close to the best dishes on the table;—we say we offered our arm to this elderly female, and, descending the stairs shortly after the lion, were fortunate enough to obtain a seat nearly opposite him.

Of course the keeper was there already. He had planted himself at precisely that distance from his charge which afforded him a decent pretext for raising his voice, when he addressed him, to so loud a key, as could not fail to attract the attention of the whole company, and immediately began to apply himself seriously to the task of bringing the lion out, and putting him through the whole of his manœuvres. Such flashes of wit as he elicited from the lion! First of all, they began to make puns upon a salt-cellar, and then upon the breast of a fowl, and then upon the trifle; but the best jokes of all were decidedly on the lobster salad, upon which latter subject the lion came out most vigorously, and, in the opinion of the most competent authorities, quite outshone himself. This is a very excellent mode of shining in society, and is founded, we humbly conceive, upon the classic model of the dialogues between Mr. Punch and his friend the proprietor, wherein the latter takes all the up-hill work, and is content to pioneer to the jokes and repartees of Mr. P. himself, who never fails to gain great credit and excite much laughter thereby. Whatever it be founded on, however, we recommend it to all lions, present and to come; for in this instance it succeeded to admiration, and perfectly dazzled the whole body of hearers.

When the salt-cellar, and the fowl’s breast, and the trifle, and the lobster salad were all exhausted, and could not afford standing-room for another solitary witticism, the keeper performed that very dangerous feat which is still done with some of the caravan lions, although in one instance it terminated fatally, of putting his head in the animal’s mouth, and placing himself entirely at its mercy. Boswell frequently presents a melancholy instance of the lamentable results of this achievement, and other keepers and jackals have been terribly lacerated for their daring. It is due to our lion to state, that he condescended to be trifled with, in the most gentle manner, and finally went home with the showman in a hack cab: perfectly peaceable, but slightly fuddled.

Being in a contemplative mood, we were led to make some reflections upon the character and conduct of this genus of lions as we walked homewards, and we were not long in arriving at the conclusion that our former impression in their favour was very much strengthened and confirmed by what we had recently seen. While the other lions receive company and compliments in a sullen, moody, not to say snarling manner, these appear flattered by the attentions that are paid them; while those conceal themselves to the utmost of their power from the vulgar gaze, these court the popular eye, and, unlike their brethren, whom nothing short of compulsion will move to exertion, are ever ready to display their acquirements to the wondering throng. We have known bears of undoubted ability who, when the expectations of a large audience have been wound up to the utmost pitch, have peremptorily refused to dance; well-taught monkeys, who have unaccountably objected to exhibit on the slack wire; and elephants of unquestioned genius, who have suddenly declined to turn the barrel-organ; but we never once knew or heard of a biped lion, literary or otherwise,—and we state it as a fact which is highly creditable to the whole species,—who, occasion offering, did not seize with avidity on any opportunity which was afforded him, of performing to his heart’s content on the first violin.

MR. ROBERT BOLTON THE ‘GENTLEMAN CONNECTED WITH THE PRESS’

IN the parlour of the Green Dragon, a public-house in the immediate neighbourhood of Westminster Bridge, everybody talks politics, every evening, the great political authority being Mr. Robert Bolton, an individual who defines himself as ‘a gentleman connected with the press,’ which is a definition of peculiar indefiniteness. Mr. Robert Bolton’s regular circle of admirers and listeners are an undertaker, a greengrocer, a hairdresser, a baker, a large stomach surmounted by a man’s head, and placed on the top of two particularly short legs, and a thin man in black, name, profession, and pursuit unknown, who always sits in the same position, always displays the same long, vacant face, and never opens his lips, surrounded as he is by most enthusiastic conversation, except to puff forth a volume of tobacco smoke, or give vent to a very snappy, loud, and shrill hem! The conversation sometimes turns upon literature, Mr. Bolton being a literary character, and always upon such news of the day as is exclusively possessed by that talented individual. I found myself (of course, accidentally) in the Green Dragon the other evening, and, being somewhat amused by the following conversation, preserved it.

‘Can you lend me a ten-pound note till Christmas?’ inquired the hairdresser of the stomach.

‘Where’s your security, Mr. Clip?’

‘My stock in trade,—there’s enough of it, I’m thinking, Mr. Thicknesse. Some fifty wigs, two poles, half-a-dozen head blocks, and a dead Bruin.’

‘No, I won’t, then,’ growled out Thicknesse. ‘I lends nothing on the security of the whigs or the Poles either. As for whigs, they’re cheats; as for the Poles, they’ve got no cash. I never have nothing to do with blockheads, unless I can’t awoid it (ironically), and a dead bear’s about as much use to me as I could be to a dead bear.’

‘Well, then,’ urged the other, ‘there’s a book as belonged to Pope, Byron’s Poems, valued at forty pounds, because it’s got Pope’s identical scratch on the back; what do you think of that for security?’

‘Well, to be sure!’ cried the baker. ‘But how d’ye mean, Mr. Clip?’

‘Mean! why, that it’s got the hottergruff of Pope.

“Steal not this book, for fear of hangman’s rope; For it belongs to Alexander Pope.”

All that’s written on the inside of the binding of the book; so, as my son says, we’re bound to believe it.’

‘Well, sir,’ observed the undertaker, deferentially, and in a half-whisper, leaning over the table, and knocking over the hairdresser’s grog as he spoke, ‘that argument’s very easy upset.’

‘Perhaps, sir,’ said Clip, a little flurried, ‘you’ll pay for the first upset afore you thinks of another.’

‘Now,’ said the undertaker, bowing amicably to the hairdresser, ‘I think, I says I think—you’ll excuse me, Mr. Clip, I think, you see, that won’t go down with the present company—unfortunately, my master had the honour of making the coffin of that ere Lord’s housemaid, not no more nor twenty year ago. Don’t think I’m proud on it, gentlemen; others might be; but I hate rank of any sort. I’ve no more respect for a Lord’s footman than I have for any respectable tradesman in this room. I may say no more nor I have for Mr. Clip! (bowing). Therefore, that ere Lord must have been born long after Pope died. And it’s a logical interference to defer, that they neither of them lived at the same time. So what I mean is this here, that Pope never had no book, never seed, felt, never smelt no book (triumphantly) as belonged to that ere Lord. And, gentlemen, when I consider how patiently you have ’eared the ideas what I have expressed, I feel bound, as the best way to reward you for the kindness you have exhibited, to sit down without saying anything more—partickler as I perceive a worthier visitor nor myself is just entered. I am not in the habit of paying compliments, gentlemen; when I do, therefore, I hope I strikes with double force.’

‘Ah, Mr. Murgatroyd! what’s all this about striking with double force?’ said the object of the above remark, as he entered. ‘I never excuse a man’s getting into a rage during winter, even when he’s seated so close to the fire as you are. It is very injudicious to put yourself into such a perspiration. What is the cause of this extreme physical and mental excitement, sir?’

Such was the very philosophical address of Mr. Robert Bolton, a shorthand-writer, as he termed himself—a bit of equivoque passing current among his fraternity, which must give the uninitiated a vast idea of the establishment of the ministerial organ, while to the initiated it signifies that no one paper can lay claim to the enjoyment of their services. Mr. Bolton was a young man, with a somewhat sickly and very dissipated expression of countenance. His habiliments were composed of an exquisite union of gentility, slovenliness, assumption, simplicity, newness, and old age. Half of him was dressed for the winter, the other half for the summer. His hat was of the newest cut, the D’Orsay; his trousers had been white, but the inroads of mud and ink, etc., had given them a pie-bald appearance; round his throat he wore a very high black cravat, of the most tyrannical stiffness; while his tout ensemble was hidden beneath the enormous folds of an old brown poodle-collared great-coat, which was closely buttoned up to the aforesaid cravat. His fingers peeped through the ends of his black kid gloves, and two of the toes of each foot took a similar view of society through the extremities of his high-lows. Sacred to the bare walls of his garret be the mysteries of his interior dress! He was a short, spare man, of a somewhat inferior deportment. Everybody seemed influenced by his entry into the room, and his salutation of each member partook of the patronizing. The hairdresser made way for him between himself and the stomach. A minute afterwards he had taken possession of his pint and pipe. A pause in the conversation took place. Everybody was waiting, anxious for his first observation.

‘Horrid murder in Westminster this morning,’ observed Mr. Bolton.

Everybody changed their positions. All eyes were fixed upon the man of paragraphs.

‘A baker murdered his son by boiling him in a copper,’ said Mr. Bolton.

‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed everybody, in simultaneous horror.

‘Boiled him, gentlemen!’ added Mr. Bolton, with the most effective emphasis; ‘boiled him!’

‘And the particulars, Mr. B.,’ inquired the hairdresser, ‘the particulars?’

Mr. Bolton took a very long draught of porter, and some two or three dozen whiffs of tobacco, doubtless to instil into the commercial capacities of the company the superiority of a gentlemen connected with the press, and then said—

‘The man was a baker, gentlemen.’ (Every one looked at the baker present, who stared at Bolton.) ‘His victim, being his son, also was necessarily the son of a baker. The wretched murderer had a wife, whom he was frequently in the habit, while in an intoxicated state, of kicking, pummelling, flinging mugs at, knocking down, and half-killing while in bed, by inserting in her mouth a considerable portion of a sheet or blanket.’

The speaker took another draught, everybody looked at everybody else, and exclaimed, ‘Horrid!’

‘It appears in evidence, gentlemen,’ continued Mr. Bolton, ‘that, on the evening of yesterday, Sawyer the baker came home in a reprehensible state of beer. Mrs. S., connubially considerate, carried him in that condition up-stairs into his chamber, and consigned him to their mutual couch. In a minute or two she lay sleeping beside the man whom the morrow’s dawn beheld a murderer!’ (Entire silence informed the reporter that his picture had attained the awful effect he desired.) ‘The son came home about an hour afterwards, opened the door, and went up to bed. Scarcely (gentlemen, conceive his feelings of alarm), scarcely had he taken off his indescribables, when shrieks (to his experienced ear maternal shrieks) scared the silence of surrounding night. He put his indescribables on again, and ran down-stairs. He opened the door of the parental bed-chamber. His father was dancing upon his mother. What must have been his feelings! In the agony of the minute he rushed at his male parent as he was about to plunge a knife into the side of his female. The mother shrieked. The father caught the son (who had wrested the knife from the paternal grasp) up in his arms, carried him down-stairs, shoved him into a copper of boiling water among some linen, closed the lid, and jumped upon the top of it, in which position he was found with a ferocious countenance by the mother, who arrived in the melancholy wash-house just as he had so settled himself.

‘“Where’s my boy?” shrieked the mother.

‘“In that copper, boiling,” coolly replied the benign father.

‘Struck by the awful intelligence, the mother rushed from the house, and alarmed the neighbourhood. The police entered a minute afterwards. The father, having bolted the wash-house door, had bolted himself. They dragged the lifeless body of the boiled baker from the cauldron, and, with a promptitude commendable in men of their station, they immediately carried it to the station-house. Subsequently, the baker was apprehended while seated on the top of a lamp-post in Parliament Street, lighting his pipe.’

The whole horrible ideality of the Mysteries of Udolpho, condensed into the pithy effect of a ten-line paragraph, could not possibly have so affected the narrator’s auditory. Silence, the purest and most noble of all kinds of applause, bore ample testimony to the barbarity of the baker, as well as to Bolton’s knack of narration; and it was only broken after some minutes had elapsed by interjectional expressions of the intense indignation of every man present. The baker wondered how a British baker could so disgrace himself and the highly honourable calling to which he belonged; and the others indulged in a variety of wonderments connected with the subject; among which not the least wonderment was that which was awakened by the genius and information of Mr. Robert Bolton, who, after a glowing eulogium on himself, and his unspeakable influence with the daily press, was proceeding, with a most solemn countenance, to hear the pros and cons of the Pope autograph question, when I took up my hat, and left.

FAMILIAR EPISTLE FROM A PARENT TO A CHILD AGED TWO YEARS AND TWO MONTHS

MY CHILD,

TO recount with what trouble I have brought you up—with what an anxious eye I have regarded your progress,—how late and how often I have sat up at night working for you,—and how many thousand letters I have received from, and written to your various relations and friends, many of whom have been of a querulous and irritable turn,—to dwell on the anxiety and tenderness with which I have (as far as I possessed the power) inspected and chosen your food; rejecting the indigestible and heavy matter which some injudicious but well-meaning old ladies would have had you swallow, and retaining only those light and pleasant articles which I deemed calculated to keep you free from all gross humours, and to render you an agreeable child, and one who might be popular with society in general,—to dilate on the steadiness with which I have prevented your annoying any company by talking politics—always assuring you that you would thank me for it yourself some day when you grew older,—to expatiate, in short, upon my own assiduity as a parent, is beside my present purpose, though I cannot but contemplate your fair appearance—your robust health, and unimpeded circulation (which I take to be the great secret of your good looks) without the liveliest satisfaction and delight.

It is a trite observation, and one which, young as you are, I have no doubt you have often heard repeated, that we have fallen upon strange times, and live in days of constant shiftings and changes. I had a melancholy instance of this only a week or two since. I was returning from Manchester to London by the Mail Train, when I suddenly fell into another train—a mixed train—of reflection, occasioned by the dejected and disconsolate demeanour of the Post-Office Guard. We were stopping at some station where they take in water, when he dismounted slowly from the little box in which he sits in ghastly mockery of his old condition with pistol and blunderbuss beside him, ready to shoot the first highwayman (or railwayman) who shall attempt to stop the horses, which now travel (when they travel at all) inside and in a portable stable invented for the purpose,—he dismounted, I say, slowly and sadly, from his post, and looking mournfully about him as if in dismal recollection of the old roadside public-house the blazing fire—the glass of foaming ale—the buxom handmaid and admiring hangers-on of tap-room and stable, all honoured by his notice; and, retiring a little apart, stood leaning against a signal-post, surveying the engine with a look of combined affliction and disgust which no words can describe. His scarlet coat and golden lace were tarnished with ignoble smoke; flakes of soot had fallen on his bright green shawl—his pride in days of yore—the steam condensed in the tunnel from which we had just emerged, shone upon his hat like rain. His eye betokened that he was thinking of the coachman; and as it wandered to his own seat and his own fast-fading garb, it was plain to see that he felt his office and himself had alike no business there, and were nothing but an elaborate practical joke.

As we whirled away, I was led insensibly into an anticipation of those days to come, when mail-coach guards shall no longer be judges of horse-flesh—when a mail-coach guard shall never even have seen a horse—when stations shall have superseded stables, and corn shall have given place to coke. ‘In those dawning times,’ thought I, ‘exhibition-rooms shall teem with portraits of Her Majesty’s favourite engine, with boilers after Nature by future Landseers. Some Amburgh, yet unborn, shall break wild horses by his magic power; and in the dress of a mail-coach guard exhibit his TRAINED ANIMALS in a mock mail-coach. Then, shall wondering crowds observe how that, with the exception of his whip, it is all his eye; and crowned heads shall see them fed on oats, and stand alone unmoved and undismayed, while counters flee affrighted when the coursers neigh!’

Such, my child, were the reflections from which I was only awakened then, as I am now, by the necessity of attending to matters of present though minor importance. I offer no apology to you for the digression, for it brings me very naturally to the subject of change, which is the very subject of which I desire to treat.

In fact, my child, you have changed hands. Henceforth I resign you to the guardianship and protection of one of my most intimate and valued friends, Mr. Ainsworth, with whom, and with you, my best wishes and warmest feelings will ever remain. I reap no gain or profit by parting from you, nor will any conveyance of your property be required, for, in this respect, you have always been literally ‘Bentley’s’ Miscellany, and never mine.

Unlike the driver of the old Manchester mail, I regard this altered state of things with feelings of unmingled pleasure and satisfaction.

Unlike the guard of the new Manchester mail, your guard is at home in his new place, and has roystering highwaymen and gallant desperadoes ever within call. And if I might compare you, my child, to an engine; (not a Tory engine, nor a Whig engine, but a brisk and rapid locomotive;) your friends and patrons to passengers; and he who now stands towards you in loco parentis as the skilful engineer and supervisor of the whole, I would humbly crave leave to postpone the departure of the train on its new and auspicious course for one brief instant, while, with hat in hand, I approach side by side with the friend who travelled with me on the old road, and presume to solicit favour and kindness in behalf of him and his new charge, both for their sakes and that of the old coachman,

BOZ.

THE MUDFOG AND OTHER SKETCHES

CONTENTS

PAGE Public Life of Mr. Tulrumble 495 Full Report of the First Meeting of the Mudfog Association 513 for the Advancement of Everything Section A. Zoology and Botany Section B. Anatomy and Medicine Section C. Statistics Section D. Mechanical Science Full Report of the Second Meeting of the Mudfog Association 531 for the Advancement of Everything Section A. Zoology and Botany Section B. Display of Models and Mechanical Science Section C. Anatomy and Medicine Section D. Statistics Supplementary Section, E. Umbugology and Ditchwaterisics The Pantomime of Life 551 Some Particulars Concerning a Lion 558 Mr. Robert Bolton 563 Familiar Epistle from a Parent to a Child 567

PUBLIC LIFE OF MR. TULRUMBLE ONCE MAYOR OF MUDFOG

MUDFOG is a pleasant town—a remarkably pleasant town—situated in a charming hollow by the side of a river, from which river, Mudfog derives an agreeable scent of pitch, tar, coals, and rope-yarn, a roving population in oilskin hats, a pretty steady influx of drunken bargemen, and a great many other maritime advantages. There is a good deal of water about Mudfog, and yet it is not exactly the sort of town for a watering-place, either. Water is a perverse sort of element at the best of times, and in Mudfog it is particularly so. In winter, it comes oozing down the streets and tumbling over the fields,—nay, rushes into the very cellars and kitchens of the houses, with a lavish prodigality that might well be dispensed with; but in the hot summer weather it will dry up, and turn green: and, although green is a very good colour in its way, especially in grass, still it certainly is not becoming to water; and it cannot be denied that the beauty of Mudfog is rather impaired, even by this trifling circumstance. Mudfog is a healthy place—very healthy;—damp, perhaps, but none the worse for that. It’s quite a mistake to suppose that damp is unwholesome: plants thrive best in damp situations, and why shouldn’t men? The inhabitants of Mudfog are unanimous in asserting that there exists not a finer race of people on the face of the earth; here we have an indisputable and veracious contradiction of the vulgar error at once. So, admitting Mudfog to be damp, we distinctly state that it is salubrious.

The town of Mudfog is extremely picturesque. Limehouse and Ratcliff Highway are both something like it, but they give you a very faint idea of Mudfog. There are a great many more public-houses in Mudfog—more than in Ratcliff Highway and Limehouse put together. The public buildings, too, are very imposing. We consider the town-hall one of the finest specimens of shed architecture, extant: it is a combination of the pig-sty and tea-garden-box orders; and the simplicity of its design is of surpassing beauty. The idea of placing a large window on one side of the door, and a small one on the other, is particularly happy. There is a fine old Doric beauty, too, about the padlock and scraper, which is strictly in keeping with the general effect.

In this room do the mayor and corporation of Mudfog assemble together in solemn council for the public weal. Seated on the massive wooden benches, which, with the table in the centre, form the only furniture of the whitewashed apartment, the sage men of Mudfog spend hour after hour in grave deliberation. Here they settle at what hour of the night the public-houses shall be closed, at what hour of the morning they shall be permitted to open, how soon it shall be lawful for people to eat their dinner on church-days, and other great political questions; and sometimes, long after silence has fallen on the town, and the distant lights from the shops and houses have ceased to twinkle, like far-off stars, to the sight of the boatmen on the river, the illumination in the two unequal-sized windows of the town-hall, warns the inhabitants of Mudfog that its little body of legislators, like a larger and better-known body of the same genus, a great deal more noisy, and not a whit more profound, are patriotically dozing away in company, far into the night, for their country’s good.

Among this knot of sage and learned men, no one was so eminently distinguished, during many years, for the quiet modesty of his appearance and demeanour, as Nicholas Tulrumble, the well-known coal-dealer. However exciting the subject of discussion, however animated the tone of the debate, or however warm the personalities exchanged, (and even in Mudfog we get personal sometimes,) Nicholas Tulrumble was always the same. To say truth, Nicholas, being an industrious man, and always up betimes, was apt to fall asleep when a debate began, and to remain asleep till it was over, when he would wake up very much refreshed, and give his vote with the greatest complacency. The fact was, that Nicholas Tulrumble, knowing that everybody there had made up his mind beforehand, considered the talking as just a long botheration about nothing at all; and to the present hour it remains a question, whether, on this point at all events, Nicholas Tulrumble was not pretty near right.

Time, which strews a man’s head with silver, sometimes fills his pockets with gold. As he gradually performed one good office for Nicholas Tulrumble, he was obliging enough, not to omit the other. Nicholas began life in a wooden tenement of four feet square, with a capital of two and ninepence, and a stock in trade of three bushels and a-half of coals, exclusive of the large lump which hung, by way of sign-board, outside. Then he enlarged the shed, and kept a truck; then he left the shed, and the truck too, and started a donkey and a Mrs. Tulrumble; then he moved again and set up a cart; the cart was soon afterwards exchanged for a waggon; and so he went on like his great predecessor Whittington—only without a cat for a partner—increasing in wealth and fame, until at last he gave up business altogether, and retired with Mrs. Tulrumble and family to Mudfog Hall, which he had himself erected, on something which he attempted to delude himself into the belief was a hill, about a quarter of a mile distant from the town of Mudfog.

Il fango e altre storie

Indice

Pagina
La vita pubblica del signor Tulrumble 495
Rapporto completo della prima riunione dell’Associazione Mudfog 513
Per il progresso di ogni cosa
Sezione A. Zoologia e Botanica
Sezione B. Anatomia e Medicina
Sezione C. Statistica
Sezione D. Scienze Meccaniche
Rapporto completo della seconda riunione dell’Associazione Mudfog 531
Per il progresso di ogni cosa
Sezione A. Zoologia e Botanica
Sezione B. Mostrazione di modelli e
Scienze Meccaniche
Sezione C. Anatomia e Medicina
Sezione D. Statistica
Sezione supplementare, E. Umbugologia e
Ditchwaterisics
La pantomima della vita 551
Alcuni dettagli riguardanti un leone 558
Il signor Robert Bolton 563
Lettera familiare di un genitore a un bambino 567

La vita pubblica del signor Tulrumble
un tempo sindaco di Mudfrog

Mudfog è una città piacevole – davvero molto piacevole – situata in una graziosa conca accanto a un fiume; da questo fiume Mudfog trae un gradevole profumo di resina, catrame, carbone e filati. La popolazione è composta principalmente da uomini che indossano cappelli di gomma; inoltre, la città riceve costantemente l’arrivo di barcaioli ubriachi, il che le conferisce ulteriori vantaggi legati alla vita marittima. C’è molta acqua intorno a Mudfog, ma non si tratta certo della tipica città adatta per località balneari. L’acqua, in fin dei conti, è un elemento capriccioso; a Mudfog lo è ancora di più. Durante l’—inverno, scorre lungo le strade e invade i cortili delle case con una generosità davvero eccessiva. Ma nel caldo estate si prosciuga e diventa verde; e anche se il verde è un bel colore, soprattutto per l’erba, certamente non è adatto all’acqua. E non si può negare che questa piccola caratteristica riduca notevolmente la bellezza di Mudfog. Tuttavia, Mudfog è un luogo sano. Anche se umido, forse, ma questo non lo rende certo meno salutare. È un errore credere che l’umidità sia nociva: le piante crescono meglio in ambienti umidi, e perché gli esseri umani dovrebbero essere diversi? Gli abitanti di Mudfog sono tutti d’accordo nel sostenere che non esista una razza migliore al mondo. Qui abbiamo quindi una contraddizione inequivocabile e veritiera rispetto agli errori comuni. Quindi, anche ammettendo che Mudfog sia umido, dobbiamo affermare chiaramente che è un luogo salutare.

La città di Mudfog è estremamente pittoresca. Anche Limehouse e Ratcliff Highway assomigliano in qualche modo a Mudfog, ma offrono solo una vaga idea di essa. A Mudfog ci sono moltissimi pub: ne trovereste più che in Ratcliff Highway e Limehouse messi insieme. Anche gli edifici pubblici sono molto imponenti. Riteniamo che il municipio sia uno dei migliori esempi esistenti di architettura semplice e funzionale: rappresenta una combinazione tra elementi tipici di stalle per maiali e di strutture utilizzate per i giardini; la semplicità del suo design è di una bellezza straordinaria. L’idea di posizionare un grande finestrino su un lato della porta e uno più piccolo dall’altro è particolarmente ingegnosa. Inoltre, ci sono anche elementi architettonici in stile dorico, molto belli, che si abbinate perfettamente all’aspetto complessivo dell’edificio.

In questa stanza il sindaco e il consiglio comunale di Mudfog si riuniscono in assemblea solenne per il bene pubblico. Seduti sulle massicce panche di legno – che, insieme al tavolo al centro, costituiscono l’unico arredamento dell’appartamento intonacato – questi saggi uomini trascorrono ore e ore in serie deliberazioni. Qui decidono a quale ora delle notti chiudere i pub, a che ora del mattino permetterne l’apertura, a che ora sia legale consumare la cena nei giorni feriali, e affrontano altre importanti questioni politiche. A volte, molto dopo che il silenzio è calato sulla città e le luci lontane dei negozi e delle case hanno smesso di brillare come stelle distanti, l’illuminazione nelle due finestre della sala del consiglio avverte gli abitanti di Mudfog che i loro piccoli legislatori, proprio come un organo più grande e noto dello stesso genere – molto più rumoroso, ma certo non più profondo – stanno patriotticamente discutendo fino a tarda notte per il bene del loro paese.

Tra questo gruppo di saggi e eruditi, nessuno fu mai così eccezionalmente distinto, per molti anni, per la tranquilla modestia del proprio aspetto e comportamento, quanto Nicholas Tulrumble, il ben noto commerciante di carbone. Per quanto fosse appassionante l’argomento della discussione, per quanto animato il tono dei dibattiti o calde le emozioni scambiate (e anche a Mudfog, a volte, si esprimono opinioni personali), Nicholas Tulrumble rimaneva sempre lo stesso. A dire la verità, essendo una persona laboriosa e sempre puntuale, aveva l’abitudine di addormentarsi non appena iniziava un dibattito e di continuare a dormire fino alla sua fine; poi si svegliava completamente riposato e votava con grande tranquillità. Il fatto è che Nicholas Tulrumble, sapendo che tutti i presenti avevano già preso una decisione in precedenza, considerava quelle discussioni semplicemente un lungo e inutile disturbo; e fino ad oggi rimane da chiedersi se, su questo punto, Nicholas Tulrumble non avesse ragione.

Il tempo, che sparge argento sulla testa di un uomo, a volte riempie anche le sue tasche d’oro. Mentre prestava gradualmente un servizio utile a Nicholas Tulrumble, si dimostrò abbastanza premuroso da non trascurare nemmeno l’altro aspetto delle cose. Nicholas iniziò la sua vita in una stanzetta di legno di quattro piedi quadrati, con un capitale iniziale di due sterline e nove pence, e un commercio che consisteva in tre buche di carbone e mezza, escludendo quella grossa massa di carbone appesa all’esterno della sua abitazione, a mo’ di insegna. Poi ampliò la stanzetta e acquistò un carretto; successivamente lasciò sia la stanzetta che il carretto, e acquistò anche un asino, insieme a una certa signora Tulrumble. In seguito si trasferì di nuovo e acquistò un carro; poco dopo quel carro fu sostituito da un vagone. E così andò avanti, proprio come il suo grande predecessore Whittington, solo che senza una gatta come compagna d’affari. Cresceva continuamente in ricchezza e fama, fino a quando alla fine smise completamente di fare affari e si ritirò con la signora Tulrumble e la sua famiglia nella dimora chiamata Mudfog Hall, che aveva fatto costruire lui stesso, su quella che cercava di convincersi fosse una “collina”, situata a circa un quarto di miglio dalla città di Mudfog.

About this time, it began to be murmured in Mudfog that Nicholas Tulrumble was growing vain and haughty; that prosperity and success had corrupted the simplicity of his manners, and tainted the natural goodness of his heart; in short, that he was setting up for a public character, and a great gentleman, and affected to look down upon his old companions with compassion and contempt. Whether these reports were at the time well-founded, or not, certain it is that Mrs. Tulrumble very shortly afterwards started a four-wheel chaise, driven by a tall postilion in a yellow cap,—that Mr. Tulrumble junior took to smoking cigars, and calling the footman a ‘feller,’—and that Mr. Tulrumble from that time forth, was no more seen in his old seat in the chimney-corner of the Lighterman’s Arms at night. This looked bad; but, more than this, it began to be observed that Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble attended the corporation meetings more frequently than heretofore; and he no longer went to sleep as he had done for so many years, but propped his eyelids open with his two forefingers; that he read the newspapers by himself at home; and that he was in the habit of indulging abroad in distant and mysterious allusions to ‘masses of people,’ and ‘the property of the country,’ and ‘productive power,’ and ‘the monied interest:’ all of which denoted and proved that Nicholas Tulrumble was either mad, or worse; and it puzzled the good people of Mudfog amazingly.

At length, about the middle of the month of October, Mr. Tulrumble and family went up to London; the middle of October being, as Mrs. Tulrumble informed her acquaintance in Mudfog, the very height of the fashionable season.

Somehow or other, just about this time, despite the health-preserving air of Mudfog, the Mayor died. It was a most extraordinary circumstance; he had lived in Mudfog for eighty-five years. The corporation didn’t understand it at all; indeed it was with great difficulty that one old gentleman, who was a great stickler for forms, was dissuaded from proposing a vote of censure on such unaccountable conduct. Strange as it was, however, die he did, without taking the slightest notice of the corporation; and the corporation were imperatively called upon to elect his successor. So, they met for the purpose; and being very full of Nicholas Tulrumble just then, and Nicholas Tulrumble being a very important man, they elected him, and wrote off to London by the very next post to acquaint Nicholas Tulrumble with his new elevation.

Now, it being November time, and Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble being in the capital, it fell out that he was present at the Lord Mayor’s show and dinner, at sight of the glory and splendour whereof, he, Mr. Tulrumble, was greatly mortified, inasmuch as the reflection would force itself on his mind, that, had he been born in London instead of in Mudfog, he might have been a Lord Mayor too, and have patronized the judges, and been affable to the Lord Chancellor, and friendly with the Premier, and coldly condescending to the Secretary to the Treasury, and have dined with a flag behind his back, and done a great many other acts and deeds which unto Lord Mayors of London peculiarly appertain. The more he thought of the Lord Mayor, the more enviable a personage he seemed. To be a King was all very well; but what was the King to the Lord Mayor! When the King made a speech, everybody knew it was somebody else’s writing; whereas here was the Lord Mayor, talking away for half an hour-all out of his own head—amidst the enthusiastic applause of the whole company, while it was notorious that the King might talk to his parliament till he was black in the face without getting so much as a single cheer. As all these reflections passed through the mind of Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble, the Lord Mayor of London appeared to him the greatest sovereign on the face of the earth, beating the Emperor of Russia all to nothing, and leaving the Great Mogul immeasurably behind.

Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble was pondering over these things, and inwardly cursing the fate which had pitched his coal-shed in Mudfog, when the letter of the corporation was put into his hand. A crimson flush mantled over his face as he read it, for visions of brightness were already dancing before his imagination.

‘My dear,’ said Mr. Tulrumble to his wife, ‘they have elected me, Mayor of Mudfog.’

‘Lor-a-mussy!’ said Mrs. Tulrumble: ‘why what’s become of old Sniggs?’

‘The late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble,’ said Mr. Tulrumble sharply, for he by no means approved of the notion of unceremoniously designating a gentleman who filled the high office of Mayor, as ‘Old Sniggs,’—‘The late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble, is dead.’

The communication was very unexpected; but Mrs. Tulrumble only ejaculated ‘Lor-a-mussy!’ once again, as if a Mayor were a mere ordinary Christian, at which Mr. Tulrumble frowned gloomily.

‘What a pity ’tan’t in London, ain’t it?’ said Mrs. Tulrumble, after a short pause; ‘what a pity ’tan’t in London, where you might have had a show.’

‘I might have a show in Mudfog, if I thought proper, I apprehend,’ said Mr. Tulrumble mysteriously.

‘Lor! so you might, I declare,’ replied Mrs. Tulrumble.

‘And a good one too,’ said Mr. Tulrumble.

‘Delightful!’ exclaimed Mrs. Tulrumble.

‘One which would rather astonish the ignorant people down there,’ said Mr. Tulrumble.

‘It would kill them with envy,’ said Mrs. Tulrumble.

So it was agreed that his Majesty’s lieges in Mudfog should be astonished with splendour, and slaughtered with envy, and that such a show should take place as had never been seen in that town, or in any other town before,—no, not even in London itself.

On the very next day after the receipt of the letter, down came the tall postilion in a post-chaise,—not upon one of the horses, but inside—actually inside the chaise,—and, driving up to the very door of the town-hall, where the corporation were assembled, delivered a letter, written by the Lord knows who, and signed by Nicholas Tulrumble, in which Nicholas said, all through four sides of closely-written, gilt-edged, hot-pressed, Bath post letter paper, that he responded to the call of his fellow-townsmen with feelings of heartfelt delight; that he accepted the arduous office which their confidence had imposed upon him; that they would never find him shrinking from the discharge of his duty; that he would endeavour to execute his functions with all that dignity which their magnitude and importance demanded; and a great deal more to the same effect. But even this was not all. The tall postilion produced from his right-hand top-boot, a damp copy of that afternoon’s number of the county paper; and there, in large type, running the whole length of the very first column, was a long address from Nicholas Tulrumble to the inhabitants of Mudfog, in which he said that he cheerfully complied with their requisition, and, in short, as if to prevent any mistake about the matter, told them over again what a grand fellow he meant to be, in very much the same terms as those in which he had already told them all about the matter in his letter.

Intorno a quell’epoca, in Mudfog iniziarono a circolare voci secondo cui Nicholas Tulrumble stava diventando vanitoso e presuntuoso; che la prosperità e il successo avessero corrotto la semplicità dei suoi modi e contaminato la bontà naturale del suo cuore; in breve, che si stesse preparando a diventare una figura pubblica di rilievo, un vero gentiluomo, e che cominciasse a guardare con disprezzo i suoi vecchi compagni. Che queste voci fossero fondate o meno, è certo che poco dopo la signora Tulrumble acquistò una carrozza a quattro ruote, guidata da un cocchiere alto con un cappello giallo; che il giovane signor Tulrumble iniziò a fumare sigari e a chiamare il valletto “ragazzo”; e che da quel momento in poi non si lo vide più seduto nel solito angolo del camino al Lighterman’s Arms di notte. Questo sembrava preoccupante. Ma ancora più sorprendente fu notare che il signor Nicholas Tulrumble partecipava sempre più frequentemente alle riunioni della corporazione; che non andava più a dormire come faceva da tanti anni, ma si teneva gli occhi aperti con i due diti delle mani; che leggeva i giornali da solo a casa; e che aveva l’abitudine di fare allusioni enigmatiche riguardo alle “masse popolari”, alla “proprietà del paese”, alla “forza produttiva” e agli “interessi finanziari”: tutto ciò indicava chiaramente che Nicholas Tulrumble era pazzo, o qualcosa di ancora peggiore. E questo lasciava davvero perplessi le brave persone di Mudfog.

Infine, verso la metà del mese di ottobre, il signor Tulrumble e la sua famiglia andarono a Londra; poiché, come la signora Tulrumble disse alle sue conoscenti a Mudfog, la metà di ottobre rappresentava proprio l’apice della stagione mondana.

In qualche modo, proprio in questo momento, nonostante l’aria salutare di Mudfog, il Sindaco morì. Fu una circostanza davvero straordinaria; aveva vissuto a Mudfog per ottantacinque anni. L’assemblea comunale non riuscì affatto a comprenderne le ragioni; anzi, fu con grande difficoltà che si riuscì a dissuadere un anziano signore, molto attento alle formalità, dal proporre una mozione di censura per tale comportamento incomprensibile. Stranamente, comunque, morì senza prestare la minima attenzione all’assemblea comunale; e quest’ultima fu quindi costretta ad eleggere il suo successore. Così fecero: essendo in quel momento molto interessati a Nicholas Tulrumble – che era una persona di grande importanza – lo elevarono al ruolo di nuovo sindaco e inviarono immediatamente un messaggio a Londra per comunicargli la sua nomina.

Ora che era novembre e il signor Nicholas Tulrumble si trovava nella capitale, gli capitò di assistere alla cerimonia e al banchetto organizzati dal Lord Mayor. Di fronte a tutta quella gloria e splendore, il signor Tulrumble provò un profondo senso di umiliazione: si rese conto che, se fosse nato a )Londra invece che a Mudfog, avrebbe potuto anche lui diventare Lord Mayor, corteggiare i giudici, essere cordiale con il Lord Cancelliere, mantenere rapporti amichevoli con il Primo Ministro, trattare con distacco il Segretario al Tesoro, e persino pranzare con una bandiera alle sue spalle, compiendo così molte altre azioni tipiche di un Lord Mayor di )Londra. Più ci pensava, più il Lord Mayor gli sembrava una figura davvero invidiabile. Essere un re era certamente qualcosa di meraviglioso, ma cosa significava, dopotutto, essere un re rispetto a un Lord Mayor? Quando il re teneva un discorso, tutti sapevano che era scritto da qualcun altro; mentre il Lord Mayor, invece, parlava per mezz’ora intera, tutto ciò che diceva veniva dal suo stesso cuore, e riceveva l’entusiastico applauso di tutti. Era notorio, inoltre, che il re potesse parlare al proprio parlamento per ore senza ottenere nemmeno un applauso. Mentre tutte queste riflessioni attraversavano la mente del signor Nicholas Tulrumble, il Lord Mayor di Londra gli apparve come il più grande sovrano della terra: superava di gran lunga l’Imperatore di Russia e lasciava il Gran Mogol molto indietro.

Il signor Nicholas Tulrumble rifletteva su queste cose, maledicendo in cuor suo il destino che aveva fatto sì che la sua cava di carbone si trovasse a Mudfog, quando gli fu consegnata la lettera della società. Un rossore intenso si diffuse sul suo viso mentre la leggeva, perché già immagini di prosperità iniziavano a prendere forma nella sua immaginazione.

“Mia cara,” disse il signor Tulrumble alla sua moglie, “mi hanno eletto sindaco di Mudfog.”

“Lor-a-mussy!”, esclamò la signora Tulrumble, “ma che fine ha fatto il vecchio Sniggs?”

“Il defunto signor Sniggs, signora Tulrumble,” disse il signor Tulrumble in tono secco, poiché assolutamente non approvava l’idea di chiamare con disinvoltura un gentiluomo che ricopriva la nobile carica di sindaco “Vecchio Sniggs”; “Il defunto signor Sniggs, signora Tulrumble, è morto.”

La comunicazione fu del tutto inaspettata; ma la signora Tulrumble esclamò soltanto “Lor-a-mussy!” un’altra volta, come se un sindaco fosse semplicemente un cristiano qualunque. A queste parole, il signor Tulrumble aggrottò cupamente la fronte.

“Che peccato che non siate a Londra, vero?”, disse la signora Tulrumble dopo una breve pausa; “che peccato che non siate a Londra, dove avreste potuto avere un grande successo.”

“Potrei anche avere uno spettacolo a Mudfog, se decidessi di farlo, credo,” disse il signor Tulrumble in modo misterioso.

“Ah! Forse potreste farlo,” rispose la signora Tulrumble.

“E anche molto bella,” disse il signor Tulrumble.

“Delizioso!” esclamò la signora Tulrumble.

“Uno che preferirebbe stupire quelle persone ignoranti laggiù,” disse il signor Tulrumble.

“Li ucciderebbe di invidia,” disse la signora Tulrumble.

Fu quindi concordato che i sudditi di Sua Maestà a Mudfog dovessero essere stupiti dallo splendore e uccisi dall’invidia; che si tenesse uno spettacolo come mai era stato visto prima in quella città, né in nessun’altra – no, nemmeno a Londra stessa.

Il giorno stesso dopo aver ricevuto la lettera, arrivò il alto postiglione su una berlina da viaggio: non cavalcava nessuno dei cavalli, ma si trovava all’interno della vettura. Si fermò proprio davanti all’ingresso del municipio, dove si erano riuniti i cittadini, e consegnò una lettera scritta chissà da chi e firmata da Nicholas Tulrumble. In essa Nicholas dichiarava, su quattro pagine intere di carta da lettera dorata e stampata con cura, di rispondere con grande gioia alla richiesta dei suoi concittadini; di accettare l’onorevole incarico loro affidatogli; di non esitare mai a adempiere ai propri doveri; e di impegnarsi a svolgerli con tutta la dignità che ne richiedeva l’importanza. Ma non era ancora tutto: il postiglione tirò fuori dalla propria scarpa destra una copia umida dell’edizione pomeridiana del giornale della contea; su quella pagina, in caratteri grandi e per tutta la lunghezza della prima colonna, c’era un lungo messaggio di Nicholas Tulrumble agli abitanti di Mudfog, nel quale dichiarava di aver felicemente accettato la loro richiesta. Insomma, come se volesse evitare qualsiasi equivoco, ripeteva ancora una volta quanto fosse una persona eccezionale.

The corporation stared at one another very hard at all this, and then looked as if for explanation to the tall postilion, but as the tall postilion was intently contemplating the gold tassel on the top of his yellow cap, and could have afforded no explanation whatever, even if his thoughts had been entirely disengaged, they contented themselves with coughing very dubiously, and looking very grave. The tall postilion then delivered another letter, in which Nicholas Tulrumble informed the corporation, that he intended repairing to the town-hall, in grand state and gorgeous procession, on the Monday afternoon next ensuing. At this the corporation looked still more solemn; but, as the epistle wound up with a formal invitation to the whole body to dine with the Mayor on that day, at Mudfog Hall, Mudfog Hill, Mudfog, they began to see the fun of the thing directly, and sent back their compliments, and they’d be sure to come.

Now there happened to be in Mudfog, as somehow or other there does happen to be, in almost every town in the British dominions, and perhaps in foreign dominions too—we think it very likely, but, being no great traveller, cannot distinctly say—there happened to be, in Mudfog, a merry-tempered, pleasant-faced, good-for-nothing sort of vagabond, with an invincible dislike to manual labour, and an unconquerable attachment to strong beer and spirits, whom everybody knew, and nobody, except his wife, took the trouble to quarrel with, who inherited from his ancestors the appellation of Edward Twigger, and rejoiced in the sobriquet of Bottle-nosed Ned. He was drunk upon the average once a day, and penitent upon an equally fair calculation once a month; and when he was penitent, he was invariably in the very last stage of maudlin intoxication. He was a ragged, roving, roaring kind of fellow, with a burly form, a sharp wit, and a ready head, and could turn his hand to anything when he chose to do it. He was by no means opposed to hard labour on principle, for he would work away at a cricket-match by the day together,—running, and catching, and batting, and bowling, and revelling in toil which would exhaust a galley-slave. He would have been invaluable to a fire-office; never was a man with such a natural taste for pumping engines, running up ladders, and throwing furniture out of two-pair-of-stairs’ windows: nor was this the only element in which he was at home; he was a humane society in himself, a portable drag, an animated life-preserver, and had saved more people, in his time, from drowning, than the Plymouth life-boat, or Captain Manby’s apparatus. With all these qualifications, notwithstanding his dissipation, Bottle-nosed Ned was a general favourite; and the authorities of Mudfog, remembering his numerous services to the population, allowed him in return to get drunk in his own way, without the fear of stocks, fine, or imprisonment. He had a general licence, and he showed his sense of the compliment by making the most of it.

