"Full outside, sir; just one place vacant, _in_."
The very word, "outside," bringing forcibly to my mind the idea of ten
or a dozen shivering creatures being induced, by any possible means,
to perch themselves on the top of a coach, on a dark, dull, dingy,
drizzling morning in January, confirmed me in my belief that the whole
affair was, what is vulgarly called, a "take-in."
"So you _will_ venture then to _book_ a place for me?"
"Yes, sir, if you please."
"And, perhaps, you will go so far as to receive half my fare?"
"If you please, sir--one-pound-two."
"Well, you are an extraordinary person! Perhaps, now--pray be
attentive--perhaps, now, you will carry on the thing so far as to
receive the whole?"
"If you please, sir--two-pound-four."
I paid him the money: observing at the same time, and in a tone
calculated to impress his imagination with a vivid picture of attorneys,
counsel, judge, and jury--"You shall hear from me again."
"If you please, sir; to-morrow morning, at five _punctual_--start
to a minute, sir--thank'ee, sir--good morning, sir." And this he uttered
without a blush.
"To what expedients," thought I, as I left the office, "will men resort,
for the purpose of injuring their neighbours. Here is one who exposes
himself to the consequences of an action at law, or, at least, to the
expense of sending me to town, in a chaise and four, at a reasonable
hour of the day; and all for so paltry an advantage as that of
preventing my paying a trifling sum to a rival proprietor--and on the
preposterous pretence, too, of sending me off at five in the morning!"
The first person I met was my friend Mark Norrington, and--Even now,
though months have since rolled over my head, I shudder at the
recollection of the agonies I suffered; when assured by him of the
frightful fact, that I had, really and truly, engaged myself to travel
in a coach, which, really and truly, did start at five in the morning.
But as the novel-writers of the good old Minerva school used, in similar
cases, to say, "in pity to my sympathising reader's feelings, I must
draw the mysterious veil of concealment over my, oh! too acute
sufferings!" These, I must own, were, in no little degree, aggravated by
the manner of my friend. Mark, as a sort of foil to his many excellent
qualities, has one terrible failing: it is a knack of laughing at one's
misfortunes; or, to use his own palliating phrase, he has a habit of
looking at the ridiculous side of things. Ridiculous! Heavens! as if any
one possessing a spark of humanity could perceive anything to excite his
mirth in the circumstance of a fellow-creature's being forced out of his
bed at such an hour! After exhibiting many contortions of the mouth,
produced by a decent desire to maintain a gravity suitable to the
occasion, he, at length, burst into a loud laugh; and exclaiming (with a
want of feeling I shall never entirely forget) "Well, I wish you joy of
your journey--_you must be UP at four!_"--away he went. It may be
asked why I did not forfeit my forty-four shillings, and thus escape the
calamity. No; the laugh would have been too much against me: so,
resolving to put a bold face on the matter, I--I will not say I
walked--positively _swaggered_ about the streets of Bristol, for an
hour or two, with all the self-importance of one who has already
performed some extraordinary exploit, and is conscious that the
wondering gaze of the multitude is directed towards him. Being condemned
to the miseries, it was but fair that I should enjoy the honours of
the undertaking. To every person I met, with whom I had the slightest
acquaintance, I said aloud, "I start at five to-morrow morning!" at the
same time adjusting my cravat and pulling up my collar: and I went into
three or four shops, and purchased trifles, for which I had no earthly
occasion, for the pure gratification of my vain-glory, in saying--"Be
sure you send them to-night, for I start at five in the morning!"
But beneath all this show of gallantry, my heart like that of many
another hero on equally desperate occasions--my heart was ill at ease.
I have often thought that my feelings, for the whole of that distressing
afternoon, must have been very like those of a person about to go,
for the first time, up in a balloon. I returned to Reeves' Hotel,
College-green, where I was lodging. "I'll pack my portmanteau (the
contents of which were scattered about in the drawers, on the tables,
and on the chairs)--that will be so much gained on the enemy," thought
I; but on looking at my watch, I found I had barely time to dress for
dinner; the Norrington's, with whom I was engaged, being punctual
people. "No matter; I'll pack it to-night." 'Twas well I came to
that determination; for the instant I entered the drawing-room, Mrs.
