weak soup, no sour wine, no veal stewed with raisins, nor greasy salad
made of all the weeds that grow. Beef that will make you feel like
giants, and beer that will cheer the cockles of your hearts; not to
mention cheese which will make you wink, and bread with a little round
button atop of the loaf like the grand Panjandrum in the old story.'
Thus Lavinia enthusiastically, as she led her flock of two into the
eating-room at luncheon time. Being seated at a little table by one of
the great windows, the old lady continued to sing the praises of
Britannia while wafting for the repast.
'Isn't this better than a stone-floored _café_ with nine clocks all
wrong, seven mirrors all cracked, much drapery all dirty, a flock of
_garçons_ who fly about like lunatics, and food which I shudder to
think of? Look at this lofty room; this grave thick carpet; that
cheerful coal-fire; these neat little tables; these large, clean
windows; these quiet, ministerial waiters, who seem to take a paternal
interest in your wants, and best of all in this simple, wholesome,
well-cooked food.'
Here the arrival of a glorified beefsteak and a shining pint-pot of
foaming ale give an appropriate finish to Livy's lecture. She fell upon
her lunch like a famished woman, and was speechless till much meat had
vanished, and the ale was low in the pot.
'It _is_ good,' admitted Amanda, who took to her beer like a born
Englishwoman, and swallowed some of her prejudices with her delicious
beef.
'It's such a comfort to know that I am not eating a calf's brains or a
pig's feet, that I can enjoy it with a free mind, and the sight of
those two beautiful old gentlemen gives it an added relish,' said
Matilda, who had been watching a pair of hale old fellows eat their
lunch in a solid, leisurely way that would have been impossible to an
American.
'It is so restful to see people take things calmly, and not bolt their
meals, or rush about like runaway steam-engines. It is this moderation
that keeps Englishmen so hearty, jolly, and long-lived. They don't tear
themselves to pieces as we do, but take time for rest, exercise, food,
and recreation, like sensible people as they are. It is like reposing on
a feather-bed to live here, and my tired nerves rejoice in it,' said
Lavinia, eating bread and cheese as if that was her mission in life.
'A slight amount of haste will be advisable, my Granny, unless we intend
to spend all our substance on these restful comforts of yours. This
hotel is delightfully cosy, but expensive; so the quicker we go into
lodgings the better for us,' suggested the thrifty Amanda, seeing that
Livy was too infatuated to care for cost.
'I'll go the first thing to-morrow and look at the rooms Mrs. Blank
recommended to us. This afternoon we will rest and write letters, unless
some one comes to call,' said Livy, leading her girls to the
reading-room, where sleep-inviting chairs, tables supplied with
writing-materials, and groves of newspapers, wooed the stranger to
repose.
Hardly were they seated, however, than Jeames brought in the card of a
friend who had been told when they would arrive, and hastened at once to
meet them. How pleasant is the first familiar face one sees in a strange
land! Doubly pleasant was Mr. C.'s, because he brought hospitable
invitations from other friends, kind welcomes, and tickets to several of
the art exhibitions then open.
Hardly had he gone, after a half-hour's chat, than another card was
handed, and the name it bore caused a slight flutter in the dove-cot. A
friend of Miss Livy's, in Boston, had sent orders to his brother in
London to devote himself to the wandering ladies when they came. They
had never met; the poor man didn't care to have his quiet invaded by
strange women, and to do the honours of London is no small task: yet
this heroic gentleman obeyed orders without a murmur; and, leaving his
artistic seclusion, shouldered his burden with the silent courage of a
Spartan.
A grave, dark, little man, with fine eyes, quiet manners, and a
straight-forward way with him that suited blunt Livy excellently. How
he dared to face the three unknown women so calmly, listen to their
impossible suggestions so politely, and offer himself as a slave so
cheerfully, will for ever remain a mystery to those grateful souls.
His first service was to pack them into a cab and bear them safely to
the bankers for letters and money; and this he followed up by several
weeks of servitude, which must have been worse than Egyptian bondage.
Two more large ladies joined the party after they were settled in
lodgings at Kensington; but, undaunted by the fact, this long-suffering
man escorted the whole five to galleries and theatres, trips into the
city, and picnics in the country; went shopping with them, lugged
parcels, ran errands, paid bills, and was in fact the sheet-anchor of
the whole party. Imagine the emotions of one shy man when called upon
to lead a flock of somewhat imposing ladies everywhere; to have two cabs
full on all occasions; to be obliged to support the invalids to follow
the caprices of the giddy, to gratify the demands of the curious, and to
hear the gabble of the whole five day after day.
