The foregoing reflections presented themselves to my mind, the other day, as I contemplated12 (being newly come to London from the East Riding of Yorkshire, on a house-hunting expedition for next May), an old warehouse13 which rotting paste and rotting paper had brought down to the condition of an old cheese. It would have been impossible to say, on the most conscientious14 survey, how much of its front was brick and mortar15, and how much decaying and decayed plaster. It was so thickly encrusted with fragments of bills, that no ship’s keel after a long voyage could be half so foul16. All traces of the broken windows were billed out, the doors were billed across, the water-spout was billed over. The building was shored up to prevent its tumbling into the street; and the very beams erected17 against it were less wood than paste and paper, they had been so continually posted and reposted. The forlorn dregs of old posters so encumbered18 this wreck19, that there was no hold for new posters, and the stickers had abandoned the place in despair, except one enterprising man who had hoisted20 the last masquerade to a clear spot near the level of the stack of chimneys where it waved and drooped21 like a shattered flag. Below the rusty22 cellar-grating, crumpled23 remnants of old bills torn down, rotted away in wasting heaps of fallen leaves. Here and there, some of the thick rind of the house had peeled off in strips, and fluttered heavily down, littering the street; but, still, below these rents and gashes24, layers of decomposing25 posters showed themselves, as if they were interminable. I thought the building could never even be pulled down, but in one adhesive26 heap of rottenness and poster. As to getting in — I don’t believe that if the Sleeping Beauty and her Court had been so billed up, the young Prince could have done it.
Knowing all the posters that were yet legible, intimately, and pondering on their ubiquitous nature, I was led into the reflections with which I began this paper, by considering what an awful thing it would be, ever to have wronged — say M. JULLIEN for example — and to have his avenging27 name in characters of fire incessantly29 before my eyes. Or to have injured MADAME TUSSAUD, and undergo a similar retribution. Has any man a self-reproachful thought associated with pills, or ointment30? What an avenging spirit to that man is PROFESSOR HOLLOWAY! Have I sinned in oil? CABBURN pursues me. Have I a dark remembrance associated with any gentlemanly garments, bespoke31 or ready made? MOSES and SON are on my track. Did I ever aim a blow at a defenceless fellow-creature’s head? That head eternally being measured for a wig32, or that worse head which was bald before it used the balsam, and hirsute33 afterwards — enforcing the benevolent34 moral, ‘Better to be bald as a Dutch cheese than come to this,’ — undoes35 me. Have I no sore places in my mind which MECHI touches — which NICOLL probes — which no registered article whatever lacerates? Does no discordant36 note within me thrill responsive to mysterious watchwords, as ‘Revalenta Arabica,’ or ‘Number One St. Paul’s Churchyard’? Then may I enjoy life, and be happy.
Lifting up my eyes, as I was musing37 to this effect, I beheld38 advancing towards me (I was then on Cornhill, near to the Royal Exchange), a solemn procession of three advertising vans, of first-class dimensions, each drawn39 by a very little horse. As the cavalcade40 approached, I was at a loss to reconcile the careless deportment of the drivers of these vehicles, with the terrific announcements they conducted through the city, which being a summary of the contents of a Sunday newspaper, were of the most thrilling kind. Robbery, fire, murder, and the ruin of the United Kingdom — each discharged in a line by itself, like a separate broad-side of red-hot shot — were among the least of the warnings addressed to an unthinking people. Yet, the Ministers of Fate who drove the awful cars, leaned forward with their arms upon their knees in a state of extreme lassitude, for want of any subject of interest. The first man, whose hair I might naturally have expected to see standing42 on end, scratched his head — one of the smoothest I ever beheld — with profound indifference43. The second whistled. The third yawned.
Pausing to dwell upon this apathy44, it appeared to me, as the fatal cars came by me, that I descried45 in the second car, through the portal in which the charioteer was seated, a figure stretched upon the floor. At the same time, I thought I smelt46 tobacco. The latter impression passed quickly from me; the former remained. Curious to know whether this prostrate47 figure was the one impressible man of the whole capital who had been stricken insensible by the terrors revealed to him, and whose form had been placed in the car by the charioteer, from motives48 of humanity, I followed the procession. It turned into Leadenhall-market, and halted at a public-house. Each driver dismounted. I then distinctly heard, proceeding49 from the second car, where I had dimly seen the prostrate form, the words:
‘And a pipe!’