Norrington rang the bell, and just said to the servant who appeared at
its summons--"Dinner:" a dissyllable which, when so uttered, timed, and
accompanied, is a polite hint that the dinner has not been improved by
your late arrival.
My story, however, had arrived there before me; and I must do my friends
the justice to say, that all that kindness could do for me, under the
circumstances, was done. Two or three times, indeed, Mark looked at me
full in the face, and laughed outright, without any apparent cause for
such a manifestation of mirth; and once when, after a few glasses of
wine, I had almost ceased to think of the fate that awaited me, Miss
Adelaide suddenly inquired, "Do you _really_ start at five?--isn't
that rather early?"--"_Rather_," replied I, with all the composure
I could assume. But for a smile, and a sly look at her papa, I might
have attributed the distressing question to thoughtlessness, rather than
a deliberate desire to inflict pain. To parody a well-known line, I may
say that, upon the whole--
"To me this Twelfth-night was no night of mirth."
Before twelve o'clock, I left a pleasant circle, revelling in all the
delights of Twelfth-cake, pam-loo, king-and-queen, and forfeits, to pack
my portmanteau,
"And inly ruminate the morning's danger!"
The individual who, at this time, so ably filled the important office
of "Boots," at the hotel, was a character. Be it remembered that, in
his youth, he had been discharged from his place for omitting to call
a gentleman, who was to go by one of the morning coaches, and who,
thereby, missed his journey. This misfortune made a lasting impression
on the intelligent mind of Mr. Boots.
"Boots," said I in a mournful tone, "you must call me at four o'clock."
"Do'ee want to get up, zur?" inquired he, with a broad Somersetshire
twang.
"_Want_ indeed! no; but I must."
"Well, zur, I'll _carl_ 'ee; but will 'ee get up when I _do_
carl?"
"Why, to be sure I will."
"That be all very well to zay over-night, zur; but it bean't at all the
zame thing when _marnen_ do come. I knoa that of old, zur. Gemmen
doan't like it, zur, when the time do come--that I tell 'ee."
"_Like_ it! who imagines they should?"
"Well, zur, if you be as sure to get up as I be to carl 'ee, you'll not
knoa what two minutes arter vore means in your bed. Sure as ever clock
strikes, I'll have 'ee out, dang'd if I doan't! Good night, zur;" and
_exit_ Boots.
"And now I'll pack my portmanteau."
It was a bitter cold night, and my bed-room fire had gone out.
Except the rush-candle, in a pierced tin box, I had nothing to cheer
the gloom of a very large apartment--the walls of which (now dotted
all over by the melancholy rays of the rush-light, as they struggled
through the holes of the box) were of dark-brown wainscoat--but one
solitary wax taper. There lay coats, trousers, linen, books, papers,
dressing-materials, in dire confusion, about the room. In despair I set
me down at the foot of the bed, and contemplated the chaos around me.
My energies were paralyzed by the scene. Had it been to gain a kingdom,
I could not have thrown a glove into the portmanteau; so, resolving to
defer the packing till the morrow, I got into bed.
My slumbers were fitful--disturbed. Horrible dreams assailed me.
Series of watches, each pointing to the hour of FOUR, passed slowly
before me--then, time-pieces--dials, of a larger size--and at last,
enormous steeple-clocks, all pointing to FOUR, FOUR, FOUR. "A change
came o'er the spirit of my dream," and endless processions of watchmen
moved along, each mournfully dinning in my ears, "Past four o'clock."
At length I was attacked by night-mare. Methought I was an
hourglass--old Father Time bestrode me--he pressed upon me with
unendurable weight--fearfully and threateningly did wave his scythe
above my head--he grinned at me, struck three blows, audible blows,
with the handle of his scythe, on my breast, stooped his huge head,
and shrieked in my ear--
"Vore o'clock, zur; I zay it be vore o'clock."
"Well, I hear you."