Bürger's Brave Man was a coward compared to him; for he not only gave
his days, but his evenings also, joining in endless games of whist,
drinking much weak tea, and listening to any amount of twaddle on all
subjects.
The society was not such as intelligent men enjoy, being composed of two
Egyptian boys and three fussy old ladies. One of them was immensely
stout, wore a bright green cap, with half-a-pint of scarlet cherries
bobbing on her brow. She talked on all subjects, and handed round an
album full of her own poems on all occasions. The second must have been
a sister of 'Mr. T.'s Aunt,' so grim and incoherent was she. Sitting in
the corner, she stared at the world around her with an utterly
expressionless countenance, and when least expected broke out with some
startling remark, such as, 'If that fence had been painted green we
should get to heaven sooner,' or 'Before I had fits my memory was as
good as anybody's, but my daughter married a clergyman, and took it with
her.'
The third antiquity was the hostess, a buxom lady, much given to gay
attire and reminiscences of past glory, 'Before me 'usband went into
public life.' The strangers innocently supposed the departed Mr. K. to
have been an M.P. at least, and were rather taken aback on learning that
he had been a pawnbroker.
The Egyptian youths were handsome, dark lads, with melodious voices,
lustrous eyes, and such fiery tempers that one never knew whether they
were going to pass the bread or stab one with the carving-knife.
As a slight mitigation of this slow society, the Russian from Pension
Paradis appeared with his broadcloth more resplendent than ever. The
ladies had seen him in Rome; but the fever scared him away, and he was
now fleeing from another lodging-house, where the hostess evidently
intended to marry him to her daughter, in the MacStinger fashion.
In this varied circle did the devoted being afore-mentioned pass many
hours after the day's hard labour was happily over, and when anyone
pitied him for leading the life of a galley-slave, he hid his anguish
and answered with a smile,--
'My brother told me to do it, and I never disobey Tom. In fact, I find I
rather like it.'
That last fib was truly sublime, and the name of Cassabianca pales
before that of one who obeyed fraternal commands to the letter, and
tried to love his duty, heavy as it was. If, as has been sometimes
predicted, England had gone under just then, it might truly have been
said,--
Though prince and peer and poet rare
Were sunk among the piles,
The noblest man who perished there
Was faithful W. N----s.
The sight-seeing fever raged fiercely at first, and the flock of
Americans went from Windsor Castle to the Tower of London, from
Westminster Abbey to Madame Taussaud's Waxwork Show, with a vigour that
appalled the natives. They would visit two or three galleries in the
morning, lunch at Dolly's (the dark little chop-house which Johnson,
Goldsmith, and the other worthies used to frequent in the good old
times), go to Richmond in the afternoon and dine at the 'Star and
Garter,' or to Greenwich and eat 'white baits fish,' as the Russian
called that celebrated dish, and finish off the evening at some theatre,
getting home at midnight, in a procession of two cabs and a hansom.
When the first excitement was over, Lavinia and Matilda took a turn at
society, having friends in London. Amanda could not conquer her
prejudices sufficiently to accompany them, and, falling back on the
climate as her excuse, stayed at home and improved her mind.
'I feel now like girls in novels. You are the Duchess of Devonshire and
I am Lady Maud Plantagenet, going to a ball at Buckingham Palace. I know
that I was made to sit in the lap of luxury: it agrees with me so well,'
said Matilda, as the two rolled away to Aubrey House in a brougham, all
lamps, glass, and satin. Her long blue train lay piled up before her,
the light flashed on her best Roman ear-rings, her curls were in their
most picturesque array, and--crowning joy of all--cream-coloured gloves,
with six buttons, covered her arms, and filled her soul with happiness,
because they were so elegant and cost so little, being bought in Rome
just after the flood.