We have been thus particular in describing the character and avocations of Bottle-nosed Ned, because it enables us to introduce a fact politely, without hauling it into the reader’s presence with indecent haste by the head and shoulders, and brings us very naturally to relate, that on the very same evening on which Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble and family returned to Mudfog, Mr. Tulrumble’s new secretary, just imported from London, with a pale face and light whiskers, thrust his head down to the very bottom of his neckcloth-tie, in at the tap-room door of the Lighterman’s Arms, and inquiring whether one Ned Twigger was luxuriating within, announced himself as the bearer of a message from Nicholas Tulrumble, Esquire, requiring Mr. Twigger’s immediate attendance at the hall, on private and particular business. It being by no means Mr. Twigger’s interest to affront the Mayor, he rose from the fireplace with a slight sigh, and followed the light-whiskered secretary through the dirt and wet of Mudfog streets, up to Mudfog Hall, without further ado.

Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble was seated in a small cavern with a skylight, which he called his library, sketching out a plan of the procession on a large sheet of paper; and into the cavern the secretary ushered Ned Twigger.

‘Well, Twigger!’ said Nicholas Tulrumble, condescendingly.

There was a time when Twigger would have replied, ‘Well, Nick!’ but that was in the days of the truck, and a couple of years before the donkey; so, he only bowed.

‘I want you to go into training, Twigger,’ said Mr. Tulrumble.

‘What for, sir?’ inquired Ned, with a stare.

‘Hush, hush, Twigger!’ said the Mayor. ‘Shut the door, Mr. Jennings. Look here, Twigger.’

As the Mayor said this, he unlocked a high closet, and disclosed a complete suit of brass armour, of gigantic dimensions.

‘I want you to wear this next Monday, Twigger,’ said the Mayor.

‘Bless your heart and soul, sir!’ replied Ned, ‘you might as well ask me to wear a seventy-four pounder, or a cast-iron boiler.’

‘Nonsense, Twigger, nonsense!’ said the Mayor.

‘I couldn’t stand under it, sir,’ said Twigger; ‘it would make mashed potatoes of me, if I attempted it.’

‘Pooh, pooh, Twigger!’ returned the Mayor. ‘I tell you I have seen it done with my own eyes, in London, and the man wasn’t half such a man as you are, either.’

‘I should as soon have thought of a man’s wearing the case of an eight-day clock to save his linen,’ said Twigger, casting a look of apprehension at the brass suit.

‘It’s the easiest thing in the world,’ rejoined the Mayor.

‘It’s nothing,’ said Mr. Jennings.

‘When you’re used to it,’ added Ned.

‘You do it by degrees,’ said the Mayor. ‘You would begin with one piece to-morrow, and two the next day, and so on, till you had got it all on. Mr. Jennings, give Twigger a glass of rum. Just try the breast-plate, Twigger. Stay; take another glass of rum first. Help me to lift it, Mr. Jennings. Stand firm, Twigger! There!—it isn’t half as heavy as it looks, is it?’

La corporazione si guardò intorno con grande perplessità, poi sembrò cercare una spiegazione dal postiglione alto; ma poiché quest’ultimo era completamente assorto nella contemplazione della piuma d’oro sulla sommità del suo cappello giallo, e non avrebbe potuto fornire alcuna spiegazione, si accontentarono di tossire in modo molto incerto e di assumere un’espressione estremamente seria. Il postiglione alto consegnò poi un’altra lettera nella quale Nicholas Tulrumble comunicava alla corporazione che intendeva recarsi in municipio il lunedì pomeriggio seguente, con grande sfarzo e una processione imponente. A queste parole, la corporazione assunse un’aria ancora più solenne; tuttavia, poiché la lettera terminava con un invito formale a tutti i membri della corporazione a pranzare con il sindaco quel giorno stesso presso la Mudfog Hall, situata sul Mudfog Hill, cominciarono immediatamente a vedere il lato divertente della cosa e risposero confermando la loro partecipazione.

A Mudfog, come capita spesso in quasi tutte le città dei domini britannici, e forse anche in quelli stranieri – pensiamo sia molto probabile, ma non essendo un grande viaggiatore, non posso dirlo con certezza – c’era un vagabondo di indole allegra, dal viso simpatico e dalla vita dissipata. Odiava profondamente il lavoro manuale e aveva una passione incontrollabile per la birra forte e gli alcolici. Tutti lo conoscevano, ma nessuno, tranne sua moglie, si prendeva la briga di litigare con lui. Aveva ereditato dal padre il nome di Edward Twigger e si faceva chiamare scherzosamente “Bottle-nosed Ned”. Beveva in media una volta al giorno e si pentiva con uguale frequenza; quando si pentiva, era sempre nel peggiore stato di ubriachezza. Era un tipo trasandato, irrequieto e rumoroso, di corporatura robusta, con un’intelligenza pronta e la capacità di occuparsi di qualsiasi lavoro desiderasse. Non aveva assolutamente nulla in contrario al duro lavoro: avrebbe potuto lavorare tutto il giorno in una partita di cricket, correndo, afferrando, battendo e lanciando la palla, godendosi uno sforzo che avrebbe esaurito anche un schiavo. Sarebbe stato di grande utilità in un ufficio antincendio: nessuno aveva un talento naturale maggiore del suo nel manovrare pompe, arrampicarsi su scale e gettare mobili fuori dalle finestre. E non era questa l’unica sua dote: era davvero una “macchina umana” per il salvataggio delle persone; in quel periodo aveva salvato più persone dall’annegamento di quanto avessero fatto la barca di salvataggio di Plymouth o l’apparecchio del Capitano Manby. Nonostante tutta questa “qualifica”, nonostante la sua vita dissoluta, Bottle-nosed Ned era molto amato dalla gente; le autorità di Mudfog, ricordando i suoi numerosi servizi alla comunità, gli permettevano di ubriacarsi a suo piacimento, senza il rischio di multe o prigione. Aveva una licenza generale per bere alcolici, e dimostrava di apprezzare molto questo privilegio.

Abbiamo descritto con tanta cura il carattere e le abitudini di Bottle-nosed Ned perché ci permette di introdurre questo fatto in modo educato, senza presentarlo al lettore in modo brusco e indecente; inoltre, ci aiuta a raccontare, in modo naturale, che proprio nella stessa sera in cui il signor Nicholas Tulrumble e la sua famiglia tornarono a Mudfog, il nuovo segretario di Tulrumble, appena arrivato da Londra, con il viso pallido e le basette sottili, entrò nel locale della Lighterman’s Arms e chiese se vi fosse un certo Ned Twigger; presentandosi come portatore di un messaggio del signor Tulrumble, chiese a Ned Twigger di recarsi immediatamente nell’atrio per affari privati e urgenti. Poiché non era affatto nel interesse di Ned Twigger incontrare il sindaco, si alzò dal davanzale del camino con un leggero sospiro e seguì il segretario attraverso le strade fangose e bagnate di Mudfog, fino all’ingresso della Mudfog Hall, senza ulteriori indugi.

Il signor Nicholas Tulrumble era seduto in una piccola grotta dotata di un lucernario, che chiamava la sua “biblioteca”; su un grande foglio di carta stava disegnando il piano della processione. Il segretario fece entrare Ned Twigger nella grotta.

“Beh, Twigger!”, disse Nicholas Tulrumble in tono condiscendente.

C’era un tempo in cui Twigger avrebbe risposto: “Beh, Nick!”, ma quello era ai tempi del camion, e alcuni anni prima dell’arrivo del asino; quindi si limitò a inchinarsi.

“Voglio che tu inizi l’addestramento, Twigger,” disse il signor Tulrumble.

“Perché, signore?”, chiese Ned, guardandolo con curiosità.

“Zitta, zitta, Twigger!”, disse il Sindaco. “Chiuda la porta, signor Jennings. Guarda qui, Twigger.”

Mentre il Sindaco diceva queste parole, aprì un armadio alto e ne tirò fuori un intero set di armature in bronzo, di dimensioni gigantesche.

“Voglio che tu lo indossi lunedì prossimo, Twigger,” disse il Sindaco.

“Che il vostro cuore e la vostra ‘anima siano benedetti, signore!” rispose Ned, “potreste altrettanto bene chiedermi di indossare un cannone da settantacinque libbre o una caldaia di ferro battuto.”

“Sciocchezze, Twigger, sciocchezze!” disse il Sindaco.

“Non ce la farei mai, signore,” disse Twigger; “mi ridurrebbe in poltiglia se ci provassi.”

“Puf, puf, Twigger!” rispose il Sindaco. “Te lo dico io: l’ho visto con i miei occhi, a Londra, e quell’uomo non era nemmeno la metà di un uomo come te.”

“Avrei dovuto pensare subito che un uomo potesse indossare una custodia da orologio da otto giorni per proteggere i suoi vestiti,” disse Twigger, lanciando uno sguardo preoccupato alla tuta di ottone.

“È la cosa più facile del mondo,” ribatté il Sindaco.

“Non è nulla,” disse il signor Jennings.

“Quando ci si abitua,” aggiunse Ned.

“Si fa poco a poco,” disse il Sindaco. “Domani si inizia con un pezzo, il giorno dopo con due, e così via, finché non se ne è completata la costruzione. Signor Jennings, dia a Twigger un bicchiere di rum. Prova ad indossare il petto protettivo, Twigger. Aspetta: bevi prima un altro bicchiere di rum. Aiutami a sollevarlo, signor Jennings. Stai fermo, Twigger! Ecco, non è affatto così pesante come sembra, vero?”

Twigger was a good strong, stout fellow; so, after a great deal of staggering, he managed to keep himself up, under the breastplate, and even contrived, with the aid of another glass of rum, to walk about in it, and the gauntlets into the bargain. He made a trial of the helmet, but was not equally successful, inasmuch as he tipped over instantly,—an accident which Mr. Tulrumble clearly demonstrated to be occasioned by his not having a counteracting weight of brass on his legs.

‘Now, wear that with grace and propriety on Monday next,’ said Tulrumble, ‘and I’ll make your fortune.’

‘I’ll try what I can do, sir,’ said Twigger.

‘It must be kept a profound secret,’ said Tulrumble.

‘Of course, sir,’ replied Twigger.

‘And you must be sober,’ said Tulrumble; ‘perfectly sober.’ Mr. Twigger at once solemnly pledged himself to be as sober as a judge, and Nicholas Tulrumble was satisfied, although, had we been Nicholas, we should certainly have exacted some promise of a more specific nature; inasmuch as, having attended the Mudfog assizes in the evening more than once, we can solemnly testify to having seen judges with very strong symptoms of dinner under their wigs. However, that’s neither here nor there.

The next day, and the day following, and the day after that, Ned Twigger was securely locked up in the small cavern with the sky-light, hard at work at the armour. With every additional piece he could manage to stand upright in, he had an additional glass of rum; and at last, after many partial suffocations, he contrived to get on the whole suit, and to stagger up and down the room in it, like an intoxicated effigy from Westminster Abbey.

Never was man so delighted as Nicholas Tulrumble; never was woman so charmed as Nicholas Tulrumble’s wife. Here was a sight for the common people of Mudfog! A live man in brass armour! Why, they would go wild with wonder!

The day—the Monday—arrived.

If the morning had been made to order, it couldn’t have been better adapted to the purpose. They never showed a better fog in London on Lord Mayor’s day, than enwrapped the town of Mudfog on that eventful occasion. It had risen slowly and surely from the green and stagnant water with the first light of morning, until it reached a little above the lamp-post tops; and there it had stopped, with a sleepy, sluggish obstinacy, which bade defiance to the sun, who had got up very blood-shot about the eyes, as if he had been at a drinking-party over-night, and was doing his day’s work with the worst possible grace. The thick damp mist hung over the town like a huge gauze curtain. All was dim and dismal. The church steeples had bidden a temporary adieu to the world below; and every object of lesser importance—houses, barns, hedges, trees, and barges—had all taken the veil.

The church-clock struck one. A cracked trumpet from the front garden of Mudfog Hall produced a feeble flourish, as if some asthmatic person had coughed into it accidentally; the gate flew open, and out came a gentleman, on a moist-sugar coloured charger, intended to represent a herald, but bearing a much stronger resemblance to a court-card on horseback. This was one of the Circus people, who always came down to Mudfog at that time of the year, and who had been engaged by Nicholas Tulrumble expressly for the occasion. There was the horse, whisking his tail about, balancing himself on his hind-legs, and flourishing away with his fore-feet, in a manner which would have gone to the hearts and souls of any reasonable crowd. But a Mudfog crowd never was a reasonable one, and in all probability never will be. Instead of scattering the very fog with their shouts, as they ought most indubitably to have done, and were fully intended to do, by Nicholas Tulrumble, they no sooner recognized the herald, than they began to growl forth the most unqualified disapprobation at the bare notion of his riding like any other man. If he had come out on his head indeed, or jumping through a hoop, or flying through a red-hot drum, or even standing on one leg with his other foot in his mouth, they might have had something to say to him; but for a professional gentleman to sit astride in the saddle, with his feet in the stirrups, was rather too good a joke. So, the herald was a decided failure, and the crowd hooted with great energy, as he pranced ingloriously away.

On the procession came. We are afraid to say how many supernumeraries there were, in striped shirts and black velvet caps, to imitate the London watermen, or how many base imitations of running-footmen, or how many banners, which, owing to the heaviness of the atmosphere, could by no means be prevailed on to display their inscriptions: still less do we feel disposed to relate how the men who played the wind instruments, looking up into the sky (we mean the fog) with musical fervour, walked through pools of water and hillocks of mud, till they covered the powdered heads of the running-footmen aforesaid with splashes, that looked curious, but not ornamental; or how the barrel-organ performer put on the wrong stop, and played one tune while the band played another; or how the horses, being used to the arena, and not to the streets, would stand still and dance, instead of going on and prancing;—all of which are matters which might be dilated upon to great advantage, but which we have not the least intention of dilating upon, notwithstanding.

Oh! it was a grand and beautiful sight to behold a corporation in glass coaches, provided at the sole cost and charge of Nicholas Tulrumble, coming rolling along, like a funeral out of mourning, and to watch the attempts the corporation made to look great and solemn, when Nicholas Tulrumble himself, in the four-wheel chaise, with the tall postilion, rolled out after them, with Mr. Jennings on one side to look like a chaplain, and a supernumerary on the other, with an old life-guardsman’s sabre, to imitate the sword-bearer; and to see the tears rolling down the faces of the mob as they screamed with merriment. This was beautiful! and so was the appearance of Mrs. Tulrumble and son, as they bowed with grave dignity out of their coach-window to all the dirty faces that were laughing around them: but it is not even with this that we have to do, but with the sudden stopping of the procession at another blast of the trumpet, whereat, and whereupon, a profound silence ensued, and all eyes were turned towards Mudfog Hall, in the confident anticipation of some new wonder.

Twigger era un uomo robusto e forte; quindi, dopo molte tentativi incerti, riuscì a rimanere in piedi all’interno della corazza, e con l’aiuto di un altro bicchiere di rum addirittura riuscì a camminarci dentro, indossando anche i guanti. Provò anche il casco, ma non ebbe lo stesso successo: cadde immediatamente a terra. Un incidente che il signor Tulrumble spiegò chiaramente come dovuto al fatto che le sue gambe non erano sostenute da un peso di rame in contrappeso.

“Ora, indossa quella con grazia e decoro lunedì prossimo,” disse Tulrumble, “e ti farò diventare ricco.”

“Farò del mio meglio, signore,” disse Twigger.

“Deve essere tenuto un segreto profondo,” disse Tulrumble.

“Certo, signore,” rispose Twigger.

“E devi essere sobrio,” disse Tulrumble; “assolutamente sobrio.” Il signor Twigger promise immediatamente di essere sobrio quanto un giudice, e Nicholas Tulrumble ne fu soddisfatto. Anche se, fossimo stati noi al posto di Nicholas, avremmo sicuramente richiesto promesse più specifiche; infatti, avendo assistito più volte alle udienze serali a Mudfog, possiamo testimoniare con certezza che alcuni giudici presentavano evidenti segni di aver mangiato molto prima dell’inizio delle udienze. Ma questo non c’entra nulla con la questione principale.

Il giorno dopo, e quello successivo ancora, Ned Twigger rimase chiuso a chiave nella piccola caverna illuminata dalla luce del cielo, impegnato a lavorare sodo sulla corazza. Ogni volta che riusciva ad assemblare un nuovo pezzo in modo che stesse dritto, riceveva un altro bicchiere di rum; e finalmente, dopo molte tentativi falliti, riuscì a indossare l’intero equipaggiamento e a camminare barcollando avanti e indietro nella stanza, come una statua ubriaca proveniente dall’Abbazia di Westminster.

Nessun uomo fu mai così felice come Nicholas Tulrumble; nessuna donna fu mai così incantata come la moglie di Nicholas Tulrumble. Che spettacolo per la gente comune di Mudfog. Un uomo vivo, vestito interamente d’armatura di bronzo! Ah, sarebbero impazziti dallo stupore!

Il giorno arrivò, il lunedì.

Se la mattina fosse stata creata su misura, non avrebbe potuto essere migliore, più adatta allo scopo per cui era stata concepita. Non si era mai visto una nebbia più densa e appropriata a Londra nel giorno del Sindaco: quella particolare nebbia avvolgeva interamente la città di Mudfog in quell’occasione memorabile. Era sorta lentamente, con regolarità, dalle acque verdi e stagnanti all’alba, fino a raggiungere un’altezza leggermente superiore alla sommità dei lampioni; poi si era fermata lì, con una sorta di pigra ostinazione, sfidando il sole che, appena sorto, sembrava avere gli occhi rossi per la stanchezza, come se avesse trascorso tutta la notte a festeggiare. E ora svolgeva le sue “funzioni quotidiane” con la massima grazia possibile. La densa nebbia umida avvolgeva la città come un enorme velo di garza; tutto era cupo e desolato. Le guglie delle chiese sembravano aver detto addio temporaneamente al mondo sottostante. E ogni oggetto di minor importanza – case, granai, siepi, alberi, barche – era completamente nascosto da quel velo di nebbia.

L’orologio della chiesa suonò le una. Da un trombone rotto, situato nel giardino anteriore di Mudfog Hall, provenne un suono debole e tremolante, come se qualcuno asmatico avesse tossito accidentalmente dentro di esso; il cancello si aprì di scatto e ne uscì un gentiluomo, montato su un cavallo dipinto di colore simile al zucchero umido: l’animale sembrava destinato a rappresentare un araldo, ma in realtà assomigliava molto di più a un cortigiano a cavallo. Si trattava di uno dei membri del circo che ogni anno, in quel periodo dell’anno, venivano a Mudfog e che erano stati ingaggiati appositamente da Nicholas Tulrumble per l’occasione. Il cavallo si muoveva agitando la coda, tenendosi in equilibrio sulle zampe posteriori e muovendo freneticamente le anteriori, in modo tale da commuovere certamente qualsiasi pubblico normale. Ma il pubblico di Mudfog non era certo normale, e probabilmente non lo sarà mai stato. Invece di dispersare la nebbia con i loro gridi – come avrebbero sicuramente dovuto fare, secondo i piani di Nicholas Tulrumble – non appena riconobbero quell’“araldo”, iniziarono a esprimere il loro più totale disprezzo all’idea che qualcuno potesse cavalcare come un uomo qualunque. Se fosse uscito camminando sulla testa del cavallo, saltando attraverso un anello o volando dentro un tamburo arroventato, forse avrebbero avuto qualcosa da dire contro di lui; ma che un gentiluomo professionista si sedesse normalmente in sella, con i piedi nei staffili, beh, quella era davvero una battuta troppo pesante. Così, l’“araldo” fallì miseramente e il pubblico lo accolse con grida di disapprovazione mentre se ne andava in modo vergognoso.

Nella processione c’erano. Temiamo di dover dire quante persone vestite con camicie a strisce e cappelli di velluto nero partecipassero, imitando i barcaioli di Londra; temiamo anche di dover descrivere quante fossero le ridicole imitazioni dei portatori di bandiere, o quanto fosse difficile far sì che queste bandiere mostrassero chiaramente le loro iscrizioni a causa della pesantezza dell’atmosfera. Ancor meno siamo disposti a raccontare come coloro che suonavano gli strumenti a fiato, guardando verso il cielo (intendiamo la nebbia) con grande fervore musicale, camminassero attraverso pozzanghere d’acqua e mucchi di fango, finendo per bagnare i capelli dei portatori di bandiere. Scene curiose, ma certamente non decorative. O come il suonatore dell’organo a canne premesse il tasto sbagliato, suonando una melodia mentre l’intera banda ne suonava un’altra. O ancora come i cavalli, abituati alle arene e non alle strade, si fermassero e “ballavano” invece di proseguire la loro corsa. Tutti questi dettagli potrebbero essere descritti in modo molto più approfondito, ma noi non abbiamo affatto l’intenzione di farlo.

Oh! Era davvero uno spettacolo grandioso e bellissimo vedere quella processione composta da carrozze di vetro, fornite esclusivamente a spese di Nicholas Tulrumble, avanzare lentamente, come un corteo funebre. Era anche interessante osservare i tentativi della compagnia di apparire solenne e imponente; Nicholas Tulrumble stesso, nella sua carrozza a quattro ruote con il cocchiere in alto, seguiva la processione insieme a Mr. Jennings, che sembrava un cappellano, e a un altro individuo armato di una vecchia spada da bagnino, che imitava il ruolo di un portatore di spada. E poi c’erano le risate della folla mentre assistevano a tutto ciò. Era davvero bello! Altrettanto interessante era l’aspetto di Mrs. Tulrumble e suo figlio: si inchinavano con grande dignità dal finestrino della loro carrozza davanti a tutte quelle facce sporche che ridevano intorno a loro. Ma non è di questo che dobbiamo parlare. Bensì del improvviso arresto della processione, seguito da un profondo silenzio. Tutti gli sguardi si rivolsero verso Mudfog Hall, nell’attesa fiduciosa di qualche nuovo “miracolo”.

‘They won’t laugh now, Mr. Jennings,’ said Nicholas Tulrumble.

‘I think not, sir,’ said Mr. Jennings.

‘See how eager they look,’ said Nicholas Tulrumble. ‘Aha! the laugh will be on our side now; eh, Mr. Jennings?’

‘No doubt of that, sir,’ replied Mr. Jennings; and Nicholas Tulrumble, in a state of pleasurable excitement, stood up in the four-wheel chaise, and telegraphed gratification to the Mayoress behind.

While all this was going forward, Ned Twigger had descended into the kitchen of Mudfog Hall for the purpose of indulging the servants with a private view of the curiosity that was to burst upon the town; and, somehow or other, the footman was so companionable, and the housemaid so kind, and the cook so friendly, that he could not resist the offer of the first-mentioned to sit down and take something—just to drink success to master in.

So, down Ned Twigger sat himself in his brass livery on the top of the kitchen-table; and in a mug of something strong, paid for by the unconscious Nicholas Tulrumble, and provided by the companionable footman, drank success to the Mayor and his procession; and, as Ned laid by his helmet to imbibe the something strong, the companionable footman put it on his own head, to the immeasurable and unrecordable delight of the cook and housemaid. The companionable footman was very facetious to Ned, and Ned was very gallant to the cook and housemaid by turns. They were all very cosy and comfortable; and the something strong went briskly round.

At last Ned Twigger was loudly called for, by the procession people: and, having had his helmet fixed on, in a very complicated manner, by the companionable footman, and the kind housemaid, and the friendly cook, he walked gravely forth, and appeared before the multitude.

The crowd roared—it was not with wonder, it was not with surprise; it was most decidedly and unquestionably with laughter.

‘What!’ said Mr. Tulrumble, starting up in the four-wheel chaise. ‘Laughing? If they laugh at a man in real brass armour, they’d laugh when their own fathers were dying. Why doesn’t he go into his place, Mr. Jennings? What’s he rolling down towards us for? he has no business here!’

‘I am afraid, sir—’ faltered Mr. Jennings.

‘Afraid of what, sir?’ said Nicholas Tulrumble, looking up into the secretary’s face.

‘I am afraid he’s drunk, sir,’ replied Mr. Jennings.

Nicholas Tulrumble took one look at the extraordinary figure that was bearing down upon them; and then, clasping his secretary by the arm, uttered an audible groan in anguish of spirit.

It is a melancholy fact that Mr. Twigger having full licence to demand a single glass of rum on the putting on of every piece of the armour, got, by some means or other, rather out of his calculation in the hurry and confusion of preparation, and drank about four glasses to a piece instead of one, not to mention the something strong which went on the top of it. Whether the brass armour checked the natural flow of perspiration, and thus prevented the spirit from evaporating, we are not scientific enough to know; but, whatever the cause was, Mr. Twigger no sooner found himself outside the gate of Mudfog Hall, than he also found himself in a very considerable state of intoxication; and hence his extraordinary style of progressing. This was bad enough, but, as if fate and fortune had conspired against Nicholas Tulrumble, Mr. Twigger, not having been penitent for a good calendar month, took it into his head to be most especially and particularly sentimental, just when his repentance could have been most conveniently dispensed with. Immense tears were rolling down his cheeks, and he was vainly endeavouring to conceal his grief by applying to his eyes a blue cotton pocket-handkerchief with white spots,—an article not strictly in keeping with a suit of armour some three hundred years old, or thereabouts.

‘Twigger, you villain!’ said Nicholas Tulrumble, quite forgetting his dignity, ‘go back.’

‘Never,’ said Ned. ‘I’m a miserable wretch. I’ll never leave you.’

The by-standers of course received this declaration with acclamations of ‘That’s right, Ned; don’t!’

‘I don’t intend it,’ said Ned, with all the obstinacy of a very tipsy man. ‘I’m very unhappy. I’m the wretched father of an unfortunate family; but I am very faithful, sir. I’ll never leave you.’ Having reiterated this obliging promise, Ned proceeded in broken words to harangue the crowd upon the number of years he had lived in Mudfog, the excessive respectability of his character, and other topics of the like nature.

‘Here! will anybody lead him away?’ said Nicholas: ‘if they’ll call on me afterwards, I’ll reward them well.’

Two or three men stepped forward, with the view of bearing Ned off, when the secretary interposed.

[Picture: Ned Twigger in the kitchen of Mudfog Hall]

‘Take care! take care!’ said Mr. Jennings. ‘I beg your pardon, sir; but they’d better not go too near him, because, if he falls over, he’ll certainly crush somebody.’

At this hint the crowd retired on all sides to a very respectful distance, and left Ned, like the Duke of Devonshire, in a little circle of his own.

‘But, Mr. Jennings,’ said Nicholas Tulrumble, ‘he’ll be suffocated.’

‘I’m very sorry for it, sir,’ replied Mr. Jennings; ‘but nobody can get that armour off, without his own assistance. I’m quite certain of it from the way he put it on.’

Here Ned wept dolefully, and shook his helmeted head, in a manner that might have touched a heart of stone; but the crowd had not hearts of stone, and they laughed heartily.

‘Dear me, Mr. Jennings,’ said Nicholas, turning pale at the possibility of Ned’s being smothered in his antique costume—‘Dear me, Mr. Jennings, can nothing be done with him?’

‘Nothing at all,’ replied Ned, ‘nothing at all. Gentlemen, I’m an unhappy wretch. I’m a body, gentlemen, in a brass coffin.’ At this poetical idea of his own conjuring up, Ned cried so much that the people began to get sympathetic, and to ask what Nicholas Tulrumble meant by putting a man into such a machine as that; and one individual in a hairy waistcoat like the top of a trunk, who had previously expressed his opinion that if Ned hadn’t been a poor man, Nicholas wouldn’t have dared do it, hinted at the propriety of breaking the four-wheel chaise, or Nicholas’s head, or both, which last compound proposition the crowd seemed to consider a very good notion.

“Ora non rideranno più, signor Jennings,” disse Nicholas Tulrumble.

“Non credo proprio, signore,” disse il signor Jennings.

“Vedete quanto siano desiderosi,” disse Nicholas Tulrumble. “Ahah! Ora sarà la nostra volta di ridere, vero, signor Jennings?”

“Nessun >dubbio al riguardo, signore,” rispose il signor Jennings; e Nicholas Tulrumble, in uno stato di piacevole eccitazione, si alzò nella berlina a quattro ruote e comunicò la sua soddisfazione alla sindaca seduta dietro di lui.

Mentre tutto ciò stava accadendo, Ned Twigger era sceso in cucina di Mudfog Hall con l’intento di offrire ai servitori l’opportunità di ammirare da vicino quella novità che presto avrebbe fatto notizia in tutta la città. In qualche modo, il valletto si rivelò molto socievole, la cameriera gentile e la cuoca cordiale; così Ned non poté resistere all’offerta di sedersi e bere qualcosa, semplicemente per brindare al successo del loro padrone.

Sì, Ned Twigger si sedette sulla cima del tavolo da cucina, indossando la sua divisa di rame; poi, in una tazza contenente un liquido forte pagato dall’inconscio Nicholas Tulrumble e fornito dal gentile valletto, brindò al sindaco e alla sua processione. Mentre Ned posava il suo elmo per bere quel liquido forte, il gentile valletto se lo mise in testa, procurando grande gioia alla cuoca e alla cameriera. Il valletto era molto scherzoso con Ned, che a sua volta trattava con grande cortesia la cuoca e la cameriera. Erano tutti molto a loro agio; e quel liquido forte veniva rapidamente consumato tra di loro.

Finalmente Ned Twigger fu chiamato ad alta voce dalla folla che lo accompagnava; dopo che il suo elmo fu sistemato con grande cura dal servitore premuroso, dalla gentile cameriera e dal cordiale cuoco, uscì solennemente e si presentò davanti alla folla.

La folla urlava. Non era per lo stupore, né per la sorpresa; era, senza dubbio alcuno, per il riso.

“Che cosa!” esclamò il signor Tulrumble, alzandosi dalla poltrona a quattro ruote.
“Ridere? Se ridono di un uomo vestito con vera armatura di bronzo, rideranno anche quando i loro stessi padri moriranno. Perché non va nel suo posto, il signor Jennings? Che cosa sta venendo verso di noi? Non ha nulla da fare qui!”

“Temo, signore, ” balbettò il signor Jennings.

“Di cosa dovrei avere paura, signore?”, chiese Nicholas Tulrumble, alzando lo sguardo verso il viso del segretario.

“Temo che sia ubriaco, signore,” rispose il signor Jennings.

Nicholas Tulrumble gettò un solo sguardo a quella figura straordinaria che si stava avvicinando a loro; poi, afferrando il braccio della sua segretaria, emise un grido di angoscia.

È un fatto triste che il signor Twigger, avendo pieno diritto di chiedere un bicchiere di rum ogni volta che veniva indossata una nuova parte dell’armatura, per qualche motivo, nella fretta e nel caos delle preparazioni, ne abbia bevuti circa quattro invece di uno, per non parlare di quei liquori forti che venivano aggiunti sopra. Se l’armatura in bronzo ostacolasse la naturale traspirazione del corpo, impedendo così alla bevanda di evaporare, beh, non siamo abbastanza esperti per saperlo; ma qualunque ne fosse la causa, non appena il signor Twigger uscì dal cancello di Mudfog Hall, si trovò in uno stato di ebbrezza piuttosto grave; da qui il suo strano modo di muoversi. Questo era già abbastanza grave, ma come se destino e fortuna avessero congiurato contro Nicholas Tulrumble, il signor Twigger, non essendo pentito per un intero mese, decise proprio in quel momento di essere particolarmente sentimentale, proprio quando la sua penitenza avrebbe potuto essere facilmente ignorata. Immense lacrime scorrevano lungo le sue guance, e cercava invano di nascondere il suo dolore applicandosi sugli occhi un fazzoletto di cotone blu a pois bianchi, un oggetto che, a dire il vero, non era affatto adatto a un’armatura vecchia di circa trecento anni.

“Twigger, tu malvagio!” disse Nicholas Tulrumble, dimenticando completamente la propria dignità, “torna indietro.”

“Mai,” disse Ned. “Sono un miserabile pezzetto di merda. Non ti lascierò mai.”

I spettatori, naturalmente, accolsero questa dichiarazione con esclamazioni di “Esatto, Ned; non farlo!”

“Non intendo farlo,” disse Ned, con tutta la testardaggine di un uomo molto ubriaco. “Sono molto infelice. Sono il povero padre di una famiglia sfortunata; ma sono molto fedele, signore. Non vi abbandonerò mai.” Dopo aver ripetuto questa promessa devota, Ned continuò a parlare in modo incoerente, elencando gli anni trascorsi a Mudfog, l’eccessiva rispettabilità del suo carattere e altri argomenti simili di natura.

“Eccolo qui! C’è qualcuno che possa portarlo via?” disse Nicholas: “Se dopo verranno da me, li ricompenserò bene.”

Due o tre uomini fecero un passo avanti con l’intenzione di portare via Ned, quando il segretario intervenne.

Immagine: Ned Twigger in cucina a Mudfog Hall

“Stia attento! Stia attento!” disse il signor Jennings. “Mi scusi, signore. Ma sarebbe meglio che non si avvicinassero troppo a lui, perché se dovesse cadere, sicuramente schiaccerebbe qualcuno.”

A questo segnale, la folla si ritirò su tutti i lati, mantenendo una distanza molto rispettosa, e lasciò Ned, come il Duca di Devonshire, in un piccolo cerchio tutto suo.

“Ma, signor Jennings,” disse Nicholas Tulrumble, “soffocherà.”

“Mi dispiace molto, signore,” rispose il signor Jennings; “ma nessuno può togliersi quell’armatura senza il proprio aiuto. Ne sono assolutamente certo, dal modo in cui l’ha indossata.”

Qui Ned piangeva amaramente, scuotendo la testa coperta dall’elmo, in un modo che avrebbe potuto commuovere anche il cuore di una pietra; ma la folla non aveva cuori di pietra, e rideva di cuore.

“Mio Dio, signor Jennings,” disse Nicholas, impallidendo all’idea che Ned potesse soffocare indossando quel suo abito antico, “Mio Dio, signor Jennings, non si può fare nulla per lui?”

“Niente affatto,” rispose Ned, “niente affatto. Signori, sono un povero disgraziato. Sono soltanto un corpo, signori, racchiuso in una bara di bronzo.” Di fronte a questa immagine poetica che lui stesso aveva evocato, Ned pianse così tanto che la gente iniziò a provare compassione e chiese cosa intendesse Nicholas Tulrumble con quel modo di “inserire” un uomo in una macchina del genere; inoltre, un individuo con un gilet peloso che prima aveva espresso l’opinione che se Ned non fosse stato povero, Nicholas non avrebbe osato farlo, suggerì l’idea di rompere quella strana “macchina” a quattro ruote, o la testa di Nicholas, o entrambe le cose. L’ultima proposta sembrò essere molto gradita dalla folla.

It was not acted upon, however, for it had hardly been broached, when Ned Twigger’s wife made her appearance abruptly in the little circle before noticed, and Ned no sooner caught a glimpse of her face and form, than from the mere force of habit he set off towards his home just as fast as his legs could carry him; and that was not very quick in the present instance either, for, however ready they might have been to carry him, they couldn’t get on very well under the brass armour. So, Mrs. Twigger had plenty of time to denounce Nicholas Tulrumble to his face: to express her opinion that he was a decided monster; and to intimate that, if her ill-used husband sustained any personal damage from the brass armour, she would have the law of Nicholas Tulrumble for manslaughter. When she had said all this with due vehemence, she posted after Ned, who was dragging himself along as best he could, and deploring his unhappiness in most dismal tones.

What a wailing and screaming Ned’s children raised when he got home at last! Mrs. Twigger tried to undo the armour, first in one place, and then in another, but she couldn’t manage it; so she tumbled Ned into bed, helmet, armour, gauntlets, and all. Such a creaking as the bedstead made, under Ned’s weight in his new suit! It didn’t break down though; and there Ned lay, like the anonymous vessel in the Bay of Biscay, till next day, drinking barley-water, and looking miserable: and every time he groaned, his good lady said it served him right, which was all the consolation Ned Twigger got.

Nicholas Tulrumble and the gorgeous procession went on together to the town-hall, amid the hisses and groans of all the spectators, who had suddenly taken it into their heads to consider poor Ned a martyr. Nicholas was formally installed in his new office, in acknowledgment of which ceremony he delivered himself of a speech, composed by the secretary, which was very long, and no doubt very good, only the noise of the people outside prevented anybody from hearing it, but Nicholas Tulrumble himself. After which, the procession got back to Mudfog Hall any how it could; and Nicholas and the corporation sat down to dinner.

But the dinner was flat, and Nicholas was disappointed. They were such dull sleepy old fellows, that corporation. Nicholas made quite as long speeches as the Lord Mayor of London had done, nay, he said the very same things that the Lord Mayor of London had said, and the deuce a cheer the corporation gave him. There was only one man in the party who was thoroughly awake; and he was insolent, and called him Nick. Nick! What would be the consequence, thought Nicholas, of anybody presuming to call the Lord Mayor of London ‘Nick!’ He should like to know what the sword-bearer would say to that; or the recorder, or the toast-master, or any other of the great officers of the city. They’d nick him.

But these were not the worst of Nicholas Tulrumble’s doings. If they had been, he might have remained a Mayor to this day, and have talked till he lost his voice. He contracted a relish for statistics, and got philosophical; and the statistics and the philosophy together, led him into an act which increased his unpopularity and hastened his downfall.

At the very end of the Mudfog High-street, and abutting on the river-side, stands the Jolly Boatmen, an old-fashioned low-roofed, bay-windowed house, with a bar, kitchen, and tap-room all in one, and a large fireplace with a kettle to correspond, round which the working men have congregated time out of mind on a winter’s night, refreshed by draughts of good strong beer, and cheered by the sounds of a fiddle and tambourine: the Jolly Boatmen having been duly licensed by the Mayor and corporation, to scrape the fiddle and thumb the tambourine from time, whereof the memory of the oldest inhabitants goeth not to the contrary. Now Nicholas Tulrumble had been reading pamphlets on crime, and parliamentary reports,—or had made the secretary read them to him, which is the same thing in effect,—and he at once perceived that this fiddle and tambourine must have done more to demoralize Mudfog, than any other operating causes that ingenuity could imagine. So he read up for the subject, and determined to come out on the corporation with a burst, the very next time the licence was applied for.

The licensing day came, and the red-faced landlord of the Jolly Boatmen walked into the town-hall, looking as jolly as need be, having actually put on an extra fiddle for that night, to commemorate the anniversary of the Jolly Boatmen’s music licence. It was applied for in due form, and was just about to be granted as a matter of course, when up rose Nicholas Tulrumble, and drowned the astonished corporation in a torrent of eloquence. He descanted in glowing terms upon the increasing depravity of his native town of Mudfog, and the excesses committed by its population. Then, he related how shocked he had been, to see barrels of beer sliding down into the cellar of the Jolly Boatmen week after week; and how he had sat at a window opposite the Jolly Boatmen for two days together, to count the people who went in for beer between the hours of twelve and one o’clock alone—which, by-the-bye, was the time at which the great majority of the Mudfog people dined. Then, he went on to state, how the number of people who came out with beer-jugs, averaged twenty-one in five minutes, which, being multiplied by twelve, gave two hundred and fifty-two people with beer-jugs in an hour, and multiplied again by fifteen (the number of hours during which the house was open daily) yielded three thousand seven hundred and eighty people with beer-jugs per day, or twenty-six thousand four hundred and sixty people with beer-jugs, per week. Then he proceeded to show that a tambourine and moral degradation were synonymous terms, and a fiddle and vicious propensities wholly inseparable. All these arguments he strengthened and demonstrated by frequent references to a large book with a blue cover, and sundry quotations from the Middlesex magistrates; and in the end, the corporation, who were posed with the figures, and sleepy with the speech, and sadly in want of dinner into the bargain, yielded the palm to Nicholas Tulrumble, and refused the music licence to the Jolly Boatmen.

Tuttavia, non fu preso alcun provvedimento, poiché appena l’argomento fu sollevato, la moglie di Ned Twigger apparve improvvisamente nel piccolo gruppo; Ned, non appena intravide il suo volto e la sua figura, per semplice abitudine si mise in cammino verso casa il più velocemente possibile, ma in quel momento non era certo veloce: nonostante le sue gambe fossero pronte a correre, indossare l’armatura di bronzo rendeva i suoi movimenti molto lenti. Così, la signora Twigger ebbe tutto il tempo necessario per denunciare apertamente Nicholas Tulrumble, definirlo un vero e proprio “mostro” e minacciare di far valere le leggi contro di lui se suo marito subisse qualche danno a causa dell’armatura. Dopo aver espresso tutto ciò con grande veemenza, seguì Ned, che si trascinava avanti con difficoltà, lamentandosi amaramente della sua sfortuna.

Che pianti e urla suscitarono i figli di Ned quando finalmente tornò a casa! La signora Twigger provò a togliergli l’armatura, prima in un punto e poi in un altro, ma non riuscì; così lo gettò a letto, con elmo, armatura e guanti tutti quanti. Il letto scricchiolava terribilmente sotto il peso di Ned nel suo nuovo equipaggiamento. Ma non si rompeva! Lì giaceva, come una nave anonima nella Baia di Biscaglia, fino al giorno dopo: beveva acqua d’orzo e sembrava davvero infelice. Ogni volta che gemeva, sua moglie gli diceva che se l’era meritato. E questa era l’unica consolazione che Ned Twigger riceveva.

Nicholas Tulrumble e la maestosa processione continuarono insieme verso il municipio, tra gli sibili e i mormori di tutti gli spettatori, che all’improvviso avevano deciso di considerare povero Ned un martire. Nicholas fu ufficialmente insediato nella sua nuova carica; in occasione di questa cerimonia tenne un discorso redatto dal segretario – molto lungo e, senza dubbio, molto buono – ma il rumore della folla all’esterno impedì a chiunque di ascoltarlo, tranne che a Nicholas Tulrumble stesso. Dopo di ciò, la processione tornò alla Mudfog Hall il più velocemente possibile; Nicholas e i membri del consiglio si sedettero a cena.

Ma la cena fu noiosa, e Nicholas ne rimase deluso. Quella compagnia era composta da vecchi uomini noiosi e sonnolenti. Nicholas tenne discorsi lunghi quanto quelli dell’Lord Mayor di Londra; anzi, disse esattamente le stesse cose che aveva detto l’Lord Mayor di Londra, eppure nessuno rise alle sue parole. C’era solo una persona nella compagnia che fosse completamente sveglia, ed era scortese, chiamandolo “Nick”. “Nick!” pensò Nicholas: quale sarebbe stata la conseguenza se qualcuno osasse chiamare “Nick” l’Lord Mayor di Londra? Gli sarebbe piaciuto molto sapere cosa ne avrebbero detto il portatore della spada, il segretario comunale, il maestro di cerimonia, o qualsiasi altro alto funzionario della città. Lo avrebbero sicuramente punito severamente.

Ma queste non erano le peggiori azioni di Nicholas Tulrumble. Se lo fossero state, forse sarebbe ancora sindaco oggi e continuerebbe a parlare fino a perdere la voce. Acquisì una vera passione per le statistiche e iniziò a riflettere filosoficamente; queste statistiche, unite alla sua filosofia, lo portarono ad compiere un atto che aumentò ulteriormente la sua impopolarità e accelerò la sua rovina.

Alla fine della strada principale di Mudfog, proprio accanto al lato del fiume, sorge la casa “Jolly Boatmen”: un vecchio edificio con tetti bassi e finestre ad arco, che funge da bar, cucina e sala da bere. Intorno a un grande camino, dove c’è anche una pentola per preparare bevande calde, gli operai si riuniscono ogni sera d’inverno, rinfrescati da bei boccali di birra forte e accompagnati dal suono della violina e del tamburello. La casa “Jolly Boatmen” possiede infatti una licenza ufficiale rilasciata dal sindaco e dal consiglio comunale per esibirsi con questi strumenti, e la memoria degli abitanti più anziani non ricorda alcun caso contrario. Ora, Nicholas Tulrumble aveva letto diversi pamphlet sul crimine e rapporti parlamentari, o meglio, aveva fatto leggerli al proprio segretario; in ogni caso, ne era venuto a conoscenza con chiarezza. E subito ave capito che il suono della violina e del tamburello doveva aver contribuito molto di più alla corruzione morale di Mudfog rispetto a qualsiasi altro fattore negativo potesse immaginare. Così, decise di intervenire al momento in cui il consiglio comunale avrebbe richiesto nuovamente la licenza per continuare le esibizioni, e di fare una dichiarazione pubblica al riguardo.