The driver entering the public-house with his fellows, apparently50 for purposes of refreshment51, I could not refrain from mounting on the shaft52 of the second vehicle, and looking in at the portal. I then beheld, reclining on his back upon the floor, on a kind of mattress53 or divan54, a little man in a shooting-coat. The exclamation55 ‘Dear me’ which irresistibly56 escaped my lips caused him to sit upright, and survey me. I found him to be a good-looking little man of about fifty, with a shining face, a tight head, a bright eye, a moist wink57, a quick speech, and a ready air. He had something of a sporting way with him.
He looked at me, and I looked at him, until the driver displaced me by handing in a pint58 of beer, a pipe, and what I understand is called ‘a screw’ of tobacco — an object which has the appearance of a curl-paper taken off the barmaid’s head, with the curl in it.
‘I beg your pardon,’ said I, when the removed person of the driver again admitted of my presenting my face at the portal. ‘But — excuse my curiosity, which I inherit from my mother — do you live here?’
‘That’s good, too!’ returned the little man, composedly laying aside a pipe he had smoked out, and filling the pipe just brought to him.
‘Oh, you DON’T live here then?’ said I.
He shook his head, as he calmly lighted his pipe by means of a German tinder-box, and replied, ‘This is my carriage. When things are flat, I take a ride sometimes, and enjoy myself. I am the inventor of these wans59.’
His pipe was now alight. He drank his beer all at once, and he smoked and he smiled at me.
‘It was a great idea!’ said I.
‘Not so bad,’ returned the little man, with the modesty60 of merit.
‘Might I be permitted to inscribe61 your name upon the tablets of my memory?’ I asked.
‘There’s not much odds62 in the name,’ returned the little man, ‘ — no name particular — I am the King of the Bill-Stickers.’
‘Good gracious!’ said I.
The monarch63 informed me, with a smile, that he had never been crowned or installed with any public ceremonies, but that he was peaceably acknowledged as King of the Bill-Stickers in right of being the oldest and most respected member of ‘the old school of bill-sticking.’ He likewise gave me to understand that there was a Lord Mayor of the Bill-Stickers, whose genius was chiefly exercised within the limits of the city. He made some allusion64, also, to an inferior potentate65, called ‘Turkey-legs;’ but I did not understand that this gentleman was invested with much power. I rather inferred that he derived67 his title from some peculiarity68 of gait, and that it was of an honorary character.
‘My father,’ pursued the King of the Bill-Stickers, ‘was Engineer, Beadle, and Bill-Sticker to the parish of St. Andrew’s, Holborn, in the year one thousand seven hundred and eighty. My father stuck bills at the time of the riots of London.’
‘You must be acquainted with the whole subject of bill-sticking, from that time to the present!’ said I.
‘Pretty well so,’ was the answer.
‘Excuse me,’ said I; ‘but I am a sort of collector — ’
‘‘Not Income-tax?’ cried His Majesty69, hastily removing his pipe from his lips.
‘No, no,’ said I.
‘Water-rate?’ said His Majesty.
‘No, no,’ I returned.
‘Gas? Assessed? Sewers70?’ said His Majesty.
‘You misunderstand me,’ I replied, soothingly71. ‘Not that sort of collector at all: a collector of facts.’
‘Oh, if it’s only facts,’ cried the King of the Bill-Stickers, recovering his good-humour, and banishing72 the great mistrust that had suddenly fallen upon him, ‘come in and welcome! If it had been income, or winders, I think I should have pitched you out of the wan41, upon my soul!’
Readily complying with the invitation, I squeezed myself in at the small aperture73. His Majesty, graciously handing me a little three-legged stool on which I took my seat in a corner, inquired if I smoked.
‘I do; — that is, I can,’ I answered.
‘Pipe and a screw!’ said His Majesty to the attendant charioteer. ‘Do you prefer a dry smoke, or do you moisten it?’
As unmitigated tobacco produces most disturbing effects upon my system (indeed, if I had perfect moral courage, I doubt if I should smoke at all, under any circumstances), I advocated moisture, and begged the Sovereign of the Bill-Stickers to name his usual liquor, and to concede to me the privilege of paying for it. After some delicate reluctance75 on his part, we were provided, through the instrumentality of the attendant charioteer, with a can of cold rum-and-water, flavoured with sugar and lemon. We were also furnished with a tumbler, and I was provided with a pipe. His Majesty, then observing that we might combine business with conversation, gave the word for the car to proceed; and, to my great delight, we jogged away at a foot pace.