Dowager Livy responded gravely from the depths of her silver-grey silk,
enlivened with pink azaleas,--
'My child, thank your stars that you are a free-born Yankee, and have no
great name or state to keep up. Buckingham Palace is all very well, and
I shouldn't mind calling on Mrs. Guelph, or Saxe Coburg, whichever it
is, but I much prefer to be going to the house of a Radical M.P., who is
lending a hand to all good works. Mrs. T. is a far more interesting
woman to me than Victoria, for her life is spent in helping her
fellow-creatures. I consider her a model Englishwoman--simple, sincere,
and accomplished; full of good sense, intelligence, and energy. Her
house is open to all, friend and stranger, black and white, rich and
poor. Great men and earnest women meet there; Mazzini and Frances Power
Cobbe, John Bright and Jean Ingelow, Rossetti the poet, and Elizabeth
Garrett the brave little doctor. Though wealthy and living in an
historical mansion, the host is the most unassuming man in it, and the
hostess the simplest dressed lady. Their money goes in other ways, and
the chief ornament of that lovely spot is a school, where poor girls may
get an education. Mrs. T. gave a piece of her own garden for it, and
teaches there herself, aided by her friends, who serve the poor girls
like mothers and sisters, and help to lift them up from the slough of
despond in which so many sink. That beats anything you'll find in
Buckingham Palace, sister Mat.'
'If they want a drawing-teacher I'll offer myself, for I think that is
regularly splendid,' said Matilda warmly, as Livy paused for breath
after her harangue.
With these new ideas in her head, Lady Maud enjoyed her party, while the
Duchess revelled in radicals to her heart's content; for Aubrey House
was their head-quarters, and all were out in full force. It was cheering
to our spinster to find that things had moved a good deal since a former
visit, five or six years before, when Mill had carried into the House of
Commons a Woman's Rights petition that filled both arms. People laughed
then, and the stout-hearted women laughed also, but said, 'Our next
petition shall be so big it will have to go in a wheel-barrow.' Now the
same people talked over the question soberly, and began to think
something besides fun might come of it. The pioneers rejoiced over
several hard-won battles, and the scoffers came to see that the truest
glory was won by those who did the hard work, and stood by a good cause
when most unpopular; not by those who kept out of the field till the
fight was over, and then came in to wave the flags and beat the drums
over victories they had not helped to win.
'It seems to me that these Englishwomen make less noise and do more work
than we Americans. I shouldn't dare to say so in public; but their
quiet, orderly ways suits me better than the more demonstrative
performances of my friends at home. Slow coaches as we call them, I
should not be surprised if they got the suffrage before we did, as the
tortoise won in the fable,' was Lavinia's secret thought as they drove
away, after a very charming evening.
Perhaps the fact that reforms of all sorts had been poured into her ears
till her head was like a hive of bees, may account for this unpatriotic
thought. Or it may be the pleasant effect of the healthful aspect of
these English workers. Old or young, all seemed to have cheerful,
well-balanced minds, in strong, healthy bodies. No one complained of her
nerves, or let them unconsciously put a sharp edge to her tongue, give a
blue tinge to the world, or sour the milk of human kindness in her
heart. Less quick and bright, perhaps, than the ladies over the sea, but
more womanly, and full of a quiet tenacity of purpose better than
eloquence.
Miss Livy's tastes being of a peculiar sort, and pictures having palled
upon her to such a degree that she couldn't even look at an ornamental
sign-board without disgust, she often left her more artistic friends and
went forth on excursions of her own. As she never used either map or
guide book, it was a wonder how she found her way; and the infants were
often on the point of sending for the city crier, if there is such a
functionary, to find the lost duenna. But old Livy always turned up at
last, mud to the eyes, tired out, and more deeply impressed than ever
with the charms of London.
One day she set forth to hear Spurgeon. Being told that Lambeth was a
wretched quarter of the city, that the Tabernacle was two or three miles
away, and very difficult to enter when found, only added zest to the
thing, and she departed, sure of finding adventures, if not Spurgeon.
If an omnibus conductor had not befriended her, she would probably have
found herself at Hampstead or Chelsea, for London busses are as
bewildering as London streets. Thanks to this amiable man, who evidently
felt that the stranger in his gates needed all his care, the old lady
safely reached the Elephant and Castle, and was dismissed with a moss
rose-bud from the lips of her friend, a reassuring pat on the shoulder,
and a paternal ''Ere yer are, my dear,' which unexpected attentions
caused her to depart with speed.
There certainly was need of a Tabernacle in that quarter, for the
poverty and wickedness were very dreadful. Boys not yet in their teens
staggered by half-tipsy, or lounged at the doors of gin-shops.