Arrivò il giorno dell’approvazione della licenza, e il proprietario dal viso rosso del Jolly Boatmen entrò nel municipio, con un aspetto quanto mai gioioso; in realtà, per quella notte aveva addirittura preparato un’ulteriore musica appositamente per commemorare l’anniversario della licenza concessa al Jolly Boatmen. La domanda era stata presentata in regola di forma, e stava per essere approvata senza problemi, quando improvvisamente Nicholas Tulrumble si alzò in piedi e, con un torrente di eloquenza, sovrastò le argomentazioni della corporazione. Parlò con toni accesi della crescente decadenza della sua città natale, Mudfog, e degli eccessi commessi dalla sua popolazione. Raccontò poi di quanto fosse rimasto sorpreso nel vedere barili di birra che ogni settimana finivano nel seminterrato del Jolly Boatmen; inoltre, aveva osservato per due giorni consecutive da una finestra di fronte al locale, contando le persone che vi entravano per comprare birra tra le dodici e l’una di notte, un orario, tra l’altro, in cui la maggior parte degli abitanti di Mudfog pranzava. Continuò poi spiegando che il numero delle persone che uscivano con i boccali di birra era in media di ventuno ogni cinque minuti; moltiplicato per dodici, ciò significava duecentocinquantadue persone all’ora, e moltiplicato per quindici ore (il numero di ore in cui il locale era aperto), si ottenevano tremila settecentottanta persone al giorno, ovvero ventiseimilaquattrocentosessanta persone a settimana. Infine dimostrò che la suonata della fisarmonica fosse sinonimo di decadenza morale, e che l’uso dello strumento fosse strettamente legato a tendenze malvagie. Tutti questi argomenti li supportò con frequenti riferimenti a un grosso libro con copertina blu e a diverse citazioni dei magistrati di Middlesex; alla fine, la corporazione, messa di fronte a queste cifre, assonnata dal discorso e soprattutto affamata, decise di negare la licenza al Jolly Boatmen.

But although Nicholas triumphed, his triumph was short. He carried on the war against beer-jugs and fiddles, forgetting the time when he was glad to drink out of the one, and to dance to the other, till the people hated, and his old friends shunned him. He grew tired of the lonely magnificence of Mudfog Hall, and his heart yearned towards the Lighterman’s Arms. He wished he had never set up as a public man, and sighed for the good old times of the coal-shop, and the chimney corner.

At length old Nicholas, being thoroughly miserable, took heart of grace, paid the secretary a quarter’s wages in advance, and packed him off to London by the next coach. Having taken this step, he put his hat on his head, and his pride in his pocket, and walked down to the old room at the Lighterman’s Arms. There were only two of the old fellows there, and they looked coldly on Nicholas as he proffered his hand.

‘Are you going to put down pipes, Mr. Tulrumble?’ said one.

‘Or trace the progress of crime to ’bacca?’ growled another.

‘Neither,’ replied Nicholas Tulrumble, shaking hands with them both, whether they would or not. ‘I’ve come down to say that I’m very sorry for having made a fool of myself, and that I hope you’ll give me up the old chair, again.’

The old fellows opened their eyes, and three or four more old fellows opened the door, to whom Nicholas, with tears in his eyes, thrust out his hand too, and told the same story. They raised a shout of joy, that made the bells in the ancient church-tower vibrate again, and wheeling the old chair into the warm corner, thrust old Nicholas down into it, and ordered in the very largest-sized bowl of hot punch, with an unlimited number of pipes, directly.

The next day, the Jolly Boatmen got the licence, and the next night, old Nicholas and Ned Twigger’s wife led off a dance to the music of the fiddle and tambourine, the tone of which seemed mightily improved by a little rest, for they never had played so merrily before. Ned Twigger was in the very height of his glory, and he danced hornpipes, and balanced chairs on his chin, and straws on his nose, till the whole company, including the corporation, were in raptures of admiration at the brilliancy of his acquirements.

Mr. Tulrumble, junior, couldn’t make up his mind to be anything but magnificent, so he went up to London and drew bills on his father; and when he had overdrawn, and got into debt, he grew penitent, and came home again.

As to old Nicholas, he kept his word, and having had six weeks of public life, never tried it any more. He went to sleep in the town-hall at the very next meeting; and, in full proof of his sincerity, has requested us to write this faithful narrative. We wish it could have the effect of reminding the Tulrumbles of another sphere, that puffed-up conceit is not dignity, and that snarling at the little pleasures they were once glad to enjoy, because they would rather forget the times when they were of lower station, renders them objects of contempt and ridicule.

This is the first time we have published any of our gleanings from this particular source. Perhaps, at some future period, we may venture to open the chronicles of Mudfog.

FULL REPORT OF THE FIRST MEETING OF THE MUDFOG ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF EVERYTHING

WE have made the most unparalleled and extraordinary exertions to place before our readers a complete and accurate account of the proceedings at the late grand meeting of the Mudfog Association, holden in the town of Mudfog; it affords us great happiness to lay the result before them, in the shape of various communications received from our able, talented, and graphic correspondent, expressly sent down for the purpose, who has immortalized us, himself, Mudfog, and the association, all at one and the same time. We have been, indeed, for some days unable to determine who will transmit the greatest name to posterity; ourselves, who sent our correspondent down; our correspondent, who wrote an account of the matter; or the association, who gave our correspondent something to write about. We rather incline to the opinion that we are the greatest man of the party, inasmuch as the notion of an exclusive and authentic report originated with us; this may be prejudice: it may arise from a prepossession on our part in our own favour. Be it so. We have no doubt that every gentleman concerned in this mighty assemblage is troubled with the same complaint in a greater or less degree; and it is a consolation to us to know that we have at least this feeling in common with the great scientific stars, the brilliant and extraordinary luminaries, whose speculations we record.

We give our correspondent’s letters in the order in which they reached us. Any attempt at amalgamating them into one beautiful whole, would only destroy that glowing tone, that dash of wildness, and rich vein of picturesque interest, which pervade them throughout.

‘Mudfog, Monday night, seven o’clock.

‘WE are in a state of great excitement here. Nothing is spoken of, but the approaching meeting of the association. The inn-doors are thronged with waiters anxiously looking for the expected arrivals; and the numerous bills which are wafered up in the windows of private houses, intimating that there are beds to let within, give the streets a very animated and cheerful appearance, the wafers being of a great variety of colours, and the monotony of printed inscriptions being relieved by every possible size and style of hand-writing. It is confidently rumoured that Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy have engaged three beds and a sitting-room at the Pig and Tinder-box. I give you the rumour as it has reached me; but I cannot, as yet, vouch for its accuracy. The moment I have been enabled to obtain any certain information upon this interesting point, you may depend upon receiving it.’

Ma sebbene Nicholas avesse trionfato, il suo trionfo fu breve. Continuò la sua lotta contro le bottiglie di birra e gli strumenti musicali, dimenticando i tempi in cui era felice di bere dalla prima e di ballare al suono del secondo. Finché la gente iniziò a odiarlo e i suoi vecchi amici lo evitarono. Si stancò della solitudine maestosa di Mudfog Hall, e il suo cuore anelava alle serate tranquille del negozio di carbone, ai momenti trascorsi nell’angolo accanto al camino. Desiderava non essere mai diventato una figura pubblica, e rimpiangeva i bei tempi passati.

Alla fine, il vecchio Nicholas, essendo profondamente sconsolato, prese coraggio e pagò al segretario un quarto dello stipendio in anticipo, poi lo accompagnò con il primo treno disponibile verso Londra. Dopo aver fatto questo, si mise il cappello e, con la sua orgoglio nascosto nel taschino, tornò nella vecchia stanza presso l’ostello “Lighterman’s Arms”. Lì c’erano soltanto due degli altri anziani; quando Nicholas loro tese la mano, lo guardarono con freddezza.

“Intende mettere dei tubi, signor Tulrumble?”, chiese uno di loro.

“O forse si può far risalire l’ascesa del crimine alle ‘uva’?” ringhiò un altro.

“Nessuno dei due,” rispose Nicholas Tulrumble stringendo la mano a entrambi, “che lo vogliano o no. Sono venuto per scusarmi sinceramente di aver fatto la figura dello idiota e spero che mi restituiate quella vecchia sedia.”

Gli anziani aprirono gli occhi, e altri tre o quattro anziani aprirono la porta; anche a loro Nicholas, con le lacrime agli occhi, tese la mano e raccontò la stessa storia. Loro esultarono di gioia, tanto che le campane della vecchia torre della chiesa vibrarono di nuovo; poi portarono la vecchia sedia in un angolo caldo, fecero sedere Nicholas e ordinarono immediatamente una ciotola enorme di punch caldo, accompagnato da un numero illimitato di cannucce.

Il giorno dopo, i “Jolly Boatmen” ottennero la licenza, e la notte seguente, il vecchio Nicholas e la moglie di Ned Twigger guidarono una danza al suono della viola e del tamburello; il tono delle loro musiche sembrava davvero migliorato dopo un po’ di riposo, perché non avevano mai suonato così allegramente prima. Ned Twigger era nel pieno del suo splendore: suonava la cornamusa, manteneva in equilibrio sedie sul mento e steli d’erba sul naso, fino a quando l’intera compagnia, compresa tutta la corporazione, rimase incantata dall’eleganza delle sue abilità.

Il signor Tulrumble junior non riusciva a decidere di essere altro che magnifico, quindi andò a Londra e emise assegni su conto di suo padre; quando esaurì i fondi e si indebitò, si pentì e tornò a casa.

Per quanto riguarda il vecchio Nicholas, mantenne la sua parola: dopo aver trascorso sei settimane nella vita pubblica, non ci provò più mai. Alla riunione successiva, andò a dormire nel municipio; e, come piena dimostrazione della sua sincerità, ci ha chiesto di redigere questo resoconto fedele. Speriamo che possa servire a ricordare ai “Tulrumbles” di un’altra dimensione che quell’arroganza esagerata non è dignità, e che maledire le piccole gioie che un tempo apprezzavano soltanto per dimenticare i tempi in cui erano in una condizione sociale inferiore, li rende oggetto di disprezzo e derisione.

Questa è la prima volta che pubblichiamo alcune delle informazioni reperite da questa particolare fonte. Forse, in un futuro prossimo, potremo osare aprire le cronache di Mudfog.

Rapporto completo della prima riunione dell’Associazione Mudfrog per il progresso di ogni cosa.

Abbiamo compiuto gli sforzi più imparagonabili ed eccezionali per presentare ai nostri lettori un resoconto completo e accurato degli avvenimenti della recente e importante riunione dell’Associazione Mudfog, tenutasi nella città di Mudfog. Ci rende molto felici poter condividere con loro il risultato di questo lavoro, grazie alle varie comunicazioni ricevute dal nostro abile, talentuoso e descrittivo corrispondente, inviato appositamente per questa occasione; quest’ultimo ha reso immortali sia noi che Mudfog stessa, nonché l’intera associazione. Per alcuni giorni, infatti, abbiamo avuto difficoltà a stabilire chi tra di noi avrebbe lasciato il nome più grande alla posterità: se siamo stati noi ad inviare il corrispondente, o lui stesso che ha redatto il resoconto, o ancora l’associazione che gli ha fornito materiale su cui scrivere. Tendiamo piuttosto a ritenere di essere noi la figura più importante in questa vicenda, poiché l’idea di un resoconto esclusivo e autentico è nata proprio da noi. Anche se si tratta forse di un pregiudizio, o di una preferenza personale da parte nostra. Comunque sia, non abbiamo alcun dubbio che ogni gentiluomo coinvolto in questa importante riunione condivida, più o meno intensamente, la stessa sensazione; ed è per noi un conforto sapere di condividerla almeno con queste grandi figure scientifiche, questi luminari straordinari i cui lavori registriamo.

Pubblichiamo le lettere del nostro corrispondente nell’ordine in cui ci sono arrivate. Qualsiasi tentativo di unirle in un tutto armonioso distruggerebbe soltanto quel tono vivace, quella nota di selvaggia spontaneità e quell’abbondante ricchezza di elementi pittoreschi che le caratterizzano.

“Mudfog, lunedì sera, le sette di sera.”

“Qui regna un grande fermento. Non si parla d’altro che dell’imminente riunione dell’associazione. All’interno delle locande ci sono camerieri che attendono con ansia l’arrivo degli ospiti previsti; inoltre, i numerosi cartelli esposti alle finestre delle case private, che annunciano la disponibilità di letti, danno alle strade un aspetto molto vivace e allegro. I cartelli presentano una grande varietà di colori, e la monotonia dei testi stampati viene mitigata da scritture a mano di dimensioni e stili diversi. Si vocifera con certezza che i professori Snore, Doze e Wheezy abbiano prenotato tre letti e un salotto presso il “Pig and Tinder-box”. Vi riferisco questa notizia così com’è arrivata a me; tuttavia, al momento non posso garantirne l’accuratezza. Non appena avrò ottenuto informazioni certe su questo argomento interessante, ve le comunicherò senza esitazione.”

‘Half-past seven.

I HAVE just returned from a personal interview with the landlord of the Pig and Tinder-box. He speaks confidently of the probability of Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy taking up their residence at his house during the sitting of the association, but denies that the beds have been yet engaged; in which representation he is confirmed by the chambermaid—a girl of artless manners, and interesting appearance. The boots denies that it is at all likely that Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy will put up here; but I have reason to believe that this man has been suborned by the proprietor of the Original Pig, which is the opposition hotel. Amidst such conflicting testimony it is difficult to arrive at the real truth; but you may depend upon receiving authentic information upon this point the moment the fact is ascertained. The excitement still continues. A boy fell through the window of the pastrycook’s shop at the corner of the High-street about half an hour ago, which has occasioned much confusion. The general impression is, that it was an accident. Pray heaven it may prove so!’

‘Tuesday, noon.

‘AT an early hour this morning the bells of all the churches struck seven o’clock; the effect of which, in the present lively state of the town, was extremely singular. While I was at breakfast, a yellow gig, drawn by a dark grey horse, with a patch of white over his right eyelid, proceeded at a rapid pace in the direction of the Original Pig stables; it is currently reported that this gentleman has arrived here for the purpose of attending the association, and, from what I have heard, I consider it extremely probable, although nothing decisive is yet known regarding him. You may conceive the anxiety with which we are all looking forward to the arrival of the four o’clock coach this afternoon.

‘Notwithstanding the excited state of the populace, no outrage has yet been committed, owing to the admirable discipline and discretion of the police, who are nowhere to be seen. A barrel-organ is playing opposite my window, and groups of people, offering fish and vegetables for sale, parade the streets. With these exceptions everything is quiet, and I trust will continue so.’

‘Five o’clock.

‘IT is now ascertained, beyond all doubt, that Professors Snore, Doze, and Wheezy will not repair to the Pig and Tinder-box, but have actually engaged apartments at the Original Pig. This intelligence is exclusive; and I leave you and your readers to draw their own inferences from it. Why Professor Wheezy, of all people in the world, should repair to the Original Pig in preference to the Pig and Tinder-box, it is not easy to conceive. The professor is a man who should be above all such petty feelings. Some people here openly impute treachery, and a distinct breach of faith to Professors Snore and Doze; while others, again, are disposed to acquit them of any culpability in the transaction, and to insinuate that the blame rests solely with Professor Wheezy. I own that I incline to the latter opinion; and although it gives me great pain to speak in terms of censure or disapprobation of a man of such transcendent genius and acquirements, still I am bound to say that, if my suspicions be well founded, and if all the reports which have reached my ears be true, I really do not well know what to make of the matter.

‘Mr. Slug, so celebrated for his statistical researches, arrived this afternoon by the four o’clock stage. His complexion is a dark purple, and he has a habit of sighing constantly. He looked extremely well, and appeared in high health and spirits. Mr. Woodensconce also came down in the same conveyance. The distinguished gentleman was fast asleep on his arrival, and I am informed by the guard that he had been so the whole way. He was, no doubt, preparing for his approaching fatigues; but what gigantic visions must those be that flit through the brain of such a man when his body is in a state of torpidity!

‘The influx of visitors increases every moment. I am told (I know not how truly) that two post-chaises have arrived at the Original Pig within the last half-hour, and I myself observed a wheelbarrow, containing three carpet bags and a bundle, entering the yard of the Pig and Tinder-box no longer ago than five minutes since. The people are still quietly pursuing their ordinary occupations; but there is a wildness in their eyes, and an unwonted rigidity in the muscles of their countenances, which shows to the observant spectator that their expectations are strained to the very utmost pitch. I fear, unless some very extraordinary arrivals take place to-night, that consequences may arise from this popular ferment, which every man of sense and feeling would deplore.’

‘Twenty minutes past six.

‘I HAVE just heard that the boy who fell through the pastrycook’s window last night has died of the fright. He was suddenly called upon to pay three and sixpence for the damage done, and his constitution, it seems, was not strong enough to bear up against the shock. The inquest, it is said, will be held to-morrow.’

‘Three-quarters part seven.

‘PROFESSORS Muff and Nogo have just driven up to the hotel door; they at once ordered dinner with great condescension. We are all very much delighted with the urbanity of their manners, and the ease with which they adapt themselves to the forms and ceremonies of ordinary life. Immediately on their arrival they sent for the head waiter, and privately requested him to purchase a live dog,—as cheap a one as he could meet with,—and to send him up after dinner, with a pie-board, a knife and fork, and a clean plate. It is conjectured that some experiments will be tried upon the dog to-night; if any particulars should transpire, I will forward them by express.’

“Le sette e mezza.”

Sono appena tornato da un colloquio personale con il proprietario dell’hotel “Pig and Tinder-box”. Parla con fiducia della probabilità che i professori Snore, Doze e Wheezy si stabiliscano nella sua casa durante la riunione dell’associazione, ma nega che i letti siano già stati prenotati; in questa affermazione è confermato anche dalla cameriera di servizio, una ragazza dal comportamento semplice e dall’aspetto interessante. Un altro testimone, invece, sostiene che sia molto improbabile che questi professori soggiornino lì; tuttavia ho motivo di credere che quest’uomo sia stato corrotto dal proprietario dell’hotel “Original Pig”, che si trova nell’edificio opposto. In mezzo a tali testimonianze contraddittorie, è difficile arrivare alla verità; ma potete essere certi che riceverete informazioni autentiche non appena la situazione sarà chiarita. L’agitazione continua: circa mezz’ora fa un ragazzo è caduto dalla finestra del negozio di pasticceria all’angolo della strada principale, causando grande confusione. L’impressione generale è che si sia trattato di un incidente. Prego il cielo che sia davvero così!

“Martedì, mezzogiorno.”

‘All’alba di questa mattina, le campane di tutte le chiese suonarono le sette; l’effetto di questo evento, in considerazione dello stato vivace della città in quel momento, fu estremamente singolare. Mentre facevo colazione, una carrozza gialla, trainata da un cavallo di colore grigio scuro con una macchia bianca sull’occhio destro, procedeva a velocità elevata in direzione degli stalli del “Original Pig”; si dice che questo signore sia arrivato qui allo scopo di partecipare all’associazione. Da quanto ho sentito, ritengo molto probabile che venga davvero; anche se al momento non si conosce nulla di certo su di lui. Potete immaginare l’ansia con cui tutti aspettiamo l’arrivo della carrozza alle quattro di questo pomeriggio.’

Nonostante lo stato di eccitazione della folla, non sono ancora stati commessi atti di violenza, grazie alla meravigliosa disciplina e discrezione della polizia, la quale non si vede da nessuna parte. Davanti alla mia finestra suona un organo a barile, e gruppi di persone che offrono pesce e verdure in vendita passeggiano per le strade. A parte queste eccezioni, tutto è tranquillo, e spero che continui così.

‘Le cinque in punto.’

“È ormai certo, al di là di ogni dubbio, che i professori Snore, Doze e Wheezy non si recheranno presso la ‘Casa del Maiale e della Scatola da Fuoco’, ma hanno effettivamente affittato appartamenti presso l’originale ‘Casa del Maiale’. Questa informazione è esclusiva; lascio a voi e ai vostri lettori il compito di trarne le vostre conclusioni. Perché proprio il professor Wheezy, tra tutte le persone al mondo, dovrebbe scegliere l’originale ‘Casa del Maiale’ invece della ‘Casa del Maiale e della Scatola da Fuoco’, non è facile da capire. Il professor Wheezy è un uomo che dovrebbe essere al di sopra di simili considerazioni meschine. Alcuni qui attribuiscono apertamente ai professori Snore e Doze tradimento e una chiara mancanza di fiducia; altri, invece, sono disposti a scagionarli da qualsiasi colpa in questa faccenda, sostenendo che la responsabilità ricada interamente sul professor Wheezy. Io personalmente tendo alla seconda opinione. E anche se mi costa molto parlare con critiche o disapprovazione di un uomo dal genio e dalle conoscenze così eccezionali, devo comunque dire che, se i miei sospetti sono ben fondati e tutte le informazioni che ho ricevuto sono vere, davvero non so come interpretare questa situazione.”

‘Il signor Slug, così celebre per le sue ricerche statistiche, è arrivato questa sera alle quattro in punto con il treno. La sua pelle ha un colore viola scuro, e ha l’abitudine di sospirare continuamente. Sembrava estremamente in buona salute, pieno di energia e spirito. Anche il signor Woodensconce è arrivato con lo stesso mezzo di trasporto. Il distinto gentiluomo dormiva profondamente al suo arrivo; il guardiano mi ha detto che era così per tutto il tragitto. Senza dubbio stava preparandosi alle fatiche imminenti. Ma quali gigantesche visioni devono attraversare la mente di un uomo del genere quando il suo corpo è in uno stato di torpore!’

‘L’afflusso di visitatori aumenta di continuo. Mi è stato detto (non so però se con certezza) che nelle ultime mezz’ora sono arrivate due carrozze postali presso il “Porcile Originale”; inoltre, ho visto personalmente un carretto contenente tre borse di velluto e un fagotto entrare nel cortile del “Porcile e Cassetta da Fuoco” meno di cinque minuti fa. La gente continua a svolgere le proprie attività quotidiane in silenzio; tuttavia, nei loro occhi si legge una frenesia insolita, e i muscoli dei loro volti mostrano una rigidità straordinaria. Ciò indica chiaramente che le loro aspettative sono portate al limite massimo. Temo che, se entro la notte non avvengono eventi davvero eccezionali, possano derivare conseguenze negative da questa situazione. Qualsiasi persona sensata e compassionevole ne deplorerebbe l’esito.’

“Sono venti minuti dopo le sei.”

“Ho appena saputo che il ragazzo che è caduto attraverso la finestra del pasticcere la scorsa notte è morto per lo shock. Gli è stato improvvisamente chiesto di pagare tre penny e sei pence per i danni causati, e sembra che la sua costituzione non fosse abbastanza forte da resistere a tale shock. Si dice che l’inchiesta avverrà domani.”

“Tre quarti parte sette.”

“I professori Muff e Nogo sono appena arrivati davanti all’ingresso dell’hotel; hanno subito ordinato la cena con grande distacco. Siamo tutti molto soddisfatti della loro raffinatezza nei modi e della facilità con cui si adattano alle forme e alle cerimonie della vita quotidiana. Appena arrivati, hanno chiamato il capocameriere e gli hanno chiesto in privato di comprare un cane vivo – il più economico possibile – e di farlo portare su dopo cena, insieme a un vassoio, un coltello, una forchetta e un piatto pulito. Si ipotizza che stasera verranno fatti alcuni esperimenti sul cane; se dovesse emergere qualche dettaglio, ve lo comunicherò immediatamente via espresso.”

‘Half-past eight.

‘THE animal has been procured. He is a pug-dog, of rather intelligent appearance, in good condition, and with very short legs. He has been tied to a curtain-peg in a dark room, and is howling dreadfully.’

‘Ten minutes to nine.

‘THE dog has just been rung for. With an instinct which would appear almost the result of reason, the sagacious animal seized the waiter by the calf of the leg when he approached to take him, and made a desperate, though ineffectual resistance. I have not been able to procure admission to the apartment occupied by the scientific gentlemen; but, judging from the sounds which reached my ears when I stood upon the landing-place outside the door, just now, I should be disposed to say that the dog had retreated growling beneath some article of furniture, and was keeping the professors at bay. This conjecture is confirmed by the testimony of the ostler, who, after peeping through the keyhole, assures me that he distinctly saw Professor Nogo on his knees, holding forth a small bottle of prussic acid, to which the animal, who was crouched beneath an arm-chair, obstinately declined to smell. You cannot imagine the feverish state of irritation we are in, lest the interests of science should be sacrificed to the prejudices of a brute creature, who is not endowed with sufficient sense to foresee the incalculable benefits which the whole human race may derive from so very slight a concession on his part.’

‘Nine o’clock.

‘THE dog’s tail and ears have been sent down-stairs to be washed; from which circumstance we infer that the animal is no more. His forelegs have been delivered to the boots to be brushed, which strengthens the supposition.’

‘Half after ten.

‘MY feelings are so overpowered by what has taken place in the course of the last hour and a half, that I have scarcely strength to detail the rapid succession of events which have quite bewildered all those who are cognizant of their occurrence. It appears that the pug-dog mentioned in my last was surreptitiously obtained,—stolen, in fact,—by some person attached to the stable department, from an unmarried lady resident in this town. Frantic on discovering the loss of her favourite, the lady rushed distractedly into the street, calling in the most heart-rending and pathetic manner upon the passengers to restore her, her Augustus,—for so the deceased was named, in affectionate remembrance of a former lover of his mistress, to whom he bore a striking personal resemblance, which renders the circumstances additionally affecting. I am not yet in a condition to inform you what circumstance induced the bereaved lady to direct her steps to the hotel which had witnessed the last struggles of her protégé. I can only state that she arrived there, at the very instant when his detached members were passing through the passage on a small tray. Her shrieks still reverberate in my ears! I grieve to say that the expressive features of Professor Muff were much scratched and lacerated by the injured lady; and that Professor Nogo, besides sustaining several severe bites, has lost some handfuls of hair from the same cause. It must be some consolation to these gentlemen to know that their ardent attachment to scientific pursuits has alone occasioned these unpleasant consequences; for which the sympathy of a grateful country will sufficiently reward them. The unfortunate lady remains at the Pig and Tinder-box, and up to this time is reported in a very precarious state.

‘I need scarcely tell you that this unlooked-for catastrophe has cast a damp and gloom upon us in the midst of our exhilaration; natural in any case, but greatly enhanced in this, by the amiable qualities of the deceased animal, who appears to have been much and deservedly respected by the whole of his acquaintance.’

‘Twelve o’clock.

‘I TAKE the last opportunity before sealing my parcel to inform you that the boy who fell through the pastrycook’s window is not dead, as was universally believed, but alive and well. The report appears to have had its origin in his mysterious disappearance. He was found half an hour since on the premises of a sweet-stuff maker, where a raffle had been announced for a second-hand seal-skin cap and a tambourine; and where—a sufficient number of members not having been obtained at first—he had patiently waited until the list was completed. This fortunate discovery has in some degree restored our gaiety and cheerfulness. It is proposed to get up a subscription for him without delay.

‘Everybody is nervously anxious to see what to-morrow will bring forth. If any one should arrive in the course of the night, I have left strict directions to be called immediately. I should have sat up, indeed, but the agitating events of this day have been too much for me.

‘No news yet of either of the Professors Snore, Doze, or Wheezy. It is very strange!’

‘Wednesday afternoon.

‘ALL is now over; and, upon one point at least, I am at length enabled to set the minds of your readers at rest. The three professors arrived at ten minutes after two o’clock, and, instead of taking up their quarters at the Original Pig, as it was universally understood in the course of yesterday that they would assuredly have done, drove straight to the Pig and Tinder-box, where they threw off the mask at once, and openly announced their intention of remaining. Professor Wheezy may reconcile this very extraordinary conduct with his notions of fair and equitable dealing, but I would recommend Professor Wheezy to be cautious how he presumes too far upon his well-earned reputation. How such a man as Professor Snore, or, which is still more extraordinary, such an individual as Professor Doze, can quietly allow himself to be mixed up with such proceedings as these, you will naturally inquire. Upon this head, rumour is silent; I have my speculations, but forbear to give utterance to them just now.’

“Otto e mezza.”

L’animale è stato procurato. È un barboncino, dall’aspetto abbastanza intelligente, in buone condizioni fisiche e con zampe molto corte. È stato legato a un gancio per tende in una stanza buia, e sta ululando terribilmente.

“Dieci minuti alle nove.”

‘Il cane è appena stato chiamato. Con un istinto che sembrerebbe quasi il risultato della ragione, quell’animale sagace afferrò il cameriere per la gamba quando questi si avvicinò per prenderlo e oppose una resistenza disperata, sebbene inefficace. Non sono riuscito ad ottenere l’autorizzazione di entrare nell’appartamento occupato dai signori scienziati; tuttavia, a giudicare dai suoni che ho sentito poco fa mentre mi trovavo sul pianerottolo fuori dalla porta, sembra che il cane si sia ritirato ringhiando sotto qualche mobile, tenendo così a bada i professori. Questa congettura viene confermata dal testimone del locandiere, il quale, dopo aver spiato attraverso la serratura, mi ha assicurato di aver visto chiaramente il professor Nogo in ginocchio, che teneva in mano una piccola bottiglia di acido prussico; l’animale, accovacciato sotto un divano, si rifiutava ostinatamente di annusarla. Non potete immaginare lo stato di agitazione in cui ci troviamo: non possiamo permettere che gli interessi della scienza vengano sacrificati ai pregiudizi di una creatura brutale, priva della capacità di comprendere i benefici incalcolabili che l’intera umanità potrebbe trarre da un piccolo compromesso da parte sua.’

“Le nove in punto.”

La coda e le orecchie del cane sono state portate giù per essere lavate; da questo fatto deduciamo che l’animale non sia più vivo. Le sue zampe anteriori sono state consegnate ai calzolai per essere pulite, il che conferma questa ipotesi.

“Mezzanotte e mezza.”

“I miei sentimenti sono così sopraffatti da quanto è accaduto nell’arco dell’ultima ora e mezza, che quasi non ho la forza di descrivere con precisione la rapida successione di eventi che hanno completamente sconcertato tutti coloro che ne sono a conoscenza. Sembra che il cagnolino menzionato nella mia ultima comunicazione sia stato ottenuto in modo furtivo, anzi, rubato da qualcuno appartenente al personale dello stallo, da una signorina single residente in questa città. Alla scoperta della scomparsa del suo animale preferito, la signorina, nel panico, è uscita in strada chiamando disperatamente i passanti affinché le restituissero il suo ‘Augustus’, così era chiamato il cane, in ricordo affettuoso di un ex amante della sua padrona, con cui assomigliava molto, il che rende la situazione ancora più tragica. Non sono ancora in grado di spiegarvi quali circostanze abbiano portato questa signora nel hotel dove hanno avuto luogo gli ultimi momenti di vita del suo ‘protégé’. Posso solo dire che è arrivata proprio nel momento in cui i suoi arti erano stati messi su un vassoio e trasportati via. I suoi strilli risuonano ancora nelle mie orecchie! Purtroppo, i tratti del viso del Professor Muff sono stati gravemente graffiati e lacerati dalla signora ferita; il Professor Nogo, invece, oltre ad aver subito diversi morsi gravi, ha perso anche alcune ciocche di capelli per la stessa causa. Dovrebbe essere un conforto per questi signori sapere che la loro appassionata dedizione alle ricerche scientifiche è stata l’unica causa di queste spiacevoli conseguenze. Una nazione grata li ricompenserà sicuramente a dovere. La sfortunata signora rimane ancora in condizioni molto precarie.”

“Non c’è bisogno che vi dica quanto questa improvvisa tragedia abbia gettato ombra su di noi nel bel mezzo della nostra gioia; una situazione del tutto naturale, in ogni caso, ma resa ancora più tragica dal carattere amabile dell’animale scomparso, che sembra essere stato molto stimato da tutti coloro che lo conoscevano.”

“Le dodici in punto.”

“Approfitto dell’ultima opportunità prima di sigillare il mio pacco per informarvi che il ragazzo che è caduto attraverso la finestra del pasticcere non è morto, come si credeva universalmente, ma è vivo e in buona salute. Questa notizia sembra essere nata dalla sua misteriosa scomparsa. È stato ritrovato mezz’ora fa all’interno di un negozio di dolciumi, dove era stata annunciata una lotteria per vincere un cappello di pelle e una tamburina; poiché all’inizio non si era raccolto un numero sufficiente di partecipanti, aveva pazientemente atteso che la lista fosse completata. Questa fortunata scoperta ha in qualche modo ripristinato la nostra allegria. Si propone di avviare immediatamente una raccolta fondi per lui.”

“Tutti sono nervosamente ansiosi di vedere cosa porterà domani. Se qualcuno dovesse arrivare durante la notte, ho lasciato istruzioni precise affinché venga chiamato immediatamente. In realtà avrei dovuto restare sveglio, ma gli eventi agitanti di oggi sono stati troppo per me.”

“Nessuna notizia ancora né del Professor Snore né del Professor Doze, né del Professor Wheezy. È davvero molto strano!”

“Mercoledì pomeriggio.”

“Tutto è ormai finito; e, almeno su questo punto, posso finalmente tranquillizzare i vostri lettori. I tre professori arrivarono dieci minuti dopo le due, e invece di recarsi all’Original Pig, come tutti si aspettavano, andarono direttamente al Pig and Tinder-box, dove immediatamente si tolsero le maschere e annunciarono apertamente la loro intenzione di rimanere. Il professor Wheezy potrà anche giustificare questo comportamento così insolito in base alle sue concezioni di equità e onestà, ma consiglierei al professor Wheezy di stare attento a non abusare troppo della sua ben meritata reputazione. Come possa una persona come il professor Snore, o ancora più stranamente una figura come il professor Doze, permettersi di essere coinvolta in simili fatti, è qualcosa che naturalmente vi chiederete. A questo proposito, le voci tacciono; ho le mie ipotesi, ma preferisco non esprimerle per ora.”

‘Four o’clock.

‘THE town is filling fast; eighteenpence has been offered for a bed and refused. Several gentlemen were under the necessity last night of sleeping in the brick fields, and on the steps of doors, for which they were taken before the magistrates in a body this morning, and committed to prison as vagrants for various terms. One of these persons I understand to be a highly-respectable tinker, of great practical skill, who had forwarded a paper to the President of Section D. Mechanical Science, on the construction of pipkins with copper bottoms and safety-values, of which report speaks highly. The incarceration of this gentleman is greatly to be regretted, as his absence will preclude any discussion on the subject.

‘The bills are being taken down in all directions, and lodgings are being secured on almost any terms. I have heard of fifteen shillings a week for two rooms, exclusive of coals and attendance, but I can scarcely believe it. The excitement is dreadful. I was informed this morning that the civil authorities, apprehensive of some outbreak of popular feeling, had commanded a recruiting sergeant and two corporals to be under arms; and that, with the view of not irritating the people unnecessarily by their presence, they had been requested to take up their position before daybreak in a turnpike, distant about a quarter of a mile from the town. The vigour and promptness of these measures cannot be too highly extolled.

‘Intelligence has just been brought me, that an elderly female, in a state of inebriety, has declared in the open street her intention to “do” for Mr. Slug. Some statistical returns compiled by that gentleman, relative to the consumption of raw spirituous liquors in this place, are supposed to be the cause of the wretch’s animosity. It is added that this declaration was loudly cheered by a crowd of persons who had assembled on the spot; and that one man had the boldness to designate Mr. Slug aloud by the opprobrious epithet of “Stick-in-the-mud!” It is earnestly to be hoped that now, when the moment has arrived for their interference, the magistrates will not shrink from the exercise of that power which is vested in them by the constitution of our common country.’

‘Half-past ten.

‘THE disturbance, I am happy to inform you, has been completely quelled, and the ringleader taken into custody. She had a pail of cold water thrown over her, previous to being locked up, and expresses great contrition and uneasiness. We are all in a fever of anticipation about to-morrow; but, now that we are within a few hours of the meeting of the association, and at last enjoy the proud consciousness of having its illustrious members amongst us, I trust and hope everything may go off peaceably. I shall send you a full report of to-morrow’s proceedings by the night coach.’

‘Eleven o’clock.

‘I OPEN my letter to say that nothing whatever has occurred since I folded it up.’

‘Thursday.

‘THE sun rose this morning at the usual hour. I did not observe anything particular in the aspect of the glorious planet, except that he appeared to me (it might have been a delusion of my heightened fancy) to shine with more than common brilliancy, and to shed a refulgent lustre upon the town, such as I had never observed before. This is the more extraordinary, as the sky was perfectly cloudless, and the atmosphere peculiarly fine. At half-past nine o’clock the general committee assembled, with the last year’s president in the chair. The report of the council was read; and one passage, which stated that the council had corresponded with no less than three thousand five hundred and seventy-one persons, (all of whom paid their own postage,) on no fewer than seven thousand two hundred and forty-three topics, was received with a degree of enthusiasm which no efforts could suppress. The various committees and sections having been appointed, and the more formal business transacted, the great proceedings of the meeting commenced at eleven o’clock precisely. I had the happiness of occupying a most eligible position at that time, in

‘SECTION A.—ZOOLOGY AND BOTANY.

‘Le quattro in punto.’

La città si sta riempiendo rapidamente; sono stati offerti diciotto penny per una brandina, ma sono stati rifiutati. Alcuni gentiluomini, la scorsa notte, hanno dovuto dormire nei campi di mattoni o sui gradini delle porte. Questa mattina sono stati portati davanti ai magistrati e rinchiusi in prigione come vagabondi, con pene diverse a seconda dei casi. Uno di questi uomini, a quanto so, è un rispettabilissimo artigiano, molto abile nel suo mestiere; aveva inviato una relazione al Presidente della Sezione D di Scienze Meccaniche riguardo alla costruzione di zucca con fondo in rame e dispositivi di sicurezza, e la relazione ne parla molto bene. È davvero un peccato che questo gentiluomo sia stato rinchiuso, poiché la sua assenza impedirà qualsiasi discussione sull’argomento.

‘I cartelli vengono rimossi in tutte le direzioni, e alloggi possono essere trovati quasi a qualsiasi condizione. Ho sentito parlare di quindici scellini a settimana per due stanze, esclusi carbone e servizi, ma fatico a crederci. L’agitazione è terribile. Questa mattina mi è stato detto che le autorità civili, preoccupate per possibili manifestazioni popolari, avevano ordinato a un sergente di reclutamento e a due caporali di mettersi in allerta; inoltre, per evitare di irritare la gente con la loro presenza, era stato chiesto loro di assumere le loro posizioni prima dell’alba in un posto distante circa un quarto di miglio dalla città. La prontezza e l’efficienza di queste misure meritano davvero grandi elogi.’

“Mi è appena stata comunicata un’informazione secondo cui una donna anziana, in stato di ebbrezza, ha dichiarato apertamente in strada la sua intenzione di ‘fare qualcosa’ contro il signor Slug. Si ritiene che alcuni dati statistici compilati da quel gentiluomo riguardanti il consumo di alcolici in questo luogo siano alla base dell’animosità di quella donna. Aggiunge si che questa dichiarazione è stata acclamata ad alta voce da una folla radunatasi sul posto; inoltre, un uomo ha avuto la sfacciataggine di chiamare il signor Slug con l’insultuoso epiteto di ‘Stick-in-the-mud!’ Si spera sinceramente che ora, quando è arrivato il momento che i magistrati intervengano, non esitino a esercitare quel potere che la costituzione del nostro paese conferisce loro.”

“Mezzanotte e mezza.”

“La situazione di disturbo, sono lieto di informarvi, è stata completamente sedata e la responsabile principale è stata arrestata. Prima di essere rinchiusa, le è stato gettato addosso un secchio d’acqua fredda; ora esprime grande rimorso e ansia. Siamo tutti in uno stato di grande attesa per domani. Ma ora che mancano solo poche ore all’incontro dell’associazione, e finalmente possediamo la soddisfazione di avere tra noi i suoi membri illustri, spero davvero che tutto proceda pacificamente. Vi invierò un resoconto completo degli eventi di domani con il treno notturno.”

‘Le undici in punto.’

“Aperto la mia lettera, scopro che da quando l’ho ripiegata non è successo assolutamente nulla.”

“Giovedì.”

Il sole è sorto questa mattina all’ora solita. Non ho notato nulla di particolare nell’aspetto di questo glorioso pianeta, se non che mi è sembrato (forse era un’illusione della mia immaginazione eccitata) brillare con una luminosità insolita, diffondendo su tutta la città un bagliore intenso come non l’avevo mai visto prima. Questo è ancora più straordinario, poiché il cielo era completamente sereno e l’atmosfera particolarmente limpida. Alle nove e mezza, il comitato generale si riunì, con l’ex presidente a presiedere. Fu letto il rapporto del consiglio; un passaggio in cui si dichiarava che il consiglio aveva mantenuto corrispondenza con ben tremila cinquecentosettantuno persone (tutte le quali avevano pagato di loro spese la posta) su non meno di settemila duecentoquaranta e tre argomenti, fu accolto con un entusiasmo tale da essere impossibile contenere. Dopo che furono nominati i vari comitati e si svolsero le procedure più formali, le principali attività della riunione iniziarono esattamente alle undici. In quel momento, ebbi la fortuna di occupare una posizione molto appropriata.

‘SEZIONE A – ZOLOGIA E BOTANICA.’

GREAT ROOM, PIG AND TINDER-BOX.

President—Professor Snore. Vice-Presidents—Professors Doze and Wheezy.

‘The scene at this moment was particularly striking. The sun streamed through the windows of the apartments, and tinted the whole scene with its brilliant rays, bringing out in strong relief the noble visages of the professors and scientific gentlemen, who, some with bald heads, some with red heads, some with brown heads, some with grey heads, some with black heads, some with block heads, presented a coup d’œil which no eye-witness will readily forget. In front of these gentlemen were papers and inkstands; and round the room, on elevated benches extending as far as the forms could reach, were assembled a brilliant concourse of those lovely and elegant women for which Mudfog is justly acknowledged to be without a rival in the whole world. The contrast between their fair faces and the dark coats and trousers of the scientific gentlemen I shall never cease to remember while Memory holds her seat.

‘Time having been allowed for a slight confusion, occasioned by the falling down of the greater part of the platforms, to subside, the president called on one of the secretaries to read a communication entitled, “Some remarks on the industrious fleas, with considerations on the importance of establishing infant-schools among that numerous class of society; of directing their industry to useful and practical ends; and of applying the surplus fruits thereof, towards providing for them a comfortable and respectable maintenance in their old age.”