I say to my great delight, because I am very fond of novelty, and it was a new sensation to be jolting76 through the tumult77 of the city in that secluded78 Temple, partly open to the sky, surrounded by the roar without, and seeing nothing but the clouds. Occasionally, blows from whips fell heavily on the Temple’s walls, when by stopping up the road longer than usual, we irritated carters and coachmen to madness; but they fell harmless upon us within and disturbed not the serenity79 of our peaceful retreat. As I looked upward, I felt, I should imagine, like the Astronomer80 Royal. I was enchanted81 by the contrast between the freezing nature of our external mission on the blood of the populace, and the perfect composure reigning82 within those sacred precincts: where His Majesty, reclining easily on his left arm, smoked his pipe and drank his rum-and-water from his own side of the tumbler, which stood impartially83 between us. As I looked down from the clouds and caught his royal eye, he understood my reflections. ‘I have an idea,’ he observed, with an upward glance, ‘of training scarlet84 runners across in the season, — making a arbour of it, — and sometimes taking tea in the same, according to the song.’
I nodded approval.
‘And here you repose85 and think?’ said I.
‘And think,’ said he, ‘of posters — walls — and hoardings.’
We were both silent, contemplating87 the vastness of the subject. I remembered a surprising fancy of dear THOMAS HOOD88’S, and wondered whether this monarch ever sighed to repair to the great wall of China, and stick bills all over it.
‘And so,’ said he, rousing himself, ‘it’s facts as you collect?’
‘Facts,’ said I.
‘The facts of bill-sticking,’ pursued His Majesty, in a benignant manner, ‘as known to myself, air as following. When my father was Engineer, Beadle, and Bill-Sticker to the parish of St. Andrew’s, Holborn, he employed women to post bills for him. He employed women to post bills at the time of the riots of London. He died at the age of seventy-five year, and was buried by the murdered Eliza Grimwood, over in the Waterloo Road.’
As this was somewhat in the nature of a royal speech, I listened with deference89 and silently. His Majesty, taking a scroll90 from his pocket, proceeded, with great distinctness, to pour out the following flood of information:-
‘“The bills being at that period mostly proclamations and declarations, and which were only a demy size, the manner of posting the bills (as they did not use brushes) was by means of a piece of wood which they called a ‘dabber.’ Thus things continued till such time as the State Lottery91 was passed, and then the printers began to print larger bills, and men were employed instead of women, as the State Lottery Commissioners92 then began to send men all over England to post bills, and would keep them out for six or eight months at a time, and they were called by the London bill-stickers ‘TRAMPERS,’ their wages at the time being ten shillings per day, besides expenses. They used sometimes to be stationed in large towns for five or six months together, distributing the schemes to all the houses in the town. And then there were more caricature wood-block engravings for posting-bills than there are at the present time, the principal printers, at that time, of posting-bills being Messrs. Evans and Ruffy, of Budge93 Row; Thoroughgood and Whiting, of the present day; and Messrs. Gye and Balne, Gracechurch Street, City. The largest bills printed at that period were a two-sheet double crown; and when they commenced printing four-sheet bills, two bill-stickers would work together. They had no settled wages per week, but had a fixed94 price for their work, and the London bill-stickers, during a lottery week, have been known to earn, each, eight or nine pounds per week, till the day of drawing; likewise the men who carried boards in the street used to have one pound per week, and the bill-stickers at that time would not allow any one to wilfully95 cover or destroy their bills, as they had a society amongst themselves, and very frequently dined together at some public-house where they used to go of an evening to have their work delivered out untoe ’em.”’
All this His Majesty delivered in a gallant96 manner; posting it, as it were, before me, in a great proclamation. I took advantage of the pause he now made, to inquire what a ‘two-sheet double crown’ might express?
‘A two-sheet double crown,’ replied the King, ‘is a bill thirty-nine inches wide by thirty inches high.’
‘Is it possible,’ said I, my mind reverting97 to the gigantic admonitions we were then displaying to the multitude — which were as infants to some of the posting-bills on the rotten old warehouse — ‘that some few years ago the largest bill was no larger than that?’
‘The fact,’ returned the King, ‘is undoubtedly98 so.’ Here he instantly rushed again into the scroll.