Bonnetless girls roamed about singing and squabbling. Forlorn babies
played in the gutter, and men and women in every stage of raggedness
and degradation marred the beauty of that fair Sunday morning.
Crowds were swarming into the Tabernacle: but, thanks to the order a
friend had given her, Miss Livy was handed to a comfortable seat, with a
haggard Magdalen on one side and a palsy-stricken old man on the other.
Staring about her, she saw an immense building with two galleries
extending round three sides, and a double sort of platform behind and
below the pulpit, which was a little pen lifted high that all might see
and hear.
Every seat, aisle, window-ledge, step, and door-way, was packed with a
strange congregation; all nations, all colours, all ages, and nearly all
bearing the sad marks of poverty or sin. They all sung, cried out if
anything affected or pleased them in the sermon, and listened with
interest to the plain yet fervent words of the man who has gathered
together this flock of black sheep and is so faithful a shepherd to
them.
Every one knows how Spurgeon looks in pictures, but in the pulpit he
reminded Livy of Martin Luther. A square, florid face, stout figure, a
fine keen eye, and a natural, decided manner, very impressive. A strong,
clear voice of much dramatic power, and a way of walking the pulpit like
Father Taylor.
His sermon was on 'Small Temptations,' and he illustrated it by facts
and examples taken from real life, pointing out several of his
congregation, and calling them by name, which original proceeding seemed
to find favour with his people. He used no notes, but talked rather than
preached; and leaning over the railing, urged, argued, prayed, and sang
with a hearty eloquence, very effective, and decidedly refreshing after
High Church mummery abroad, and drowsy Unitarianism at home. Now and
then he stopped to give directions for the comfort of his flock in a
free and easy manner, which called up irresistible smiles on the faces
of strangers.
'Mrs. Flacker, you'd better take that child into the ante-room: he's
tired.' 'Come this way, friends: there's plenty of room.' 'Open all the
windows, Manning: it's very warm.' And when a sad sort of cry
interrupted him, he looked down at an old woman shaking with epilepsy,
and mildly remarked, 'Don't be troubled, brethren: our sister is subject
to fits,' and preached tranquilly on.
For two hours he held that great gathering, in spite of heat,
discomfort, and other afflictions of the flesh, and ended by saying, in
a paternal way,--
'Now remember what I've said through the week, and next Sunday show me
that I haven't talked in vain.'
He read a list of meetings for every night in the week. One especially
struck Livy, as it was for mothers to meet and talk over with him the
best ways of teaching and training their children. Spurgeon evidently
does not spare his own time and strength; and whatever his creed may be,
he is a good Christian in loving his neighbour _better_ than himself,
and doing the work his hand finds to do with all his might.
'That is a better church than most of those I enter where respectable
saints have the best seats, and there is no place for sinners,' said
Livy when she got home. 'Spurgeon's congregation preached more
eloquently to me than he did. The Magdalen cried as if her heart was
broken, and I am sure those tears washed some of her sins away. The
feeble old man looked as if he had found a staff for his trembling hands
to lay hold upon, and the forlorn souls all about me, for a time at
least, laid down their burdens and found rest and comfort in their
Father's house. It did me more good than the preaching of all the
bishops in London, or the finest pageant at St. Paul's; and I am truly
glad I went, though the saucy conductor did smirk at me over the
rosebud.'
In contrast to this serious expedition, the old lady had a very jolly
one not long afterward. A certain congenial Professor asked her one day
what person, place, or thing in London she most desired to see.
Clasping her hands with the energy of deep emotion, she replied,--
'The home of the immortal Sairy Gamp. Long ago I made a vow, if I ever
came to London I'd visit that spot. Let me keep my vow.'
'You shall!' responded the Professor with a responsive ardour, which
caused Livy to dive into her waterproof without another word.
Away they went in a pouring rain, and what people thought of the damp
but enthusiastic couple who pervaded the city that day I can't say; I
only know a merrier pair of pilgrims never visited those grimy shrines.
They met several old friends, and passed several familiar spots by the
way. Major Bagstock and Cousin Phenix stared at them from a club-house
window. Tigg Montague's cab dashed by them in Regent Street, more
gorgeous than ever. The brothers Cheeryble went trotting cityward arm in
arm, with a smile and ha'penny for all the beggars they met; and the
Micawber family passed them in a bus, going, I suppose, to accompany
the blighted Wilkins to gaol.
