A HOUSE TO LET
Apparently the ill luck which had pursued me so close in the past,
would not let me escape without another scratch. In my pleasant walks
in my native town, my eye happened to fall on a beautiful house,
untenanted in a neighbourhood so quiet that every other house seemed
to be the same. The very name, Woodland Road, was an address for a
poet. It was a four storied villa, standing on the top of a hilly
road, from where one could see on a clear mistless day the meeting of
the Severn and the Bristol Channel; and, looking in another direction,
could see the whole town without hearing one of its many voices.
Unfortunately, I coveted this house as a tenant, thinking to get more
pleasure in one glance from its top window on a bright summer's
morning than from the perusal of many books. Even now, in Winter, it
presented a warm, comfortable appearance, with its evergreens and its
ivied walls. A tall, spreading rose bush stood facing its lowest
window, and I imagined the bashful red roses looking in at me, as
though I would not come out of doors to please them. There were
primrose leaves green on the rockery, and one yellow flower still
stood, withered and bent, in this last week of November. There was
also an apple tree and a pear tree, so that the front of the house was
both a park and an orchard. Blackbirds, robins, and thrushes visited
the grounds daily; and I believe that this house was their nearest
approach to town. It only wanted a few touches of Spring, and here
were shady nooks, and leafy boughs for birds to sing unseeing and
unseen. Thinking that this beautiful place would not remain untenanted
for long, I at once made application, being recommended by my old
master of the days of my apprenticeship. Had I known that the house
was always empty and untenanted, and that people came and went at
short notice, I should certainly not have been in such a hurry to take
possession, in spite of its natural beauties. It was neither haunted
by ghosts nor animal noises, but by the landlady, who lived in the
next house. This lady I did not see, nor have I seen her up to the
present time, one of my family having taken the place in my name.
Probably if I had transacted business personally, and had had an
opportunity of seeing this landlady's face, I had not coveted the
house, and, according to a right judgment of human nature, would have
saved myself the money and disappointment that was to follow.
However, the house became mine, and I received the key which was to
let me possess this house and its interesting grounds.
I idled a week about town descanting with great pleasure on the
beauties of my future home; but I was somewhat taken by surprise at
the unfavourable reception with which my news was received. "Who is
the landlady?" asked one. "Mrs. S," I answered; "she lives next door."
"It is very unfortunate," said this person, "that the landlady lives
next door." "Every one can please themselves," said another, "but as
for myself, I would never dream of living next door to my landlady."
"What": cried another, "the landlady lives next door? What a great
pity, to be sure." Although the last named depreciator was the
respectable wife of a retired tradesman, and had given her own
landlady satisfaction for a number of years; in spite of this, I was
highly amused at these remarks, taking the uncharitable view that
these people were really not so respectable as they seemed, and would
not be allowed to live under the watchful eyes of a particular person.
My landlady, I thought, be she ever so watchful, dare not interfere
without some cause; and, as the house must needs be kept very quiet
for my own purpose of study, noises that are not allowed to reach me
in the same house, surely will not be able to reach the house next
door.
The eventful day arrived, and I gathered together my small family, one
from her limited possession of two small rooms, being very pleased to
have me with her, which could not otherwise have been. At last we were
in full possession, and at once proceeded to arrange the furniture,
and to make the house comfortable. On the second day I began to work
in earnest, having been unsettled and indisposed for several weeks.
When I came downstairs to dinner, on this second day, I was informed
that the landlady had already been there to say that she objected to
us keeping animals. On being told there was not the least intention of
doing the same, she said that she certainly thought such was our
intention, seeing that we were in possession of wood, and that she
strongly objected to any other than that which could be kept indoors.
The wood, which had caused all this suspicion, was simply a clothes
prop and three shelves which had not yet been removed from where they
were first placed. I laughed heartily at this unwarranted
interference, but the feminine portion of the family strongly resented
it.
The third day I continued my work, the others again working on the
comfort of this large house; one being outside trimming the
evergreens, and taking a general pride in our half orchard and half
park. Ditto the third day, and so on day after day, until the rent
became due. This was the first time for me to take a personal hand in
my affairs, and, when the agent called, I thought it more business
like to put in an appearance, for the first rent day, at least, seeing
that the house was in my name, after which others might attend to it.