‘“Since the abolishing of the State Lottery all that good feeling has gone, and nothing but jealousy99 exists, through the rivalry100 of each other. Several bill-sticking companies have started, but have failed. The first party that started a company was twelve year ago; but what was left of the old school and their dependants101 joined together and opposed them. And for some time we were quiet again, till a printer of Hatton Garden formed a company by hiring the sides of houses; but he was not supported by the public, and he left his wooden frames fixed up for rent. The last company that started, took advantage of the New Police Act, and hired of Messrs. Grissell and Peto the hoarding86 of Trafalgar Square, and established a bill-sticking office in Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane, and engaged some of the new bill-stickers to do their work, and for a time got the half of all our work, and with such spirit did they carry on their opposition102 towards us, that they used to give us in charge before the magistrate103, and get us fined; but they found it so expensive, that they could not keep it up, for they were always employing a lot of ruffians from the Seven Dials to come and fight us; and on one occasion the old bill-stickers went to Trafalgar Square to attempt to post bills, when they were given in custody104 by the watchman in their employ, and fined at Queen Square five pounds, as they would not allow any of us to speak in the office; but when they were gone, we had an interview with the magistrate, who mitigated74 the fine to fifteen shillings. During the time the men were waiting for the fine, this company started off to a public-house that we were in the habit of using, and waited for us coming back, where a fighting scene took place that beggars description. Shortly after this, the principal one day came and shook hands with us, and acknowledged that he had broken up the company, and that he himself had lost five hundred pound in trying to overthrow105 us. We then took possession of the hoarding in Trafalgar Square; but Messrs. Grissell and Peto would not allow us to post our bills on the said hoarding without paying them — and from first to last we paid upwards106 of two hundred pounds for that hoarding, and likewise the hoarding of the Reform Club-house, Pall107 Mall.”’
His Majesty, being now completely out of breath, laid down his scroll (which he appeared to have finished), puffed108 at his pipe, and took some rum-and-water. I embraced the opportunity of asking how many divisions the art and mystery of bill-sticking comprised? He replied, three — auctioneers’ bill-sticking, theatrical109 bill-sticking, general bill-sticking.
‘The auctioneers’ porters,’ said the King, ‘who do their bill-sticking, are mostly respectable and intelligent, and generally well paid for their work, whether in town or country. The price paid by the principal auctioneers for country work is nine shillings per day; that is, seven shillings for day’s work, one shilling for lodging110, and one for paste. Town work is five shillings a day, including paste.’
‘Town work must be rather hot work,’ said I, ‘if there be many of those fighting scenes that beggar description, among the bill-stickers?’
‘Well,’ replied the King, ‘I an’t a stranger, I assure you, to black eyes; a bill-sticker ought to know how to handle his fists a bit. As to that row I have mentioned, that grew out of competition, conducted in an uncompromising spirit. Besides a man in a horse-and-shay continually following us about, the company had a watchman on duty, night and day, to prevent us sticking bills upon the hoarding in Trafalgar Square. We went there, early one morning, to stick bills and to black-wash their bills if we were interfered111 with. We WERE interfered with, and I gave the word for laying on the wash. It WAS laid on — pretty brisk — and we were all taken to Queen Square: but they couldn’t fine ME. I knew that,’ — with a bright smile — ‘I’d only give directions — I was only the General.’ Charmed with this monarch’s affability, I inquired if he had ever hired a hoarding himself.
‘Hired a large one,’ he replied, ‘opposite the Lyceum Theatre, when the buildings was there. Paid thirty pound for it; let out places on it, and called it “The External Paper-Hanging Station.” But it didn’t answer. Ah!’ said His Majesty thoughtfully, as he filled the glass, ‘Bill-stickers have a deal to contend with. The bill-sticking clause was got into the Police Act by a member of Parliament that employed me at his election. The clause is pretty stiff respecting where bills go; but HE didn’t mind where HIS bills went. It was all right enough, so long as they was HIS bills!’
Fearful that I observed a shadow of misanthropy on the King’s cheerful face, I asked whose ingenious invention that was, which I greatly admired, of sticking bills under the arches of the bridges.
‘Mine!’ said His Majesty. ‘I was the first that ever stuck a bill under a bridge! Imitators soon rose up, of course. — When don’t they? But they stuck ’em at low-water, and the tide came and swept the bills clean away. I knew that!’ The King laughed.
‘What may be the name of that instrument, like an immense fishing-rod,’ I inquired, ‘with which bills are posted on high places?’
‘The joints113,’ returned His Majesty. ‘Now, we use the joints where formerly114 we used ladders — as they do still in country places. Once, when Madame’ (Vestris, understood) ‘was playing in Liverpool, another bill-sticker and me were at it together on the wall outside the Clarence Dock — me with the joints — him on a ladder. Lord! I had my bill up, right over his head, yards above him, ladder and all, while he was crawling to his work. The people going in and out of the docks, stood and laughed! — It’s about thirty years since the joints come in.’
‘Are there any bill-stickers who can’t read?’ I took the liberty of inquiring.
‘Some,’ said the King. ‘But they know which is the right side up’ards of their work. They keep it as it’s given out to ’em. I have seen a bill or so stuck wrong side up’ards. But it’s very rare.’