In a certain grimly genteel street they paused to stare up at a row of
grimly respectable houses; for, though the name wasn't on any of the
doors, they were sure Mr. Dombey still lived there. A rough dog lay on
one of the doorsteps, and a curtain fluttered at an open upper window.
Poor Di was growling in his sleep, and above there little Paul was
watching for the golden water on the wall, while faithful Florence sung
to him, and Susan Nipper put away derisive sniffs and winks in closets
and behind doors for the benefit of 'them Pipchinses.'
Coming to a poorer part of the city, they met Tiny Tim tapping along on
his little crutch, passed Toby Veck at a windy street-corner, and saw
all the little Tetterbys playing in the mud.
'Come down this street, and take a glimpse at St. Giles's, the worst
part of London,' said the Professor; and, following, Livy saw misery
enough in five minutes to make her heart ache for the day. A policeman
kept near them, saying it wasn't safe to go far there alone.
Vice, poverty, dirt, and suffering reigned supreme within a stone's
throw of one of the great thoroughfares, and made Alsatia dangerous
ground for respectable feet. Here, too, they saw familiar phantoms: poor
Jo, perpetually moving on; and little Oliver led by Nancy, with a shawl
over her head and a black eye; Bill Sykes, lounging in a doorway,
looking more ruffianly than ever; and the Artful Dodger, who kept his
eye on them as two hopeful 'plants' with profitable pockets ready for
him.
They soon had enough of this, and hurried on along High Holborn, till
they came to Kingsgate Street, so like the description that I am sure
Dickens must have been there and taken notes. They knew the house in a
moment: there were the two dingy windows over the bird-shop; the checked
curtains were drawn, but of course the bottomless bandboxes, the wooden
pippins, green umbrella, and portrait of Miss Harris were all behind
them. It seemed so real that they quite expected to see a red, snuffy
old face appear, and to hear a drowsy voice exclaim: 'Drat that bell:
I'm a coming. Don't tell me it's Mrs. Wilkins, without even a pincushion
prepared.'
While Livy stood gazing in silent satisfaction (merely regretting that
the name on the door was Pendergast, not Sweedle-pipes), the Professor
turned to a woman, and asked with admirable gravity, 'Can you tell me
where Mrs. Gamp lives?'
'What's her business?' demanded the matron, with interest.
'A nurse, ma'am.'
'Is she a little fat woman?'
'Fat, decidedly, and old,' returned the Professor, without a smile on
his somewhat cherubic countenance.
'Well, she lives No. 5, round the corner.'
On receiving this unexpected reply, they looked at one another in comic
dismay; but would certainly have gone to No. 5, and taken a look at the
modern Sairy, if the woman hadn't called out as they moved on--
'I b'lieve that nuss's name is Britiain, not Gamp; but you can ask.'
Murmuring a hasty 'thank you,' they fled precipitately round the corner,
and there enjoyed a glorious laugh under an umbrella, to the great
amazement of all beholders.
Being on a Dickens pilgrimage, they went to Furnival's Inn, where he
wrote 'Pickwick' in a three-story room, and read it to the old porter.
The same old porter told them all about it, and quite revelled in the
remembrance. It did one's heart good to see the stiff, dried-up old
fellow thaw and glow with the recollection of the handsome young man who
was kind to him long ago, before the world had found him out.
'Did you think the book would be famous when he read it to you in 1834,
as you say?' asked the Professor, beaming at him in a way that would
have melted the heart of the stiff-tailed lion of the Northumberlands,
if he'd possessed such an organ.
'O dear, yes, sir; I felt sure it would be summat good, it made me laugh
so. _He_ didn't think much of it; but I know a good thing when I see
it;' and the old man gave an important nod, as if all the credit of the
blessed 'Pickwick' belonged to him. 'He married Miss Hogarth while
livin' here; and you can see the room, if you like,' he added, with a
burst of hospitality, as the almighty sixpence touched his palm.
Up they went, over the worn stairs; and, finding the door locked,
solemnly touched the brass knob, read the name 'Ed Peck' on the plate,
and wiped their feet on a very dirty mat. It was ridiculous, of course;
but hero-worship is not the worst of modern follies, and when one's hero
has won from the world some of its heartiest smiles and tears, one may
be forgiven for a little sentiment in a dark entry.