"GRIP."
My mother was so frightened, at the fright I had been through, that she
took it for an urgent sign from Heaven, that my education should be
stopped at once. Having had as much of school as I desired, I heartily
hoped, that her opinion would prevail; but father was as obstinate as
ever, and after the usual argument--in which she had the best of the
words perhaps, and he of the meaning--I was bound to the altar of the
Muses once again, with a promise of stripes, if I should try to slip the
cord. Dr. Rumbelow undertook, that no professor of anything harder than
languages--unless it were Professor Megalow--should come in, at any door
of the _Partheneion_, without having tallow poured over him, which he
had found, from high Greek authority, to be the right ointment for
Neo-sophistæ. And he said that my father must have been familiar with
the passage he referred to, and had thus discomfited all the
Pansophistæ, better than any modern Deipnosophist could have done. But
my father said no; he had never even heard of the gentleman, with the
hard name to crack; and as for them Prophesiers, they ought to have
prophesied what his clots was, before tumbling into them. He ought to
have an action of trespass against them; and, but for the law, he would
do so.
To make it quite certain, that no man of science should analyse,
synthesise, generalise, or in any way scientise me, I was now provided
with a guardian, intrepid of neologisms ten yards long. The father of
our Bill Chumps, Mr. Chumps, the Purveyor of Meat, was the owner of a
dog, who was the father of a pup, who was threatening, every day, to
make mincemeat of the author of his existence. The old dog might have
tackled him, Bill told me, or at any rate could have shown a good
turn-up, but for having broken his best fighting-tooth, on the spiked
collar of the last mastiff he had slain. Through this disability on the
part of old _Fangs_, he found his son _Grip_ too many for him; yet could
not be brought to confess it, and abstain from a battle, at every
opportunity. These encounters in no wise disturbed Mr. Chumps, but
became inconvenient to Mrs. Chumps, when she heard the piano (which had
cost £10, for her daughter, Belinda, to learn her scales) upset, and
entirely demolished. If it had been possible to hang _Grip_, hanged he
would have been that very day; for the mistress had nursed _Fangs_
through his distemper, and never would listen to a word against him.
Whereas the whole fault was upon the side of _Fangs_; of which I am
quite certain, from the character of _Grip_, as it unfolded itself
before me, when he became my own dear dog.
Providentially, their attempt to hang him had proved a miserable
failure. Not that he resisted--he was too docile, and kind, and
intelligent, to do that--but because his neck was much too thick, and
manifold, and his wind too good, for any rope to be of much account to
him. And before they could try any other form of murder, his master came
home, and made short work with them, knowing the superiority of the dog.
Now, that same evening, the day being Monday, the very choice club, to
which he, and my father, and Mr. John Windsor belonged, as well as the
largest potato-man at King's Cross, and the owner of the Indigo-blue
concern, and the most eminent merchant in the cat's meat line, and
several other gentlemen of equal distinction, held their bi-daily
congress at "_The Best End of the Scrag_," at the corner.
That night there was a very fine attendance; and my father, who had long
been acknowledged to be the wittiest man on our side of the
road--perhaps because he got no chance at home, to say what came inside
him--upon this occasion was compelled, by the nature of some of the
smells he had gone through, to be at his best, as he generally was,
after not less than two glasses and a half. And he told the adventure,
of the four professors, not as a sad and deplorable thing, but rather as
matter for merriment. In such a light did he put it, that all the
gentlemen laughed heartily, most of all Mr. John Windsor, who knew, even
better than my father did, the variety of organic substance, active in
that pit just then.
"There's things there," he said, "to my living knowledge, that'll never
come out of their hair while they live. And those big Savage-Johns
always have long hair, and as fuzzy as a cat stroked upward. Why, the
very last Friday, when I was a-cooling, a pair of them comes with a
brazen machine, and asked me, as quiet as a statue, permission for to
taste my follet oils. I up with the wooden spoon, and offered them a
drop; but that was not their meaning. It was som'at about som'at we
gives off, according to them philanderers. And I says--'Government
inquiry, gents?' And they says--'No, sir; but for purposes of science.'
'Tell me,' says I, 'what the constitootion is of this here clot,' and
they said 'Composite organic' something; while my composites all was
upon the upper floor, and never a hurdy-gurdy allowed inside. 'So much
for science!' says I; 'Jim, show these gentlemen out, by the back-alley
door.' And now that you come to discourse of it, Bubbly, it strikes me
they might have come very likely, smelling up a side-wind for your poor
Tommy."
"I should hope they have had enough of that," said father; "if they come
any more, I'll boil them down, and make 'Science-sauce for the million,'
How would you like, John, to pay your money, and get no change out of
it, along of such a lot?"
"You mean the missus," Mr. Windsor asked--"won't allow Thistledown, as
my Jack calls him, to go to old Rum's any more, I suppose? Afraid of the
ladies, Mr. Upmore is."