Our discourse115 sustained some interruption at this point, by the procession of cars occasioning a stoppage of about three-quarters of a mile in length, as nearly as I could judge. His Majesty, however, entreating116 me not to be discomposed by the contingent117 uproar118, smoked with great placidity119, and surveyed the firmament120.
When we were again in motion, I begged to be informed what was the largest poster His Majesty had ever seen. The King replied, ‘A thirty-six sheet poster.’ I gathered, also, that there were about a hundred and fifty bill-stickers in London, and that His Majesty considered an average hand equal to the posting of one hundred bills (single sheets) in a day. The King was of opinion, that, although posters had much increased in size, they had not increased in number; as the abolition121 of the State Lotteries122 had occasioned a great falling off, especially in the country. Over and above which change, I bethought myself that the custom of advertising in newspapers had greatly increased. The completion of many London improvements, as Trafalgar Square (I particularly observed the singularity of His Majesty’s calling THAT an improvement), the Royal Exchange, &c., had of late years reduced the number of advantageous123 posting-places. Bill-Stickers at present rather confine themselves to districts, than to particular descriptions of work. One man would strike over Whitechapel, another would take round Houndsditch, Shoreditch, and the City Road; one (the King said) would stick to the Surrey side; another would make a beat of the West-end.
His Majesty remarked, with some approach to severity, on the neglect of delicacy124 and taste, gradually introduced into the trade by the new school: a profligate125 and inferior race of impostors who took jobs at almost any price, to the detriment126 of the old school, and the confusion of their own misguided employers. He considered that the trade was overdone127 with competition, and observed speaking of his subjects, ‘There are too many of ’em.’ He believed, still, that things were a little better than they had been; adducing, as a proof, the fact that particular posting places were now reserved, by common consent, for particular posters; those places, however, must be regularly occupied by those posters, or, they lapsed128 and fell into other hands. It was of no use giving a man a Drury Lane bill this week and not next. Where was it to go? He was of opinion that going to the expense of putting up your own board on which your sticker could display your own bills, was the only complete way of posting yourself at the present time; but, even to effect this, on payment of a shilling a week to the keepers of steamboat piers130 and other such places, you must be able, besides, to give orders for theatres and public exhibitions, or you would be sure to be cut out by somebody. His Majesty regarded the passion for orders, as one of the most unappeasable appetites of human nature. If there were a building, or if there were repairs, going on, anywhere, you could generally stand something and make it right with the foreman of the works; but, orders would be expected from you, and the man who could give the most orders was the man who would come off best. There was this other objectionable point, in orders, that workmen sold them for drink, and often sold them to persons who were likewise troubled with the weakness of thirst: which led (His Majesty said) to the presentation of your orders at Theatre doors, by individuals who were ‘too shakery’ to derive66 intellectual profit from the entertainments, and who brought a scandal on you. Finally, His Majesty said that you could hardly put too little in a poster; what you wanted, was, two or three good catch-lines for the eye to rest on — then, leave it alone — and there you were!
These are the minutes of my conversation with His Majesty, as I noted131 them down shortly afterwards. I am not aware that I have been betrayed into any alteration132 or suppression. The manner of the King was frank in the extreme; and he seemed to me to avoid, at once that slight tendency to repetition which may have been observed in the conversation of His Majesty King George the Third, and — that slight under-current of egotism which the curious observer may perhaps detect in the conversation of Napoleon Bonaparte.
I must do the King the justice to say that it was I, and not he, who closed the dialogue. At this juncture133, I became the subject of a remarkable134 optical delusion135; the legs of my stool appeared to me to double up; the car to spin round and round with great violence; and a mist to arise between myself and His Majesty. In addition to these sensations, I felt extremely unwell. I refer these unpleasant effects, either to the paste with which the posters were affixed136 to the van: which may have contained some small portion of arsenic137; or, to the printer’s ink, which may have contained some equally deleterious ingredient. Of this, I cannot be sure. I am only sure that I was not affected138, either by the smoke, or the rum-and-water. I was assisted out of the vehicle, in a state of mind which I have only experienced in two other places — I allude139 to the Pier129 at Dover, and to the corresponding portion of the town of Calais — and sat upon a door-step until I recovered. The procession had then disappeared. I have since looked anxiously for the King in several other cars, but I have not yet had the happiness of seeing His Majesty.
‘BIRTHS. MRS. MEEK140, OF A SON
MY name is Meek. I am, in fact, Mr. Meek. That son is mine and Mrs. Meek’s. When I saw the announcement in the Times, I dropped the paper. I had put it in, myself, and paid for it, but it looked so noble that it overpowered me.