"But I doan't hear you. Vore o'clock, zur."
"Very well, very well, that'll do."
"Beggin' your pardon, but it woan't do, zur. 'Ee must get up--past vore
zur."
"The devil take you! will you--"
"If you please, zur; but 'ee must get up. It be a good deal past
vore--no use for 'ee to grumble, zur; nobody do like gettin' up at vore
o'clock as can help it; but 'ee toald I to carl 'ee, and it bean't my
duty to go till I hear 'ee stirrin' about the room. Good deal past vore,
'tis I assure 'ee, zur." And here he thundered away at the door; nor did
he cease knocking till I was fairly up, and had shown myself to him, in
order to satisfy him of the fact. "That'll do, zur; 'ee toald I to carl
'ee, and I hope I ha' carld 'ee proper_ly_."
I lit my taper at the rush-light. On opening a window-shutter I was
regaled with the sight of a fog, which London itself, on one of its most
perfect November days, could scarcely have excelled. A dirty, drizzling
rain was falling; my heart sank within me. It was now twenty minutes
past four. I was master of no more than forty disposable minutes, and,
in that brief space, what had I not to do! The duties of the toilet were
indispensable--the portmanteau _must_ be packed--and, run as fast as
I might, I could not get to the coach-office in less than ten minutes.
Hot water was a luxury not to be procured: at that villanous hour not
a human being in the house (nor, do I believe, in the universe entire),
had risen--my unfortunate self, and my companion in wretchedness,
poor Boots, excepted. The water in the jug was frozen; but, by dint of
hammering upon it with the handle of the poker, I succeeded in enticing
out about as much as would have filled a tea-cup. Two towels, which had
been left wet in the room, were standing on a chair bolt upright, as
stiff as the poker itself, which you might, almost as easily, have bent.
The tooth-brushes were rivetted to the glass, of which (in my haste to
disengage them from their strong hold) they carried away a fragment;
the soap was cemented to the dish; my shaving-brush was a mass of
ice. In shape more appalling Discomfort had never appeared on earth.
I approached the looking-glass. Even had all the materials for the
operation been tolerably thawed, it was impossible to use a razor
by such a light.--"Who's there?"
"Now, if 'ee please, zur; no time to lose; only twenty-vive minutes to
vive."
I lost my self-possession--I have often wondered _that_ morning did
not unsettle my mind!
There was no time for the performance of any thing like a comfortable
toilet. I resolved therefore to defer it altogether till the coach
should stop to breakfast.
"I'll pack my portmanteau: that _must_ be done." _In_ went
whatever happened to come first to hand. In my haste, I had thrust in,
amongst my own things, one of mine host's frozen towels. Every thing
must come out again. "Who's there?"
"Now, zur; 'ee'll be too late, zur!"
"Coming!"--Every thing was now gathered together;--the portmanteau
would not lock. No matter, it must be content to travel to town in a
_deshabille_ of straps. Where were my boots? In my hurry, I had
packed away both pair. It was impossible to travel to London, on such
a day, in slippers. Again was every thing to be undone.
"Now, zur, coach be going."
The most unpleasant part of the ceremony of hanging (scarcely excepting
the closing act) must be the hourly notice given to the culprit, of the
exact length of time he has yet to live. Could any circumstance have
added much to the miseries of my situation, most assuredly it would have
been those unfeeling reminders. "I'm coming," groaned I; "I have only
to pull on my boots." They were both left-footed! Then must I open the
rascally portmanteau again.
"What in the name of the--do you want now."
"Coach be gone, please zur."
"Gone! Is there a chance of my overtaking it?"
"Bless 'ee, noa, zur; not as Jem Robbins do droive. He be vive mile off
be now."
"You are certain of that?"
"I warrant 'ee, zur."
At this assurance I felt a throb of joy, which was almost a compensation
for all my sufferings past. "Boots," said I, "you are a kind-hearted
creature, and I will give you an additional half-crown. Let the house be
kept perfectly quiet, and desire the chambermaid to call me--"
"At what o'clock, zur?"
"This day three months, at the earliest."