"I'll tell you what to do," Mr. Chumps broke in; "Upmore, you buy my
young dog _Grip_. I'd give him to you with all my heart, if it wasn't
for the bad luck of it; though he is worth ten guineas of anybody's
money, for he comes of the best blood in England. Downright House of
Lords bull-dog he is; same as should be chained to the pillars of the
State, to keep them Glads, and Rads, away. Just you put him in charge
of Thistledown--or whatever you call that little yellow-haired chap, and
I'll back _Grip_ against all the Science, that ever made a pint contain
a pot."
"What's the figure?" my father asked, knowing how generously all men
talk, and that Mr. Chumps' bull-dogs were a fashionable race.
"If you was to offer me more than a crown," replied Mr. Chumps, with his
fist on the table; "I should say, 'Bubbly, he's no dog of yours, because
you desire to insult me.' But put you down a crown, as between old
friends, and before this honourable company, I say, 'Bucephalus Upmore,
_Grip_ is your dog.' Why so? John Windsor here knows why, and so does
Harry Peelings from King's Cross, and so does Bill Blewitt, and Sandy
Mewliver, and all this honourable company. And so do you, Bubbly Upmore,
if you are the man I have taken you for. Gentlemen, it is because Mr.
Upmore has told the best story I have sat and listened to, ever since
last election day; he digged a pit for his enemies in the gate, and they
fell into it themselves; as well as because my son, Bill Chumps, who
will make his mark, mind you, if you live to see it, has taken a liking
to this gentleman's son--Thistledown, or Bubble-blow, or
Up-goes-the-donkey--they've got at least fifty names for him--and, in my
humble opinion, he must be protected from the outrages of all those
fellows, philo-this, and anti-that,--my son Bill knows their names, and
all about them--who have made the world a deal too clever for a quiet
man's comfort."
These very simple and sensible words were received with much knocking on
the table; and my father put down his five-shilling piece, so that all
the other gentlemen had time to see it, before they began talking, as
the subject compelled them to do, of the merits of their children,
respectively, severally, and all together. And they parted, in thorough
good will, inasmuch as not anybody listened to anybody else.
My father's opinion, at the time, had been that the warmth of Mr.
Chumps' political and social feelings (promoted by the comforts of the
club) had hurried him into a disregard of money, which his friends
should never lose a moment to improve. But when the journeyman came over
in the morning, on his way to the _Partheneion_, with _Grip_ trotting
chained at the tail of the cart, my father cried--
"What! Has Chumps no more conscience, than to impose upon a friend like
this? I, who have known him all these years, to pay as good a
crown-piece as was ever coined, for a one-eyed, nick-eared, hare-lipped,
broken-tailed son of a [female dog] like that! Gristles, you go back,
and tell your master, that you saw me put an ounce of lead through him."
My father strode in, to fetch his gun, which he kept well-charged in the
clock-case now, for the sake of so many Professors; and _Grip_, for a
surety, would have been dead, and boiling, in less than five minutes,
except for his luck. His luck was that I, being under debate between my
two parents, had slipped out of doors, being old enough now by
experience to know, that they took the kindest view of me, when I was
out of sight. And coming round the corner, to peep in at the window,
just to see whether they had settled my concerns, there I saw this poor
dog--hideous they might call him--doubtfully glancing in every
direction, dimly aware that the world was against him, scenting the
death of a dog in the air. One of his eyes was out of sight, and one of
his ears was in need of a sling, his tail (which had lately been cracked
by his father) hung limp in the dust with a pitiable wag, and every hair
on his body was turned the wrong way. His self-respect had suffered a
tremendous blow, by the effort of mankind to hang him yesterday, and by
dragging at the tail of a cart to-day; and as sure as dogs are dogs, he
was aware of the awful decision against him.
Gristles was a hard man, and would not say a word, to comfort or to
plead for him, having got a little snap from him, a month or two ago; so
he looked down over the back of the cart, and whistled--"Pop goes the
Weasel"--while the poor dog implored him, with all his one eye full of
wistful enquiry, what harm he had done.
"All right, guv'nor," shouted Gristles, as my father came forthwith his
big double-barrel; "my mare will stand fire like a church. But mind you,
it ain't no good to shoot at his head, with nothing no smaller than a
dockyard cannon. Have at his heart, where you sees him now a-panting;
but for God's sake, guv'nor, don't shoot me."
That fellow's cowardly cruelty made my father relent, for his heart was
kind; and before he could put up his gun again, I was lying upon _Grip_,
and hugging him. The unfortunate dog, for his last resource, had
appealed to the only weak face he could find, and my own fright enabled
me to enter into his.
"You little fool, Tommy, get out of the way," my father shouted; but I
would not budge, and _Grip_ put his quivering tongue out, and licked my
cheek, and besought me with a little speech of whine.