As soon as I could compose my feelings, I took the paper up to Mrs. Meek’s bedside. ‘Maria Jane,’ said I (I allude to Mrs. Meek), ‘you are now a public character.’ We read the review of our child, several times, with feelings of the strongest emotion; and I sent the boy who cleans the boots and shoes, to the office for fifteen copies. No reduction was made on taking that quantity.
It is scarcely necessary for me to say, that our child had been expected. In fact, it had been expected, with comparative confidence, for some months. Mrs. Meek’s mother, who resides with us — of the name of Bigby — had made every preparation for its admission to our circle.
I hope and believe I am a quiet man. I will go farther. I KNOW I am a quiet man. My constitution is tremulous, my voice was never loud, and, in point of stature141, I have been from infancy142, small. I have the greatest respect for Maria Jane’s Mama. She is a most remarkable woman. I honour Maria Jane’s Mama. In my opinion she would storm a town, single-handed, with a hearth-broom, and carry it. I have never known her to yield any point whatever, to mortal man. She is calculated to terrify the stoutest143 heart.
Still — but I will not anticipate.
The first intimation I had, of any preparations being in progress, on the part of Maria Jane’s Mama, was one afternoon, several months ago. I came home earlier than usual from the office, and, proceeding into the dining-room, found an obstruction144 behind the door, which prevented it from opening freely. It was an obstruction of a soft nature. On looking in, I found it to be a female.
The female in question stood in the corner behind the door, consuming Sherry Wine. From the nutty smell of that beverage145 pervading146 the apartment, I have no doubt she was consuming a second glassful. She wore a black bonnet147 of large dimensions, and was copious148 in figure. The expression of her countenance149 was severe and discontented. The words to which she gave utterance150 on seeing me, were these, ‘Oh, git along with you, Sir, if YOU please; me and Mrs. Bigby don’t want no male parties here!’
That female was Mrs. Prodgit.
I immediately withdrew, of course. I was rather hurt, but I made no remark. Whether it was that I showed a lowness of spirits after dinner, in consequence of feeling that I seemed to intrude151, I cannot say. But, Maria Jane’s Mama said to me on her retiring for the night: in a low distinct voice, and with a look of reproach that completely subdued152 me: ‘George Meek, Mrs. Prodgit is your wife’s nurse!’
I bear no ill-will towards Mrs. Prodgit. Is it likely that I, writing this with tears in my eyes, should be capable of deliberate animosity towards a female, so essential to the welfare of Maria Jane? I am willing to admit that Fate may have been to blame, and not Mrs. Prodgit; but, it is undeniably true, that the latter female brought desolation and devastation153 into my lowly dwelling154.
We were happy after her first appearance; we were sometimes exceedingly so. But, whenever the parlour door was opened, and ‘Mrs. Prodgit!’ announced (and she was very often announced), misery155 ensued. I could not bear Mrs. Prodgit’s look. I felt that I was far from wanted, and had no business to exist in Mrs. Prodgit’s presence. Between Maria Jane’s Mama, and Mrs. Prodgit, there was a dreadful, secret, understanding — a dark mystery and conspiracy156, pointing me out as a being to be shunned157. I appeared to have done something that was evil. Whenever Mrs. Prodgit called, after dinner, I retired158 to my dressing-room — where the temperature is very low indeed, in the wintry time of the year — and sat looking at my frosty breath as it rose before me, and at my rack of boots; a serviceable article of furniture, but never, in my opinion, an exhilarating object. The length of the councils that were held with Mrs. Prodgit, under these circumstances, I will not attempt to describe. I will merely remark, that Mrs. Prodgit always consumed Sherry Wine while the deliberations were in progress; that they always ended in Maria Jane’s being in wretched spirits on the sofa; and that Maria Jane’s Mama always received me, when I was recalled, with a look of desolate159 triumph that too plainly said, ‘NOW, George Meek! You see my child, Maria Jane, a ruin, and I hope you are satisfied!’
I pass, generally, over the period that intervened between the day when Mrs. Prodgit entered her protest against male parties, and the ever-memorable midnight when I brought her to my unobtrusive home in a cab, with an extremely large box on the roof, and a bundle, a bandbox, and a basket, between the driver’s legs. I have no objection to Mrs. Prodgit (aided and abetted160 by Mrs. Bigby, who I never can forget is the parent of Maria Jane) taking entire possession of my unassuming establishment. In the recesses161 of my own breast, the thought may linger that a man in possession cannot be so dreadful as a woman, and that woman Mrs. Prodgit; but, I ought to bear a good deal, and I hope I can, and do. Huffing and snubbing, prey162 upon my feelings; but, I can bear them without complaint. They may tell in the long run; I may be hustled163 about, from post to pillar, beyond my strength; nevertheless, I wish to avoid giving rise to words in the family.