‘The author stated, that, having long turned his attention to the moral and social condition of these interesting animals, he had been induced to visit an exhibition in Regent-street, London, commonly known by the designation of “The Industrious Fleas.” He had there seen many fleas, occupied certainly in various pursuits and avocations, but occupied, he was bound to add, in a manner which no man of well-regulated mind could fail to regard with sorrow and regret. One flea, reduced to the level of a beast of burden, was drawing about a miniature gig, containing a particularly small effigy of His Grace the Duke of Wellington; while another was staggering beneath the weight of a golden model of his great adversary Napoleon Bonaparte. Some, brought up as mountebanks and ballet-dancers, were performing a figure-dance (he regretted to observe, that, of the fleas so employed, several were females); others were in training, in a small card-board box, for pedestrians,—mere sporting characters—and two were actually engaged in the cold-blooded and barbarous occupation of duelling; a pursuit from which humanity recoiled with horror and disgust. He suggested that measures should be immediately taken to employ the labour of these fleas as part and parcel of the productive power of the country, which might easily be done by the establishment among them of infant schools and houses of industry, in which a system of virtuous education, based upon sound principles, should be observed, and moral precepts strictly inculcated. He proposed that every flea who presumed to exhibit, for hire, music, or dancing, or any species of theatrical entertainment, without a licence, should be considered a vagabond, and treated accordingly; in which respect he only placed him upon a level with the rest of mankind. He would further suggest that their labour should be placed under the control and regulation of the state, who should set apart from the profits, a fund for the support of superannuated or disabled fleas, their widows and orphans. With this view, he proposed that liberal premiums should be offered for the three best designs for a general almshouse; from which—as insect architecture was well known to be in a very advanced and perfect state—we might possibly derive many valuable hints for the improvement of our metropolitan universities, national galleries, and other public edifices.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to be informed how the ingenious gentleman proposed to open a communication with fleas generally, in the first instance, so that they might be thoroughly imbued with a sense of the advantages they must necessarily derive from changing their mode of life, and applying themselves to honest labour. This appeared to him, the only difficulty.

‘THE AUTHOR submitted that this difficulty was easily overcome, or rather that there was no difficulty at all in the case. Obviously the course to be pursued, if Her Majesty’s government could be prevailed upon to take up the plan, would be, to secure at a remunerative salary the individual to whom he had alluded as presiding over the exhibition in Regent-street at the period of his visit. That gentleman would at once be able to put himself in communication with the mass of the fleas, and to instruct them in pursuance of some general plan of education, to be sanctioned by Parliament, until such time as the more intelligent among them were advanced enough to officiate as teachers to the rest.

‘The President and several members of the section highly complimented the author of the paper last read, on his most ingenious and important treatise. It was determined that the subject should be recommended to the immediate consideration of the council.

‘MR. WIGSBY produced a cauliflower somewhat larger than a chaise-umbrella, which had been raised by no other artificial means than the simple application of highly carbonated soda-water as manure. He explained that by scooping out the head, which would afford a new and delicious species of nourishment for the poor, a parachute, in principle something similar to that constructed by M. Garnerin, was at once obtained; the stalk of course being kept downwards. He added that he was perfectly willing to make a descent from a height of not less than three miles and a quarter; and had in fact already proposed the same to the proprietors of Vauxhall Gardens, who in the handsomest manner at once consented to his wishes, and appointed an early day next summer for the undertaking; merely stipulating that the rim of the cauliflower should be previously broken in three or four places to ensure the safety of the descent.

Gran stanza, maiale e scatola di fiammiferi.

Presidente – Professore Ronfolo. Vicepresidenti – Professori Sonnellino e Soffiatino.

“La scena in quel momento era particolarmente suggestiva. Il sole filtrava attraverso le finestre degli appartamenti, tingendo l’intera atmosfera con i suoi raggi brillanti; i volti nobili dei professori e dei gentiluomini di scienza – alcuni calvi, altri rossi di capelli, altri castani, altri grigi, altri neri – emergevano in modo particolarmente evidente, offrendo uno spettacolo che nessun testimone oculare avrebbe facilmente dimenticato. Davanti a loro c’erano fogli e calamaie; intorno alla stanza, su panche rialzate che si estendevano fino ai limiti della visibilità, era radunata una folla splendida di quelle donne belle ed eleganti per le quali Mudfog è giustamente riconosciuto come ineguagliabile in tutto il mondo. Il contrasto tra i loro volti belli e i cappotti scuri dei gentiluomini di scienza rimarrà per sempre nella mia memoria, finché l’Memoria continuerà a esistere.”

Dopo che il tempo necessario per placare la leggera confusione causata dalla caduta della maggior parte delle piattaforme si fu esaurito, il presidente chiamò uno dei segretari a leggere un comunicato intitolato: “Alcuni commenti sulle pulci laboriose, con riflessioni sull’importanza di istituire scuole materne tra quella numerosa classe della società; su come indirizzare il loro impegno verso scopi utili e pratici; e su come utilizzare i frutti derivanti da tale attività per garantire loro un sostentamento confortevole e rispettabile in vecchiaia.”

‘L’autore affermò che, avendo da tempo dedicato la sua attenzione alle condizioni morali e sociali di questi interessanti animali, era stato spinto a visitare un’esposizione in Regent Street, )Londra, comunemente conosciuta con il nome di “Le Pulci Industrievoli”. Lì aveva visto molte pulci impegnate in varie attività, ma, aggiunse, in modi che nessuno dotato di un minimo di senso morale avrebbe potuto non considerare dolorosi e deplorevoli. Una pulce, ridotta al rango di animale da soma, trainava una piccola carrozza contenente una statuina particolarmente minuscola del Duca di Wellington; un’altra barcollava sotto il peso di una modellina d’oro del suo grande avversario Napoleone Bonaparte. Alcune, addestrate come acrobati e ballerine, eseguivano danze, purtroppo, tra queste, alcune erano femmine; altre venivano “addestrate” in piccole scatole di cartone per servire da ornamento ai pedoni, semplici elementi decorativi. Due pulci, infine, si dedicavano all’attività crudele e barbarica dei duelli, un’occupazione che l’umanità respinge con orrore e disgusto. L’autore suggerì che si dovessero immediatamente adottare misure per sfruttare il lavoro di queste pulci come parte integrante della produttività nazionale, istituendo tra loro scuole materne e centri di formazione, dove venisse attuato un sistema educativo virtuoso basato su principi solidi e si inculcassero rigorosamente i precetti morali. Propose inoltre che ogni pulca che osasse offrire spettacoli musicali, danzanti o qualsiasi forma di intrattenimento teatrale senza licenza fosse considerata una vagabonda e trattata di conseguenza, mettendola così sullo stesso piano del resto dell’umanità. Suggerì inoltre che il loro lavoro venisse sottoposto al controllo dello Stato, il quale avrebbe dovuto destinare una parte dei profitti a sostegno delle pulci anziane o disabili, nonché delle loro vedove e orfani. A tal fine, propose di offrire premi generosi per i tre progetti migliori per l’istituzione di un ospizio pubblico, da cui, dato che si sapeva che l’architettura insettiva era già in uno stato molto avanzato e perfetto, si sarebbero potuti trarre molti spunti utili per il miglioramento delle nostre università, gallerie nazionali e altri edifici pubblici.’

“Il Presidente desiderava sapere come quel gentiluomo ingegnoso intendesse stabilire un contatto con le pulci, al fine di far loro comprendere appieno i vantaggi che deriverebbero necessariamente dal cambiare il proprio stile di vita e dedicarsi a un lavoro onesto. Questo gli sembrava l’unico ostacolo da superare.”

‘L’autore sostenne che questa difficoltà potesse essere facilmente superata, o meglio, che in realtà non esistesse alcuna difficoltà nel caso in questione. Ovviamente, il percorso da seguire, qualora si riuscisse a convincere il governo di Sua Maestà ad adottare tale piano, sarebbe stato quello di assumere, con uno stipendio remunerativo, la persona di cui aveva parlato, affinché presiedesse all’organizzazione dell’esposizione in Regent Street al momento della sua visita. Quel signore avrebbe potuto immediatamente mettersi in contatto con il grosso numero di pulci e istruirle secondo un piano generale di educazione da approvare dal Parlamento, fino a quando quelle più intelligenti tra loro non fossero sufficientemente avanzate da poter svolgere il ruolo di insegnanti per le altre.’

Il Presidente e diversi membri della sezione hanno espresso grandi lodi all’autore del saggio appena letto, per il suo trattato estremamente ingegnoso e importante. È stato deciso di raccomandare questo argomento all’esame immediato del consiglio.

‘Il signor Wigsby produsse un cavolfiore di dimensioni leggermente superiori a quelle di un ombrellone da giardino, il quale fu coltivato esclusivamente utilizzando soda carbonata come fertilizzante. Spiegò che, rimuovendo la “testa” del cavolfiore – che avrebbe potuto fornire un alimento nuovo e delizioso per i poveri – si otteneva immediatamente qualcosa di simile a un paracadute, analogo a quello costruito dal signor Garnerin; naturalmente, il gambo veniva tenuto rivolto verso il basso. Aggiunse inoltre di essere assolutamente disposto a effettuare una discesa da un’altezza non inferiore a tre miglia e un quarto, e aveva già proposto l’idea ai proprietari dei Vauxhall Gardens, i quali acconsentirono immediatamente e fissarono per la prossima estate la data dell’esperimento; stabilirono tuttavia che il bordo del cavolfiore dovesse essere precedentemente spezzato in tre o quattro punti al fine di garantire la sicurezza della discesa.’

‘THE PRESIDENT congratulated the public on the grand gala in store for them, and warmly eulogised the proprietors of the establishment alluded to, for their love of science, and regard for the safety of human life, both of which did them the highest honour.

‘A Member wished to know how many thousand additional lamps the royal property would be illuminated with, on the night after the descent.

‘MR. WIGSBY replied that the point was not yet finally decided; but he believed it was proposed, over and above the ordinary illuminations, to exhibit in various devices eight millions and a-half of additional lamps.

‘The Member expressed himself much gratified with this announcement.

‘MR. BLUNDERUM delighted the section with a most interesting and valuable paper “on the last moments of the learned pig,” which produced a very strong impression on the assembly, the account being compiled from the personal recollections of his favourite attendant. The account stated in the most emphatic terms that the animal’s name was not Toby, but Solomon; and distinctly proved that he could have no near relatives in the profession, as many designing persons had falsely stated, inasmuch as his father, mother, brothers and sisters, had all fallen victims to the butcher at different times. An uncle of his indeed, had with very great labour been traced to a sty in Somers Town; but as he was in a very infirm state at the time, being afflicted with measles, and shortly afterwards disappeared, there appeared too much reason to conjecture that he had been converted into sausages. The disorder of the learned pig was originally a severe cold, which, being aggravated by excessive trough indulgence, finally settled upon the lungs, and terminated in a general decay of the constitution. A melancholy instance of a presentiment entertained by the animal of his approaching dissolution, was recorded. After gratifying a numerous and fashionable company with his performances, in which no falling off whatever was visible, he fixed his eyes on the biographer, and, turning to the watch which lay on the floor, and on which he was accustomed to point out the hour, deliberately passed his snout twice round the dial. In precisely four-and-twenty hours from that time he had ceased to exist!

‘PROFESSOR WHEEZY inquired whether, previous to his demise, the animal had expressed, by signs or otherwise, any wishes regarding the disposal of his little property.

‘MR. BLUNDERUM replied, that, when the biographer took up the pack of cards at the conclusion of the performance, the animal grunted several times in a significant manner, and nodding his head as he was accustomed to do, when gratified. From these gestures it was understood that he wished the attendant to keep the cards, which he had ever since done. He had not expressed any wish relative to his watch, which had accordingly been pawned by the same individual.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to know whether any Member of the section had ever seen or conversed with the pig-faced lady, who was reported to have worn a black velvet mask, and to have taken her meals from a golden trough.

‘After some hesitation a Member replied that the pig-faced lady was his mother-in-law, and that he trusted the President would not violate the sanctity of private life.

‘THE PRESIDENT begged pardon. He had considered the pig-faced lady a public character. Would the honourable member object to state, with a view to the advancement of science, whether she was in any way connected with the learned pig?

‘The Member replied in the same low tone, that, as the question appeared to involve a suspicion that the learned pig might be his half-brother, he must decline answering it.

‘SECTION B.—ANATOMY AND MEDICINE.

COACH-HOUSE, PIG AND TINDER-BOX.

President—Dr. Toorell. Vice-Presidents—Professors Muff and Nogo.

‘DR. KUTANKUMAGEN (of Moscow) read to the section a report of a case which had occurred within his own practice, strikingly illustrative of the power of medicine, as exemplified in his successful treatment of a virulent disorder. He had been called in to visit the patient on the 1st of April, 1837. He was then labouring under symptoms peculiarly alarming to any medical man. His frame was stout and muscular, his step firm and elastic, his cheeks plump and red, his voice loud, his appetite good, his pulse full and round. He was in the constant habit of eating three meals per diem, and of drinking at least one bottle of wine, and one glass of spirituous liquors diluted with water, in the course of the four-and-twenty hours. He laughed constantly, and in so hearty a manner that it was terrible to hear him. By dint of powerful medicine, low diet, and bleeding, the symptoms in the course of three days perceptibly decreased. A rigid perseverance in the same course of treatment for only one week, accompanied with small doses of water-gruel, weak broth, and barley-water, led to their entire disappearance. In the course of a month he was sufficiently recovered to be carried down-stairs by two nurses, and to enjoy an airing in a close carriage, supported by soft pillows. At the present moment he was restored so far as to walk about, with the slight assistance of a crutch and a boy. It would perhaps be gratifying to the section to learn that he ate little, drank little, slept little, and was never heard to laugh by any accident whatever.

‘DR. W. R. FEE, in complimenting the honourable member upon the triumphant cure he had effected, begged to ask whether the patient still bled freely?

‘DR. KUTANKUMAGEN replied in the affirmative.

‘DR. W. R. FEE.—And you found that he bled freely during the whole course of the disorder?

‘DR. KUTANKUMAGEN.—Oh dear, yes; most freely.

‘DR. NEESHAWTS supposed, that if the patient had not submitted to be bled with great readiness and perseverance, so extraordinary a cure could never, in fact, have been accomplished. Dr. Kutankumagen rejoined, certainly not.

“Il Presidente congratulò il pubblico per la grande gala che li aspettava e lodò caldamente i proprietari dell’istituto menzionato per il loro amore per la scienza e per la loro attenzione alla sicurezza della vita umana, qualità che gli valse il più alto onore.”

Un membro del gruppo voleva sapere con quante migliaia di lampade in più la proprietà reale sarebbe stata illuminata la notte successiva alla discesa.

Il signor Wigsby rispose che la questione non era ancora stata definitivamente decisa; ma credeva che fosse stato proposto, oltre alle solite misure di illuminazione, di installare otto milioni e mezzo di lampade aggiuntive in diversi punti.

“Il membro si è detto molto soddisfatto di questa notizia.”

‘Il signor Blunderum deliziò l’assemblea con un articolo molto interessante e prezioso “sui ultimi momenti di quel maestro porco”, che lasciò una profonda impressione su tutti. Il resoconto, basato sulle memorie personali del suo attendente preferito, affermava in termini inequivoci che il nome dell’animale non era Toby, ma Solomon; inoltre dimostrava chiaramente che quel porco non aveva alcun parente nella sua stessa professione, come avevano falsamente sostenuto molte persone malintenzionate: infatti suo padre, sua madre, suoi fratelli e sue sorelle erano tutti morti per mano del macellaio in momenti diversi. Un suo zio era stato effettivamente rintracciato con grande difficoltà in un porcile di Somers Town; tuttavia, essendo in condizioni molto precarie a causa del morbillo, scomparve poco dopo, e c’erano tutte le ragioni per supporre che fosse stato trasformato in salsicce. L’infermità di quel maestro porco era originariamente un raffreddore grave, che, aggravato dall’eccessivo consumo di cibo, si era diffuso nei polmoni, portandolo infine alla morte. Fu registrato anche un esempio “melancolico” di presagio da parte dell’animale riguardo alla propria imminente fine: dopo aver intrattenuto numerosi e raffinati spettatori senza mostrare alcun segno di declino, fissò lo sguardo sul biografo, poi prese l’orologio che giaceva a terra – su cui era abituato a indicare l’ora – e passò deliberatamente il proprio muso due volte intorno al quadrante. Esattamente ventiquattro ore dopo, quel porco cessò di esistere, ’

“Il professor Wheezy chiese se, prima della sua morte, l’animale avesse espresso, con segni o in altro modo, qualche desiderio riguardo alla disposizione dei suoi piccoli beni.”

‘Il signor Blunderum rispose che, quando il biografo prese il mazzo di carte alla fine dello spettacolo, l’animale grugnì diverse volte in modo significativo e annuì con la testa, come faceva sempre quando era soddisfatto. Da questi gesti si capì che desiderava che l’assistente tenesse le carte, cosa che da allora è stata fatta. Non aveva espresso alcun desiderio riguardo al suo orologio, il quale quindi fu messo in pegno dalla stessa persona.’

“Il Presidente voleva sapere se qualche membro di quella sezione avesse mai visto o parlato con quella donna dal viso porcino, di cui si diceva che indossasse una maschera di velluto nero e che mangiasse da un trogolo d’oro.”

Dopo qualche esitazione, un membro rispose che quella donna dal viso rotondo era sua suocera, e che confidava nel fatto che il Presidente non avrebbe violato la sacralità della vita privata.

“Il Presidente chiese scusa. Aveva considerato quella signora dal viso porcino una figura pubblica. L’onorevole membro avrebbe obiettato a chiarire, al fine del progresso della scienza, se lei fosse in qualche modo collegata a quel sapiente maiale?”

“Il membro rispose con lo stesso tono sommesso, dicendo che poiché la domanda sembrava implicare il sospetto che quel ‘sapiente maiale’ potesse essere suo fratellastro, doveva rifiutarsi di rispondere.”

‘SEZIONE B.—ANATOMIA E MEDICINA.’

COACH-Casa, MAIALLO E SCATOLA DI SPACCAPILLO.

Presidente—Dottor Toorell. Vicepresidenti—Professori Muff e Nogo.

“Il dottor Kutankumagen (di Mosca) lesse alla sezione un resoconto di un caso avvenuto nella sua stessa pratica clinica; il caso illustrava in modo evidente il potere della medicina, come dimostrato dal suo successo nel trattare una malattia particolarmente grave. Era stato chiamato a visitare il paziente il 1° aprile 1837. All’epoca, il paziente presentava sintomi davvero allarmanti per qualsiasi medico: era di corporatura robusta e muscolosa, i suoi passi erano fermi ed elastici, le guance rosee e piene, la voce forte, l’appetito buono, il polso regolare. Aveva l’abitudine di mangiare tre pasti al giorno e di bere almeno una bottiglia di vino, oltre a un bicchiere di liquori alcolici diluiti in acqua, nell’arco delle ventiquattro ore. Rideva costantemente, e in modo così sonoro da essere davvero spaventoso ascoltarlo. Grazie a farmaci potenti, a una dieta rigorosa e a dei salassi, i sintomi diminuirono notevolmente nel corso di tre giorni. Mantenendo lo stesso trattamento per un’intera settimana, associandolo a piccole dosi di porridge acquoso, brodo leggero e orzo in acqua, i sintomi scomparvero completamente. Dopo un mese era sufficientemente guarito da poter scendere le scale con l’aiuto di due infermiere e godersi una passeggiata in carrozza, sostenuto da cuscini morbidi. Al momento, è in grado di camminare, sebbene abbia bisogno dell’aiuto di un bastone e di un ragazzo. Forse sarebbe interessante per la sezione sapere che mangia poco, beve poco, dorme poco, e che non si sente mai ridere da parte sua.”

“Il dottor W. R. Fee, nel complimentare l’onorevole membro per la cura riuscita, chiese se il paziente continuasse ancora a sanguinare liberamente.”

“Il Dottor Kutankumagen rispose affermativamente.”

“DR. W. R. FEE: —E ha scoperto che sanguinava liberamente per tutta la durata dell’intero episodio patologico?”

“DR. KUTANKUMAGEN: — Oh, sì, certamente; con grande libertà.”

Il dottor Neeshawts riteneva che, se il paziente non si fosse sottomesso con tanta disponibilità e perseveranza al processo di emorragia, una guarigione così straordinaria non sarebbe mai stata possibile. Il dottor Kutankumagen concordò: certamente no.

‘MR. KNIGHT BELL (M.R.C.S.) exhibited a wax preparation of the interior of a gentleman who in early life had inadvertently swallowed a door-key. It was a curious fact that a medical student of dissipated habits, being present at the post mortem examination, found means to escape unobserved from the room, with that portion of the coats of the stomach upon which an exact model of the instrument was distinctly impressed, with which he hastened to a locksmith of doubtful character, who made a new key from the pattern so shown to him. With this key the medical student entered the house of the deceased gentleman, and committed a burglary to a large amount, for which he was subsequently tried and executed.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to know what became of the original key after the lapse of years. Mr. Knight Bell replied that the gentleman was always much accustomed to punch, and it was supposed the acid had gradually devoured it.

‘DR. NEESHAWTS and several of the members were of opinion that the key must have lain very cold and heavy upon the gentleman’s stomach.

‘MR. KNIGHT BELL believed it did at first. It was worthy of remark, perhaps, that for some years the gentleman was troubled with a night-mare, under the influence of which he always imagined himself a wine-cellar door.

‘PROFESSOR MUFF related a very extraordinary and convincing proof of the wonderful efficacy of the system of infinitesimal doses, which the section were doubtless aware was based upon the theory that the very minutest amount of any given drug, properly dispersed through the human frame, would be productive of precisely the same result as a very large dose administered in the usual manner. Thus, the fortieth part of a grain of calomel was supposed to be equal to a five-grain calomel pill, and so on in proportion throughout the whole range of medicine. He had tried the experiment in a curious manner upon a publican who had been brought into the hospital with a broken head, and was cured upon the infinitesimal system in the incredibly short space of three months. This man was a hard drinker. He (Professor Muff) had dispersed three drops of rum through a bucket of water, and requested the man to drink the whole. What was the result? Before he had drunk a quart, he was in a state of beastly intoxication; and five other men were made dead drunk with the remainder.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to know whether an infinitesimal dose of soda-water would have recovered them? Professor Muff replied that the twenty-fifth part of a teaspoonful, properly administered to each patient, would have sobered him immediately. The President remarked that this was a most important discovery, and he hoped the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen would patronize it immediately.

‘A Member begged to be informed whether it would be possible to administer—say, the twentieth part of a grain of bread and cheese to all grown-up paupers, and the fortieth part to children, with the same satisfying effect as their present allowance.

‘PROFESSOR MUFF was willing to stake his professional reputation on the perfect adequacy of such a quantity of food to the support of human life—in workhouses; the addition of the fifteenth part of a grain of pudding twice a week would render it a high diet.

‘PROFESSOR NOGO called the attention of the section to a very extraordinary case of animal magnetism. A private watchman, being merely looked at by the operator from the opposite side of a wide street, was at once observed to be in a very drowsy and languid state. He was followed to his box, and being once slightly rubbed on the palms of the hands, fell into a sound sleep, in which he continued without intermission for ten hours.

‘SECTION C.—STATISTICS.

‘Il dottor Knight Bell (M.R.C.S.) mostrò una preparazione in cera dell’interno di un gentiluomo che, in giovane età, aveva ingerito accidentalmente una chiave di porta. Fu un fatto curioso: uno studente di medicina dalle abitudini dissolute, presente durante l’autopsia, riuscì a uscire dalla stanza senza essere visto, portando con sé quella parte dello stomaco su cui era chiaramente impresso il modello della chiave; si recò quindi da un fabbro di dubbia reputazione, che ne realizzò una nuova. Con questa chiave lo studente entrò nella casa del defunto e commise un furto di notevoli dimensioni; successivamente fu processato e giustiziato.’

“Il Presidente voleva sapere cosa fosse successo alla chiave originale dopo tanti anni. Il signor Knight Bell rispose che quel gentiluomo aveva l’abitudine di battere su tutto con forza, e si presumeva che l’acido l’avesse gradualmente distrutta.”

Il dottor Neeshawts e alcuni altri membri erano dell’opinione che la chiave dovesse essere stata molto fredda e pesante sullo stomaco di quel signore.

“Inizialmente, il signor Knight Bell credeva davvero che fosse così. È degno di nota, forse, che per alcuni anni quell’uomo fu afflitto da un incubo notturno; a causa suo, si immaginava sempre di essere la porta di una cantina.

‘Il Professor Muff presentò una prova molto straordinaria e convincente dell’efficacia meravigliosa del sistema delle dosi infinitesimali, di cui i membri della commissione erano certamente a conoscenza: tale sistema si basava sull’idea che la quantità più minima di qualsiasi farmaco, distribuita correttamente nel corpo umano, producesse esattamente lo stesso risultato di una dose molto più grande somministrata con i metodi tradizionali. Pertanto, si riteneva che un quarantesimo di granello di calomel fosse equivalente a una pillola da cinque grani di calomel, e così via, in modo proporzionale per l’intera gamma dei farmaci. Il Professor Muff provò questo metodo su un osteo che era stato portato in ospedale con una ferita alla testa; grazie a questo sistema, l’uomo guarì in soli tre mesi, un tempo incredibilmente breve. Quest’uomo aveva l’abitudine di bere molto alcolici. Il Professor Muff distribuì tre gocce di rum in un secchio pieno d’acqua e chiese all’uomo di berlo tutto. Qual fu il risultato? Prima ancora di aver bevuto un quarto del contenuto, l’uomo era già in uno stato di intossicazione estrema; inoltre, altre cinque persone morirono per eccesso di alcol a causa dei restanti liquidi.

“Il Presidente voleva sapere se una dose infinitesimale di soda e acqua avrebbe potuto guarirli. Il Professor Muff rispose che un ventiquattresimo di cucchiaino, somministrato correttamente a ciascun paziente, lo avrebbe riportato immediatamente in sé. Il Presidente osservò che si trattava di una scoperta di grande importanza e sperava che il Lord Mayor e la Corte dei Consiglieri Comunali vi prestassero immediatamente attenzione.”

Un membro chiese di sapere se fosse possibile fornire, ad esempio, il ventesimo di un granello di pane e formaggio a tutti i poveri adulti, e il quarantesimo di questi alimenti ai bambini, ottenendo lo stesso effetto soddisfacente rispetto all’attuale razione.

Il ‘Professore Muff’ era disposto a rischiare la sua reputazione professionale scommettendo sulla perfetta adeguacy di tale quantità di cibo per sostenere la vita umana negli ospizi; l’aggiunta di un quindicesimo di grano di budino due volte a settimana avrebbe reso tale alimentazione particolarmente nutriente.

‘Il PROFESSOR NOGO attirò l’attenzione del gruppo su un caso molto straordinario di magnetismo animale. Un guardiano privato, semplicemente osservato dall’operatore dall’altra parte di una larga strada, mostrò immediatamente segni di sonnolenza e debolezza. Fu accompagnato fino alla sua postazione e, dopo essere stato leggermente strofinato sulle palme delle mani, cadde in un sonno profondo che durò per dieci ore consecutive.’

‘SEZIONE C.—STATISTICI.’

HAY-LOFT, ORIGINAL PIG.

President—Mr. Woodensconce. Vice-Presidents—Mr. Ledbrain and Mr. Timbered.

‘MR. SLUG stated to the section the result of some calculations he had made with great difficulty and labour, regarding the state of infant education among the middle classes of London. He found that, within a circle of three miles from the Elephant and Castle, the following were the names and numbers of children’s books principally in circulation:—

‘Jack the Giant-killer 7,943 Ditto and Bean-stalk 8,621 Ditto and Eleven Brothers 2,845 Ditto and Jill 1,998 Total 21,407

‘He found that the proportion of Robinson Crusoes to Philip Quarlls was as four and a half to one; and that the preponderance of Valentine and Orsons over Goody Two Shoeses was as three and an eighth of the former to half a one of the latter; a comparison of Seven Champions with Simple Simons gave the same result. The ignorance that prevailed, was lamentable. One child, on being asked whether he would rather be Saint George of England or a respectable tallow-chandler, instantly replied, “Taint George of Ingling.” Another, a little boy of eight years old, was found to be firmly impressed with a belief in the existence of dragons, and openly stated that it was his intention when he grew up, to rush forth sword in hand for the deliverance of captive princesses, and the promiscuous slaughter of giants. Not one child among the number interrogated had ever heard of Mungo Park,—some inquiring whether he was at all connected with the black man that swept the crossing; and others whether he was in any way related to the Regent’s Park. They had not the slightest conception of the commonest principles of mathematics, and considered Sindbad the Sailor the most enterprising voyager that the world had ever produced.

‘A Member strongly deprecating the use of all the other books mentioned, suggested that Jack and Jill might perhaps be exempted from the general censure, inasmuch as the hero and heroine, in the very outset of the tale, were depicted as going up a hill to fetch a pail of water, which was a laborious and useful occupation,—supposing the family linen was being washed, for instance.

‘MR. SLUG feared that the moral effect of this passage was more than counterbalanced by another in a subsequent part of the poem, in which very gross allusion was made to the mode in which the heroine was personally chastised by her mother

“‘For laughing at Jack’s disaster;”

besides, the whole work had this one great fault, it was not true.

‘THE PRESIDENT complimented the honourable member on the excellent distinction he had drawn. Several other Members, too, dwelt upon the immense and urgent necessity of storing the minds of children with nothing but facts and figures; which process the President very forcibly remarked, had made them (the section) the men they were.

‘MR. SLUG then stated some curious calculations respecting the dogs’-meat barrows of London. He found that the total number of small carts and barrows engaged in dispensing provision to the cats and dogs of the metropolis was, one thousand seven hundred and forty-three. The average number of skewers delivered daily with the provender, by each dogs’-meat cart or barrow, was thirty-six. Now, multiplying the number of skewers so delivered by the number of barrows, a total of sixty-two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight skewers daily would be obtained. Allowing that, of these sixty-two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight skewers, the odd two thousand seven hundred and forty-eight were accidentally devoured with the meat, by the most voracious of the animals supplied, it followed that sixty thousand skewers per day, or the enormous number of twenty-one millions nine hundred thousand skewers annually, were wasted in the kennels and dustholes of London; which, if collected and warehoused, would in ten years’ time afford a mass of timber more than sufficient for the construction of a first-rate vessel of war for the use of her Majesty’s navy, to be called “The Royal Skewer,” and to become under that name the terror of all the enemies of this island.

‘MR. X. LEDBRAIN read a very ingenious communication, from which it appeared that the total number of legs belonging to the manufacturing population of one great town in Yorkshire was, in round numbers, forty thousand, while the total number of chair and stool legs in their houses was only thirty thousand, which, upon the very favourable average of three legs to a seat, yielded only ten thousand seats in all. From this calculation it would appear,—not taking wooden or cork legs into the account, but allowing two legs to every person,—that ten thousand individuals (one-half of the whole population) were either destitute of any rest for their legs at all, or passed the whole of their leisure time in sitting upon boxes.

‘SECTION D.—MECHANICAL SCIENCE.

COACH-HOUSE, ORIGINAL PIG.

President—Mr. Carter. Vice-Presidents—Mr. Truck and Mr. Waghorn.

‘PROFESSOR QUEERSPECK exhibited an elegant model of a portable railway, neatly mounted in a green case, for the waistcoat pocket. By attaching this beautiful instrument to his boots, any Bank or public-office clerk could transport himself from his place of residence to his place of business, at the easy rate of sixty-five miles an hour, which, to gentlemen of sedentary pursuits, would be an incalculable advantage.

‘THE PRESIDENT was desirous of knowing whether it was necessary to have a level surface on which the gentleman was to run.

‘PROFESSOR QUEERSPECK explained that City gentlemen would run in trains, being handcuffed together to prevent confusion or unpleasantness. For instance, trains would start every morning at eight, nine, and ten o’clock, from Camden Town, Islington, Camberwell, Hackney, and various other places in which City gentlemen are accustomed to reside. It would be necessary to have a level, but he had provided for this difficulty by proposing that the best line that the circumstances would admit of, should be taken through the sewers which undermine the streets of the metropolis, and which, well lighted by jets from the gas pipes which run immediately above them, would form a pleasant and commodious arcade, especially in winter-time, when the inconvenient custom of carrying umbrellas, now so general, could be wholly dispensed with. In reply to another question, Professor Queerspeck stated that no substitute for the purposes to which these arcades were at present devoted had yet occurred to him, but that he hoped no fanciful objection on this head would be allowed to interfere with so great an undertaking.

HAY-LOFT, maiale originale.

Presidente—Signor Woodensconce. Vicepresidenti—Signor Ledbrain e Signor Timbered.

‘Il signor Slug comunicò alla sezione il risultato di alcuni calcoli che aveva effettuato con grande difficoltà e impegno, riguardo allo stato dell’educazione infantile nelle classi medie di Londra. Scoprì che, in un raggio di tre miglia dall’Elephant and Castle, i seguenti erano i nomi e i numeri dei libri per bambini più diffusi in quel territorio:—

‘Jack lo Squartatore di Giganti 7.943 Lo stesso e la Pianta di Fagioli 8.621 Lo stesso e gli Undici Fratelli 2.845 Lo stesso e Jill 1.998 Totale 21.407

Scoprì che il rapporto tra i personaggi di Robinson Crusoe e Philip Quarlls era di quattro e mezzo a uno; inoltre, la preponderanza di Valentine e Orson rispetto a “Goody Two Shoes” era di tre ottavi del primo rispetto a mezza unità del secondo. Anche il confronto tra i personaggi dei “Sette Campioni” e quelli di “Simple Simon” diede lo stesso risultato. L’ignoranza che regnava in quel contesto era davvero deplorevole. Un >bambino, quando gli fu chiesto se preferisse essere San Giorgio d’Inghilterra o un rispettabile commerciante di sego, rispose immediatamente: “Taint George of Ingling”. Un altro bambino, di otto anni, era fermamente convinto dell’esistenza dei draghi e dichiarò apertamente che, una volta cresciuto, avrebbe impugnato la spada per liberare principesse prigioniere e uccidere i giganti. Nessuno dei bambini interrogati aveva mai sentito parlare di Mungo Park: alcuni chiedevano se fosse in qualche modo legato all’uomo nero che aveva attraversato il fiume; altri, invece, si chiedevano se avesse qualche rapporto con Regent’s Park. Non avevano la minima idea dei principi fondamentali della matematica e consideravano Sindbad il Marinaio il viaggiatore più intraprendente che il mondo avesse mai conosciuto.

Un membro che deplorava vivamente l’uso di tutti gli altri libri menzionati suggerì che Jack e Jill potessero forse essere esentati da questa critica generale, poiché il eroe e l’eroina, fin dall’inizio della storia, venivano descritti mentre salivano su una collina per prendere un secchio d’acqua, un compito faticoso ma utile, supponendo, ad esempio, che si stesse lavando la biancheria di casa.

Il signor Slug temeva che l’effetto morale di questo passaggio non venisse compensato da un altro presente in una parte successiva del poema, nel quale venivano fatte allusioni molto esplicite al modo in cui l’eroina veniva punita personalmente dalla sua madre.

“Per aver riso della sfortuna di Jack, ”

Inoltre, l’intero lavoro presentava un grande difetto: non era vero.

“Il Presidente complimentò l’onorevole membro per l’eccellente distinzione che aveva dimostrato. Anche diversi altri membri sottolinearono l’enorme e urgente necessità di alimentare la mente dei bambini soltanto con fatti e cifre; un approccio che, secondo il Presidente, aveva reso possibile che quei membri diventassero ciò che erano oggi.”

‘Il signor Slug fece quindi alcuni calcoli curiosi riguardo ai carri e alle carrette utilizzati a Londra per il trasporto della carne per cani. Scoprì che il numero totale di questi veicoli impiegati per fornire cibo ai gatti e ai cani della metropoli ammontava a mille settecento quarantatré. La quantità media di spiedini consegnati quotidianamente da ogni carro o carretta era di trentasei. Moltiplicando il numero totale di spiedini per il numero di veicoli, si otteneva una cifra complessiva di seicentomila settecento quarantotto spiedini al giorno. Supponendo che, di questi, duemila settecento quarantotto venissero accidentalmente consumati insieme alla carne dai cani più voraci tra quelli riforniti, ne risultava che sessantamila spiedini al giorno, ovvero un numero enorme di ventuno milioni novecentomila spiedini all’anno, andavano sprecati nei canili e nelle discariche di Londra. Se questi spiedini venissero raccolti e immagazzinati, in dieci anni si otterrebbe una quantità di legno più che sufficiente per costruire una nave da guerra di prim’ordine da utilizzare nella marina reale; questa nave, chiamata “La Spada Reale”, diventerebbe il terrore di tutti i nemici di quest’isola.’

‘Il signor X. LEDBRAIN lesse una comunicazione molto ingegnosa, dalla quale risultava che il numero totale di gambe appartenenti alla popolazione di un grande paese dello Yorkshire era, in cifre approssimative, quarantamila; mentre il numero totale di gambe di sedie e sgabelli presenti nelle loro case era soltanto trentamila. Calcolando su una media molto favorevole di tre gambe per ogni sedile, ne risultavano in totale soltanto diecimila posti a sedere. Da questo calcolo si deduceva che, senza considerare gambe di legno o sughero e assumendo che ogni persona avesse due gambe, diecimila individui (la metà dell’intera popolazione) erano o del tutto privi di posti dove riposare le gambe, oppure trascorrevano tutto il loro tempo libero seduti su scatole.’

‘SEZIONE D.—SCIENTIA MECCANICA.’

COACH-HOUSE, maiale originale.

Presidente—Signor Carter. Vicepresidenti—Signor Truck e Signor Waghorn.

‘Il professor Queerspeck mostrò un elegante modello di ferrovia portatile, ben montato in una custodia verde, adatta per essere riposta nella tasca del gilet. Attaccando questo bellissimo strumento alle proprie scarpe, qualsiasi impiegato di banca o ufficio pubblico avrebbe potuto spostarsi dalla propria abitazione al luogo di lavoro a una velocità di sessantacinque miglia all’ora, il che rappresenterebbe un vantaggio inestimabile per persone con uno stile di vita sedentario.’

“Il Presidente voleva sapere se fosse necessario disporre di una superficie pianeggiante su cui il signore potesse correre.”

Il professor Queerspeck spiegò che i gentiluomini della città viaggiavano in treno, legati insieme per evitare confusione o inconvenienti. Ad esempio, i treni partivano ogni mattina alle otto, alle nove e alle dieci in punto da Camden Town, Islington, Camberwell, Hackney e altre zone dove questi gentiluomini avevano l’abitudine di risiedere. Sarebbe stato necessario disporre di un percorso pianeggiante, ma il professor Queerspeck aveva previsto anche questa difficoltà proponendo di utilizzare i canali fognari presenti sotto le strade della metropoli; questi canali, ben illuminati dai getti d’aria provenienti dalle tubature del gas situate immediatamente sopra di loro, avrebbero formato un percorso piacevole e comodo da utilizzare, soprattutto durante l’inverno, quando l’inconveniente uso degli ombrelli, ormai così diffuso, sarebbe stato del tutto superfluo. In risposta a un’altra domanda, il professor Queerspeck dichiarò che al momento non gli era ancora venuto in mente alcun sostituto per gli scopi per cui questi percorsi erano attualmente utilizzati, ma sperava che nessuna obiezione fantasiosa potesse ostacolare un’iniziativa così importante.

‘MR. JOBBA produced a forcing-machine on a novel plan, for bringing joint-stock railway shares prematurely to a premium. The instrument was in the form of an elegant gilt weather-glass, of most dazzling appearance, and was worked behind, by strings, after the manner of a pantomime trick, the strings being always pulled by the directors of the company to which the machine belonged. The quicksilver was so ingeniously placed, that when the acting directors held shares in their pockets, figures denoting very small expenses and very large returns appeared upon the glass; but the moment the directors parted with these pieces of paper, the estimate of needful expenditure suddenly increased itself to an immense extent, while the statements of certain profits became reduced in the same proportion. Mr. Jobba stated that the machine had been in constant requisition for some months past, and he had never once known it to fail.

‘A Member expressed his opinion that it was extremely neat and pretty. He wished to know whether it was not liable to accidental derangement? Mr. Jobba said that the whole machine was undoubtedly liable to be blown up, but that was the only objection to it.

‘PROFESSOR NOGO arrived from the anatomical section to exhibit a model of a safety fire-escape, which could be fixed at any time, in less than half an hour, and by means of which, the youngest or most infirm persons (successfully resisting the progress of the flames until it was quite ready) could be preserved if they merely balanced themselves for a few minutes on the sill of their bedroom window, and got into the escape without falling into the street. The Professor stated that the number of boys who had been rescued in the daytime by this machine from houses which were not on fire, was almost incredible. Not a conflagration had occurred in the whole of London for many months past to which the escape had not been carried on the very next day, and put in action before a concourse of persons.

‘THE PRESIDENT inquired whether there was not some difficulty in ascertaining which was the top of the machine, and which the bottom, in cases of pressing emergency.

‘PROFESSOR NOGO explained that of course it could not be expected to act quite as well when there was a fire, as when there was not a fire; but in the former case he thought it would be of equal service whether the top were up or down.’

---

With the last section our correspondent concludes his most able and faithful Report, which will never cease to reflect credit upon him for his scientific attainments, and upon us for our enterprising spirit. It is needless to take a review of the subjects which have been discussed; of the mode in which they have been examined; of the great truths which they have elicited. They are now before the world, and we leave them to read, to consider, and to profit.

The place of meeting for next year has undergone discussion, and has at length been decided, regard being had to, and evidence being taken upon, the goodness of its wines, the supply of its markets, the hospitality of its inhabitants, and the quality of its hotels. We hope at this next meeting our correspondent may again be present, and that we may be once more the means of placing his communications before the world. Until that period we have been prevailed upon to allow this number of our Miscellany to be retailed to the public, or wholesaled to the trade, without any advance upon our usual price.

We have only to add, that the committees are now broken up, and that Mudfog is once again restored to its accustomed tranquillity,—that Professors and Members have had balls, and soirées, and suppers, and great mutual complimentations, and have at length dispersed to their several homes,—whither all good wishes and joys attend them, until next year!

Signed BOZ.

FULL REPORT OF THE SECOND MEETING OF THE MUDFOG ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF EVERYTHING

IN October last, we did ourselves the immortal credit of recording, at an enormous expense, and by dint of exertions unnpralleled in the history of periodical publication, the proceedings of the Mudfog Association for the Advancement of Everything, which in that month held its first great half-yearly meeting, to the wonder and delight of the whole empire. We announced at the conclusion of that extraordinary and most remarkable Report, that when the Second Meeting of the Society should take place, we should be found again at our post, renewing our gigantic and spirited endeavours, and once more making the world ring with the accuracy, authenticity, immeasurable superiority, and intense remarkability of our account of its proceedings. In redemption of this pledge, we caused to be despatched per steam to Oldcastle (at which place this second meeting of the Society was held on the 20th instant), the same superhumanly-endowed gentleman who furnished the former report, and who,—gifted by nature with transcendent abilities, and furnished by us with a body of assistants scarcely inferior to himself,—has forwarded a series of letters, which, for faithfulness of description, power of language, fervour of thought, happiness of expression, and importance of subject-matter, have no equal in the epistolary literature of any age or country. We give this gentleman’s correspondence entire, and in the order in which it reached our office.

‘Saloon of Steamer, Thursday night, half-past eight.

‘WHEN I left New Burlington Street this evening in the hackney cabriolet, number four thousand two hundred and eighty-five, I experienced sensations as novel as they were oppressive. A sense of the importance of the task I had undertaken, a consciousness that I was leaving London, and, stranger still, going somewhere else, a feeling of loneliness and a sensation of jolting, quite bewildered my thoughts, and for a time rendered me even insensible to the presence of my carpet-bag and hat-box. I shall ever feel grateful to the driver of a Blackwall omnibus who, by thrusting the pole of his vehicle through the small door of the cabriolet, awakened me from a tumult of imaginings that are wholly indescribable. But of such materials is our imperfect nature composed!

‘Il signor Jobba ideò e realizzò una macchina che, seguendo un piano ingegnoso, permetteva di far aumentare premiamente le azioni delle ferrovie a capitale misto. Questo strumento aveva l’aspetto di un elegante barometro dorato, estremamente attraente a vedersi; al suo interno, delle corde venivano tirate da parte dei dirigenti della società che ne possedeva il controllo, facendo sì che sul vetro apparissero cifre che indicavano spese molto basse e profitti elevati. Tuttavia, non appena i dirigenti si disfacevano di quelle “carte”, la stima delle spese necessarie aumentava improvvisamente in modo esorbitante, mentre le previsioni di profitto diminuivano nella stessa misura. Il signor Jobba affermò che questa macchina era stata utilizzata costantemente negli ultimi mesi e che non aveva mai funzionato male.’