"Very well," said my father, being glad of an excuse for a milder
course, as his wrath went down, and knowing that, if he did this thing,
Mr. Chumps would never look at him again, which would cost him as much
as £20 a year; "very well, Tommy, if you like the brute you shall have
him, and I hope he will be grateful to you. Gristles, here's
half-a-crown for you, and you need not tell your master what I
said--only that I seemed a little disappointed with the first appearance
of the dog; which is rather a good fault, you know, in a dog who has got
to keep off strangers; and my compliments, and I begin to feel sure that
_Grip_ will soon begin to grow upon us."
This prophecy was fulfilled right well, so far as my mother and self
were concerned, and even my father grew fond of _Grip_, as soon as he
found what a wonder he was; but the dog, while regarding him with deep
respect, could never forgive his own narrow escape, any more than forget
my timely aid; for his memory was as tenacious as his teeth. On me the
dog fastened his strong heart at once, with an attachment more than
dogged, making the best of whatever I did, expecting no credit for his
own good works, humbly and heartily wagging his tail, for the mere hope
of a kind word, or look.
And, after a little while, no one who knew him--at least if he were any
judge of a dog--could consider him ugly, from a proper point of view,
and without any personal feeling. For his eye, that had seemed to be
gone, came back, so as nearly to agree with the other one, yet working
enough, on its own account, to redouble his power of expression; while
his tail (being oiled and done up with bell-wire) returned to its
natural tendency; and as for his ear of a gingery yellow, the colour was
so rich that it wanted shading, and gained it by having a division
introduced. So that, on the whole, he had succeeded, without any serious
damage to himself, in impressing the main principle of the present
age--that of parental submission to the child.
Now, when I appeared at the _Partheneion_, under convoy of this gallant
animal, Dr. Rumbelow scarcely knew what to do. After looking at _Grip_,
with some surprise, he fired a strong volley of quotations at him; but
the dog moved never a tail-point for them, and instead of being
frightened, he would not even blink, but gazed at them calmly; as much
as to say, "There is not a pinch of shot in the whole of them."
The Doctor, though one of the bravest of mankind, could not return his
gaze, with equal largeness and frank placidity of criticism, but shouted
for Mercury, his page, and bade him remember the glorious day whereon he
slew the monster Argus. Bob Jackson, failing to recall that date, looked
as if he would rather keep aloof from _Grip_, who opened his nostrils,
and curled up his lips, and shot fire out of his discordant eyes.
"Good doggie, good doggie,--poor fellow"--said the page, in a tenderly
condescending tone, while approaching sideways gingerly; "if he is a
very good doggie, he shall have this beautiful collar to wear,--oh lor!"
He was lying on his back, with _Grip_ standing across him, but scarcely
thinking it worth while to bite him, unless he should endeavour to make
escape. "Fetch me the big cane, labelled No. 1," the Doctor shouted
valiantly, "the father of all canes, the _rhopalos_, which has warmed
the back of a prime-minister. With that will I rescue my Hermes, though
the Hydra herself stand over him."
"No, sir; no, sir; for God's sake don't go near him," cried Bill Chumps,
running up the playground; "_Grip_ can beat any two men in the world,
because no blow can hurt him. Leave him to me, sir; I understand him,
and he knows me well enough, though he never took to me, somehow or
other, as his dear old father does. He has taken wonderfully to Fly
Tommy. Somebody come, and give Tommy a good whack."
Of the many brave boys, who had rejoiced in doing this, even without
instigation last week, there was not one who would now discharge this
duty, for the public weal. "Why should I hit him?" said boy after boy,
who said last week, "Why shouldn't I?"--"I am a deal too fond of poor
Tommy for that. Hit him yourself, if you want him hit."
"So I will, then, you pack of dirty cowards," answered Chumps, being put
upon his mettle, though he told me afterwards that he was in a horrid
funk; and he gave me at once a good sounding smack, on a part of my body
that was covered with material warranted to wear, and having three stout
seams with a piece to let out. Before the echo of the Five's court
ceased, _Grip_ was between us, looking up at me, as if to ask, "What am
I to do?" doubting in his mind whether justice would allow him to wage
war against his late master's son.
"Worthy is he to be piled with praise--not _cumulari_, but _qui
cumuletur_, boys of the second form observe--inasmuch as he has not
doubted to encounter, singly, or in maniple, all the foes of the pusill
committed to his charge. Great is the manhood of this dog; and yet it
somewhat repenteth me that, provoked by the wanton assaults of science
upon the sweet retirement of the Muses, I have promised him the tub, and
the collar, and the bowl, of the deceased, and perhaps now constellated
animal, Heracles Poikilostiktos. Mercury, brush thy pulverulent
_petasus_, and with the aid of thy lyre, or that of the ever
ready-minded Chumps, conduct this formidable animal to the many-strewn
couch prepared for him. _Partheneionidæ_, the hour has struck. With
grateful ardour, let us hasten to the banquet of the mind provided for
us, by the generous wisdom of the men of old."
With these words, our great master strode to the school-room door; and
we (his children and the fruit of his cane) looked vainly for chance of
escape from work. Then, with as much of a sigh as childhood yet has
learned from nature's book, we followed the learned steps afar, with two
for one in length, but only one for two in speed, I ween.