The voice of Nature, however, cries aloud in behalf of Augustus George, my infant son. It is for him that I wish to utter a few plaintive164 household words. I am not at all angry; I am mild — but miserable165.
I wish to know why, when my child, Augustus George, was expected in our circle, a provision of pins was made, as if the little stranger were a criminal who was to be put to the torture immediately, on his arrival, instead of a holy babe? I wish to know why haste was made to stick those pins all over his innocent form, in every direction? I wish to be informed why light and air are excluded from Augustus George, like poisons? Why, I ask, is my unoffending infant so hedged into a basket-bedstead, with dimity and calico, with miniature sheets and blankets, that I can only hear him snuffle (and no wonder!) deep down under the pink hood of a little bathing-machine, and can never peruse166 even so much of his lineaments as his nose?
Was I expected to be the father of a French Roll, that the brushes of All Nations were laid in, to rasp Augustus George? Am I to be told that his sensitive skin was ever intended by Nature to have rashes brought out upon it, by the premature167 and incessant28 use of those formidable little instruments?
Is my son a Nutmeg, that he is to be grated on the stiff edges of sharp frills? Am I the parent of a Muslin boy, that his yielding surface is to be crimped and small plaited? Or is my child composed of Paper or of Linen168, that impressions of the finer getting-up art, practised by the laundress, are to be printed off, all over his soft arms and legs, as I constantly observe them? The starch169 enters his soul; who can wonder that he cries?
Was Augustus George intended to have limbs, or to be born a Torso? I presume that limbs were the intention, as they are the usual practice. Then, why are my poor child’s limbs fettered170 and tied up? Am I to be told that there is any analogy between Augustus George Meek and Jack171 Sheppard?
Analyse Castor Oil at any Institution of Chemistry that may be agreed upon, and inform me what resemblance, in taste, it bears to that natural provision which it is at once the pride and duty of Maria Jane to administer to Augustus George! Yet, I charge Mrs. Prodgit (aided and abetted by Mrs. Bigby) with systematically172 forcing Castor Oil on my innocent son, from the first hour of his birth. When that medicine, in its efficient action, causes internal disturbance173 to Augustus George, I charge Mrs. Prodgit (aided and abetted by Mrs. Bigby) with insanely and inconsistently administering opium174 to allay175 the storm she has raised! What is the meaning of this?
If the days of Egyptian Mummies are past, how dare Mrs. Prodgit require, for the use of my son, an amount of flannel176 and linen that would carpet my humble177 roof? Do I wonder that she requires it? No! This morning, within an hour, I beheld this agonising sight. I beheld my son — Augustus George — in Mrs. Prodgit’s hands, and on Mrs. Prodgit’s knee, being dressed. He was at the moment, comparatively speaking, in a state of nature; having nothing on, but an extremely short shirt, remarkably178 disproportionate to the length of his usual outer garments. Trailing from Mrs. Prodgit’s lap, on the floor, was a long narrow roller or bandage — I should say of several yards in extent. In this, I SAW Mrs. Prodgit tightly roll the body of my unoffending infant, turning him over and over, now presenting his unconscious face upwards, now the back of his bald head, until the unnatural179 feat180 was accomplished181, and the bandage secured by a pin, which I have every reason to believe entered the body of my only child. In this tourniquet182, he passes the present phase of his existence. Can I know it, and smile!
I fear I have been betrayed into expressing myself warmly, but I feel deeply. Not for myself; for Augustus George. I dare not interfere112. Will any one? Will any publication? Any doctor? Any parent? Any body? I do not complain that Mrs. Prodgit (aided and abetted by Mrs. Bigby) entirely183 alienates184 Maria Jane’s affections from me, and interposes an impassable barrier between us. I do not complain of being made of no account. I do not want to be of any account. But, Augustus George is a production of Nature (I cannot think otherwise), and I claim that he should be treated with some remote reference to Nature. In my opinion, Mrs. Prodgit is, from first to last, a convention and a superstition185. Are all the faculty186 afraid of Mrs. Prodgit? If not, why don’t they take her in hand and improve her?
P.S. Maria Jane’s Mama boasts of her own knowledge of the subject, and says she brought up seven children besides Maria Jane. But how do I know that she might not have brought them up much better? Maria Jane herself is far from strong, and is subject to headaches, and nervous indigestion. Besides which, I learn from the statistical187 tables that one child in five dies within the first year of its life; and one child in three, within the fifth. That don’t look as if we could never improve in these particulars, I think!
P.P.S. Augustus George is in convulsions.