Un membro espresse il suo parere, dicendo che tutto era estremamente ordinato e bello. Voleva sapere se ci fosse il rischio di malfunzionamenti accidentali. Il signor Jobba rispose che l’intera macchina poteva senza dubbio esplodere, ma quella era l’unica obiezione possibile.

Il «PROFESSORE NOGO» arrivò dalla sezione di anatomia per esporre un modello di sistema di fuga antincendio sicuro, che poteva essere installato in meno di mezz’ora e grazie al quale le persone più giovani o più deboli avrebbero potuto salvarsi semplicemente reggendosi per qualche minuto sul davanzale della finestra della propria camera da letto e poi uscire senza cadere in strada. Il Professore affermò che il numero di ragazzi salvati durante il giorno con questo sistema, anche nelle case che non erano in fiamme, era quasi incredibile. Negli ultimi mesi, in tutta Londra, non si era verificata nessuna incendio per cui questo sistema non fosse stato immediatamente installato e messo in funzione davanti a un gran numero di persone.

“Il Presidente chiese se non ci fossero difficoltà nel capire quale parte della macchina fosse la parte superiore e quale quella inferiore, in caso di emergenze urgenti.”

‘Il PROFESSOR NOGO spiegò che, naturalmente, non si poteva pretendere che le cose funzionassero esattamente allo stesso modo quando c’era un incendio e quando non c’era; ma nel primo caso, secondo lui, non faceva differenza se la parte superiore fosse rivolta verso l’alto o verso il basso.’

---

Con la última sección, nuestro corresponsal concluye su informe más exhaustivo y fidedigno, que sin duda seguirá honrando su reputación por sus logros científicos, así como el espíritu emprendedor de nosotros mismos. No es necesario revisar nuevamente los temas tratados, ni el modo en que fueron examinados, ni las grandes verdades que se desvelaron a través de ellos. Ahora están al alcance del mundo entero; nos limitamos a dejarlos para que sean leídos, reflexionados y aprovechados por todos.

Il luogo dell’incontro per l’anno prossimo è stato oggetto di discussioni e, alla fine, è stato scelto tenendo conto della qualità dei suoi vini, dell’approvvigionamento dei suoi mercati, dell’ospitalità dei suoi abitanti e della qualità degli hotel presenti. Speriamo che anche in questa prossima riunione il nostro corrispondente sia nuovamente presente, affinché possiamo ancora una volta far conoscere le sue comunicazioni al mondo intero. Fino ad allora, abbiamo deciso di permettere la vendita di questo numero della nostra pubblicazione al pubblico o all’industria, senza applicare alcun sovrapprezzo rispetto al nostro prezzo abituale.

Dobbiamo solo aggiungere che i comitati sono ora sciolti e che Mudfog ha nuovamente ritrovato la sua solita tranquillità; i professori e i membri hanno partecipato a balli, serate e cene, scambiandosi molti complimenti reciproci, e infine si sono dispersi ognuno per la propria casa, dove li attendono buoni desideri e gioie, fino al prossimo anno!

Firmato BOZ.

Rapporto completo della seconda riunione dell’Associazione Mudfrog per il progresso di ogni cosa.

Nell’ottobre scorso, ci siamo resi un immortale onore registrando, a un enorme costo e con sforzi senza precedenti nella storia della pubblicazione periodica, i verbali dell’Associazione Mudfog per il Progresso di Tutto Ciò che Esiste; quell’associazione aveva infatti tenuto nel mese stesso la sua prima grande riunione semestrale, suscitando lo stupore e la gioia di tutto l’impero. Alla fine di quel rapporto straordinario e davvero notevole, annunciammo che, quando si sarebbe tenuta la seconda riunione dell’associazione, ci saremmo nuovamente trovati al nostro posto, riprendendo i nostri sforzi giganteschi e appassionati, per far risuonare ancora una volta il mondo della precisione, autenticità, incomparabile superiorità e straordinaria rilevanza dei nostri resoconti. Per mantenere questa promessa, inviammo per ferrovia a Oldcastle – dove si tenne effettivamente la seconda riunione l’20 di quel mese – lo stesso gentiluomo dotato di capacità straordinarie che aveva fornito il rapporto precedente; egli, donato dalla natura con abilità eccezionali e assistito da un gruppo di collaboratori quasi altrettanto competenti, inviò una serie di lettere le quali, per la fedeltà nella descrizione, la forza del linguaggio, la passione nel pensiero, la felicità nell’espressione e l’importanza dell’argomento trattato, non hanno eguali nella letteratura epistolare di alcuna epoca o nazione. Presentiamo qui l’intera corrispondenza di questo gentiluomo, nell’ordine in cui ci è arrivata in ufficio.

“Saloon of Steamer, giovedì sera, le otto e mezza.”

‘Quando questa sera lasciai New Burlington Street a bordo di quel cabriolet con numero 4.285, provai sensazioni così nuove e al contempo così opprimenti. Una consapevolezza dell’importanza della missione che avevo intrapreso, la percezione di starmene lasciando Londra, e, cosa ancora più strana, di essere diretto verso un altro luogo. Un senso di solitudine e delle scosse del veicolo confusero completamente i miei pensieri, al punto che per un po’ non mi resi nemmeno conto della presenza della mia borsa da viaggio e della scatola dove tenevo il cappello. Sarò sempre grata all’autista di quell’omnibus di Blackwall che, infilando il palo del suo veicolo attraverso la piccola porta del cabriolet, mi risvegliò da quel tumulto di pensieri completamente indescrivibili. Ma è proprio di materiali del genere che è fatta la nostra imperfetta natura!’

‘I am happy to say that I am the first passenger on board, and shall thus be enabled to give you an account of all that happens in the order of its occurrence. The chimney is smoking a good deal, and so are the crew; and the captain, I am informed, is very drunk in a little house upon deck, something like a black turnpike. I should infer from all I hear that he has got the steam up.

‘You will readily guess with what feelings I have just made the discovery that my berth is in the same closet with those engaged by Professor Woodensconce, Mr. Slug, and Professor Grime. Professor Woodensconce has taken the shelf above me, and Mr. Slug and Professor Grime the two shelves opposite. Their luggage has already arrived. On Mr. Slug’s bed is a long tin tube of about three inches in diameter, carefully closed at both ends. What can this contain? Some powerful instrument of a new construction, doubtless.’

‘Ten minutes past nine.

‘NOBODY has yet arrived, nor has anything fresh come in my way except several joints of beef and mutton, from which I conclude that a good plain dinner has been provided for to-morrow. There is a singular smell below, which gave me some uneasiness at first; but as the steward says it is always there, and never goes away, I am quite comfortable again. I learn from this man that the different sections will be distributed at the Black Boy and Stomach-ache, and the Boot-jack and Countenance. If this intelligence be true (and I have no reason to doubt it), your readers will draw such conclusions as their different opinions may suggest.

‘I write down these remarks as they occur to me, or as the facts come to my knowledge, in order that my first impressions may lose nothing of their original vividness. I shall despatch them in small packets as opportunities arise.’

‘Half past nine.

‘SOME dark object has just appeared upon the wharf. I think it is a travelling carriage.’

‘A quarter to ten.

‘NO, it isn’t.’

‘Half-past ten.

‘THE passengers are pouring in every instant. Four omnibuses full have just arrived upon the wharf, and all is bustle and activity. The noise and confusion are very great. Cloths are laid in the cabins, and the steward is placing blue plates—full of knobs of cheese at equal distances down the centre of the tables. He drops a great many knobs; but, being used to it, picks them up again with great dexterity, and, after wiping them on his sleeve, throws them back into the plates. He is a young man of exceedingly prepossessing appearance—either dirty or a mulatto, but I think the former.

‘An interesting old gentleman, who came to the wharf in an omnibus, has just quarrelled violently with the porters, and is staggering towards the vessel with a large trunk in his arms. I trust and hope that he may reach it in safety; but the board he has to cross is narrow and slippery. Was that a splash? Gracious powers!

‘I have just returned from the deck. The trunk is standing upon the extreme brink of the wharf, but the old gentleman is nowhere to be seen. The watchman is not sure whether he went down or not, but promises to drag for him the first thing to-morrow morning. May his humane efforts prove successful!

‘Professor Nogo has this moment arrived with his nightcap on under his hat. He has ordered a glass of cold brandy and water, with a hard biscuit and a basin, and has gone straight to bed. What can this mean?

‘The three other scientific gentlemen to whom I have already alluded have come on board, and have all tried their beds, with the exception of Professor Woodensconce, who sleeps in one of the top ones, and can’t get into it. Mr. Slug, who sleeps in the other top one, is unable to get out of his, and is to have his supper handed up by a boy. I have had the honour to introduce myself to these gentlemen, and we have amicably arranged the order in which we shall retire to rest; which it is necessary to agree upon, because, although the cabin is very comfortable, there is not room for more than one gentleman to be out of bed at a time, and even he must take his boots off in the passage.

‘As I anticipated, the knobs of cheese were provided for the passengers’ supper, and are now in course of consumption. Your readers will be surprised to hear that Professor Woodensconce has abstained from cheese for eight years, although he takes butter in considerable quantities. Professor Grime having lost several teeth, is unable, I observe, to eat his crusts without previously soaking them in his bottled porter. How interesting are these peculiarities!’

‘Half-past eleven.

‘PROFESSORS Woodensconce and Grime, with a degree of good humour that delights us all, have just arranged to toss for a bottle of mulled port. There has been some discussion whether the payment should be decided by the first toss or the best out of three. Eventually the latter course has been determined on. Deeply do I wish that both gentlemen could win; but that being impossible, I own that my personal aspirations (I speak as an individual, and do not compromise either you or your readers by this expression of feeling) are with Professor Woodensconce. I have backed that gentleman to the amount of eighteenpence.’

‘Twenty minutes to twelve.

‘PROFESSOR Grime has inadvertently tossed his half-crown out of one of the cabin-windows, and it has been arranged that the steward shall toss for him. Bets are offered on any side to any amount, but there are no takers.

‘Professor Woodensconce has just called “woman;” but the coin having lodged in a beam, is a long time coming down again. The interest and suspense of this one moment are beyond anything that can be imagined.’

“Sono felice di poter dire di essere il primo passeggero a bordo, e quindi sarò in grado di raccontarvi tutto ciò che accade nell’ordine in cui avviene. La ciminiera fuma molto, così come l’equipaggio; inoltre, mi è stato detto che il capitano è molto ubriaco in una piccola taverna sul ponte. Direi che abbia “alzato i vapori”, per così dire.”

‘Potete facilmente immaginare con quali sentimenti abbia fatto questa scoperta: il mio posto letto si trova nello stesso armadio di quelli riservati al Professor Woodensconce, al signor Slug e al Professor Grime. Il Professor Woodensconce ha preso lo scaffale sopra di me, mentre il signor Slug e il Professor Grime hanno occupato gli scaffali opposti. I loro bagagli sono già arrivati. Sul letto del signor Slug c’è un lungo tubo di latta, di circa tre pollici di diametro, chiuso con cura alle due estremità. Cosa può contenere? Senza dubbio, qualche strumento potente di nuova concezione.’

“Nove minuti passati dalle nove.”

‘Nessuno è ancora arrivato, e non mi è capitato nulla di nuovo se non alcune coste di manzo e agnello; da questo deduco che per domani sarà preparato un buon pasto semplice. C’è un odore strano laggiù sotto, all’inizio mi ha messo a disagio, ma poiché lo steward dice che c’è sempre stato e mai scompare, ora mi sento di nuovo a mio agio. Da quest’uomo ho appreso che le varie porzioni verranno distribuite nei luoghi chiamati Black Boy e Stomach-Ache, Boot-Jack e Countenance. Se questa informazione è vera (e non ho motivo di dubitarne), i vostri lettori potranno trarre le conclusioni che le loro diverse opinioni suggeriranno.’

“Scrivo queste osservazioni non appena mi vengono in mente, o non appena vengo a conoscenza dei fatti, affinché le mie prime impressioni non perdano nulla della loro vividezza originale. Le invierò una dopo l’altra non appena ne avrò l’occasione.”

“Mezzanotte e mezza.”

“Qualcosa di scuro è appena apparso sul molo. Penso sia una carrozza in movimento.”

‘Quaranta minuti a mezzanotte.’

“No, non lo è.”

“Mezzanotte e mezza.”

‘I passeggeri stanno affluendo in continuazione. Quattro autobus pieni sono appena arrivati al molo, e c’è un gran trambusto ovunque. Il rumore e la confusione sono davvero enormi. Sui banchi vengono stesi teli, e il cameriere sistema piatti blu, sui quali sono disposte uguali quantità di pezzi di formaggio al centro dei tavoli. Ne perde molti, ma essendo abituato a farlo, li raccoglie con grande destrezza, li pulisce sulla manica e poi li rimette nei piatti. È un giovane dall’aspetto estremamente attraente, o forse è sporco, o magari è mulatto, ma penso che sia il primo.’

“Un interessante vecchio signore, che è arrivato al molo in un omnibus, ha appena avuto una violenta lite con i portieri e ora barcolla verso la nave tenendo un grande baule tra le braccia. Spero davvero che riesca ad arrivarci sano e salvo; ma il ponte che deve attraversare è stretto e scivoloso. È stato quel rumore d’acqua? Oh, mio Dio!”

“Sono appena tornato dal ponte. Il baule si trova sull’estremità del molo, ma non si vede da nessuna parte quel vecchio signore. Il custode non è sicuro se sia sceso giù o meno, ma promette di cercarlo domani mattina al primo momento. Possano i suoi sforzi umanitari avere successo!”

“Il professor Nogo, con il suo bicchiere di liquore notturno sotto il cappello, ha ordinato un bicchiere di brandy freddo e acqua, accompagnati da un biscotto duro e una bacinella, poi è andato direttamente a letto. Cosa può significare questo?”

Gli altri tre signori scienziati di cui ho già parlato sono saliti a bordo e hanno tutti provato i loro letti, ad eccezione del professor Woodensconce, che dorme in uno dei letti superiori e non riesce a entrarci; il signor Slug, che dorme nell’altro letto superiore, non riesce a uscirne e dovrà farsi portare la cena da un ragazzo. Ho avuto l’onore di presentarmi a questi signori e abbiamo concordato amichevolmente l’ordine in cui ci ritireremo per riposare; è necessario stabilire questo ordine, perché, sebbene la cabina sia molto confortevole, non c’è spazio per più di un signore che possa essere fuori dal letto allo stesso momento, e anche lui dovrà togliersi le scarpe nel corridoio.

‘Come mi aspettavo, i pezzi di formaggio erano stati preparati per la cena dei passeggeri e ora stanno venendo consumati. I vostri lettori saranno sorpresi nell’apprendere che il Professor Woodensconce si astiene dal mangiare formaggio da otto anni, anche se consuma grandi quantità di burro. Il Professor Grime, avendo perso diversi denti, non riesce a mangiare le croste del formaggio senza prima immergerle nel suo porto in bottiglia. Che caratteristiche interessanti!’

“Mezzanotte e un quarto.”

‘I professori Woodensconce e Grime, con un certo grado di buon umorismo che ci diverte tutti, hanno appena deciso di giocare a testa o croce per vincere una bottiglia di porto al caldo. C’è stata qualche discussione su se il risultato dovesse essere determinato dal primo lancio o dal miglior risultato tra tre tentativi; alla fine è stato scelto quest’ultimo metodo. Vorrei davvero che entrambi i signori vincessero; ma poiché ciò è impossibile, devo ammettere che le mie preferenze personali (parlo come individuo, e non intendo compromettere né voi né i vostri lettori con queste parole) sono per il professor Woodensconce. Ho scommesso su di lui diciotto penny.’

“Venti minuti alle dodici.”

‘Il PROFESSOR Grime ha accidentalmente fatto cadere la sua mezza corona da una delle finestre della cabina; è stato deciso che lo steward la lanci al suo posto. Si accettano scommesse su qualsiasi importo, ma nessuno vuole partecipare.’

“Il professor Woodensconce ha appena detto ‘donna’; ma la moneta, essendo rimasta incastrata in una trave, impiegherà molto tempo per cadere di nuovo. L’interesse e l’emozione di questo momento sono al di là di qualsiasi cosa si possa immaginare.”

‘Twelve o’clock.

‘THE mulled port is smoking on the table before me, and Professor Grime has won. Tossing is a game of chance; but on every ground, whether of public or private character, intellectual endowments, or scientific attainments, I cannot help expressing my opinion that Professor Woodensconce ought to have come off victorious. There is an exultation about Professor Grime incompatible, I fear, with true greatness.’

‘A quarter past twelve.

‘PROFESSOR Grime continues to exult, and to boast of his victory in no very measured terms, observing that he always does win, and that he knew it would be a “head” beforehand, with many other remarks of a similar nature. Surely this gentleman is not so lost to every feeling of decency and propriety as not to feel and know the superiority of Professor Woodensconce? Is Professor Grime insane? or does he wish to be reminded in plain language of his true position in society, and the precise level of his acquirements and abilities? Professor Grime will do well to look to this.’

‘One o’clock.

‘I AM writing in bed. The small cabin is illuminated by the feeble light of a flickering lamp suspended from the ceiling; Professor Grime is lying on the opposite shelf on the broad of his back, with his mouth wide open. The scene is indescribably solemn. The rippling of the tide, the noise of the sailors’ feet overhead, the gruff voices on the river, the dogs on the shore, the snoring of the passengers, and a constant creaking of every plank in the vessel, are the only sounds that meet the ear. With these exceptions, all is profound silence.

‘My curiosity has been within the last moment very much excited. Mr. Slug, who lies above Professor Grime, has cautiously withdrawn the curtains of his berth, and, after looking anxiously out, as if to satisfy himself that his companions are asleep, has taken up the tin tube of which I have before spoken, and is regarding it with great interest. What rare mechanical combination can be contained in that mysterious case? It is evidently a profound secret to all.’

‘A quarter past one.

‘THE behaviour of Mr. Slug grows more and more mysterious. He has unscrewed the top of the tube, and now renews his observations upon his companions, evidently to make sure that he is wholly unobserved. He is clearly on the eve of some great experiment. Pray heaven that it be not a dangerous one; but the interests of science must be promoted, and I am prepared for the worst.’

‘Five minutes later.

‘HE has produced a large pair of scissors, and drawn a roll of some substance, not unlike parchment in appearance, from the tin case. The experiment is about to begin. I must strain my eyes to the utmost, in the attempt to follow its minutest operation.’

‘Twenty minutes before two.

‘I HAVE at length been enabled to ascertain that the tin tube contains a few yards of some celebrated plaster, recommended—as I discover on regarding the label attentively through my eye-glass—as a preservative against sea-sickness. Mr. Slug has cut it up into small portions, and is now sticking it over himself in every direction.’

‘Three o’clock.

‘PRECISELY a quarter of an hour ago we weighed anchor, and the machinery was suddenly put in motion with a noise so appalling, that Professor Woodensconce (who had ascended to his berth by means of a platform of carpet-bags arranged by himself on geometrical principals) darted from his shelf head foremost, and, gaining his feet with all the rapidity of extreme terror, ran wildly into the ladies’ cabin, under the impression that we were sinking, and uttering loud cries for aid. I am assured that the scene which ensued baffles all description. There were one hundred and forty-seven ladies in their respective berths at the time.

‘Mr. Slug has remarked, as an additional instance of the extreme ingenuity of the steam-engine as applied to purposes of navigation, that in whatever part of the vessel a passenger’s berth may be situated, the machinery always appears to be exactly under his pillow. He intends stating this very beautiful, though simple discovery, to the association.’

‘Half-past ten.

‘WE are still in smooth water; that is to say, in as smooth water as a steam-vessel ever can be, for, as Professor Woodensconce (who has just woke up) learnedly remarks, another great point of ingenuity about a steamer is, that it always carries a little storm with it. You can scarcely conceive how exciting the jerking pulsation of the ship becomes. It is a matter of positive difficulty to get to sleep.’

‘Friday afternoon, six o’clock.

‘I REGRET to inform you that Mr. Slug’s plaster has proved of no avail. He is in great agony, but has applied several large, additional pieces notwithstanding. How affecting is this extreme devotion to science and pursuit of knowledge under the most trying circumstances!

‘We were extremely happy this morning, and the breakfast was one of the most animated description. Nothing unpleasant occurred until noon, with the exception of Doctor Foxey’s brown silk umbrella and white hat becoming entangled in the machinery while he was explaining to a knot of ladies the construction of the steam-engine. I fear the gravy soup for lunch was injudicious. We lost a great many passengers almost immediately afterwards.’

‘Half-past six.

“Le dodici in punto.”

Il porto al vino caldo fuma davanti a me sul tavolo, e il Professore Grime ha vinto. Il gioco dei dadi è un gioco di fortuna; ma in ogni ambito, sia pubblico che privato, che si tratti di doti intellettuali o di successi scientifici, non posso fare a meno di esprimere la mia opinione: il Professore Woodensconce avrebbe dovuto uscire vincitore. C’è una sorta di euforia intorno al Professore Grime che, temo, non sia compatibile con vera grandezza.

‘Le dodici e un quarto.’

‘Il Professore Grime continua a esultare e a vantarsi della sua vittoria in termini piuttosto esagerati, sostenendo di vincere sempre e che già da prima sapeva che si trattasse di una “vittoria decisiva”, tra molte altre osservazioni dello stesso tenore. Sicuramente questo signore non è così privo di ogni senso della decenza e del decoro da non rendersi conto della superiorità del Professore Woodensconce. È forse pazzo, o preferisce che gli venga ricordato in termini chiari quale sia la sua vera posizione nella società, nonché il livello preciso delle sue conoscenze e capacità? Il Professore Grime farebbe bene a prendere in considerazione questo aspetto.’

‘Le una.’

“Sto scrivendo a letto. La piccola cabina è illuminata dalla debole luce di una lampada che tremola appesa al soffitto; il Professor Grime giace sul ripiano opposto, disteso sulla schiena, con la bocca spalancata. La scena è indescrivibilmente solenne. Il rumore delle onde, i passi dei marinai sopra la mia testa, le voci roche lungo il fiume, i cani sulla riva, il russare dei passeggeri e lo scricchiolio continuo di ogni tavola della barca. Questi sono gli unici suoni che raggiungono le mie orecchie. A parte questi, regna un profondo silenzio.”

“La mia curiosità è stata molto stimolata nell’ultimo momento. Il signor Slug, che si trova sopra il professor Grime, ha cautamente tirato indietro le tende della sua cuccetta e, dopo aver guardato fuori con ansia, come per assicurarsi che i suoi compagni dormissero, ha preso quel tubo di latta di cui ho parlato prima e lo sta osservando con grande interesse. Quale rara combinazione meccanica può essere contenuta in quella misteriosa scatola? È evidente che si tratti di un segreto profondo, noto solo a pochi.”

‘Le una e quarto.’

Il comportamento del signor Slug diventa sempre più misterioso. Ha svitato il coperchio del tubo e ora riprende le sue osservazioni sui suoi compagni, evidentemente per assicurarsi di non essere visto. È chiaramente all’alba di qualche grande esperimento. Prego che non sia pericoloso; ma gli interessi della scienza devono essere promossi, e sono pronto al peggio.

‘Cinque minuti dopo.’

Ha preparato un paio di forbici grandi e ha tirato fuori dalla scatola di latta un rotolo di una sostanza che assomiglia molto alla pergamena. L’esperimento sta per iniziare. Devo sforzarmi al massimo per seguire ogni singola sua fase.

“Venti minuti prima delle due.”

‘Finalmente sono riuscito a verificare che quel tubo di latta contiene alcuni metri di una certa pasta famosa, raccomandata – come leggo attentamente sull’etichetta con il mio monocolo – come rimedio contro il mal di mare. Il signor Slug l’ha tagliata in piccoli pezzi e ora se la sta applicando su tutto il corpo.’

“Le tre in punto.”

‘Esattamente un quarto d’ora fa abbiamo levato l’ancora, e le macchine si sono improvvisamente messe in movimento con un rumore così terribile che il Professor Woodensconce (che era salito nella sua cabina utilizzando una piattaforma fatta di borse di velluto disposte secondo principi geometrici da lui stesso) è balzato giù dalla sua cuccetta a testa in avanti; recuperata l’equilibrio con la massima rapidità dovuta al terrore, è corso nella cabina delle signore, convinto che stessimo affondando, e ha lanciato grida disperate per chiedere aiuto. Sono certo che la scena che ne è seguita sia impossibile da descrivere. A quell’ora, c’erano centoquarantasette signore nelle loro rispettive cabine.’

‘Il signor Slug ha osservato, come ulteriore esempio dell’estrema ingegnosità della macchina a vapore applicata ai fini della navigazione, che in qualsiasi parte della nave si trovi la cabina di un passeggero, la macchinaria sembra sempre essere esattamente sotto il suo cuscino. Intende presentare questa scoperta molto bella, sebbene semplice, all’associazione.’

“Mezzanotte e mezza.”

“Siamo ancora in acque tranquille; voglio dire, in acque così tranquille quanto possano esserlo quelle di una nave a vapore. Come ha osservato con erudizione il professor Woodensconce (che si è appena svegliato), un altro grande aspetto ingegnoso delle navi a vapore è che portano sempre con sé un po’ di ‘tempesta’. È quasi impossibile immaginare quanto possa essere eccitante la pulsazione improvvisa della nave. È davvero difficile riuscire a addormentarsi.”

“Venerdì pomeriggio, le sei in punto.”

“Mi dispiace molto comunicarvi che il gesso utilizzato dal signor Slug non ha avuto alcun effetto. Sta soffrendo molto, ma nonostante ciò ha applicato diversi pezzi aggiuntivi di gesso. Quanto commovente è questa estrema dedizione alla scienza e alla ricerca della conoscenza, anche nelle circostanze più difficili!”

‘Stamattina eravamo estremamente felici, e la colazione è stata davvero una delle più piacevoli che abbiamo mai avuto. Niente di sgradevole è accaduto fino a mezzogiorno, ad eccezione del fatto che l’ombrello di seta marrone e il cappello bianco del Dottor Foxey si sono impigliati nella macchinaria mentre spiegava alle signore il funzionamento della macchina a vapore. Temo che la zuppa di carne per pranzo non sia stata una scelta saggia. Poco dopo abbiamo perso molti passeggeri.’

“Le sei e mezza.”

‘I AM again in bed. Anything so heart-rending as Mr. Slug’s sufferings it has never yet been my lot to witness.’

‘Seven o’clock.

‘A MESSENGER has just come down for a clean pocket-handkerchief from Professor Woodensconce’s bag, that unfortunate gentleman being quite unable to leave the deck, and imploring constantly to be thrown overboard. From this man I understand that Professor Nogo, though in a state of utter exhaustion, clings feebly to the hard biscuit and cold brandy and water, under the impression that they will yet restore him. Such is the triumph of mind over matter.

‘Professor Grime is in bed, to all appearance quite well; but he will eat, and it is disagreeable to see him. Has this gentleman no sympathy with the sufferings of his fellow-creatures? If he has, on what principle can he call for mutton-chops—and smile?’

‘Black Boy and Stomach-ache, Oldcastle, Saturday noon.

‘YOU will be happy to learn that I have at length arrived here in safety. The town is excessively crowded, and all the private lodgings and hotels are filled with savans of both sexes. The tremendous assemblage of intellect that one encounters in every street is in the last degree overwhelming.

‘Notwithstanding the throng of people here, I have been fortunate enough to meet with very comfortable accommodation on very reasonable terms, having secured a sofa in the first-floor passage at one guinea per night, which includes permission to take my meals in the bar, on condition that I walk about the streets at all other times, to make room for other gentlemen similarly situated. I have been over the outhouses intended to be devoted to the reception of the various sections, both here and at the Boot-jack and Countenance, and am much delighted with the arrangements. Nothing can exceed the fresh appearance of the saw-dust with which the floors are sprinkled. The forms are of unplaned deal, and the general effect, as you can well imagine, is extremely beautiful.’

‘Half-past nine.

‘THE number and rapidity of the arrivals are quite bewildering. Within the last ten minutes a stage-coach has driven up to the door, filled inside and out with distinguished characters, comprising Mr. Muddlebranes, Mr. Drawley, Professor Muff, Mr. X. Misty, Mr. X. X. Misty, Mr. Purblind, Professor Rummun, The Honourable and Reverend Mr. Long Eers, Professor John Ketch, Sir William Joltered, Doctor Buffer, Mr. Smith (of London), Mr. Brown (of Edinburgh), Sir Hookham Snivey, and Professor Pumpkinskull. The ten last-named gentlemen were wet through, and looked extremely intelligent.’

‘Sunday, two o’clock, p.m.

‘THE Honourable and Reverend Mr. Long Eers, accompanied by Sir William Joltered, walked and drove this morning. They accomplished the former feat in boots, and the latter in a hired fly. This has naturally given rise to much discussion.

‘I have just learnt that an interview has taken place at the Boot-jack and Countenance between Sowster, the active and intelligent beadle of this place, and Professor Pumpkinskull, who, as your readers are doubtless aware, is an influential member of the council. I forbear to communicate any of the rumours to which this very extraordinary proceeding has given rise until I have seen Sowster, and endeavoured to ascertain the truth from him.’

‘Half-past six.

‘I ENGAGED a donkey-chaise shortly after writing the above, and proceeded at a brisk trot in the direction of Sowster’s residence, passing through a beautiful expanse of country, with red brick buildings on either side, and stopping in the marketplace to observe the spot where Mr. Kwakley’s hat was blown off yesterday. It is an uneven piece of paving, but has certainly no appearance which would lead one to suppose that any such event had recently occurred there. From this point I proceeded—passing the gas-works and tallow-melter’s—to a lane which had been pointed out to me as the beadle’s place of residence; and before I had driven a dozen yards further, I had the good fortune to meet Sowster himself advancing towards me.

‘Sowster is a fat man, with a more enlarged development of that peculiar conformation of countenance which is vulgarly termed a double chin than I remember to have ever seen before. He has also a very red nose, which he attributes to a habit of early rising—so red, indeed, that but for this explanation I should have supposed it to proceed from occasional inebriety. He informed me that he did not feel himself at liberty to relate what had passed between himself and Professor Pumpkinskull, but had no objection to state that it was connected with a matter of police regulation, and added with peculiar significance “Never wos sitch times!”

‘You will easily believe that this intelligence gave me considerable surprise, not wholly unmixed with anxiety, and that I lost no time in waiting on Professor Pumpkinskull, and stating the object of my visit. After a few moments’ reflection, the Professor, who, I am bound to say, behaved with the utmost politeness, openly avowed (I mark the passage in italics) that he had requested Sowster to attend on the Monday morning at the Boot-jack and Countenance, to keep off the boys; and that he had further desired that the under-beadle might be stationed, with the same object, at the Black Boy and Stomach-ache!

‘Now I leave this unconstitutional proceeding to your comments and the consideration of your readers. I have yet to learn that a beadle, without the precincts of a church, churchyard, or work-house, and acting otherwise than under the express orders of churchwardens and overseers in council assembled, to enforce the law against people who come upon the parish, and other offenders, has any lawful authority whatever over the rising youth of this country. I have yet to learn that a beadle can be called out by any civilian to exercise a domination and despotism over the boys of Britain. I have yet to learn that a beadle will be permitted by the commissioners of poor law regulation to wear out the soles and heels of his boots in illegal interference with the liberties of people not proved poor or otherwise criminal. I have yet to learn that a beadle has power to stop up the Queen’s highway at his will and pleasure, or that the whole width of the street is not free and open to any man, boy, or woman in existence, up to the very walls of the houses—ay, be they Black Boys and Stomach-aches, or Boot-jacks and Countenances, I care not.’

‘Nine o’clock.

‘I have procured a local artist to make a faithful sketch of the tyrant Sowster, which, as he has acquired this infamous celebrity, you will no doubt wish to have engraved for the purpose of presenting a copy with every copy of your next number. I enclose it.

[Picture: The Tyrant Sowster]

The under-beadle has consented to write his life, but it is to be strictly anonymous.

‘The accompanying likeness is of course from the life, and complete in every respect. Even if I had been totally ignorant of the man’s real character, and it had been placed before me without remark, I should have shuddered involuntarily. There is an intense malignity of expression in the features, and a baleful ferocity of purpose in the ruffian’s eye, which appals and sickens. His whole air is rampant with cruelty, nor is the stomach less characteristic of his demoniac propensities.’

‘Monday.

‘THE great day has at length arrived. I have neither eyes, nor ears, nor pens, nor ink, nor paper, for anything but the wonderful proceedings that have astounded my senses. Let me collect my energies and proceed to the account.

‘SECTION A.—ZOOLOGY AND BOTANY.

“Sono di nuovo a letto. Niente è mai stato così straziante da vedere come le sofferenze del signor Slug.”

“Le sette in punto.”

Un messaggero è appena sceso per prendere un fazzoletto pulito dalla borsa del professor Woodensconce: quel povero signore non riesce affatto a lasciare il ponte e continua a supplicare di essere gettato in mare. Da quest’uomo ho saputo che il professor Nogo, sebbene in uno stato di estrema spossatezza, si aggrappa debolmente ai biscotti duri, al brandy freddo e all’acqua, convinto che questi possano ancora ristabilirlo. Ecco il trionfo della mente sulla materia.

‘Il professor Grime è a letto; a prima vista sembra stare piuttosto bene; ma mangia comunque, e è davvero spiacevole vederlo. Questo signore non prova alcuna compassione per le sofferenze dei suoi simili? Se sì, su quale principio può chiedere delle costolette di agnello, e sorridere?’

“Black Boy e mal di stomaco,
Oldcastle, sabato a mezzogiorno.”

Sarà felice di sapere che finalmente sono arrivato qui sano e salvo. La città è estremamente affollata, e tutte le locande private e gli hotel sono pieni di sapienti di entrambi i sessi. L’enorme concentrazione di intelletto che si incontra in ogni strada è davvero sopraffacente.

‘Nonostante la folla numerosa qui intorno, sono stato abbastanza fortunato da trovare un alloggio molto confortevole a condizioni molto ragionevoli: ho ottenuto un divano nel corridoio del primo piano per una guinea a notte, con il permesso di consumare i pasti al bar, a condizione che in tutti gli altri momenti cammini per le strade, per lasciare spazio ad altri gentiluomini nella stessa situazione. Ho visitato anche le strutture destinate ad accogliere le varie sezioni, sia qui che al Boot-jack e al Countenance, ed sono molto soddisfatto degli arrangiamenti fatti. Niente può superare l’aspetto fresco dei pavimenti, puliti con la polvere di segatura. Gli arredi sono realizzati in legno non levigato, e l’effetto complessivo, come potete ben immaginare, è estremamente bello.’

“Le nove e mezza.”

‘Il numero e la rapidità degli arrivi sono davvero sconcertanti. Negli ultimi dieci minuti, un treno viaggiante si è fermato davanti alla porta, pieno fino all’orlo di personaggi illustri: il signor Muddlebranes, il signor Drawley, il professor Muff, il signor X. Misty, il signor X. X. Misty, il signor Purblind, il professor Rummun, l’onorevole e reverendo signor Long Eers, il professor John Ketch, sir William Joltered, il dottor Buffer, il signor Smith (di Londra), il signor Brown (di Edimburgo), sir Hookham Snivey e il professor Pumpkinskull. Gli ultimi dieci gentiluomini menzionati erano completamente bagnati e sembravano estremamente intelligenti.’

Domenica, due ore pomeridiane

“L’onorevole e rispettabile signor Long Eers, accompagnato da sir William Jolter, ha camminato e viaggiato questa mattina. Ha compiuto il primo percorso indossando stivali, mentre il secondo utilizzando una carrozza noleggiata. Naturalmente, questo ha suscitato molte discussioni.”

“Ho appena saputo che è avvenuta un’intervista presso il Boot-jack and Countenance tra Sowster, l’attiva e intelligente custode di questo luogo, e il Professor Pumpkinskull, che, come i vostri lettori sicuramente sanno, è un membro influente del consiglio. Rinuncio per ora a diffondere qualsiasi voce possa derivare da questo straordinario evento, fino a quando non avrò incontrato Sowster e cercato di conoscere la verità direttamente da lui.”

“Le sei e mezza.”

Poco dopo aver scritto quanto sopra, noleggiai una carrozza a cavalli e partii al trotto verso la residenza di Sowster, attraversando un bellissimo paesaggio rurale con edifici in mattoni rossi su entrambi i lati. Mi fermai nel mercato per osservare il luogo dove ieri era stato strappato il cappello a Mr. Kwakley. Il terreno era irregolare, ma non presentava alcun segno che potesse far pensare che un evento del genere fosse avvenuto di recente lì. Proseguii oltre, superando le fabbriche di gas e i laboratori per la produzione di sego, fino a raggiungere una stradina che mi era stata indicata come residenza del sagrestano; non avevo percorso nemmeno dodici metri quando ebbi la fortuna di incontrare Sowster stesso mentre si avvicinava a me.

‘Sowster è un uomo grasso, con quella particolare conformazione del viso che comunemente viene definita “doppio mento”, la più evidente che abbia mai visto. Ha anche il naso molto rosso; attribuisce questa condizione all’abitudine di alzarsi presto al mattino. Così rosso, in effetti, che se non fosse per questa spiegazione, avrei pensato che derivasse da occasionali ubriachezze. Mi ha detto di non sentirsi libero di raccontare ciò che è accaduto tra lui e il Professor Pumpkinskull, ma non aveva obiezioni ad affermare che la cosa fosse legata a questioni di ordine pubblico. E ha aggiunto, con un tono particolarmente significativo: “Non si erano mai visti tempi del genere!”

“Potrete facilmente credere che questa notizia mi abbia causato notevole sorpresa, non del tutto priva di ansia; non ho perso dunque tempo ad andare dal Professor Pumpkinskull per esporre lo scopo della mia visita. Dopo alcuni momenti di riflessione, il professor – devo dire che si è comportato con la massima cortesia – ammise apertamente (sottolineo questo passaggio in grassetto) che aveva chiesto a Sowster di presentarsi lunedì mattina al Boot-jack and Countenance per tenere lontani i ragazzi; inoltre, aveva anche desiderato che il vice-baile fosse piazzato, allo stesso scopo, al Black Boy and Stomach-ache!”

“Ora lascio questa procedura incostituzionale ai vostri commenti e alla considerazione dei vostri lettori. Non ho ancora appreso che un beadle, al di fuori dei confini di una chiesa, di un cimitero o di un centro assistenziale, e agendo in modo diverso dalle esplicite istruzioni dei supervisori e dei consigli ecclesiastici riuniti, abbia alcun potere legittimo su quei giovani che vivono in questa regione. Non ho ancora appreso che un beadle possa essere chiamato da un civile per esercitare dominio e dispotismo sui ragazzi della Gran Bretagna. Non ho ancora appreso che i funzionari incaricati delle normative assistenziali permettano a un beadle di consumare le suole e le punte delle sue scarpe interferendo illegalmente con le libertà delle persone che non sono state riconosciute povere o colpevoli di alcun reato. Non ho ancora appreso che un beadle abbia il potere di bloccare la strada della Regina a suo piacimento, o che l’intera larghezza della strada non sia libera e aperta a qualsiasi uomo, ragazzo o donna esistente, fino alle stesse pareti delle case. Che importa se si tratta di Black Boys, Stomach-aches, Boot-jacks o Countenances, ”

“Le nove in punto.”

Ho fatto venire un artista locale affinché realizzasse uno schizzo fedele di Sowster, il tiranno. Poiché ha ottenuto l’opportunità di ritrarre questa famigerata figura, non dubito che desideriate farlo incidere, al fine di includere una copia in ogni numero successivo della vostra pubblicazione. Vi invio lo schizzo insieme alla lettera.

[Immagine: La Tiranna Sowster]

Il vice-cappellano ha acconsentito a scrivere la storia della sua vita, ma dovrà essere fatto in modo strettamente anonimo.

‘L’immagine che accompagna il racconto proviene naturalmente dalla sua vita reale ed è completa sotto ogni aspetto. Anche se fossi stato completamente all’ignaro del vero carattere di quell’uomo, e se mi fosse stata mostrata senza alcuna spiegazione, avrei rabbrividito involontariamente. Nelle sue sembianze c’è un’intensa malvagità nell’espressione, e nello sguardo di quel furfante si legge una ferocia minacciosa che incute terrore e disgusto. L’intera sua aria trasuda crudeltà; anche il suo modo di comportarsi riflette appieno le sue tendenze demoniache.’

“Lunedì”.

“Il grande giorno è finalmente arrivato. Non ho occhi, né orecchie, né pensieri, né inchiostro, né carta, nulla se non per descrivere questi meravigliosi eventi che hanno sconvolto i miei sensi. Lasciate che raccolga le mie energie e proceda con il resoconto.”

‘SEZIONE A – ZOLOGIA E BOTANICA.’

FRONT PARLOUR, BLACK BOY AND STOMACH-ACHE.

President—Sir William Joltered. Vice-Presidents—Mr. Muddlebranes and Mr. Drawley.

‘MR. X. X. MISTY communicated some remarks on the disappearance of dancing-bears from the streets of London, with observations on the exhibition of monkeys as connected with barrel-organs. The writer had observed, with feelings of the utmost pain and regret, that some years ago a sudden and unaccountable change in the public taste took place with reference to itinerant bears, who, being discountenanced by the populace, gradually fell off one by one from the streets of the metropolis, until not one remained to create a taste for natural history in the breasts of the poor and uninstructed. One bear, indeed,—a brown and ragged animal,—had lingered about the haunts of his former triumphs, with a worn and dejected visage and feeble limbs, and had essayed to wield his quarter-staff for the amusement of the multitude; but hunger, and an utter want of any due recompense for his abilities, had at length driven him from the field, and it was only too probable that he had fallen a sacrifice to the rising taste for grease. He regretted to add that a similar, and no less lamentable, change had taken place with reference to monkeys. These delightful animals had formerly been almost as plentiful as the organs on the tops of which they were accustomed to sit; the proportion in the year 1829 (it appeared by the parliamentary return) being as one monkey to three organs. Owing, however, to an altered taste in musical instruments, and the substitution, in a great measure, of narrow boxes of music for organs, which left the monkeys nothing to sit upon, this source of public amusement was wholly dried up. Considering it a matter of the deepest importance, in connection with national education, that the people should not lose such opportunities of making themselves acquainted with the manners and customs of two most interesting species of animals, the author submitted that some measures should be immediately taken for the restoration of these pleasing and truly intellectual amusements.

‘THE PRESIDENT inquired by what means the honourable member proposed to attain this most desirable end?

‘THE AUTHOR submitted that it could be most fully and satisfactorily accomplished, if Her Majesty’s Government would cause to be brought over to England, and maintained at the public expense, and for the public amusement, such a number of bears as would enable every quarter of the town to be visited—say at least by three bears a week. No difficulty whatever need be experienced in providing a fitting place for the reception of these animals, as a commodious bear-garden could be erected in the immediate neighbourhood of both Houses of Parliament; obviously the most proper and eligible spot for such an establishment.

‘PROFESSOR MULL doubted very much whether any correct ideas of natural history were propagated by the means to which the honourable member had so ably adverted. On the contrary, he believed that they had been the means of diffusing very incorrect and imperfect notions on the subject. He spoke from personal observation and personal experience, when he said that many children of great abilities had been induced to believe, from what they had observed in the streets, at and before the period to which the honourable gentleman had referred, that all monkeys were born in red coats and spangles, and that their hats and feathers also came by nature. He wished to know distinctly whether the honourable gentleman attributed the want of encouragement the bears had met with to the decline of public taste in that respect, or to a want of ability on the part of the bears themselves?