I paid the rent, 9s. 6d.--the house, as I have said, was a fine large
villa, and was really worth fifteen or sixteen shillings a week; and
this small amount demanded for it, was a mystery at which any sensible
person would have sniffed. This agent then gave me a book, with the
rent entered to my account. After this he handed me a letter, which,
said he, was sent from the office. Not dreaming of its contents, I
there and then opened this letter, and to my astonishment saw that it
was a notice to quit within one week of that date, at the orders of
Messrs. H. and B., her solicitors. This notice was a severe blow, for,
up till then, the place had been unsettled, and we had only been
enjoying the expectation of future comfort. "Who, or what does this
lady object to?" I asked the agent, with some bitterness. "I need
absolute quiet for my work, and the amount I have done in the past
week proves that I have had it. What then has disturbed my landlady,
that has not interfered with my work? To make a person suffer the
expense, and worse, the worry of moving twice in a few days, should
not be done without due consideration, and some definite reason." But
the agent knew or pretended to know nothing of the affair, and he
left me at the door, feeling more shame and mortification than I have
ever felt before. There was nothing else to do but to pack up again as
soon as possible and to seek fresh quarters, which, after great
difficulty, were found.
To think that I have lived thirty-five years, and not to have known
the folly and ill policy of living next door to one's landlady! But
this particular landlady is eccentric, can afford to be independent,
and I verily believe she would not sell a house for even twice its
worth if she thought the would-be purchaser to be a man incapable of
taking charge of property. Her house is more often unoccupied than
let, as I have since been told, for the most respectable people cannot
live near her. Apparently this is the case, for the house was still
empty several weeks after I had quit, in spite of its unreasonably low
rent and the beauty of its surroundings.
A robin came to the back door every morning and was fed. Perhaps this
time wasted on the robin might have been better employed in winning
the good graces of the landlady.
What a pity such an eccentric person should have such power to receive
people as tenants for a few days, and then to dismiss them without
warning or giving any definite reason. And what a harvest her
idiosyncrasies must be to her solicitors. They even followed me up and
demanded another week's rent, after the expense of moving to the top
of a high hill and down again, which, up to the present, I have not
paid. A lawyer would certainly be a lucky man to be allowed control
over the interests of half a dozen such clients, and he could dress
his wife and daughters in silk, and thoroughly educate his sons on his
makings. I have been told that she is a deeply religious woman.
Therefore, although she said in her own heart--"on no account can
these people live in a villa of mine," she must have prayed that room
would be reserved for us in the many mansions above.
This chapter should justify itself for the sake of the worldly wisdom
contained in the simple words--"Never live in a house next door to
your landlady or landlord;" which deserves to become a proverb. Many
people might not consider this warning necessary, but the hint may be
useful to poor travellers like myself who, sick of wandering, would
settle down to the peace and quiet of after days.
Such has been my life, rolling unseen and unnoted, like a dark planet
among the bright, and at last emitting a few rays of its own to show
its whereabouts, which were kindly received by many and objected to by
a few, among the latter being my late landlady.
Perhaps I am deceived as to the worth or worthlessness of certain
people, but I have given my experience of them without exaggeration,
describing as near as memory makes it possible, things exactly as
they occurred. I have made no effort to conceal my gratitude for those
who have befriended me, and I have made every effort to conceal
bitterness against enemies. If I have not succeeded in the latter it
is with regret, but if I have failed in the former, for that am I more
truly and deeply sorry. If I have appeared ignorant of certain matters
I claim exception from sin through a lack of prejudice which is, after
all, the only ignorance that can be honestly named with sin.
These have been my experiences; and if I have not omitted to mention
trouble of my own making, for which no one but myself was to blame,
why should I omit the mention of others, whom I blame for hours more
bitter? People are not to be blamed for their doubts, but that they
make no effort to arrive at the truth. However much people of a higher
standing may doubt the veracity of certain matters, I have the one
consolation to know that many a poor man, who is without talent or
means to make his experiences public, knows what I have written to be
the truth. It is but a poor consolation, for such an one is the
sufferer, and not the supporter, and he is powerless in the hands of a
stronger body.
THE END