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1
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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6
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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lithograph
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| n.平板印刷，平板画；v.用平版印刷 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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glutted
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| v.吃得过多( glut的过去式和过去分词 )；（对胃口、欲望等）纵情满足；使厌腻；塞满 | |
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12
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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14
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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16
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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17
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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18
encumbered
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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gashes
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| n.深长的切口（或伤口）( gash的名词复数 )v.划伤，割破( gash的第三人称单数 ) | |
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25
decomposing
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| 腐烂( decompose的现在分词 )； （使）分解； 分解（某物质、光线等） | |
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26
adhesive
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| n.粘合剂；adj.可粘着的，粘性的 | |
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27
avenging
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| adj.报仇的，复仇的v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的现在分词 )；为…报复 | |
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28
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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29
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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30
ointment
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| n.药膏，油膏，软膏 | |
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31
bespoke
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| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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32
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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33
hirsute
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| adj.多毛的 | |
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34
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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35
undoes
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| 松开( undo的第三人称单数 )； 解开； 毁灭； 败坏 | |
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36
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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37
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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38
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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39
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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40
cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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41
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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42
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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43
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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44
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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45
descried
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| adj.被注意到的，被发现的，被看到的 | |
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46
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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47
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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48
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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49
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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50
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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51
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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52
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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53
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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54
divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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55
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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56
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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57
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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58
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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59
wans
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| vt.& vi.（使）变苍白，（使）呈病态（wan的第三人称单数形式） | |
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60
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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61
inscribe
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| v.刻；雕；题写；牢记 | |
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62
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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63
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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64
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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65
potentate
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| n.统治者；君主 | |
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66
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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67
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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68
peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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69
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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70
sewers
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| n.阴沟，污水管，下水道( sewer的名词复数 ) | |
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71
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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72
banishing
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的现在分词 ) | |
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73
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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74
mitigated
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| v.减轻，缓和( mitigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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76
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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77
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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78
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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79
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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80
astronomer
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| n.天文学家 | |
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81
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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82
reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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83
impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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84
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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85
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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86
hoarding
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| n.贮藏；积蓄；临时围墙；囤积v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的现在分词 ) | |
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87
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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88
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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89
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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90
scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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91
lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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92
commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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93
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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94
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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95
wilfully
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| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
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96
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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97
reverting
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| 恢复( revert的现在分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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98
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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99
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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100
rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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101
dependants
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| 受赡养者，受扶养的家属( dependant的名词复数 ) | |
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102
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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103
magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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104
custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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105
overthrow
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| v.推翻，打倒，颠覆；n.推翻，瓦解，颠覆 | |
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106
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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107
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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108
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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109
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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110
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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111
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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112
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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113
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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114
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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115
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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116
entreating
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的现在分词 ) | |
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117
contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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118
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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119
placidity
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| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
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120
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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121
abolition
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| n.废除，取消 | |
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122
lotteries
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| n.抽彩给奖法( lottery的名词复数 )；碰运气的事；彩票；彩券 | |
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123
advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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124
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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125
profligate
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| adj.行为不检的；n.放荡的人，浪子，肆意挥霍者 | |
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126
detriment
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| n.损害；损害物，造成损害的根源 | |
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127
overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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128
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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129
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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130
piers
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| n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 )；（常设有娱乐场所的）突堤；柱子；墙墩 | |
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131
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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132
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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133
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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134
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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135
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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136
affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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137
arsenic
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| n.砒霜，砷；adj.砷的 | |
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138
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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139
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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140
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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141
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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142
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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143
stoutest
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| 粗壮的( stout的最高级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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144
obstruction
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| n.阻塞，堵塞；障碍物 | |
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145
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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146
pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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147
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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148
copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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149
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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150
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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151
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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152
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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153
devastation
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| n.毁坏；荒废；极度震惊或悲伤 | |
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154
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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155
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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156
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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157
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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158
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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159
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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160
abetted
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| v.教唆（犯罪）( abet的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；怂恿；支持 | |
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161
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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162
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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163
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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164
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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165
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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166
peruse
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| v.细读，精读 | |
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167
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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168
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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169
starch
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| n.淀粉；vt.给...上浆 | |
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170
fettered
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| v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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172
systematically
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| adv.有系统地 | |
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173
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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174
opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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175
allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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176
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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177
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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178
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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179
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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180
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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181
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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182
tourniquet
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| n.止血器，绞压器，驱血带 | |
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183
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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184
alienates
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| v.使疏远( alienate的第三人称单数 )；使不友好；转让；让渡（财产等） | |
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185
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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186
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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187
statistical
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| adj.统计的，统计学的 | |
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