‘MR. X. X. MISTY replied, that he could not bring himself to believe but that there must be a great deal of floating talent among the bears and monkeys generally; which, in the absence of any proper encouragement, was dispersed in other directions.

‘PROFESSOR PUMPKINSKULL wished to take that opportunity of calling the attention of the section to a most important and serious point. The author of the treatise just read had alluded to the prevalent taste for bears’-grease as a means of promoting the growth of hair, which undoubtedly was diffused to a very great and (as it appeared to him) very alarming extent. No gentleman attending that section could fail to be aware of the fact that the youth of the present age evinced, by their behaviour in the streets, and at all places of public resort, a considerable lack of that gallantry and gentlemanly feeling which, in more ignorant times, had been thought becoming. He wished to know whether it were possible that a constant outward application of bears’-grease by the young gentlemen about town had imperceptibly infused into those unhappy persons something of the nature and quality of the bear. He shuddered as he threw out the remark; but if this theory, on inquiry, should prove to be well founded, it would at once explain a great deal of unpleasant eccentricity of behaviour, which, without some such discovery, was wholly unaccountable.

‘THE PRESIDENT highly complimented the learned gentleman on his most valuable suggestion, which produced the greatest effect upon the assembly; and remarked that only a week previous he had seen some young gentlemen at a theatre eyeing a box of ladies with a fierce intensity, which nothing but the influence of some brutish appetite could possibly explain. It was dreadful to reflect that our youth were so rapidly verging into a generation of bears.

‘After a scene of scientific enthusiasm it was resolved that this important question should be immediately submitted to the consideration of the council.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to know whether any gentleman could inform the section what had become of the dancing-dogs?

‘A MEMBER replied, after some hesitation, that on the day after three glee-singers had been committed to prison as criminals by a late most zealous police-magistrate of the metropolis, the dogs had abandoned their professional duties, and dispersed themselves in different quarters of the town to gain a livelihood by less dangerous means. He was given to understand that since that period they had supported themselves by lying in wait for and robbing blind men’s poodles.

‘MR. FLUMMERY exhibited a twig, claiming to be a veritable branch of that noble tree known to naturalists as the SHAKSPEARE, which has taken root in every land and climate, and gathered under the shade of its broad green boughs the great family of mankind. The learned gentleman remarked that the twig had been undoubtedly called by other names in its time; but that it had been pointed out to him by an old lady in Warwickshire, where the great tree had grown, as a shoot of the genuine SHAKSPEARE, by which name he begged to introduce it to his countrymen.

‘THE PRESIDENT wished to know what botanical definition the honourable gentleman could afford of the curiosity.

‘MR. FLUMMERY expressed his opinion that it was A DECIDED PLANT.

‘SECTION B.—DISPLAY OF MODELS AND MECHANICAL SCIENCE.

Sala d’ingresso anteriore, ragazzo nero e mal di stomaco.

Presidente—Sir William Jolter. Vicepresidenti—Signor Muddlebranes e Signor Drawley.

‘Il signor X. X. MISTY ha espresso alcune osservazioni riguardo alla scomparsa degli orsi ballerini dalle strade di Londra, nonché commenti sull’esposizione di scimmie in relazione agli organi a barile. L’autore ha riferito, con profondo dolore e rammarico, che alcuni anni fa si è verificato un improvviso e inspiegabile cambiamento nei gusti del pubblico riguardo agli orsi itineranti: questi, disprezzati dalla gente comune, sono gradualmente scomparsi una dopo l’altra dalle strade della metropoli, fino a quando non ne è rimasto nessuno a suscitare nell’animo dei poveri e degli ignoranti alcun interesse per la “storia naturale”. Un orso, in particolare – un animale marrone e malandato – continuava ancora a girovagare nei luoghi dove un tempo aveva riscosso successo, con un aspetto stanco e depresso e arti deboli; tentava ancora di esibirsi per divertire la folla, ma la fame e l’assenza totale di ricompense adeguate per le sue capacità lo hanno alla fine costretto ad abbandonare quel mestiere. Ed è molto probabile che sia diventato vittima della crescente preferenza per gli alimenti grassi. L’autore si rammarica inoltre che lo stesso, altrettanto deplorevole cambiamento si sia verificato anche per le scimmie: queste deliziose animali un tempo erano quasi così numerose quanto gli organi musicali su cui avevano l’abitudine di sedersi; nel 1829, secondo i dati parlamentari, il rapporto era di una scimmia ogni tre organi. Tuttavia, a causa del cambiamento dei gusti nella musica e della sostituzione, in gran parte, degli organi tradizionali con strumenti musicali più compatti, questa fonte di divertimento pubblico è completamente scomparsa. Ritenendo che sia di estrema importanza, in relazione all’educazione nazionale, evitare che la gente perda queste opportunità di conoscere i costumi e le abitudini di due specie di animali così interessanti, l’autore propone che vengano immediatamente adottate misure per ripristinare questi piacevoli e davvero intellettuali divertimenti.’

“Il Presidente chiese con quali mezzi l’onorevole membro intendesse raggiungere questo scopo tanto desiderabile.”

‘L’AUTORE sostenne che ciò potesse essere realizzato in modo più completo e soddisfacente se il Governo di Sua Maestà facesse trasferire in Inghilterra, a spese pubbliche e per divertimento del pubblico, un numero sufficiente di orsi in modo che ogni quartiere della città potesse essere visitato almeno tre volte a settimana. Non si incontrerebbero alcuna difficoltà nell’organizzare un luogo adatto all’accoglienza di questi animali, poiché si potrebbe costruire un comodo giardino degli orsi nelle immediate vicinanze delle due Camere del Parlamento: ovviamente il luogo più appropriato e idoneo per una simile iniziativa.’

‘Il professor Mull dubitava molto che idee corrette sulla storia naturale venissero diffuse attraverso i mezzi di cui l’onorevole membro aveva parlato con tanta abilità. Al contrario, riteneva che quei mezzi avessero contribuito a diffondere nozioni molto errate e imperfette sull’argomento. Si basava su osservazioni personali ed esperienze dirette quando affermava che molti bambini di grande talento fossero stati indotti a credere, in base a ciò che avevano visto per strada, che tutti i scimmioni nascessero con cappotti rossi e decorazioni luccicanti, e che anche i loro cappelli e piume derivassero dalla >natura. Voleva sapere con certezza se l’onorevole membro attribuisse la mancanza di incoraggiamenti ricevuti dai orsi al declino del gusto pubblico in quel campo, o piuttosto a una carenza di capacità da parte degli stessi orsi.’

“Il signor X. X. Misty rispose che non riusciva a credere altrimenti, ma che dovesse esserci un gran numero di talenti ‘fluttuanti’ tra orsi e scimmie in generale; questi, in assenza di qualsiasi incoraggiamento appropriato, si disperdevano in altre direzioni.”

‘Il Professor Pumpkinskull volle cogliere l’occasione per attirare l’attenzione del pubblico su un punto estremamente importante e grave. L’autore del trattato appena letto aveva accennato al diffuso uso dell’olio di orso come mezzo per promuovere la crescita dei capelli, pratica che, a suo parere, era molto diffusa e davvero allarmante. Ogni gentiluomo presente in quella sala non poteva non rendersi conto del fatto che i giovani d’oggi, dal loro comportamento per le strade e in tutti i luoghi di ritrovo pubblico, dimostravano una notevole mancanza di quella cortesia e di quei modi da gentiluomini che, in tempi più ignoranti, erano considerati appropriati. Il professor Pumpkinskull si chiedeva se fosse possibile che l’uso costante di tale sostanza da parte dei giovani cittadini avesse, in modo insospettato, influenzato il loro comportamento, conferendogli tratti tipici dell’orso. Pronunciò queste parole con un brivido; ma se questa teoria si fosse rivelata fondata, avrebbe spiegato molte delle stranezze e degli atteggiamenti incomprensibili che, altrimenti, sarebbero rimasti del tutto inspiegabili.’

“Il Presidente elogiò molto il gentiluomo per la sua preziosa proposta, che ebbe un grande impatto sull’assemblea; e osservò che solo una settimana prima aveva visto alcuni giovani uomini in teatro fissare con intensità una fila di signore, un comportamento che poteva essere spiegato soltanto da un appetito primitivo. È terribile pensare che la nostra gioventù stia rapidamente trasformandosi in una generazione di individui rozzi e brutali.”

Dopo un momento di entusiasmo scientifico, si decise che questa importante questione dovesse essere immediatamente sottoposta all’esame del consiglio.

“Il Presidente voleva sapere se qualcuno potesse informare il gruppo su cosa fosse accaduto ai cani danzanti, ”

Un membro rispose, dopo qualche esitazione, che il giorno successivo all’arresto di tre cantanti di canzoni allegre come criminali da parte di un poliziotto molto zelante della capitale, i >cani avevano abbandonato i loro doveri professionali e si erano dispersi in diverse zone della città per guadagnarsi da vivere con metodi meno pericolosi. Gli fu spiegato che da quel momento in poi si sostentavano tendendo agguati e derubando i cani dei ciechi.

‘Il signor Flummery esibì un rametto, sostenendo che si trattasse di un vero e proprio ramo di quel nobile albero conosciuto dai naturalisti come “Shakespeare”, che ha radici in ogni terra e clima, e sotto l’ombra dei suoi ampi rami verdi ha raccolto tutta la grande famiglia dell’umanità. Il dottore osservò che senza dubbio quel rametto era stato chiamato con altri nomi in passato; ma che gli era stato indicato da una vecchia signora del Warwickshire, dove quell’albero era cresciuto, come un germoglio autentico dello “Shakespeare”; per questo motivo chiese di poter presentarlo ai suoi connazionali con quel nome.’

“Il Presidente desiderava sapere quale definizione botanica l’onorevole gentiluomo potesse fornire di questa curiosità.”

“Il signor Flummery espresse il suo parere secondo cui si trattava di una pianta a crescita rapida.”

‘SEZIONE B.—MOSTRA DI MODELLI E SCIENZE MECCANICHE.’

LARGE ROOM, BOOT-JACK AND COUNTENANCE.

President—Mr. Mallett. Vice-Presidents—Messrs. Leaver and Scroo.

‘MR. CRINKLES exhibited a most beautiful and delicate machine, of little larger size than an ordinary snuff-box, manufactured entirely by himself, and composed exclusively of steel, by the aid of which more pockets could be picked in one hour than by the present slow and tedious process in four-and-twenty. The inventor remarked that it had been put into active operation in Fleet Street, the Strand, and other thoroughfares, and had never been once known to fail.

‘After some slight delay, occasioned by the various members of the section buttoning their pockets,

‘THE PRESIDENT narrowly inspected the invention, and declared that he had never seen a machine of more beautiful or exquisite construction. Would the inventor be good enough to inform the section whether he had taken any and what means for bringing it into general operation?

‘MR. CRINKLES stated that, after encountering some preliminary difficulties, he had succeeded in putting himself in communication with Mr. Fogle Hunter, and other gentlemen connected with the swell mob, who had awarded the invention the very highest and most unqualified approbation. He regretted to say, however, that these distinguished practitioners, in common with a gentleman of the name of Gimlet-eyed Tommy, and other members of a secondary grade of the profession whom he was understood to represent, entertained an insuperable objection to its being brought into general use, on the ground that it would have the inevitable effect of almost entirely superseding manual labour, and throwing a great number of highly-deserving persons out of employment.

‘THE PRESIDENT hoped that no such fanciful objections would be allowed to stand in the way of such a great public improvement.

‘MR. CRINKLES hoped so too; but he feared that if the gentlemen of the swell mob persevered in their objection, nothing could be done.

‘PROFESSOR GRIME suggested, that surely, in that case, Her Majesty’s Government might be prevailed upon to take it up.

‘MR. CRINKLES said, that if the objection were found to be insuperable he should apply to Parliament, which he thought could not fail to recognise the utility of the invention.

‘THE PRESIDENT observed that, up to this time Parliament had certainly got on very well without it; but, as they did their business on a very large scale, he had no doubt they would gladly adopt the improvement. His only fear was that the machine might be worn out by constant working.

‘MR. COPPERNOSE called the attention of the section to a proposition of great magnitude and interest, illustrated by a vast number of models, and stated with much clearness and perspicuity in a treatise entitled “Practical Suggestions on the necessity of providing some harmless and wholesome relaxation for the young noblemen of England.” His proposition was, that a space of ground of not less than ten miles in length and four in breadth should be purchased by a new company, to be incorporated by Act of Parliament, and inclosed by a brick wall of not less than twelve feet in height. He proposed that it should be laid out with highway roads, turnpikes, bridges, miniature villages, and every object that could conduce to the comfort and glory of Four-in-hand Clubs, so that they might be fairly presumed to require no drive beyond it. This delightful retreat would be fitted up with most commodious and extensive stables, for the convenience of such of the nobility and gentry as had a taste for ostlering, and with houses of entertainment furnished in the most expensive and handsome style. It would be further provided with whole streets of door-knockers and bell-handles of extra size, so constructed that they could be easily wrenched off at night, and regularly screwed on again, by attendants provided for the purpose, every day. There would also be gas lamps of real glass, which could be broken at a comparatively small expense per dozen, and a broad and handsome foot pavement for gentlemen to drive their cabriolets upon when they were humorously disposed—for the full enjoyment of which feat live pedestrians would be procured from the workhouse at a very small charge per head. The place being inclosed, and carefully screened from the intrusion of the public, there would be no objection to gentlemen laying aside any article of their costume that was considered to interfere with a pleasant frolic, or, indeed, to their walking about without any costume at all, if they liked that better. In short, every facility of enjoyment would be afforded that the most gentlemanly person could possibly desire. But as even these advantages would be incomplete unless there were some means provided of enabling the nobility and gentry to display their prowess when they sallied forth after dinner, and as some inconvenience might be experienced in the event of their being reduced to the necessity of pummelling each other, the inventor had turned his attention to the construction of an entirely new police force, composed exclusively of automaton figures, which, with the assistance of the ingenious Signor Gagliardi, of Windmill-street, in the Haymarket, he had succeeded in making with such nicety, that a policeman, cab-driver, or old woman, made upon the principle of the models exhibited, would walk about until knocked down like any real man; nay, more, if set upon and beaten by six or eight noblemen or gentlemen, after it was down, the figure would utter divers groans, mingled with entreaties for mercy, thus rendering the illusion complete, and the enjoyment perfect. But the invention did not stop even here; for station-houses would be built, containing good beds for noblemen and gentlemen during the night, and in the morning they would repair to a commodious police office, where a pantomimic investigation would take place before the automaton magistrates,—quite equal to life,—who would fine them in so many counters, with which they would be previously provided for the purpose. This office would be furnished with an inclined plane, for the convenience of any nobleman or gentleman who might wish to bring in his horse as a witness; and the prisoners would be at perfect liberty, as they were now, to interrupt the complainants as much as they pleased, and to make any remarks that they thought proper. The charge for these amusements would amount to very little more than they already cost, and the inventor submitted that the public would be much benefited and comforted by the proposed arrangement.

[Picture: Automaton Police Office, and Real Offenders]

‘PROFESSOR NOGO wished to be informed what amount of automaton police force it was proposed to raise in the first instance.

‘MR. COPPERNOSE replied, that it was proposed to begin with seven divisions of police of a score each, lettered from A to G inclusive. It was proposed that not more than half this number should be placed on active duty, and that the remainder should be kept on shelves in the police office ready to be called out at a moment’s notice.

‘THE PRESIDENT, awarding the utmost merit to the ingenious gentleman who had originated the idea, doubted whether the automaton police would quite answer the purpose. He feared that noblemen and gentlemen would perhaps require the excitement of thrashing living subjects.

‘MR. COPPERNOSE submitted, that as the usual odds in such cases were ten noblemen or gentlemen to one policeman or cab-driver, it could make very little difference in point of excitement whether the policeman or cab-driver were a man or a block. The great advantage would be, that a policeman’s limbs might be all knocked off, and yet he would be in a condition to do duty next day. He might even give his evidence next morning with his head in his hand, and give it equally well.

‘PROFESSOR MUFF.—Will you allow me to ask you, sir, of what materials it is intended that the magistrates’ heads shall be composed?

‘MR. COPPERNOSE.—The magistrates will have wooden heads of course, and they will be made of the toughest and thickest materials that can possibly be obtained.

‘PROFESSOR MUFF.—I am quite satisfied. This is a great invention.

‘PROFESSOR NOGO.—I see but one objection to it. It appears to me that the magistrates ought to talk.

‘MR. COPPERNOSE no sooner heard this suggestion than he touched a small spring in each of the two models of magistrates which were placed upon the table; one of the figures immediately began to exclaim with great volubility that he was sorry to see gentlemen in such a situation, and the other to express a fear that the policeman was intoxicated.

‘The section, as with one accord, declared with a shout of applause that the invention was complete; and the President, much excited, retired with Mr. Coppernose to lay it before the council. On his return,

‘MR. TICKLE displayed his newly-invented spectacles, which enabled the wearer to discern, in very bright colours, objects at a great distance, and rendered him wholly blind to those immediately before him. It was, he said, a most valuable and useful invention, based strictly upon the principle of the human eye.

‘THE PRESIDENT required some information upon this point. He had yet to learn that the human eye was remarkable for the peculiarities of which the honourable gentleman had spoken.

‘MR. TICKLE was rather astonished to hear this, when the President could not fail to be aware that a large number of most excellent persons and great statesmen could see, with the naked eye, most marvellous horrors on West India plantations, while they could discern nothing whatever in the interior of Manchester cotton mills. He must know, too, with what quickness of perception most people could discover their neighbour’s faults, and how very blind they were to their own. If the President differed from the great majority of men in this respect, his eye was a defective one, and it was to assist his vision that these glasses were made.

‘MR. BLANK exhibited a model of a fashionable annual, composed of copper-plates, gold leaf, and silk boards, and worked entirely by milk and water.

‘MR. PROSEE, after examining the machine, declared it to be so ingeniously composed, that he was wholly unable to discover how it went on at all.

‘MR. BLANK.—Nobody can, and that is the beauty of it.

‘SECTION C.—ANATOMY AND MEDICINE.

Stanza grande, con un armadio a muro e un camino.

Presidente—Signor Mallett. Vicepresidenti—Signori Leaver e Scroo.

‘Il signor Crinkles mostrò una macchina davvero bellissima e delicata: di dimensioni leggermente superiori a quelle di una comune scatola da tabacco, interamente costruita da lui stesso in acciaio. Con l’aiuto di questa macchina si potevano rubare più tasche in un’ora rispetto al lento e noioso processo attuale, che richiede ventiquattro ore. L’inventore precisò che tale macchina era già stata messa in funzione in Fleet Street, nella Strand e in altre strade principali, e che non si era mai verificato alcun problema con il suo funzionamento.’

“Dopo un breve ritardo, causato dal fatto che i vari membri del gruppo si sistemavano le tasche, ”

“Il Presidente esaminò attentamente l’invenzione e dichiarò di non aver mai visto una macchina con costruzione più bella ed elegante. L’inventore sarebbe così gentile da informare il dipartimento su quali mezzi abbia utilizzato per renderla operativa a livello generale?”

‘Il signor Crinkles dichiarò che, dopo aver incontrato alcune difficoltà iniziali, era riuscito a mettersi in contatto con il signor Fogle Hunter e altri gentiluomini legati a quella cerchia di persone influenti, i quali avevano dato all’invenzione la più alta e incondizionata approvazione. Tuttavia, si rammaricò di dover dire che questi illustri esperti, insieme a un certo signor Gimlet-eyed Tommy e ad altri membri di rango inferiore della professione che, a quanto pare, rappresentava anche lui, avevano un’opposizione insormontabile all’introduzione generale dell’invenzione. Secondo loro, essa avrebbe avuto l’effetto inevitabile di sostituire quasi completamente il lavoro manuale, causando la disoccupazione di molte persone altamente meritevoli.’

“Il Presidente sperava che obiezioni così fantasiose non ostacolassero un’importante innovazione pubblica di tale portata.”

Anche il signor Crinkles lo sperava; ma temeva che, se quei gentiluomini della folla ostinata avessero continuato a opporsi, non si sarebbe potuto fare nulla.

“Il Professor Grime suggerì che, sicuramente, in quel caso, si potrebbe convincere il Governo di Sua Maestà ad occuparsene.”

“Il signor Crinkles disse che, se si fosse rivelato impossibile superare quell’obiezione, avrebbe chiesto aiuto al Parlamento, convinto che quest’ultimo non potesse fare a meno di riconoscere l’utilità di quella invenzione.”

“Il Presidente osservò che, fino a questo momento, il Parlamento se l’era certamente cavata molto bene senza di essa; ma poiché svolgevano le loro attività su larga scala, non aveva alcun >dubbio che avrebbero volentieri adottato questo miglioramento. La sua unica >paura era che la macchina potesse usurarsi a causa di un uso costante.”

Il signor Coppernose attirò l’attenzione del pubblico su una proposta di grande importanza e interesse, illustrata da un gran numero di modelli e esposta con grande chiarezza e precisione in un trattato intitolato “Suggerimenti pratici sulla necessità di fornire ai giovani nobili d’Inghilterra distrazioni innocue e salutari”. La sua proposta prevedeva l’acquisto di un terreno non inferiore a dieci miglia di lunghezza e quattro di larghezza, da parte di una nuova società costituita per legge parlamentare; il terreno sarebbe stato delimitato da mura in mattoni alte almeno dodici piedi. Si proponeva inoltre di predisporvi strade principali, pedaggi, ponti, villaggi in miniatura e ogni elemento che potesse contribuire al comfort e alla gloria dei club per cavalieri; si riteneva infatti che tali persone non avrebbero mai avuto bisogno di spostarsi altrove. Questo delizioso rifugio sarebbe stato dotato di stalle molto comode e spaziose, nonché di locali di intrattenimento realizzati con il massimo lusso. Sarebbero stati inoltre forniti campanelli e maniglie di porte di dimensioni particolarmente grandi, facilmente rimuovibili di notte e riposizionabili ogni giorno da personale appositamente incaricato; inoltre, sarebbero state installate lanterne a gas realizzate in vetro, facili da sostituire se rotte, e un ampio marciapiede per i signori che desiderassero guidare i loro cabrioletti. Per godersi appieno queste attività, sarebbero stati reperiti pedoni dal ricovero per indigenti a un costo molto basso. Poiché il luogo sarebbe stato completamente recintato e protetto dalla presenza del pubblico, non ci sarebbero state obiezioni se i signori avessero deciso di togliersi qualsiasi indumento che potesse ostacolare le loro divertimenti. In breve, sarebbero state fornite tutte le possibilità per il massimo piacere. Tuttavia, anche queste facilitazioni sarebbero risultate incomplete senza un sistema che permettesse ai nobili di dimostrare la loro abilità dopo cena. L’inventore aveva quindi pensato di creare una nuova forza di polizia composta esclusivamente da automi; con l’aiuto dell’ingegnoso signor Gagliardi, era riuscito a realizzarli in modo così perfetto che un poliziotto o un vecchio uomo costruito secondo questi modelli avrebbe reagito come un vero essere umano. Anzi, se attaccato da sei o otto nobili, l’automato avrebbe emesso gemiti e suppliche di pietà, rendendo l’illusione ancora più realistica. Oltre a ciò, sarebbero state costruite stazioni di polizia dotate di letti confortevoli per i signori durante la notte; al mattino, questi si sarebbero recati in un ufficio di polizia dove avvenivano “indagini” condotte da magistrati automi. Le multe inflitte ai trasgressori venivano pagate con dei gettoni appositi. L’ufficio era anche dotato di una piana inclinata, per permettere ai nobili di portare i loro cavalli come testimoni. I prigionieri avrebbero potuto interrompere i querelanti e fare qualsiasi commento desiderassero. Il costo di queste attività sarebbe stato praticamente lo stesso di quello attuale. L’inventore riteneva che il pubblico ne avrebbe tratto grande beneficio.

Ufficio di Polizia degli Automi e i Veri Criminali

Il ‘Professore Nogo’ desiderava essere informato su quale fosse l’entità delle forze di polizia automatizzate che era stata proposta di aumentare inizialmente.

“Il signor Coppernose rispose che si proponeva di iniziare con sette divisioni di polizia, ciascuna composta da venti agenti, denominate dalla lettera A fino alla G. Si suggeriva che non più della metà di questo numero fosse messo in servizio attivo, mentre il resto dovesse essere tenuto nei locali della polizia, pronto a essere chiamato in qualsiasi momento.”

Il Presidente, riconoscendo il grande merito di quel gentiluomo ingegnoso che aveva avuto l’idea, dubitava che la polizia automata potesse davvero rispondere alle esigenze previste. Temeva inoltre che i nobili e gli altri gentiluomini potessero preferire l’eccitazione derivante dal punire esseri viventi.

‘Il signor Coppernose sostenne che, poiché nelle normali circostanze di casi del genere il rapporto numerico era di dieci nobili o gentiluomini contro un poliziotto o un autista di taxi, non faceva quasi alcuna differenza, in termini di “emozione”, che il poliziotto o l’autista fossero uomini o, blocchi di pietra. Il grande vantaggio sarebbe stato che, anche se a un poliziotto venissero spezzate tutte le membra, egli sarebbe comunque in grado di svolgere il proprio dovere il giorno dopo; anzi, avrebbe potuto fornire la sua testimonianza il mattino seguente, tenendosi la testa tra le mani, e farlo comunque “molto bene”.’

“PROFESSORE MUFF: Le permetterà di chiederle, signore, di quali materiali dovranno essere composte le teste dei magistrati?”

“Signor Coppernose. I magistrati avranno sicuramente teste di legno, e saranno realizzate con i materiali più resistenti e spessi che si possano trovare.”

“PROFESSORE MUFF: Sono assolutamente soddisfatto. Questa è una grande invenzione.”

“PROFESSORE NOGO: Vedo soltanto un’obiezione in merito. A mio parere, i magistrati dovrebbero parlare.”

Non appena il signor Coppernose sentì questa proposta, premette un piccolo meccanismo nascosto in entrambi i modellini di magistrati posizionati sul tavolo; uno dei personaggi iniziò immediatamente a esclamare con grande fervore quanto gli dispiacesse vedere gentiluomini in una tale situazione, mentre l’altro manifestò la >paura che il poliziotto fosse ubriaco.

“La sezione, all’unanimità, dichiarò con un applauso che l’invenzione era completata; e il Presidente, molto eccitato, si ritirò insieme al signor Coppernose per presentarla al consiglio. Al suo ritorno, ”

‘Il signor Tickle mostrò i suoi occhiali appena inventati, che permettevano al loro portatore di vedere gli oggetti a grande distanza in colori molto vividi, ma lo rendevano completamente cieco per quanto riguardava ciò che aveva immediatamente davanti a sé. Disse che si trattava di un’invenzione estremamente preziosa e utile, basata rigorosamente sui principi funzionamenti dell’occhio umano.’

“Il Presidente aveva bisogno di alcune informazioni su questo argomento. Non sapeva ancora che l’occhio umano presentasse quelle particolarità di cui il gentiluomo aveva parlato.”

‘Il signor Tickle rimase piuttosto sorpreso nell’udire queste parole; il Presidente, infatti, doveva essere consapevole del fatto che un gran numero di persone eccellenti e grandi statisti fossero in grado di vedere, a occhio nudo, orrori straordinari nelle piantagioni delle Indie Occidentali, mentre non riuscivano a percepire assolutamente nulla all’interno delle fabbriche di cotone di Manchester. Doveva anche sapere con quanta rapidità la maggior parte delle persone riesca a individuare i difetti altrui, e quanto invece siano cieche riguardo ai propri. Se il Presidente si discostava dalla grande maggioranza degli uomini in questo senso, allora il suo “occhio” era difettoso, ed erano proprio per aiutare la sua visione che questi occhiali erano stati creati.’

Il signor Blank mostrò un modello di un calendario alla moda, realizzato interamente con lastre di rame, foglia d’oro e tavole di seta, e lavorato esclusivamente con latte e acqua.

“Signor Prosee, dopo aver esaminato la macchina, dichiarò che era così ingegnosamente costruita da non riuscire affatto a capire come funzionasse.”

“Signor Blank: nessuno può farlo, ed è proprio in questo che risiede la sua bellezza.”

‘SEZIONE C.—ANATOMIA E MEDICINA.’

BAR ROOM, BLACK BOY AND STOMACH-ACHE.

President—Dr. Soemup. Vice-Presidents—Messrs. Pessell and Mortair.

‘DR. GRUMMIDGE stated to the section a most interesting case of monomania, and described the course of treatment he had pursued with perfect success. The patient was a married lady in the middle rank of life, who, having seen another lady at an evening party in a full suit of pearls, was suddenly seized with a desire to possess a similar equipment, although her husband’s finances were by no means equal to the necessary outlay. Finding her wish ungratified, she fell sick, and the symptoms soon became so alarming, that he (Dr. Grummidge) was called in. At this period the prominent tokens of the disorder were sullenness, a total indisposition to perform domestic duties, great peevishness, and extreme languor, except when pearls were mentioned, at which times the pulse quickened, the eyes grew brighter, the pupils dilated, and the patient, after various incoherent exclamations, burst into a passion of tears, and exclaimed that nobody cared for her, and that she wished herself dead. Finding that the patient’s appetite was affected in the presence of company, he began by ordering a total abstinence from all stimulants, and forbidding any sustenance but weak gruel; he then took twenty ounces of blood, applied a blister under each ear, one upon the chest, and another on the back; having done which, and administered five grains of calomel, he left the patient to her repose. The next day she was somewhat low, but decidedly better, and all appearances of irritation were removed. The next day she improved still further, and on the next again. On the fourth there was some appearance of a return of the old symptoms, which no sooner developed themselves, than he administered another dose of calomel, and left strict orders that, unless a decidedly favourable change occurred within two hours, the patient’s head should be immediately shaved to the very last curl. From that moment she began to mend, and, in less than four-and-twenty hours was perfectly restored. She did not now betray the least emotion at the sight or mention of pearls or any other ornaments. She was cheerful and good-humoured, and a most beneficial change had been effected in her whole temperament and condition.

‘MR. PIPKIN (M.R.C.S.) read a short but most interesting communication in which he sought to prove the complete belief of Sir William Courtenay, otherwise Thorn, recently shot at Canterbury, in the Homoeopathic system. The section would bear in mind that one of the Homoeopathic doctrines was, that infinitesimal doses of any medicine which would occasion the disease under which the patient laboured, supposing him to be in a healthy state, would cure it. Now, it was a remarkable circumstance—proved in the evidence—that the deceased Thorn employed a woman to follow him about all day with a pail of water, assuring her that one drop (a purely homoeopathic remedy, the section would observe), placed upon his tongue, after death, would restore him. What was the obvious inference? That Thorn, who was marching and countermarching in osier beds, and other swampy places, was impressed with a presentiment that he should be drowned; in which case, had his instructions been complied with, he could not fail to have been brought to life again instantly by his own prescription. As it was, if this woman, or any other person, had administered an infinitesimal dose of lead and gunpowder immediately after he fell, he would have recovered forthwith. But unhappily the woman concerned did not possess the power of reasoning by analogy, or carrying out a principle, and thus the unfortunate gentleman had been sacrificed to the ignorance of the peasantry.

‘SECTION D.—STATISTICS.

OUT-HOUSE, BLACK BOY AND STOMACH-ACHE.

President—Mr. Slug. Vice-Presidents—Messrs. Noakes and Styles.

‘MR. KWAKLEY stated the result of some most ingenious statistical inquiries relative to the difference between the value of the qualification of several members of Parliament as published to the world, and its real nature and amount. After reminding the section that every member of Parliament for a town or borough was supposed to possess a clear freehold estate of three hundred pounds per annum, the honourable gentleman excited great amusement and laughter by stating the exact amount of freehold property possessed by a column of legislators, in which he had included himself. It appeared from this table, that the amount of such income possessed by each was 0 pounds, 0 shillings, and 0 pence, yielding an average of the same. (Great laughter.) It was pretty well known that there were accommodating gentlemen in the habit of furnishing new members with temporary qualifications, to the ownership of which they swore solemnly—of course as a mere matter of form. He argued from these data that it was wholly unnecessary for members of Parliament to possess any property at all, especially as when they had none the public could get them so much cheaper.

‘SUPPLEMENTARY SECTION, E.—UMBUGOLOGY AND DITCHWATERISICS.

President—Mr. Grub. Vice Presidents—Messrs. Dull and Dummy.

‘A paper was read by the secretary descriptive of a bay pony with one eye, which had been seen by the author standing in a butcher’s cart at the corner of Newgate Market. The communication described the author of the paper as having, in the prosecution of a mercantile pursuit, betaken himself one Saturday morning last summer from Somers Town to Cheapside; in the course of which expedition he had beheld the extraordinary appearance above described. The pony had one distinct eye, and it had been pointed out to him by his friend Captain Blunderbore, of the Horse Marines, who assisted the author in his search, that whenever he winked this eye he whisked his tail (possibly to drive the flies off), but that he always winked and whisked at the same time. The animal was lean, spavined, and tottering; and the author proposed to constitute it of the family of Fitfordogsmeataurious. It certainly did occur to him that there was no case on record of a pony with one clearly-defined and distinct organ of vision, winking and whisking at the same moment.

‘MR. Q. J. SNUFFLETOFFLE had heard of a pony winking his eye, and likewise of a pony whisking his tail, but whether they were two ponies or the same pony he could not undertake positively to say. At all events, he was acquainted with no authenticated instance of a simultaneous winking and whisking, and he really could not but doubt the existence of such a marvellous pony in opposition to all those natural laws by which ponies were governed. Referring, however, to the mere question of his one organ of vision, might he suggest the possibility of this pony having been literally half asleep at the time he was seen, and having closed only one eye.

‘THE PRESIDENT observed that, whether the pony was half asleep or fast asleep, there could be no doubt that the association was wide awake, and therefore that they had better get the business over, and go to dinner. He had certainly never seen anything analogous to this pony, but he was not prepared to doubt its existence; for he had seen many queerer ponies in his time, though he did not pretend to have seen any more remarkable donkeys than the other gentlemen around him.

‘PROFESSOR JOHN KETCH was then called upon to exhibit the skull of the late Mr. Greenacre, which he produced from a blue bag, remarking, on being invited to make any observations that occurred to him, “that he’d pound it as that ’ere ’spectable section had never seed a more gamerer cove nor he vos.”

‘A most animated discussion upon this interesting relic ensued; and, some difference of opinion arising respecting the real character of the deceased gentleman, Mr. Blubb delivered a lecture upon the cranium before him, clearly showing that Mr. Greenacre possessed the organ of destructiveness to a most unusual extent, with a most remarkable development of the organ of carveativeness. Sir Hookham Snivey was proceeding to combat this opinion, when Professor Ketch suddenly interrupted the proceedings by exclaiming, with great excitement of manner, “Walker!”

‘THE PRESIDENT begged to call the learned gentleman to order.

‘PROFESSOR KETCH.—“Order be blowed! you’ve got the wrong un, I tell you. It ain’t no ’ed at all; it’s a coker-nut as my brother-in-law has been a-carvin’, to hornament his new baked tatur-stall wots a-comin’ down ’ere vile the ’sociation’s in the town. Hand over, vill you?”

‘With these words, Professor Ketch hastily repossessed himself of the cocoa-nut, and drew forth the skull, in mistake for which he had exhibited it. A most interesting conversation ensued; but as there appeared some doubt ultimately whether the skull was Mr. Greenacre’s, or a hospital patient’s, or a pauper’s, or a man’s, or a woman’s, or a monkey’s, no particular result was obtained.’

---

‘I cannot,’ says our talented correspondent in conclusion, ‘I cannot close my account of these gigantic researches and sublime and noble triumphs without repeating a bon mot of Professor Woodensconce’s, which shows how the greatest minds may occasionally unbend when truth can be presented to listening ears, clothed in an attractive and playful form. I was standing by, when, after a week of feasting and feeding, that learned gentleman, accompanied by the whole body of wonderful men, entered the hall yesterday, where a sumptuous dinner was prepared; where the richest wines sparkled on the board, and fat bucks—propitiatory sacrifices to learning—sent forth their savoury odours. “Ah!” said Professor Woodensconce, rubbing his hands, “this is what we meet for; this is what inspires us; this is what keeps us together, and beckons us onward; this is the spread of science, and a glorious spread it is.”’

Bar, ragazzo nero e mal di stomaco.

Presidente—Dottor Soemup. Vicepresidenti—Signori Pessell e Mortair.

Il dottor Grummidge raccontò alla classe un caso molto interessante di monomania, descrivendo il trattamento che aveva adottato con perfetto successo. La paziente era una donna sposata di medio ceto sociale; dopo aver visto un’altra donna a una serata in abito interamente fatto di perle, le era sorto improvvisamente il desiderio di possedere lo stesso abbigliamento, nonostante le finanze di suo marito non fossero affatto sufficienti a coprire tale spesa. Non avendo potuto realizzare questo desiderio, si ammalò e i sintomi divennero così preoccupanti che fu chiamato il dottor Grummidge. In quel periodo, i segni più evidenti del disturbo erano la malinconia, l’incapacità totale di svolgere compiti domestici, una grande irritabilità e un’estrema debolezza, tranne quando si menzionavano le perle: in quei momenti il polso accelerava, gli occhi si illuminavano, le pupille si dilatavano e la paziente, dopo varie esclamazioni incoerenti, scoppiava in lacrime, dichiarando che a nessuno importava nulla di lei e che avrebbe preferito morire. Notando che l’appetito della paziente peggiorava in presenza di altre persone, il dottor Grummidge ordinò di astenersi completamente da ogni sostanza stimolante e di limitare la dieta a una zuppa liquida; inoltre prelevò venti once di %sangue, applicò delle vesciche sotto entrambe le orecchie, una sul petto e un’altra sulla schiena. Dopo aver somministrato cinque grani di calomel, lasciò la paziente riposare. Il giorno seguente stava un po’ meglio, ma decisamente più in forma; tutti i segni di irritabilità erano scomparsi. Nei giorni successivi il suo stato migliorò ulteriormente. Al quarto giorno riapparvero alcuni sintomi precedenti, ma il dottor Grummidge le somministrò un’altra dose di calomel e impartì l’ordine rigoroso che, se entro due ore non si fosse verificato un miglioramento significativo, la paziente dovesse farsi rasare completamente la testa. Da quel momento in poi iniziò a guarire e, in meno di ventiquattro ore, era completamente ripresa. Ora non mostrava più alcuna reazione emotiva alla vista o al menzionamento di perle o altri ornamenti; era allegra e di buon umore, e il suo carattere e la sua salute avevano subito un cambiamento decisivamente positivo.

‘Il signor Pipkin (M.R.C.S.) lesse un breve ma molto interessante comunicato nel quale cercava di dimostrare la totale convinzione del signor William Courtenay, alias Thorn, recentemente ucciso a Canterbury, nei confronti del sistema omeopatico. È importante ricordare che una delle dottrine fondamentali dell’omeopatia sostiene che dosi infinitesimali di qualsiasi medicina che possa causare la malattia da cui soffre il paziente, purché quest’ultimo si trovi in uno stato di salute, siano in grado di curarla. Ora, è un fatto notevole – dimostrato dalle prove presentate – che il defunto Thorn facesse seguire una donna tutto il giorno con un secchio d’acqua, assicurandole che una sola goccia di quella sostanza, applicata sulla sua lingua dopo la morte, lo avrebbe riportato in vita. Qual è allora la conclusione ovvia? Che Thorn, essendo costretto a muoversi in zone paludose e fangose, aveva l’intuizione che potesse annegare; in tal caso, se le sue istruzioni fossero state seguite, sarebbe certamente stato riportato in vita immediatamente grazie alla sua stessa prescrizione. Invece, se quella donna o chiunque altro avesse somministrato una dose infinitesimale di piombo e polvere da sparo subito dopo la sua morte, lui si sarebbe ripreso all’istante. Purtroppo, però, la donna in questione non possedeva la capacità di ragionare attraverso analogie o di applicare correttamente i principi scientifici; così, quel povero gentiluomo è stato vittima dell’ignoranza della gente comune.’

‘SEZIONE D.—STATISTICI.’

Fuori dall’casa, ragazzo nero e mal di stomaco.

Presidente—Signor Slug. Vicepresidenti—Signori Noakes e Styles.

‘Il signor Kwakley presentò i risultati di alcune ricerche statistiche molto ingegnose riguardanti la differenza tra il valore dichiarato pubblicamente delle qualifiche possedute da diversi membri del Parlamento e la loro vera >natura e entità. Dopo aver ricordato alla platea che ogni membro del Parlamento per una città o un distretto doveva possedere una proprietà immobiliare redditizia di almeno trecento sterline all’anno, l’onorevole signore suscitò grande divertimento e risate annunciando l’esatta entità della proprietà immobiliare posseduta da un certo numero di legislatori, tra cui lui stesso. Da questo elenco risultava che l’importo di tale reddito per ciascuno di loro era di 0 sterline, 0 scellini e 0 pence, con una media esattamente uguale. (Grandi risate.) Era abbastanza noto che esistessero gentiluomini disposti a fornire ai nuovi membri del Parlamento qualifiche temporanee, delle quali questi giuravano solennemente di essere i proprietari, ovviamente solo per formalità. Basandosi su questi dati, il signor Kwakley concluse che fosse del tutto inutile che i membri del Parlamento possedessero alcuna proprietà, soprattutto perché, quando non ne avevano nessuna, il pubblico poteva ottenerli a prezzi molto più bassi.’

‘SEZIONE SUPPLEMENTARE, E.—UMBLOGIA E IDROLOGIA DEI CANALETTI.’

Presidente—Signor Grub. Vicepresidenti—Signori Dull e Dummy.

‘Il segretario lesse un articolo che descriveva un pony con un solo occhio, visto dall’autore mentre stava in un carretto di macellaio all’angolo di Newgate Market. L’articolo raccontava che, lo scorso estate, un sabato mattina, l’autore si era recato da Somers Town a Cheapside nel corso delle sue attività commerciali; durante il viaggio aveva notato questa strana apparizione. Il pony aveva un occhio solo, e il suo amico, il Capitano Blunderbore dei Marines a Cavallo che lo aveva aiutato nella ricerca, gli aveva spiegato che ogni volta che quel cavallo batteva l’occhio, scuoteva anche la coda (forse per scacciare le mosche), ma che faceva sempre entrambe le cose contemporaneamente. L’animale era magro, malandato e barcollante; l’autore propose addirittura di classificarlo nella famiglia dei Fitfordogsmeataurious. Gli venne certamente in mente che non esistesse alcun caso documentato di un pony con un organo visivo ben definito che battesse l’occhio e scuotesse la coda nello stesso istante.’

‘Il signor Q. J. SNUFFLETOFFLE aveva sentito parlare di un pony che sbatteva l’occhio e, allo stesso modo, di un pony che scodinzolava, ma se si trattasse di due pony diversi o dello stesso pony, non avrebbe potuto affermarlo con certezza. In ogni caso, non conosceva alcun esempio verificato di un pony che contemporaneamente sbatteva l’occhio e scodinzolava, e quindi non poteva fare a meno di dubitare dell’esistenza di un tale meraviglioso pony, soprattutto considerando tutte quelle leggi naturali che governano i pony. Tuttavia, riguardo semplicemente al suo organo di vista, avrebbe potuto ipotizzare che quel pony, nel momento in cui era stato visto, fosse letteralmente mezzo addormentato e avesse chiuso soltanto un occhio.’

“Il Presidente osservò che, che il pony fosse semiaddormentato o profondamente addormentato, non poteva esserci alcun >dubbio sul fatto che l’associazione fosse completamente sveglia; quindi era meglio concludere rapidamente le loro faccende e andare a cena. Certamente non aveva mai visto nulla di simile a quel pony, ma non era disposto ad >dubitare della sua esistenza; anzi, nel corso della sua vita aveva visto molti pony ancora più strani, anche se non si vantava certo di aver mai incontrato asini più straordinari degli altri signori intorno a lui.”

Fu quindi chiesto al Professore John Ketch di mostrare il cranio del defunto signor Greenacre; egli lo tirò fuori da una borsa blu e, quando gli fu chiesto di esprimere eventuali osservazioni, commentò: “Posso dirvi con certezza che quella sezione cranica non ha mai mostrato tracce di deformità più gravi di queste”.

Seguì una discussione molto animata su questo interessante reperto; e poiché sorse qualche divergenza di opinione riguardo alla vera natura del defunto signor Blubb, quest’ultimo tenne una lezione sul cranio davanti a tutti, dimostrando chiaramente che il signor Greenacre possedeva l’organo della distruzione in misura estremamente insolita, con uno sviluppo particolarmente notevole dell’organo della capacità di distruggere. Sir Hookham Snivey stava appunto per contraddire questa tesi quando il professor Ketch interruppe bruscamente la discussione esclamando, con grande eccitazione: “Walker!”

“Il Presidente chiese umilmente di far calmare quel gentiluomo erudito.”

“PROFESSOR KETCH: —‘Al diavolo l’ordine! Avete preso la persona sbagliata, ve lo dico io. Non è affatto un professore; è solo un tizio che mio cognato ha assunto per decorare il suo nuovo negozio di torte che aprirà presto in città. Datemelo, per favore.’”

Con queste parole, il Professor Ketch riprese rapidamente il guscio di cocco e tirò fuori il cranio, che aveva esposto per errore. Ne seguì una conversazione molto interessante; tuttavia, poiché sorse qualche >dubbio riguardo al fatto che quel cranio appartenesse effettivamente al signor Greenacre, a un paziente dell’ospedale, a un povero, a un uomo, a una donna o a una scimmia, non si arrivò a nessuna conclusione definitiva.

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“Non posso,” dice alla fine il nostro talentuoso corrispondente, “non posso concludere questo resoconto di queste ricerche gigantesche e di questi trionfi sublimi e nobili senza ripetere una bellezza di parole del Professor Woodensconce, che dimostra come anche le menti più grandi possano talvolta rilassarsi quando la verità può essere presentata ad orecchie attente, avvolta in una forma attraente e giocosa. Ero lì presente quando, dopo una settimana di banchetti, quel gentiluomo erudito, accompagnato da un intero gruppo di uomini straordinari, entrò ieri nella sala dove era stato preparato un pranzo sontuoso; dove i vini più pregiati brillavano sulle tavole, e i maiali grassi – sacrifici propiziatori all’apprendimento – diffondevano i loro odori deliziosi. ‘Ah!’ disse il Professor Woodensconce, strofinandosi le mani, ‘Ecco ciò che cerchiamo; ecco ciò che ci ispira; ecco ciò che ci mantiene uniti e ci spinge avanti; questa è la diffusione della scienza, e una diffusione davvero gloriosa.’”

THE PANTOMIME OF LIFE

BEFORE we plunge headlong into this paper, let us at once confess to a fondness for pantomimes—to a gentle sympathy with clowns and pantaloons—to an unqualified admiration of harlequins and columbines—to a chaste delight in every action of their brief existence, varied and many-coloured as those actions are, and inconsistent though they occasionally be with those rigid and formal rules of propriety which regulate the proceedings of meaner and less comprehensive minds. We revel in pantomimes—not because they dazzle one’s eyes with tinsel and gold leaf; not because they present to us, once again, the well-beloved chalked faces, and goggle eyes of our childhood; not even because, like Christmas-day, and Twelfth-night, and Shrove-Tuesday, and one’s own birthday, they come to us but once a year;—our attachment is founded on a graver and a very different reason. A pantomime is to us, a mirror of life; nay, more, we maintain that it is so to audiences generally, although they are not aware of it, and that this very circumstance is the secret cause of their amusement and delight.

Let us take a slight example. The scene is a street: an elderly gentleman, with a large face and strongly marked features, appears. His countenance beams with a sunny smile, and a perpetual dimple is on his broad, red cheek. He is evidently an opulent elderly gentleman, comfortable in circumstances, and well-to-do in the world. He is not unmindful of the adornment of his person, for he is richly, not to say gaudily, dressed; and that he indulges to a reasonable extent in the pleasures of the table may be inferred from the joyous and oily manner in which he rubs his stomach, by way of informing the audience that he is going home to dinner. In the fulness of his heart, in the fancied security of wealth, in the possession and enjoyment of all the good things of life, the elderly gentleman suddenly loses his footing, and stumbles. How the audience roar! He is set upon by a noisy and officious crowd, who buffet and cuff him unmercifully. They scream with delight! Every time the elderly gentleman struggles to get up, his relentless persecutors knock him down again. The spectators are convulsed with merriment! And when at last the elderly gentleman does get up, and staggers away, despoiled of hat, wig, and clothing, himself battered to pieces, and his watch and money gone, they are exhausted with laughter, and express their merriment and admiration in rounds of applause.

Is this like life? Change the scene to any real street;—to the Stock Exchange, or the City banker’s; the merchant’s counting-house, or even the tradesman’s shop. See any one of these men fall,—the more suddenly, and the nearer the zenith of his pride and riches, the better. What a wild hallo is raised over his prostrate carcase by the shouting mob; how they whoop and yell as he lies humbled beneath them! Mark how eagerly they set upon him when he is down; and how they mock and deride him as he slinks away. Why, it is the pantomime to the very letter.

Of all the pantomimic dramatis personæ, we consider the pantaloon the most worthless and debauched. Independent of the dislike one naturally feels at seeing a gentleman of his years engaged in pursuits highly unbecoming his gravity and time of life, we cannot conceal from ourselves the fact that he is a treacherous, worldly-minded old villain, constantly enticing his younger companion, the clown, into acts of fraud or petty larceny, and generally standing aside to watch the result of the enterprise. If it be successful, he never forgets to return for his share of the spoil; but if it turn out a failure, he generally retires with remarkable caution and expedition, and keeps carefully aloof until the affair has blown over. His amorous propensities, too, are eminently disagreeable; and his mode of addressing ladies in the open street at noon-day is down-right improper, being usually neither more nor less than a perceptible tickling of the aforesaid ladies in the waist, after committing which, he starts back, manifestly ashamed (as well he may be) of his own indecorum and temerity; continuing, nevertheless, to ogle and beckon to them from a distance in a very unpleasant and immoral manner.

Is there any man who cannot count a dozen pantaloons in his own social circle? Is there any man who has not seen them swarming at the west end of the town on a sunshiny day or a summer’s evening, going through the last-named pantomimic feats with as much liquorish energy, and as total an absence of reserve, as if they were on the very stage itself? We can tell upon our fingers a dozen pantaloons of our acquaintance at this moment—capital pantaloons, who have been performing all kinds of strange freaks, to the great amusement of their friends and acquaintance, for years past; and who to this day are making such comical and ineffectual attempts to be young and dissolute, that all beholders are like to die with laughter.

Take that old gentleman who has just emerged from the Café de l’Europe in the Haymarket, where he has been dining at the expense of the young man upon town with whom he shakes hands as they part at the door of the tavern. The affected warmth of that shake of the hand, the courteous nod, the obvious recollection of the dinner, the savoury flavour of which still hangs upon his lips, are all characteristics of his great prototype. He hobbles away humming an opera tune, and twirling his cane to and fro, with affected carelessness. Suddenly he stops—’tis at the milliner’s window. He peeps through one of the large panes of glass; and, his view of the ladies within being obstructed by the India shawls, directs his attentions to the young girl with the band-box in her hand, who is gazing in at the window also. See! he draws beside her. He coughs; she turns away from him. He draws near her again; she disregards him. He gleefully chucks her under the chin, and, retreating a few steps, nods and beckons with fantastic grimaces, while the girl bestows a contemptuous and supercilious look upon his wrinkled visage. She turns away with a flounce, and the old gentleman trots after her with a toothless chuckle. The pantaloon to the life!

La pantomima della vita

Prima di immergerci completamente in questo argomento, confessiamo apertamente la nostra passione per le pantomime: un tenero affetto per i clown e i personaggi comici, un’ammirazione incondizionata per gli arlecchini e le figure buffe, e una gioia sincera per ogni loro gesto, per quanto vario e colorato possa essere, anche se talvolta contraddice quelle rigide regole di decoro che governano il comportamento delle menti più limitate. Ci deliziamo nelle pantomime non perché abbaglino con i brillanti e le foglie d’oro, né perché ci rivelino ancora una volta quei volti disegnati con la gesso e quegli occhi spalancati della nostra infanzia; nemmeno perché, come il Natale, la Vigilia di Capodanno o il nostro stesso compleanno, si presentino a noi solo una volta all’anno. La nostra affezione per le pantomime si basa su un motivo più profondo e diverso. Per noi, la pantomima è uno specchio della vita; anzi, sosteniamo che lo sia anche per il pubblico in generale, sebbene esso non se ne renda conto, e che proprio questa circostanza costituisca la vera ragione del loro divertimento e della loro gioia.

Prendiamo un piccolo esempio. La scena si svolge in una strada: appare un anziano gentiluomo dal viso largo e dai tratti marcati. Il suo volto irradia un sorriso radioso, e sulle sue guance rosse e piene c’è sempre una fossetta. È evidente che si tratti di un anziano signore agiato, benestante e soddisfatto della propria condizione sociale. Non trascura certo l’abbigliamento: è vestito in modo elegante, se non addirittura vistoso; inoltre, il fatto che si strofini felicemente lo stomaco sembra indicare che stia andando a casa per cena. Nel pieno della sua serenità, nella sicurezza derivante dalla ricchezza e nel godimento di tutte le cose belle della vita, l’anziano gentiluomo improvvisamente perde l’equilibrio e inciampa. L’auditorio scoppia in risate! Una folla chiassosa e invadente lo assale, colpendolo senza pietà; gridano di gioia. Ogni volta che l’anziano cerca di rialzarsi, i suoi persecutori lo ribaltano a terra. Gli spettatori sono travolti dall’ilarità. E quando finalmente riesce a rimettersi in piedi, barcollando e privo di cappello, parrucca e abiti, mentre il suo orologio e i suoi soldi sono andati persi, l’auditorio esprime la propria allegria con applausi scroscianti.

È questa la vita? Cambiate il contesto in qualsiasi strada reale: la Borsa Valori, l’ufficio di un banchiere cittadino, la contabilità di un commerciante, o persino il negozio di un artigiano. Osservate uno qualsiasi di questi uomini cadere. Più improvvisamente, e più vicini al culmine della loro orgoglio e ricchezza, meglio ancora. Che clamore selvaggio suscita la folla urlante attorno al suo corpo prostrato; come gridano e schiamazzano mentre giace umiliato sotto di loro! Notate quanto avidamente lo assalgano quando è a terra. E come lo deridano e lo insultino mentre si allontana furtivamente. Beh, è proprio una pantomima, letteralmente.

Di tutte le figure pantomimiche, riteniamo il pagliaccio la più inutile e corrotta. Indipendentemente dal disgusto che si prova naturalmente nel vedere un gentiluomo della sua età impegnato in attività del tutto inappropriate alla sua dignità e alla sua età, non possiamo negare che sia un vecchio malvagio, egoista e mondano, che spinge costantemente il suo compagno più giovane, il clown, a commettere furti o piccoli reati, osservando poi con distacco i risultati delle sue azioni. Se queste riuscissero, non dimentica mai di prendersi la sua parte del bottino; se falliscono, si ritira immediatamente con grande cautela e si tiene a distanza fino a quando la situazione non si è calmata. Anche le sue tendenze amorose sono estremamente sgradevoli; il modo in cui si avvicina alle signore per strada, a mezzogiorno, è assolutamente inappropriato: di solito consiste semplicemente nel fare una leggera carezza sulle loro cosce, dopodiché si allontana visibilmente imbarazzato dal proprio comportamento indecoroso e audace; tuttavia continua a fissarle e a far loro segni da lontano in modo molto sgradevole e immorale.

Esiste davvero un uomo che non sia in grado di contare una dozzina di quei pantaloni nel proprio ambiente sociale? Esiste davvero un uomo che non li abbia mai visti affollarsi nella zona ovest della città, in una giornata soleggiata o in una serata estiva, mentre eseguono le loro strane e ridicole acrobazie con tale energia e totale mancanza di riserve, come se fossero davvero sul palcoscenico? Possiamo contare sulle dita una dozzina di questi individui che conosciamo: uomini che, per anni, hanno messo in scena ogni sorta di stranezze, divertendo molto i loro amici e conoscenti; e che ancora oggi continuano a compiere tentativi comici ed inefficaci per sembrare giovani e dissoluti, fino al punto di far morire dalle risate chi li osserva.

Prendiamo quel vecchio signore che è appena uscito dal Café de l’Europe in Haymarket, dove ha cenato a spese di un giovane che frequenta quella zona; si stringono la mano alla porta del locale. Quel gesto affettuoso, il cenno cortese, il ricordo evidente della cena, il sapore ancora persistente sulle sue labbra, sono tutti tratti tipici del suo “grande prototipo”. Si allontana zoppicando, canticchiando un’aria d’opera e facendo girare la canna avanti e indietro con aria disinvolta. All’improvviso si ferma: è davanti alla vetrina del negozio di cappelli. Guarda attraverso i grandi pannelli di vetro; le signore all’interno sono nascoste da sciarpe indiane, quindi rivolge la sua attenzione alla giovane ragazza con il violino in mano che sta guardando anche lei fuori dalla finestra. Ecco, si avvicina a lei. Tossisce; lei si gira dall’altra parte. Si avvicina di nuovo; lei lo ignora. Con un sorriso compiaciuto le dà una pacca sotto il mento, poi si allontana di qualche passo e fa cenno con gesti esagerati, mentre la ragazza gli lancia uno sguardo sprezzante sul suo viso rugoso. Si allontana con aria indignata, e il vecchio signore la segue ridacchiando senza denti. Che figura comica!

But the close resemblance which the clowns of the stage bear to those of every-day life is perfectly extraordinary. Some people talk with a sigh of the decline of pantomime, and murmur in low and dismal tones the name of Grimaldi. We mean no disparagement to the worthy and excellent old man when we say that this is downright nonsense. Clowns that beat Grimaldi all to nothing turn up every day, and nobody patronizes them—more’s the pity!

‘I know who you mean,’ says some dirty-faced patron of Mr. Osbaldistone’s, laying down the Miscellany when he has got thus far, and bestowing upon vacancy a most knowing glance; ‘you mean C. J. Smith as did Guy Fawkes, and George Barnwell at the Garden.’ The dirty-faced gentleman has hardly uttered the words, when he is interrupted by a young gentleman in no shirt-collar and a Petersham coat. ‘No, no,’ says the young gentleman; ‘he means Brown, King, and Gibson, at the ’Delphi.’ Now, with great deference both to the first-named gentleman with the dirty face, and the last-named gentleman in the non-existing shirt-collar, we do not mean either the performer who so grotesquely burlesqued the Popish conspirator, or the three unchangeables who have been dancing the same dance under different imposing titles, and doing the same thing under various high-sounding names for some five or six years last past. We have no sooner made this avowal, than the public, who have hitherto been silent witnesses of the dispute, inquire what on earth it is we do mean; and, with becoming respect, we proceed to tell them.

It is very well known to all playgoers and pantomime-seers, that the scenes in which a theatrical clown is at the very height of his glory are those which are described in the play-bills as ‘Cheesemonger’s shop and Crockery warehouse,’ or ‘Tailor’s shop, and Mrs. Queertable’s boarding-house,’ or places bearing some such title, where the great fun of the thing consists in the hero’s taking lodgings which he has not the slightest intention of paying for, or obtaining goods under false pretences, or abstracting the stock-in-trade of the respectable shopkeeper next door, or robbing warehouse porters as they pass under his window, or, to shorten the catalogue, in his swindling everybody he possibly can, it only remaining to be observed that, the more extensive the swindling is, and the more barefaced the impudence of the swindler, the greater the rapture and ecstasy of the audience. Now it is a most remarkable fact that precisely this sort of thing occurs in real life day after day, and nobody sees the humour of it. Let us illustrate our position by detailing the plot of this portion of the pantomime—not of the theatre, but of life.

The Honourable Captain Fitz-Whisker Fiercy, attended by his livery servant Do’em—a most respectable servant to look at, who has grown grey in the service of the captain’s family—views, treats for, and ultimately obtains possession of, the unfurnished house, such a number, such a street. All the tradesmen in the neighbourhood are in agonies of competition for the captain’s custom; the captain is a good-natured, kind-hearted, easy man, and, to avoid being the cause of disappointment to any, he most handsomely gives orders to all. Hampers of wine, baskets of provisions, cart-loads of furniture, boxes of jewellery, supplies of luxuries of the costliest description, flock to the house of the Honourable Captain Fitz-Whisker Fiercy, where they are received with the utmost readiness by the highly respectable Do’em; while the captain himself struts and swaggers about with that compound air of conscious superiority and general blood-thirstiness which a military captain should always, and does most times, wear, to the admiration and terror of plebeian men. But the tradesmen’s backs are no sooner turned, than the captain, with all the eccentricity of a mighty mind, and assisted by the faithful Do’em, whose devoted fidelity is not the least touching part of his character, disposes of everything to great advantage; for, although the articles fetch small sums, still they are sold considerably above cost price, the cost to the captain having been nothing at all. After various manœuvres, the imposture is discovered, Fitz-Fiercy and Do’em are recognized as confederates, and the police office to which they are both taken is thronged with their dupes.

Who can fail to recognize in this, the exact counterpart of the best portion of a theatrical pantomime—Fitz-Whisker Fiercy by the clown; Do’em by the pantaloon; and supernumeraries by the tradesmen? The best of the joke, too, is, that the very coal-merchant who is loudest in his complaints against the person who defrauded him, is the identical man who sat in the centre of the very front row of the pit last night and laughed the most boisterously at this very same thing,—and not so well done either. Talk of Grimaldi, we say again! Did Grimaldi, in his best days, ever do anything in this way equal to Da Costa?

The mention of this latter justly celebrated clown reminds us of his last piece of humour, the fraudulently obtaining certain stamped acceptances from a young gentleman in the army. We had scarcely laid down our pen to contemplate for a few moments this admirable actor’s performance of that exquisite practical joke, than a new branch of our subject flashed suddenly upon us. So we take it up again at once.

All people who have been behind the scenes, and most people who have been before them, know, that in the representation of a pantomime, a good many men are sent upon the stage for the express purpose of being cheated, or knocked down, or both. Now, down to a moment ago, we had never been able to understand for what possible purpose a great number of odd, lazy, large-headed men, whom one is in the habit of meeting here, and there, and everywhere, could ever have been created. We see it all, now. They are the supernumeraries in the pantomime of life; the men who have been thrust into it, with no other view than to be constantly tumbling over each other, and running their heads against all sorts of strange things. We sat opposite to one of these men at a supper-table, only last week. Now we think of it, he was exactly like the gentlemen with the pasteboard heads and faces, who do the corresponding business in the theatrical pantomimes; there was the same broad stolid simper—the same dull leaden eye—the same unmeaning, vacant stare; and whatever was said, or whatever was done, he always came in at precisely the wrong place, or jostled against something that he had not the slightest business with. We looked at the man across the table again and again; and could not satisfy ourselves what race of beings to class him with. How very odd that this never occurred to us before!

Ma la straordinaria somiglianza tra i clown di scena e quelli della vita di tutti i giorni è davvero incredibile. Alcuni si lamentano con rammarico del declino della pantomima e menzionano con toni tristi il nome di Grimaldi. Non intendiamo affatto insultare questo nobile e eccellente anziano quando affermiamo che tutto ciò non è altro che assurdità. Ogni giorno compaiono clown che superano di gran lunga Grimaldi in abilità, ma nessuno li apprezza. Che peccato!

“So a chi vi riferite,” dice un cliente dal viso sporco del signor Osbaldistone, posando il giornale dopo aver letto fino a quel punto e lanciando uno sguardo significativo verso lo spazio vuoto davanti a lui; “intendete C. J. Smith, proprio come Guy Fawkes e George Barnwell al ‘Garden’.” Appena queste parole sono state pronunciate, vengono interrotte da un giovane signore senza colletto e con un cappotto di Petersham. “No, no,” dice il giovane; “intende Brown, King, e Gibson al ‘Delphi’.” Ora, con grande rispetto sia per il primo signore dal viso sporco che per il secondo signore senza colletto, non intendiamo affatto quel comico che ha parodizzato in modo grottesco i complottatori papisti, né quei tre individui che, sotto diversi titoli imponenti, hanno continuato a compiere le stesse azioni negli ultimi cinque o sei anni. Non appena facciamo questa dichiarazione, il pubblico, che fino ad allora era stato un silenzioso spettatore di questa disputa, chiede con curiosità a cosa ci riferiamo realmente; e noi, con tutto il dovuto rispetto, proseguiamo a spiegarglielo.

È molto noto a tutti gli spettatori e ai frequentatori delle pantomime che le scene in cui un clown teatrale raggiunge il culmine della sua gloria sono proprio quelle descritte nei cartelloni come “Negozio di formaggio e magazzino di stoviglie”, o “Negozio di sartoria e pensione della signora Queertable”, o luoghi simili. Il vero divertimento in queste scene consiste nel fatto che il “protagonista” si affitta una stanza senza alcuna intenzione di pagarla, ottiene merci con false pretese, ruba la merce del rispettabile negoziante accanto, deruba i portatori dei magazzini mentre questi passano sotto la sua finestra, o, in breve, truffa chiunque gli capiti a tiro. L’unica cosa da notare è che più ampia è l’entità della truffa e più sfacciata è l’impudenza del truffatore, maggiore è l’eccitazione e il divertimento dello spettatore. Ora, è un fatto davvero straordinario che proprio questo tipo di cose accada nella vita reale giorno dopo giorno, e nessuno riesce a vedere il lato umoristico della situazione. Per illustrare meglio il nostro punto di vista, analizzeremo nel dettaglio la trama di questa parte della pantomima, non quella del teatro, ma quella della vita reale.

L’onorevole Capitano Fitz-Whisker Fiercy, accompagnato dal suo servitore Do’em – un individuo davvero rispettabile da vedere, il cui colore dei capelli è diventato grigio a forza di servire la famiglia del capitano – si impossessa della casa non arredata, situata in una certa strada. Tutti i commercianti del quartiere competono accanitamente per ottenere i suoi ordini; il capitano è una persona di buon carattere, gentile e disponibile, e per evitare di deludere nessuno, dà sempre istruzioni in modo molto generoso. Cesti di vino, cestini di provviste, carri pieni di mobili, scatole piene di gioielli e altre merci di lusso di altissimo costo affluiscono nella casa dell’onorevole Capitano Fitz-Whisker Fiercy, dove vengono accolti con grande disponibilità dal rispettabile Do’em. Il capitano stesso si comporta con un’aria di superiorezza e avidità tipica di un ufficiale militare, suscitando ammirazione, e anche terrore tra la gente comune. Ma non appena i commercianti se ne vanno, il capitano, con tutta l’eccentricità tipica della sua personalità e con l’aiuto del fedele Do’em, si assicura che tutto venga venduto a un prezzo molto superiore al costo reale, poiché lui stesso non ha speso nulla per acquistare quelle merci. Dopo varie manovre, la truffa viene scoperta: Fitz-Whisker Fiercy e Do’em vengono riconosciuti come complici, e l’ufficio di polizia a cui vengono portati si riempie delle loro vittime.

Chi potrebbe non riconoscere in questo l’esatta controparte della parte migliore di una pantomima teatrale: Fitz-Whisker Fiercy interpretato dal clown, Do’em dal personaggio dei pantaloni, e i personaggi secondari dai commercianti? La cosa più divertente è che proprio quel mercante di carbone che si lamenta più forte della persona che lo ha truffato, è lo stesso uomo che la scorsa notte sedeva in prima fila e rideva più forte proprio di questa stessa storia, anzi, forse nemmeno così bene interpretata. Parliamo ancora di Grimaldi: nei suoi giorni migliori, ha mai fatto qualcosa del genere paragonabile a ciò che fece Da Costa?

Il ricordo di questo clown così ampiamente celebrato ci fa pensare all’ultima sua umoristica performance: l’ottenimento, in modo fraudolento, di alcune ricevute timbrate da un giovane ufficiale dell’esercito. Appena avevamo posato la penna per riflettere per qualche momento su questa straordinaria rappresentazione di scherzo pratico da parte di quell’attore eccezionale, un nuovo aspetto del nostro argomento ci è improvvisamente balenato davanti agli occhi. Pertanto ne riprendiamo immediatamente la discussione.

Tutti coloro che hanno lavorato dietro le quinte, e la maggior parte delle persone che li hanno preceduti, sanno che nella rappresentazione di una pantomima molti uomini vengono messi sul palco esclusivamente con lo scopo di essere ingannati o abbattuti, o entrambe le cose. Fino a poco fa, non riuscivamo proprio a capire per quale motivo fosse stato creato un gran numero di uomini strani, pigri e dal cranio grande, che si incontrano ovunque. Ora lo comprendiamo: sono i “personaggi supplementari” nella pantomima della vita; persone che vi vengono inserite soltanto per cadere continuamente l’una addosso all’altra e sbattere la testa contro ogni sorta di cose strane. Solo la scorsa settimana eravamo seduti a tavola di fronte a uno di questi uomini. Ora che ci penso, assomigliava esattamente ai personaggi delle pantomime teatrali con le teste e i volti di cartone; aveva lo stesso sorriso stupido e vacuo, gli stessi occhi spenti e inespressivi. Qualunque cosa venisse detta o fatta, lui interveniva sempre nel momento sbagliato o si scontrava con qualcosa che non aveva assolutamente nulla a che fare con ciò che stava accadendo. Abbiamo guardato quell’uomo più volte, senza riuscire a capire a quale categoria di esseri umani dovesse essere classificato. Che strano che prima non ci fosse mai venuto in mente!

We will frankly own that we have been much troubled with the harlequin. We see harlequins of so many kinds in the real living pantomime, that we hardly know which to select as the proper fellow of him of the theatres. At one time we were disposed to think that the harlequin was neither more nor less than a young man of family and independent property, who had run away with an opera-dancer, and was fooling his life and his means away in light and trivial amusements. On reflection, however, we remembered that harlequins are occasionally guilty of witty, and even clever acts, and we are rather disposed to acquit our young men of family and independent property, generally speaking, of any such misdemeanours. On a more mature consideration of the subject, we have arrived at the conclusion that the harlequins of life are just ordinary men, to be found in no particular walk or degree, on whom a certain station, or particular conjunction of circumstances, confers the magic wand. And this brings us to a few words on the pantomime of public and political life, which we shall say at once, and then conclude—merely premising in this place that we decline any reference whatever to the columbine, being in no wise satisfied of the nature of her connection with her parti-coloured lover, and not feeling by any means clear that we should be justified in introducing her to the virtuous and respectable ladies who peruse our lucubrations.

We take it that the commencement of a Session of Parliament is neither more nor less than the drawing up of the curtain for a grand comic pantomime, and that his Majesty’s most gracious speech on the opening thereof may be not inaptly compared to the clown’s opening speech of ‘Here we are!’ ‘My lords and gentlemen, here we are!’ appears, to our mind at least, to be a very good abstract of the point and meaning of the propitiatory address of the ministry. When we remember how frequently this speech is made, immediately after the change too, the parallel is quite perfect, and still more singular.

Perhaps the cast of our political pantomime never was richer than at this day. We are particularly strong in clowns. At no former time, we should say, have we had such astonishing tumblers, or performers so ready to go through the whole of their feats for the amusement of an admiring throng. Their extreme readiness to exhibit, indeed, has given rise to some ill-natured reflections; it having been objected that by exhibiting gratuitously through the country when the theatre is closed, they reduce themselves to the level of mountebanks, and thereby tend to degrade the respectability of the profession. Certainly Grimaldi never did this sort of thing; and though Brown, King, and Gibson have gone to the Surrey in vacation time, and Mr. C. J. Smith has ruralised at Sadler’s Wells, we find no theatrical precedent for a general tumbling through the country, except in the gentleman, name unknown, who threw summersets on behalf of the late Mr. Richardson, and who is no authority either, because he had never been on the regular boards.

But, laying aside this question, which after all is a mere matter of taste, we may reflect with pride and gratification of heart on the proficiency of our clowns as exhibited in the season. Night after night will they twist and tumble about, till two, three, and four o’clock in the morning; playing the strangest antics, and giving each other the funniest slaps on the face that can possibly be imagined, without evincing the smallest tokens of fatigue. The strange noises, the confusion, the shouting and roaring, amid which all this is done, too, would put to shame the most turbulent sixpenny gallery that ever yelled through a boxing-night.

It is especially curious to behold one of these clowns compelled to go through the most surprising contortions by the irresistible influence of the wand of office, which his leader or harlequin holds above his head. Acted upon by this wonderful charm he will become perfectly motionless, moving neither hand, foot, nor finger, and will even lose the faculty of speech at an instant’s notice; or on the other hand, he will become all life and animation if required, pouring forth a torrent of words without sense or meaning, throwing himself into the wildest and most fantastic contortions, and even grovelling on the earth and licking up the dust. These exhibitions are more curious than pleasing; indeed, they are rather disgusting than otherwise, except to the admirers of such things, with whom we confess we have no fellow-feeling.

Strange tricks—very strange tricks—are also performed by the harlequin who holds for the time being the magic wand which we have just mentioned. The mere waving it before a man’s eyes will dispossess his brains of all the notions previously stored there, and fill it with an entirely new set of ideas; one gentle tap on the back will alter the colour of a man’s coat completely; and there are some expert performers, who, having this wand held first on one side and then on the other, will change from side to side, turning their coats at every evolution, with so much rapidity and dexterity, that the quickest eye can scarcely detect their motions. Occasionally, the genius who confers the wand, wrests it from the hand of the temporary possessor, and consigns it to some new performer; on which occasions all the characters change sides, and then the race and the hard knocks begin anew.

We might have extended this chapter to a much greater length—we might have carried the comparison into the liberal professions—we might have shown, as was in fact our original purpose, that each is in itself a little pantomime with scenes and characters of its own, complete; but, as we fear we have been quite lengthy enough already, we shall leave this chapter just where it is. A gentleman, not altogether unknown as a dramatic poet, wrote thus a year or two ago—

Ammetteremo francamente di essere stati molto preoccupati dal personaggio del pagliaccio. Nella pantomima reale esistono tanti tipi diversi di pagliacci che quasi non sappiamo quale scegliere come rappresentante ideale di questo ruolo teatrale. Per un certo periodo abbiamo pensato che il pagliacco fosse, in fondo, nient’altro che un giovane di buona famiglia e con mezzi propri che se l’era svignata con una ballerina d’opera, spendendo la propria vita e i propri soldi in divertimenti frivoli. Tuttavia, riflettendoci meglio, ci siamo resi conto che i pagliacci a volte compiono gesti spiritosi e persino intelligenti; perciò tendiamo a scagionare questi giovani di buona famiglia da simili comportamenti. Dopo un’ulteriore riflessione, abbiamo concluso che i “pagliacci” della vita reale sono semplicemente persone ordinarie, appartenenti a qualsiasi ceto sociale; è solo una particolare situazione o combinazione di circostanze a conferire loro quel “bastone magico” che permette loro di svolgere il loro ruolo. Questo ci porta a dire alcune parole sulla pantomima della vita pubblica e politica, ma prima di concludere, ribadisco che rifiutiamo categoricamente qualsiasi riferimento alla figura della “columbina”, poiché non siamo affatto convinti della natura del suo rapporto con il suo “amante dai colori vivaci”, e non crediamo affatto di avere il diritto di presentarla alle signore virtuose e rispettabili che leggono le nostre riflessioni.

Riteniamo che l’inizio di una sessione parlamentare non sia altro che l’apertura del sipario di una grandiosa pantomima comica; inoltre, il discorso molto gentile di Sua Maestà all’occasione può essere paragonato senza improprietà al discorso introduttivo del clown che dice: “Eccoci qui! Signori e gentiluomini, eccoci qui!” A nostro avviso, questo discorso rappresenta molto bene il contenuto e lo scopo del messaggio ufficiale del governo. Se ricordiamo con quanta frequenza venga pronunciato, anche subito dopo i cambiamenti di governo, il parallelo diventa ancora più evidente, e sorprendente.

Forse il cast della nostra pantomima politica non è mai stato più ricco di oggi. Siamo particolarmente forti nei ruoli dei clown: in nessun altro periodo abbiamo avuto acrobati così straordinari, o artisti così pronti a esibirsi al servizio di un pubblico ammirato. Tuttavia, la loro estrema disponibilità ad esibirsi ha suscitato alcune critiche negative; si è infatti osservato che, esibendosi gratuitamente in giro per il paese quando i teatri sono chiusi, questi artisti si degradano al livello dei saltimbanchi, contribuendo così a denigrare la reputazione della loro professione. Certamente Grimaldi non ha mai fatto nulla del genere; e anche se Brown, Re, Gibson sono andati a Surrey durante le vacanze, e il signor C. J. Smith si è esibito in zone rurali a Sadler’s Wells, non esiste alcun precedente teatrale di questo tipo: nessuno, cioè, che prevedesse esibizioni itineranti in tutto il paese. L’unico caso simile riguarda un gentiluomo il cui nome è sconosciuto; egli eseguiva acrobazie per conto del defunto signor Richardson, ma non può certo essere considerato un’autorità nel campo teatrale, poiché non aveva mai lavorato in teatri regolari.

Ma, mettendo da parte questa questione che, dopotutto, riguarda soltanto il gusto personale, possiamo riflettere con orgoglio e soddisfazione sulle abilità dei nostri clown, così ben dimostrate durante questa stagione. Notte dopo notte, si contorcono e rotolano per due, tre, quattro ore del mattino; eseguono le azioni più strane e si danno gli schiaffi più divertenti che si possa immaginare, senza mostrare il minimo segno di stanchezza. I rumori strani, il caos, le grida e i ruggiti in cui tutto ciò avviene metterebbero in ombra anche la folla più turbolenta che abbia mai urlato durante una serata di pugilato.

È particolarmente curioso osservare uno di questi clown costretti a compiere le contorsioni più straordinarie sotto l’influenza irresistibile della “bacchetta del potere” che il loro leader tiene sopra la testa. Sotto l’effetto di questo incantesimo meraviglioso, diventano completamente immobili: non muovono mani, piedi né dita, e persino perdono la capacità di parlare all’istante; oppure, al contrario, diventano pieni di vita e vitalità, riversando un flusso ininterrotto di parole prive di senso, compiendo le contorsioni più folli e fantasiose, e persino strisciando per terra e leccando la polvere. Queste esibizioni sono piuttosto curiose, ma non necessariamente piacevoli; anzi, a volte risultano addirittura disgustose, tranne che per gli ammiratori di questo genere di cose, con i quali, francamente, non condividiamo alcuna emozione.

Trucchi strani, davvero strani, vengono anche eseguiti dal pagliaccio che, per il momento attuale, possiede la bacchetta magica di cui abbiamo appena parlato. Bastà agitarla davanti agli occhi di una persona perché tutte le idee precedentemente immagazzinate nella sua mente vengano cancellate e sostituite da un insieme completamente nuovo di pensieri; un semplice colpetto sulla schiena può cambiare completamente il colore del suo cappotto; inoltre, ci sono alcuni artisti esperti che, tenendo questa bacchetta prima da una parte e poi dall’altra, riescono a ruotare su se stessi con tale rapidità e destrezza che nemmeno l’occhio più attento riesce a seguire i loro movimenti. A volte, il genio che dona la bacchetta gliela strappa di mano e la passa a un nuovo esecutore; in questi casi, tutti i personaggi cambiano “fazione”, e così la competizione e le lotte ricominciano da capo.

Avremmo potuto allungare molto questo capitolo; avremmo potuto estendere il confronto anche alle professioni liberali; avremmo potuto dimostrare, come in realtà era il nostro scopo originale, che ciascuna di queste professioni rappresenta in sé una sorta di “pantomima”, con scene e personaggi propri, completi. Tuttavia, temiamo di essere già stati abbastanza prolissi, quindi lascieremo questo capitolo così com’è. Un gentiluomo, non del tutto sconosciuto come poeta drammatico, scrisse qualcosa del genere un anno o due fa.

‘All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players:’

and we, tracking out his footsteps at the scarcely-worth-mentioning little distance of a few millions of leagues behind, venture to add, by way of new reading, that he meant a Pantomime, and that we are all actors in The Pantomime of Life.

SOME PARTICULARS CONCERNING A LION

WE have a great respect for lions in the abstract. In common with most other people, we have heard and read of many instances of their bravery and generosity. We have duly admired that heroic self-denial and charming philanthropy which prompts them never to eat people except when they are hungry, and we have been deeply impressed with a becoming sense of the politeness they are said to display towards unmarried ladies of a certain state. All natural histories teem with anecdotes illustrative of their excellent qualities; and one old spelling-book in particular recounts a touching instance of an old lion, of high moral dignity and stern principle, who felt it his imperative duty to devour a young man who had contracted a habit of swearing, as a striking example to the rising generation.

All this is extremely pleasant to reflect upon, and, indeed, says a very great deal in favour of lions as a mass. We are bound to state, however, that such individual lions as we have happened to fall in with have not put forth any very striking characteristics, and have not acted up to the chivalrous character assigned them by their chroniclers. We never saw a lion in what is called his natural state, certainly; that is to say, we have never met a lion out walking in a forest, or crouching in his lair under a tropical sun, waiting till his dinner should happen to come by, hot from the baker’s. But we have seen some under the influence of captivity, and the pressure of misfortune; and we must say that they appeared to us very apathetic, heavy-headed fellows.

The lion at the Zoological Gardens, for instance. He is all very well; he has an undeniable mane, and looks very fierce; but, Lord bless us! what of that? The lions of the fashionable world look just as ferocious, and are the most harmless creatures breathing. A box-lobby lion or a Regent-street animal will put on a most terrible aspect, and roar, fearfully, if you affront him; but he will never bite, and, if you offer to attack him manfully, will fairly turn tail and sneak off. Doubtless these creatures roam about sometimes in herds, and, if they meet any especially meek-looking and peaceably-disposed fellow, will endeavour to frighten him; but the faintest show of a vigorous resistance is sufficient to scare them even then. These are pleasant characteristics, whereas we make it matter of distinct charge against the Zoological lion and his brethren at the fairs, that they are sleepy, dreamy, sluggish quadrupeds.

We do not remember to have ever seen one of them perfectly awake, except at feeding-time. In every respect we uphold the biped lions against their four-footed namesakes, and we boldly challenge controversy upon the subject.

With these opinions it may be easily imagined that our curiosity and interest were very much excited the other day, when a lady of our acquaintance called on us and resolutely declined to accept our refusal of her invitation to an evening party; ‘for,’ said she, ‘I have got a lion coming.’ We at once retracted our plea of a prior engagement, and became as anxious to go, as we had previously been to stay away.

We went early, and posted ourselves in an eligible part of the drawing-room, from whence we could hope to obtain a full view of the interesting animal. Two or three hours passed, the quadrilles began, the room filled; but no lion appeared. The lady of the house became inconsolable,—for it is one of the peculiar privileges of these lions to make solemn appointments and never keep them,—when all of a sudden there came a tremendous double rap at the street-door, and the master of the house, after gliding out (unobserved as he flattered himself) to peep over the banisters, came into the room, rubbing his hands together with great glee, and cried out in a very important voice, ‘My dear, Mr. — (naming the lion) has this moment arrived.’

Upon this, all eyes were turned towards the door, and we observed several young ladies, who had been laughing and conversing previously with great gaiety and good humour, grow extremely quiet and sentimental; while some young gentlemen, who had been cutting great figures in the facetious and small-talk way, suddenly sank very obviously in the estimation of the company, and were looked upon with great coldness and indifference. Even the young man who had been ordered from the music shop to play the pianoforte was visibly affected, and struck several false notes in the excess of his excitement.

All this time there was a great talking outside, more than once accompanied by a loud laugh, and a cry of ‘Oh! capital! excellent!’ from which we inferred that the lion was jocose, and that these exclamations were occasioned by the transports of his keeper and our host. Nor were we deceived; for when the lion at last appeared, we overheard his keeper, who was a little prim man, whisper to several gentlemen of his acquaintance, with uplifted hands, and every expression of half-suppressed admiration, that—(naming the lion again) was in such cue to-night!

The lion was a literary one. Of course, there were a vast number of people present who had admired his roarings, and were anxious to be introduced to him; and very pleasant it was to see them brought up for the purpose, and to observe the patient dignity with which he received all their patting and caressing. This brought forcibly to our mind what we had so often witnessed at country fairs, where the other lions are compelled to go through as many forms of courtesy as they chance to be acquainted with, just as often as admiring parties happen to drop in upon them.

“Tutto il mondo è un teatro,
e tutti gli uomini e le donne non sono altro che attori.”

E noi, seguendo le sue orme su quella distanza appena degna di essere menzionata – di pochi milioni di leghe alle sue spalle – osiamo aggiungere, come nuova interpretazione dei fatti, che lui intendeva con ciò una “Pantomima”, e che tutti noi siamo attori in questa “Pantomima della Vita”.

Alcuni particolari riguardanti un leone

Nutriamo un grande rispetto per i leoni in generale. Come la maggior parte delle altre persone, abbiamo sentito e letto molte storie riguardanti il loro coraggio e la loro generosità. Ammiriamo profondamente quel nobile senso di autocontrollo e quella affascinante filantropia che li spinge a non mangiare mai le persone se non quando hanno fame, e siamo rimasti molto colpiti dal rispetto che mostrano, secondo quanto si dice, verso le signore single di una certa condizione sociale. Tutte le storie naturali sono piene di aneddoti che illustrano le loro eccellenti qualità; in particolare, un vecchio libro di ortografia racconta un commovente episodio di un vecchio leone, di alta moralità e ferme principi, il quale ritenne suo dovere assoluto divorare un giovane che aveva preso l’abitudine di imprecare, come esempio eloquente per la generazione futura.

Tutto ciò è estremamente piacevole da riflettere su, e in effetti dimostra molto a favore dei leoni nel loro insieme. Tuttavia, dobbiamo ammettere che quei singoli esemplari di leone che abbiamo avuto l’opportunità di incontrare non hanno mostrato caratteristiche particolarmente notevoli, né si sono comportati secondo il ruolo cavalleresco che i loro cronisti gli attribuiscono. Certamente, non abbiamo mai visto un leone nel cosiddetto suo stato naturale: cioè, non abbiamo mai incontrato un leone che camminasse nella foresta o si accovacciasse nella sua tana sotto il sole tropicale, in attesa che la sua “cena” arrivasse, calda appena uscita dal forno. Ma ne abbiamo visti alcuni sotto l’influenza della cattività e della sfortuna; e dobbiamo dire che ci sono sembrati individui molto apatici e lenti di riflessi.

Ad esempio, il leone dello Zoo: è davvero in ottima forma; ha una criniera imponente e sembra molto feroce. Ma, per l’amor del cielo! Anche i leoni del mondo “fashionable” sembrano altrettanto feroci, e in realtà sono le creature più inoffensive che esistano. Un leone che si trova in un ambiente ostile può assumere un aspetto terribile e ruggire minacciosamente, ma non morde mai; anzi, se lo attacchi con coraggio, scapperà via senza pensarci due volte. Probabilmente questi animali viaggiano a gruppi, e se incontrano qualcuno che sembra particolarmente mite e pacifico, cercano di spaventarlo. Ma anche la minima resistenza basta per farli fuggire. Sono caratteristiche davvero piacevoli da osservare. Mentre noi, invece, tendiamo a criticare i leoni dello Zoo e dei mercatini come creature sonnolente, pigre e indolenti.

Non ricordiamo di aver mai visto nessuno di loro completamente sveglio, tranne durante l’ora dei pasti. In ogni senso, consideriamo questi leoni bipedi superiori ai loro omonimi a quattro zampe, e sfidiamo senza paura eventuali controversie al riguardo.

Con queste opinioni, è facile immaginare quanto fossero grandi la nostra curiosità e il nostro interesse quel giorno in cui una signora che conoscevamo ci fece visita e rifiutò decisamente di accettare il nostro rifiuto dell’invito a una serata; “Perché,” disse, “ho invitato un leone.” Subito ritrattammo la scusa del precedente impegno e diventammo altrettanto desiderosi di andare, quanto prima eravamo stati riluttanti ad accettare l’invito.

Siamo arrivati presto e ci siamo posizionati in una parte adatta del salotto, da dove speravamo di poter avere una vista completa di quell’animale interessante. Trascorsero due o tre ore: iniziarono i balli e la sala si riempì; ma nessun leone comparve. La padrona di casa divenne molto preoccupata, perché uno dei caratteristici di questi leoni è proprio quello di fissare appuntamenti solenni e poi non mantenerli mai. Quando all’improvviso si udì un colpo fortissimo alla porta d’ingresso; il padrone di casa, uscito furtivamente per dare un’occhiata, rientrò nella stanza ridendo felicemente e annunciò con voce molto solenne: “Mia cara, il signor. [nome del leone) è appena arrivato.”

A questo punto, tutti gli sguardi si rivolsero verso la porta, e osservammo che diverse giovani signore, che poco prima avevano riso e chiacchierato con grande allegria e buon umorismo, divennero improvvisamente molto silenziose e malinconiche; mentre alcuni giovani signori, che fino ad allora si erano distinti per il loro comportamento scherzoso e frivolo, persero immediatamente in considerazione agli occhi del gruppo e furono trattati con grande freddezza e indifferenza. Anche il giovane che era stato mandato dalla bottega di musica a suonare il pianoforte ne fu visibilmente influenzato, e commise diversi errori nel suonare, a causa dell’eccitazione.

In tutto questo tempo c’era molto rumore fuori; più di una volta si udivano risate sonore e esclamazioni del tipo “Oh, fantastico! Eccellente!”, il che ci fece dedurre che il leone fosse di natura scherzosa e che quelle reazioni derivassero dall’entusiasmo del suo custode e del nostro ospite. Non ci sbagliavamo: quando finalmente il leone apparve, sentimmo il suo custode, un uomo piuttosto rigido, sussurrare a diversi conoscenti, alzando le mani e mostrando ogni segno di ammirazione trattenuta, che, (riprendendo a nominare il leone) era davvero in una forma così straordinaria per la sera!

Il leone era uno di quelli presenti nelle opere letterarie. Naturalmente, c’erano molte persone lì presenti che avevano ammirato i suoi ruggiti e erano desiderose di conoscerlo; fu davvero piacevole vederle avvicinarsi a lui per questo scopo e osservare la dignità paziente con cui accettava tutti quei gesti di affetto. Questo ci fece ricordare, in modo particolare, quanto spesso avevamo assistito alle fiere campestri, dove gli altri leoni venivano costretti a subire tutte quelle formalità di cortesia che loro stessi non conoscevano, proprio nel momento in cui gruppi di persone venivano ad ammirarli.

While the lion was exhibiting in this way, his keeper was not idle, for he mingled among the crowd, and spread his praises most industriously. To one gentleman he whispered some very choice thing that the noble animal had said in the very act of coming up-stairs, which, of course, rendered the mental effort still more astonishing; to another he murmured a hasty account of a grand dinner that had taken place the day before, where twenty-seven gentlemen had got up all at once to demand an extra cheer for the lion; and to the ladies he made sundry promises of interceding to procure the majestic brute’s sign-manual for their albums. Then, there were little private consultations in different corners, relative to the personal appearance and stature of the lion; whether he was shorter than they had expected to see him, or taller, or thinner, or fatter, or younger, or older; whether he was like his portrait, or unlike it; and whether the particular shade of his eyes was black, or blue, or hazel, or green, or yellow, or mixture. At all these consultations the keeper assisted; and, in short, the lion was the sole and single subject of discussion till they sat him down to whist, and then the people relapsed into their old topics of conversation—themselves and each other.

We must confess that we looked forward with no slight impatience to the announcement of supper; for if you wish to see a tame lion under particularly favourable circumstances, feeding-time is the period of all others to pitch upon. We were therefore very much delighted to observe a sensation among the guests, which we well knew how to interpret, and immediately afterwards to behold the lion escorting the lady of the house down-stairs. We offered our arm to an elderly female of our acquaintance, who—dear old soul!—is the very best person that ever lived, to lead down to any meal; for, be the room ever so small, or the party ever so large, she is sure, by some intuitive perception of the eligible, to push and pull herself and conductor close to the best dishes on the table;—we say we offered our arm to this elderly female, and, descending the stairs shortly after the lion, were fortunate enough to obtain a seat nearly opposite him.

Of course the keeper was there already. He had planted himself at precisely that distance from his charge which afforded him a decent pretext for raising his voice, when he addressed him, to so loud a key, as could not fail to attract the attention of the whole company, and immediately began to apply himself seriously to the task of bringing the lion out, and putting him through the whole of his manœuvres. Such flashes of wit as he elicited from the lion! First of all, they began to make puns upon a salt-cellar, and then upon the breast of a fowl, and then upon the trifle; but the best jokes of all were decidedly on the lobster salad, upon which latter subject the lion came out most vigorously, and, in the opinion of the most competent authorities, quite outshone himself. This is a very excellent mode of shining in society, and is founded, we humbly conceive, upon the classic model of the dialogues between Mr. Punch and his friend the proprietor, wherein the latter takes all the up-hill work, and is content to pioneer to the jokes and repartees of Mr. P. himself, who never fails to gain great credit and excite much laughter thereby. Whatever it be founded on, however, we recommend it to all lions, present and to come; for in this instance it succeeded to admiration, and perfectly dazzled the whole body of hearers.

When the salt-cellar, and the fowl’s breast, and the trifle, and the lobster salad were all exhausted, and could not afford standing-room for another solitary witticism, the keeper performed that very dangerous feat which is still done with some of the caravan lions, although in one instance it terminated fatally, of putting his head in the animal’s mouth, and placing himself entirely at its mercy. Boswell frequently presents a melancholy instance of the lamentable results of this achievement, and other keepers and jackals have been terribly lacerated for their daring. It is due to our lion to state, that he condescended to be trifled with, in the most gentle manner, and finally went home with the showman in a hack cab: perfectly peaceable, but slightly fuddled.

Being in a contemplative mood, we were led to make some reflections upon the character and conduct of this genus of lions as we walked homewards, and we were not long in arriving at the conclusion that our former impression in their favour was very much strengthened and confirmed by what we had recently seen. While the other lions receive company and compliments in a sullen, moody, not to say snarling manner, these appear flattered by the attentions that are paid them; while those conceal themselves to the utmost of their power from the vulgar gaze, these court the popular eye, and, unlike their brethren, whom nothing short of compulsion will move to exertion, are ever ready to display their acquirements to the wondering throng. We have known bears of undoubted ability who, when the expectations of a large audience have been wound up to the utmost pitch, have peremptorily refused to dance; well-taught monkeys, who have unaccountably objected to exhibit on the slack wire; and elephants of unquestioned genius, who have suddenly declined to turn the barrel-organ; but we never once knew or heard of a biped lion, literary or otherwise,—and we state it as a fact which is highly creditable to the whole species,—who, occasion offering, did not seize with avidity on any opportunity which was afforded him, of performing to his heart’s content on the first violin.

MR. ROBERT BOLTON THE ‘GENTLEMAN CONNECTED WITH THE PRESS’

Mentre il leone si comportava in questo modo, il suo custode non se ne stava certo con le mani in mano: si mescolava tra la folla e diffondeva con grande zelo i suoi elogi su quell’animale nobile. A un signore sussurrò qualcosa di molto interessante riguardo a ciò che l’animale aveva detto proprio mentre saliva le scale, il che rendeva ancora più straordinario il suo comportamento; a un altro raccontò in fretta di un grande banchetto tenutosi il giorno prima, durante il quale ventisette signori si erano alzati tutti insieme per chiedere un brindisi speciale in onore del leone; e alle signore fece varie promesse di intercedere affinché ottenessero l’autografo di quell’imponente animale da aggiungere ai loro album. Poi ci furono anche piccole conversazioni private in angoli diversi, riguardanti l’aspetto esteriore e la statura del leone: se fosse più basso, più alto, più magro, più grasso, più giovane o più vecchio di quanto si aspettassero; se assomigliasse al suo ritratto o meno; e se il colore specifico dei suoi occhi fosse nero, blu, marrone, verde, giallo o una miscela di questi. In tutte queste discussioni il custode partecipava attivamente; insomma, il leone era l’unico argomento di conversazione fino a quando non lo fecero sedere per giocare a carte, e allora la gente tornò ai suoi soliti argomenti di discussione: se stessi e gli uni sugli altri.

Dobbiamo ammettere che aspettavamo con notevole impazienza l’annuncio dell’ora di cena; perché se volete vedere un leone addomesticato in circostanze particolarmente favorevoli, l’orario dei pasti è senz’altro il momento migliore per osservarlo. Fu quindi con grande gioia che notammo una certa agitazione tra gli ospiti, e subito dopo vedemmo il leone scortare la padrona di casa giù per le scale. Offrimmo il nostro braccio a una signora anziana che conosciamo bene; povera vecchia anima, è davvero la persona migliore che esista! Ogni volta che si tratta di andare a mangiare, sia che la stanza sia piccola o che il gruppo di persone sia numeroso, lei riesce sempre, grazie a una sorta di intuizione, ad avvicinarsi ai piatti migliori presenti sul tavolo. Così facemmo anche noi: scendemmo le scale poco dopo il leone e fummo fortunati ad ottenere un posto quasi di fronte a lui.

Naturalmente, il custode era già lì. Si era posizionato esattamente a quella distanza dal suo “animale sotto la sua responsabilità”, il che gli forniva un pretesto perfetto per alzare la voce quando si rivolgeva a esso, con un tono così alto da attirare inevitabilmente l’attenzione di tutta l’assemblea. Subito dopo iniziò seriamente nel suo compito: far uscire il leone e fargli eseguire tutte le sue manovre. Che battute brillanti riuscì a far pronunciare al leone! Iniziarono con scherzi sul sale, poi sul petto di un uccello. Ma i migliori erano sicuramente quelli riguardanti la insalata di aragoste; su questo argomento il leone si esibì con particolare vigore, e secondo le opinioni delle autorità più competenti, riuscì davvero a distinguersi. Questo è davvero un ottimo modo per distinguersi in società. E, a nostro modesto parere, si basa sul modello classico dei dialoghi tra il signor Punch e il suo amico, il proprietario del locale: quest’ultimo si occupa di preparare lo “terreno” per le battute e i rimandi spiritosi del signor Punch, che così ottiene sempre grande successo e suscita molte risate. Qualunque sia la base su cui si fonda questo metodo. Lo consigliamo a tutti i “leoni”, presenti o futuri: in questo caso, infatti, ha riscosso ammirazione da parte di tutti gli ascoltatori.

Quando la saliera, il petto di pollame, le altre piccole cose e la insalata di aragoste furono tutte esaurite, e non ci fu più spazio nemmeno per un altro scherzo, l’addestratore compì quell’atto estremamente rischioso che ancora oggi viene eseguito con alcuni leoni delle carovane, anche se in un caso si è concluso tragicamente: infilò la testa nella bocca dell’animale, mettendosi completamente alla sua miseria. Boswell racconta spesso casi tristi e tragici di questo comportamento avventato; altri addestratori e sciacalli sono stati gravemente feriti a causa della loro audacia. Bisogna dire che il nostro leone si è lasciato prendere in giro nel modo più gentile possibile, e alla fine se n’è andato con l’organizzatore dello spettacolo in una vettura di piazza: completamente pacifico, ma leggermente stordito.

Nel momento in cui eravamo in vena di riflessione, mentre tornavamo a casa, ci venne da considerare il carattere e il comportamento di questo genere di leoni; non passò molto che giungemmo alla conclusione che la nostra precedente impressione positiva su di loro fosse stata ulteriormente rafforzata e confermata da quanto avevamo appena visto. Mentre gli altri leoni accettano compagnia e complimenti in modo cupo, malinconico, per non dire minaccioso, questi sembrano essere lusingati dalle attenzioni che ricevono; mentre quelli si nascondono il più possibile dallo sguardo comune, questi cercano di attrarre l’attenzione del pubblico e, a differenza dei loro simili che sono spinti solo dalla necessità ad impegnarsi, sono sempre pronti a mostrare le proprie capacità davanti alla folla curiosa. Abbiamo conosciuto orsi di indubbile abilità che, quando le aspettative del pubblico erano al massimo, rifiutavano categoricamente di esibirsi; scimmie ben addestrate che, senza motivo, si opponevano a esibirsi sulla fune tesa; e elefanti di genio indiscutibile che improvvisamente rifiutavano di suonare l’organo a canne. Ma non abbiamo mai conosciuto, né sentito parlare di un leone bipede – letterario o altro che sia – che, quando ne avesse l’occasione, non approfittasse con entusiasmo di qualsiasi opportunità gli si presentasse per esibirsi al meglio della sua capacità. E lo affermiamo come un fatto che onora davvero l’intera specie.

Il signor Robert Bolton: “Il gentiluomo legato al mondo della stampa”

IN the parlour of the Green Dragon, a public-house in the immediate neighbourhood of Westminster Bridge, everybody talks politics, every evening, the great political authority being Mr. Robert Bolton, an individual who defines himself as ‘a gentleman connected with the press,’ which is a definition of peculiar indefiniteness. Mr. Robert Bolton’s regular circle of admirers and listeners are an undertaker, a greengrocer, a hairdresser, a baker, a large stomach surmounted by a man’s head, and placed on the top of two particularly short legs, and a thin man in black, name, profession, and pursuit unknown, who always sits in the same position, always displays the same long, vacant face, and never opens his lips, surrounded as he is by most enthusiastic conversation, except to puff forth a volume of tobacco smoke, or give vent to a very snappy, loud, and shrill hem! The conversation sometimes turns upon literature, Mr. Bolton being a literary character, and always upon such news of the day as is exclusively possessed by that talented individual. I found myself (of course, accidentally) in the Green Dragon the other evening, and, being somewhat amused by the following conversation, preserved it.

‘Can you lend me a ten-pound note till Christmas?’ inquired the hairdresser of the stomach.

‘Where’s your security, Mr. Clip?’

‘My stock in trade,—there’s enough of it, I’m thinking, Mr. Thicknesse. Some fifty wigs, two poles, half-a-dozen head blocks, and a dead Bruin.’

‘No, I won’t, then,’ growled out Thicknesse. ‘I lends nothing on the security of the whigs or the Poles either. As for whigs, they’re cheats; as for the Poles, they’ve got no cash. I never have nothing to do with blockheads, unless I can’t awoid it (ironically), and a dead bear’s about as much use to me as I could be to a dead bear.’

‘Well, then,’ urged the other, ‘there’s a book as belonged to Pope, Byron’s Poems, valued at forty pounds, because it’s got Pope’s identical scratch on the back; what do you think of that for security?’

‘Well, to be sure!’ cried the baker. ‘But how d’ye mean, Mr. Clip?’

‘Mean! why, that it’s got the hottergruff of Pope.

“Steal not this book, for fear of hangman’s rope; For it belongs to Alexander Pope.”

All that’s written on the inside of the binding of the book; so, as my son says, we’re bound to believe it.’

‘Well, sir,’ observed the undertaker, deferentially, and in a half-whisper, leaning over the table, and knocking over the hairdresser’s grog as he spoke, ‘that argument’s very easy upset.’

‘Perhaps, sir,’ said Clip, a little flurried, ‘you’ll pay for the first upset afore you thinks of another.’

‘Now,’ said the undertaker, bowing amicably to the hairdresser, ‘I think, I says I think—you’ll excuse me, Mr. Clip, I think, you see, that won’t go down with the present company—unfortunately, my master had the honour of making the coffin of that ere Lord’s housemaid, not no more nor twenty year ago. Don’t think I’m proud on it, gentlemen; others might be; but I hate rank of any sort. I’ve no more respect for a Lord’s footman than I have for any respectable tradesman in this room. I may say no more nor I have for Mr. Clip! (bowing). Therefore, that ere Lord must have been born long after Pope died. And it’s a logical interference to defer, that they neither of them lived at the same time. So what I mean is this here, that Pope never had no book, never seed, felt, never smelt no book (triumphantly) as belonged to that ere Lord. And, gentlemen, when I consider how patiently you have ’eared the ideas what I have expressed, I feel bound, as the best way to reward you for the kindness you have exhibited, to sit down without saying anything more—partickler as I perceive a worthier visitor nor myself is just entered. I am not in the habit of paying compliments, gentlemen; when I do, therefore, I hope I strikes with double force.’

‘Ah, Mr. Murgatroyd! what’s all this about striking with double force?’ said the object of the above remark, as he entered. ‘I never excuse a man’s getting into a rage during winter, even when he’s seated so close to the fire as you are. It is very injudicious to put yourself into such a perspiration. What is the cause of this extreme physical and mental excitement, sir?’

Such was the very philosophical address of Mr. Robert Bolton, a shorthand-writer, as he termed himself—a bit of equivoque passing current among his fraternity, which must give the uninitiated a vast idea of the establishment of the ministerial organ, while to the initiated it signifies that no one paper can lay claim to the enjoyment of their services. Mr. Bolton was a young man, with a somewhat sickly and very dissipated expression of countenance. His habiliments were composed of an exquisite union of gentility, slovenliness, assumption, simplicity, newness, and old age. Half of him was dressed for the winter, the other half for the summer. His hat was of the newest cut, the D’Orsay; his trousers had been white, but the inroads of mud and ink, etc., had given them a pie-bald appearance; round his throat he wore a very high black cravat, of the most tyrannical stiffness; while his tout ensemble was hidden beneath the enormous folds of an old brown poodle-collared great-coat, which was closely buttoned up to the aforesaid cravat. His fingers peeped through the ends of his black kid gloves, and two of the toes of each foot took a similar view of society through the extremities of his high-lows. Sacred to the bare walls of his garret be the mysteries of his interior dress! He was a short, spare man, of a somewhat inferior deportment. Everybody seemed influenced by his entry into the room, and his salutation of each member partook of the patronizing. The hairdresser made way for him between himself and the stomach. A minute afterwards he had taken possession of his pint and pipe. A pause in the conversation took place. Everybody was waiting, anxious for his first observation.

Nel salone del Green Dragon, una locanda pubblica situata nelle immediate vicinanze del Westminster Bridge, tutti parlano di politica ogni sera; l’autorità politica di riferimento è il signor Robert Bolton, un individuo che si definisce “un gentiluomo legato al mondo della stampa”, una definizione particolarmente vaga. Il cerchio regolare di ammiratori e ascoltatori del signor Bolton comprende un becchino, un verduriere, un parrucchiere, un panettiere, e anche un uomo magro in nero, il cui nome, professione e occupazioni sono sconosciuti; quest’ultimo si siede sempre nella stessa posizione, mostra sempre lo stesso volto lungo e vuoto, e non apre mai le labbra, sebbene sia circondato da conversazioni molto animate. Di tanto in tanto, il discorso si sposta sulla letteratura – il signor Bolton è infatti una persona colta – o su notizie del giorno che sono esclusivamente di sua conoscenza. Una sera mi trovai per caso nel Green Dragon e fui divertito dalla seguente conversazione, quindi la ho trascritta.

“Puoi prestarmi una banconota da dieci sterline fino a Natale?” chiese il parrucchiere allo stomaco.

“Dove è la sua sicurezza, signor Clip?”

“La mia merce principale, ne ho abbastanza, credo, signor Thicknesse: circa cinquanta parrucche, due pali, mezza dozzina di blocco per la testa, e anche un orso morto.”

“No, allora non lo farò,” ringhiò Thicknesse. “Non presto mai denaro garantito dai whigs o dai polacchi. Per quanto riguarda i whigs, sono truffatori; per quanto riguarda i polacchi, non hanno soldi. Non ho mai nulla a che fare con gli idioti, a meno che non sia inevitabile. E un orso morto non mi è di alcun utilità, proprio come io non sarei di alcun utilità per un orso morto.”

“Beh, allora,” insistette l’altro, “c’è un libro che apparteneva al Papa, i Poesie di Byron, valutato quaranta sterline, perché sul retro ha lo stesso segno lasciato dal Papa; che ne pensi come misura di sicurezza?”

“Beh, sicuramente!” esclamò il panettiere. “Ma cosa intende dire, signor Clip?”

“Cattivo! Perché ha lo stesso carattere irascibile di Papa.”

“Non rubare questo libro, per paura della corda del boia;
poiché appartiene ad Alexander Pope.”

Tutto ciò che è scritto all’interno della rilegatura del libro. Quindi, come dice mio figlio, siamo obbligati a crederci.

“Beh, signore,” osservò rispettosamente l’impresario di pompe funebri, sussurrando quasi, chinandosi sopra il tavolo e rovesciando nel frattempo il grog del parrucchiere mentre parlava, “quell’argomentazione può essere facilmente confutata.”

“Forse, signore,” disse Clip, un po’ agitato, “pagherete per il primo disastro prima ancora di pensare al prossimo.”

“Ora,” disse l’impresario di pompe funebri, inchinandosi amichevolmente al parrucchiere, “penso, beh, penso che questo non possa andare d’accordo con il gusto della compagnia qui presente. Purtroppo, mio padrone ebbe l’onore di realizzare la bara della cameriera di quella signora, non più di vent’anni fa. Non pensiate che ne sia orgoglioso, signori; altri forse lo sarebbero, ma io odio ogni tipo di distinzione sociale. Non rispetto affatto un valletto di lord più di quanto rispetti qualsiasi onesto commerciante in questa stanza. E non rispetto nemmeno il signor Clip! (inchinandosi di nuovo). Quindi, quel lord deve essere nato molto dopo la morte di Papa. E è logico che nessuno dei due abbia vissuto nella stessa epoca. In altre parole, Papa non ha mai posseduto un libro, né seminato nulla; non ha mai sentito o annusato nulla che potesse appartenere a quel lord. Signori, considerando quanto pazientemente abbiate ascoltato le mie idee, ritengo sia il modo migliore per ringraziarvi della vostra gentilezza, sedermi senza dire altro, soprattutto ora che ho notato l’arrivo di un visitatore più degno di me. Non sono abituato a fare complimenti, signori; quindi, quando lo faccio, spero che abbiano il doppio effetto desiderato, ”

“Ah, signor Murgatroyd! Di cosa si tratta, questo attacco di rabbia con una >doppia intensità?” disse la persona a cui era rivolta quella osservazione, entrando nella stanza. “Non scuso mai che un uomo perda le staffe durante l’>Inverno, nemmeno quando si trova così vicino al >focolare come voi. È davvero imprudente causarsi una tale sudorazione. Qual è la causa di questa estrema eccitazione fisica e mentale, signore?”

Ecco il discorso assai filosofico del signor Robert Bolton, un stenografo, o meglio, così si autodefiniva; un po’ di eufemismo diffuso tra i suoi colleghi, che per chi non ne fosse a conoscenza potrebbe dare l’impressione di una qualche organizzazione ufficiale, mentre per coloro che ne erano a conoscenza significava semplicemente che nessun giornale poteva rivendicare il diritto di utilizzare i suoi servizi. Il signor Bolton era un giovane dall’aspetto piuttosto malaticcio e dissoluto; il suo abbigliamento rappresentava un’eccezionale combinazione di raffinatezza, trascuratezza, presunzione, semplicità, e vecchiaia. Metà del suo corpo era vestita per l’inverno, l’altra metà per l’estate; il cappello aveva la moda più recente, il modello D’Orsay; i pantaloni erano stati bianchi, ma gli effetti del fango e dell’inchiostro li avevano resi di un colore grigiastro. Intorno al collo portava una cravatta nera molto rigida; l’intero suo abbigliamento era nascosto sotto le enormi pieghe di un vecchio cappotto marrone con colletto a papillon, chiuso strettamente fino alla cravatta. Le sue dita spuntavano dalle estremità dei guanti di pelle nera. E due delle dita dei piedi offrivano allo stesso modo uno “spettacolo” della società attraverso le estremità dei suoi stivali alti. I misteri del suo abbigliamento interno rimarranno per sempre sconosciuti. Era un uomo basso e magro, dal comportamento piuttosto scortese. Tutti sembravano essere influenzati dal suo ingresso nella stanza; il suo saluto verso ogni presente aveva un tono condiscendente. Il parrucchiere gli fece spazio tra sé e lo stomaco di qualcuno. Un minuto dopo, si era già impossessato della sua pinta e del suo pipa. La conversazione si interruppe per un momento. Tutti aspettavano con ansia la sua prima osservazione.

‘Horrid murder in Westminster this morning,’ observed Mr. Bolton.

Everybody changed their positions. All eyes were fixed upon the man of paragraphs.

‘A baker murdered his son by boiling him in a copper,’ said Mr. Bolton.

‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed everybody, in simultaneous horror.

‘Boiled him, gentlemen!’ added Mr. Bolton, with the most effective emphasis; ‘boiled him!’

‘And the particulars, Mr. B.,’ inquired the hairdresser, ‘the particulars?’

Mr. Bolton took a very long draught of porter, and some two or three dozen whiffs of tobacco, doubtless to instil into the commercial capacities of the company the superiority of a gentlemen connected with the press, and then said—

‘The man was a baker, gentlemen.’ (Every one looked at the baker present, who stared at Bolton.) ‘His victim, being his son, also was necessarily the son of a baker. The wretched murderer had a wife, whom he was frequently in the habit, while in an intoxicated state, of kicking, pummelling, flinging mugs at, knocking down, and half-killing while in bed, by inserting in her mouth a considerable portion of a sheet or blanket.’

The speaker took another draught, everybody looked at everybody else, and exclaimed, ‘Horrid!’

‘It appears in evidence, gentlemen,’ continued Mr. Bolton, ‘that, on the evening of yesterday, Sawyer the baker came home in a reprehensible state of beer. Mrs. S., connubially considerate, carried him in that condition up-stairs into his chamber, and consigned him to their mutual couch. In a minute or two she lay sleeping beside the man whom the morrow’s dawn beheld a murderer!’ (Entire silence informed the reporter that his picture had attained the awful effect he desired.) ‘The son came home about an hour afterwards, opened the door, and went up to bed. Scarcely (gentlemen, conceive his feelings of alarm), scarcely had he taken off his indescribables, when shrieks (to his experienced ear maternal shrieks) scared the silence of surrounding night. He put his indescribables on again, and ran down-stairs. He opened the door of the parental bed-chamber. His father was dancing upon his mother. What must have been his feelings! In the agony of the minute he rushed at his male parent as he was about to plunge a knife into the side of his female. The mother shrieked. The father caught the son (who had wrested the knife from the paternal grasp) up in his arms, carried him down-stairs, shoved him into a copper of boiling water among some linen, closed the lid, and jumped upon the top of it, in which position he was found with a ferocious countenance by the mother, who arrived in the melancholy wash-house just as he had so settled himself.

‘“Where’s my boy?” shrieked the mother.

‘“In that copper, boiling,” coolly replied the benign father.

‘Struck by the awful intelligence, the mother rushed from the house, and alarmed the neighbourhood. The police entered a minute afterwards. The father, having bolted the wash-house door, had bolted himself. They dragged the lifeless body of the boiled baker from the cauldron, and, with a promptitude commendable in men of their station, they immediately carried it to the station-house. Subsequently, the baker was apprehended while seated on the top of a lamp-post in Parliament Street, lighting his pipe.’

The whole horrible ideality of the Mysteries of Udolpho, condensed into the pithy effect of a ten-line paragraph, could not possibly have so affected the narrator’s auditory. Silence, the purest and most noble of all kinds of applause, bore ample testimony to the barbarity of the baker, as well as to Bolton’s knack of narration; and it was only broken after some minutes had elapsed by interjectional expressions of the intense indignation of every man present. The baker wondered how a British baker could so disgrace himself and the highly honourable calling to which he belonged; and the others indulged in a variety of wonderments connected with the subject; among which not the least wonderment was that which was awakened by the genius and information of Mr. Robert Bolton, who, after a glowing eulogium on himself, and his unspeakable influence with the daily press, was proceeding, with a most solemn countenance, to hear the pros and cons of the Pope autograph question, when I took up my hat, and left.

FAMILIAR EPISTLE FROM A PARENT TO A CHILD AGED TWO YEARS AND TWO MONTHS

MY CHILD,

TO recount with what trouble I have brought you up—with what an anxious eye I have regarded your progress,—how late and how often I have sat up at night working for you,—and how many thousand letters I have received from, and written to your various relations and friends, many of whom have been of a querulous and irritable turn,—to dwell on the anxiety and tenderness with which I have (as far as I possessed the power) inspected and chosen your food; rejecting the indigestible and heavy matter which some injudicious but well-meaning old ladies would have had you swallow, and retaining only those light and pleasant articles which I deemed calculated to keep you free from all gross humours, and to render you an agreeable child, and one who might be popular with society in general,—to dilate on the steadiness with which I have prevented your annoying any company by talking politics—always assuring you that you would thank me for it yourself some day when you grew older,—to expatiate, in short, upon my own assiduity as a parent, is beside my present purpose, though I cannot but contemplate your fair appearance—your robust health, and unimpeded circulation (which I take to be the great secret of your good looks) without the liveliest satisfaction and delight.

It is a trite observation, and one which, young as you are, I have no doubt you have often heard repeated, that we have fallen upon strange times, and live in days of constant shiftings and changes. I had a melancholy instance of this only a week or two since. I was returning from Manchester to London by the Mail Train, when I suddenly fell into another train—a mixed train—of reflection, occasioned by the dejected and disconsolate demeanour of the Post-Office Guard. We were stopping at some station where they take in water, when he dismounted slowly from the little box in which he sits in ghastly mockery of his old condition with pistol and blunderbuss beside him, ready to shoot the first highwayman (or railwayman) who shall attempt to stop the horses, which now travel (when they travel at all) inside and in a portable stable invented for the purpose,—he dismounted, I say, slowly and sadly, from his post, and looking mournfully about him as if in dismal recollection of the old roadside public-house the blazing fire—the glass of foaming ale—the buxom handmaid and admiring hangers-on of tap-room and stable, all honoured by his notice; and, retiring a little apart, stood leaning against a signal-post, surveying the engine with a look of combined affliction and disgust which no words can describe. His scarlet coat and golden lace were tarnished with ignoble smoke; flakes of soot had fallen on his bright green shawl—his pride in days of yore—the steam condensed in the tunnel from which we had just emerged, shone upon his hat like rain. His eye betokened that he was thinking of the coachman; and as it wandered to his own seat and his own fast-fading garb, it was plain to see that he felt his office and himself had alike no business there, and were nothing but an elaborate practical joke.

“Un orribile omicidio a Westminster stamattina,” osservò il signor Bolton.

Tutti cambiarono posizione. Tutti gli sguardi erano fissi su quell’uomo.

“Un panettiere ha ucciso suo figlio bollendolo in un pentolone di rame,” disse il signor Bolton.

“Mio Dio!” esclamarono tutti, simultaneamente, in preda all’orrore.

“Lo abbiamo bollito, signori!” aggiunse il signor Bolton con la massima enfasi possibile; “lo abbiamo bollito!”

“E i dettagli, signor B, ”, chiese la parrucchiera. “I dettagli precisi?”

Il signor Bolton bevve un lungo sorso di birra e fumò due o tre dozzine di sigarette, probabilmente per far comprendere alla compagnia l’importanza dei gentiluomini legati al mondo editoriale; poi disse.

“Quell’uomo era un panettiere, signori.” Tutti guardarono il panettiere presente nella stanza, che fissava Bolton. “La sua vittima, essendo suo figlio, era necessariamente anche lei figlia di un panettiere. Quel miserabile assassino aveva una moglie, e spesso, quando era ubriaco, aveva l’abitudine di calciarla, picchiarla, lanciarle tazze addosso, buttarla a terra e quasi ucciderla a letto, infilandole nella bocca una grande quantità di lenzuola o coperte.”

Il parlante bevve un altro sorso; tutti si guardarono intorno e esclamarono: “Orribile!”

“Si evince dalle prove, signori,” continuò il signor Bolton, “che la sera di ieri il panettiere Sawyer tornò a casa in uno stato deplorevole, a causa dell’effetto dell’alcol. La signora S., considerata nel suo ruolo coniugale, lo portò in quella condizione al piano di sopra, nella sua camera, e lo affidò al loro letto condiviso. Dopo un minuto o due, lei stessa si addormentò accanto all’uomo che, l’indomani all’alba, sarebbe stato scoperto come assassino, ” (Un silenzio totale fece capire al relatore che il racconto aveva ottenuto esattamente l’effetto desiderato.) “Il figlio tornò a casa circa un’ora dopo, aprì la porta e andò a letto. Appena si era spogliato, (Signori, immaginate i suoi sentimenti di terrore, ), quando improvvisamente dei grida – per un orecchio esperto, grida materne – squarciarono il silenzio della notte circostante. Si rivestì in fretta e corse giù per le scale. Entrò nella camera da letto dei genitori. Suo padre stava danzando sopra sua madre. Che sentimenti doveva provare! Nell’orrore di quel momento, si scagliò contro il proprio genitore maschio proprio mentre quest’ultimo stava per pugnalare la madre. La donna gridò; il padre afferrò il figlio – che aveva strappato il coltello dalle sue mani – e lo portò giù per le scale, gettandolo in una pentola piena d’acqua bollente insieme a del bucato. Chiuse il coperchio della pentola e vi saltò sopra. Fu trovato in quella posizione, con un’espressione feroce, dalla madre, che arrivò nella lavanderia proprio nel momento in cui si era sistemato così.”

“Dov’è mio figlio?”, gridò la madre.

“Nel quel metallo bollente, ”, rispose con calma il gentile padre.

Colpita da quell’intelligenza terribile, la madre uscì di corsa dalla casa e allarmò l’intero quartiere. La polizia arrivò poco dopo. Il padre, essendo fuggito attraverso la porta della lavanderia, si era anche lui dato alla fuga. Estrassero il corpo senza vita del panettiere dal calderone e, con una prontezza degna di lode da parte di persone della loro posizione, lo portarono immediatamente alla stazione di polizia. In seguito, il panettiere fu arrestato mentre sedeva in cima a un lampione in Parliament Street, intento ad accendere la sua pipa.

Tutta quell’orribile idealità dei “Misteri di Udolpho”, condensata nell’effetto incisivo di un paragrafo di dieci righe, non avrebbe mai potuto influenzare così profondamente l’ascoltatore. Il silenzio, il più puro e nobile dei tipi di applauso, fu la prova evidente della barbarie di quel panettiere, così come del talento narrativo di Bolton; solo dopo alcuni minuti furono interrotti da espressioni di intensa indignazione da parte di tutti i presenti. Il panettiere si chiedeva come un panettiere britannico potesse umiliare a tal punto se stesso e la nobile professione a cui apparteneva; gli altri, invece, nutrivano varie perplessità riguardo all’intera vicenda. Tra queste, non ultima era quella suscitata dal genio e dalle conoscenze del signor Robert Bolton: dopo aver elogiato se stesso e la sua ineguagliabile influenza sui giornali quotidiani, proseguì con un’espressione molto solenne nell’ascoltare i pro e i contro riguardo alla questione dell’autografo di Papa Pio XII. Quando poi presi il cappello e me ne andai.

Lettera familiare di un genitore a un >bambino di due anni e due mesi

Mio bambino,

Raccontare con quanta difficoltà vi abbia cresciuto; con quale occhio ansioso ho seguito i vostri progressi; quanto spesso e fino a tarda notte mi sia alzato per lavorare per voi; quante migliaia di lettere abbia ricevuto e scritto alle vostre varie parenti e amici, molti dei quali erano di carattere petulante e irritabile. Insomma, descrivere l’ansia e la premura con cui ho cercato, nel limite delle mie possibilità, di scegliervi il cibo giusto; rifiutando quelle sostanze indigestibili e pesanti che alcune anziane signore, per quanto benintenzionate, avrebbero voluto farvi ingoiare. E mantenendo soltanto quegli alimenti leggeri e gradevoli che ritenevo potessero preservarvi da ogni disturbo digestivo, rendendovi un bambino piacevole da avere intorno e apprezzato dalla società in generale. Insomma, dilungarmi su tutto ciò che ho fatto con impegno nel ruolo di genitore va al di là dello scopo principale di questa lettera. Tuttavia, non posso fare a meno di ammirare il vostro bell’aspetto, la vostra salute robusta e la circolazione sana del sangue – che ritengo sia il vero segreto della vostra bellezza – e non posso trattenere una profonda soddisfazione e gioia al riguardo.

È un’osservazione banale, e sicuramente, essendo così giovane, l’avrai sentita ripetere molte volte: viviamo in tempi strani, in giorni di continui cambiamenti e trasformazioni. Solo una settimana o due fa ho avuto un’altra occasione per rifletterci su. Tornavo da Manchester a Londra con il treno espresso quando, all’improvviso, mi sono immerso in profonde riflessioni, spinto dal comportamento depresso e desolato del guardiano dell’ufficio postale. Ci trovavamo in una stazione dove si rifornivano d’acqua; lui scese lentamente dalla sua piccola cabina, seduta lì in un modo grottesco a ricordo delle sue vecchie mansioni, con pistola e fucile accanto a sé, pronto a sparare al primo “ladro di strada” (o ferroviario) che osasse fermare i cavalli. I quali ora viaggiano, se mai lo fanno, all’interno di stalle portatili appositamente inventate per questo scopo. Scese lentamente e tristemente dal suo posto, guardandosi intorno con aria malinconica, come se ricordasse con nostalgia le vecchie osterie lungo la strada. Il fuoco ardente nei camini, i boccali di birra schiumosa, le cameriere formose e gli avventurieri che si aggiravano intorno alle stalle. Tutti questi aspetti della vita passata sembravano ormai svaniti per lui. Si allontanò un po’, appoggiandosi a un palo di segnalazione, e osservò il locomotore con uno sguardo misto di dolore e disgusto. Il suo mantello rosso e i suoi nastri dorati erano macchiati dal fumo; fiocchi di fuliggine si erano depositati sul suo scialle verde brillante. L’umidità del vapore condensato nel tunnel aveva reso il suo cappello lucido come se fosse piovuto. Il suo sguardo sembrava rivolto al cocchiere. E quando si posò sulla sua stessa poltrona e sul suo abito ormai logoro, fu evidente che sentiva di non avere più nulla a che fare con quel ruolo. Che lui stesso non fosse altro che un’ironica parodia di ciò che un tempo era stato.

As we whirled away, I was led insensibly into an anticipation of those days to come, when mail-coach guards shall no longer be judges of horse-flesh—when a mail-coach guard shall never even have seen a horse—when stations shall have superseded stables, and corn shall have given place to coke. ‘In those dawning times,’ thought I, ‘exhibition-rooms shall teem with portraits of Her Majesty’s favourite engine, with boilers after Nature by future Landseers. Some Amburgh, yet unborn, shall break wild horses by his magic power; and in the dress of a mail-coach guard exhibit his TRAINED ANIMALS in a mock mail-coach. Then, shall wondering crowds observe how that, with the exception of his whip, it is all his eye; and crowned heads shall see them fed on oats, and stand alone unmoved and undismayed, while counters flee affrighted when the coursers neigh!’

Such, my child, were the reflections from which I was only awakened then, as I am now, by the necessity of attending to matters of present though minor importance. I offer no apology to you for the digression, for it brings me very naturally to the subject of change, which is the very subject of which I desire to treat.

In fact, my child, you have changed hands. Henceforth I resign you to the guardianship and protection of one of my most intimate and valued friends, Mr. Ainsworth, with whom, and with you, my best wishes and warmest feelings will ever remain. I reap no gain or profit by parting from you, nor will any conveyance of your property be required, for, in this respect, you have always been literally ‘Bentley’s’ Miscellany, and never mine.

Unlike the driver of the old Manchester mail, I regard this altered state of things with feelings of unmingled pleasure and satisfaction.

Unlike the guard of the new Manchester mail, your guard is at home in his new place, and has roystering highwaymen and gallant desperadoes ever within call. And if I might compare you, my child, to an engine; (not a Tory engine, nor a Whig engine, but a brisk and rapid locomotive;) your friends and patrons to passengers; and he who now stands towards you in loco parentis as the skilful engineer and supervisor of the whole, I would humbly crave leave to postpone the departure of the train on its new and auspicious course for one brief instant, while, with hat in hand, I approach side by side with the friend who travelled with me on the old road, and presume to solicit favour and kindness in behalf of him and his new charge, both for their sakes and that of the old coachman,

BOZ.

Mentre ci allontanavamo velocemente, fui inconsapevolmente portato ad immaginare quei giorni futuri in cui i guardiani delle diligenze non sarebbero più giudici della “carne equina”, in cui un guardiano di diligenza non avrebbe mai nemmeno visto un cavallo; in cui le stazioni avrebbero sostituito gli stalli, e il grano il carbone. “In quei tempi nascenti”, pensai, “le sale espositive saranno piene di ritratti del locomotore preferito da Sua Maestà, di caldaie progettate secondo i principi della Natura da futuri ingegneri. Qualcuno, ancora non nato, dominerà cavalli selvaggi con il suo potere magico; e, vestito come un guardiano di diligenza, esibirà gli animali che ha addestrato all’interno di una falsa diligenza. Allora, folle meravigliate osserveranno come, ad eccezione del frustino, tutto ciò che possiede sia il risultato delle sue capacità. E sovrani vedranno quegli animali nutrirsi di avena, rimanendo immobili e imperturbabili, mentre i cavalli fuggiranno spaventati al loro passaggio, ”

Ecco, mio figlio, quali riflessioni mi spinsero a svegliarmi in quel momento, e proprio ora sono di nuovo destato dalla necessità di occuparmi di questioni presenti, anche se di minore importanza. Non chiedo scusa per questa digressione, poiché mi conduce naturalmente al tema del cambiamento, che è appunto l’argomento di cui desidero parlare.

In effetti, mio bambino, sei passato sotto la custodia di qualcun altro. Da ora in poi ti affido alla protezione e al cura di uno dei miei amici più cari e preziosi, il signor Ainsworth; con lui, come con te, i miei migliori desideri e i miei sentimenti più calorosi rimarranno sempre. Non traevo alcun vantaggio o beneficio separandomi da te, né sarà necessario alcun trasferimento dei tuoi beni, poiché, in questo senso, tu sei sempre stato letteralmente “il miscuglio di Bentley”, e mai mio.

A differenza del conducente dell’antico servizio postale di Manchester, io considero questo stato modificato delle cose con sentimenti di piacere e soddisfazione indiscutibili.

A differenza della guardia del nuovo servizio postale di Manchester, la tua guardia si trova a casa nel suo nuovo ambiente, e ha sempre a disposizione banditi e audaci fuorilegge pronti ad aiutarla. E se potessi paragonarti, mio bambino, a una locomotiva, (non una locomotiva conservatrice, né una liberale, ma una veloce e potente macchina, ) i tuoi amici e sostenitori sarebbero i passeggeri; e colui che ora si trova al tuo fianco, in qualità di abile ingegnere responsabile del tutto, mi permetterebbe umilmente di ritardare per un breve istante la partenza del treno lungo il suo nuovo e promettente percorso. Così potrei avvicinarmi, con il cappello in mano, al mio vecchio amico che ha viaggiato con me lungo la vecchia strada, e chiedere umilmente il tuo favore e la tua gentilezza a beneficio suo e del suo nuovo incarico. Per il loro bene, e anche per quello dell’antico cocchiere.

BOZ.