Commencement of London life and adventures.
And I dreamt again, and methought there were three things with reference
to London that Joe had learnt at school. First, that there was a Bridge,
chiefly remarkable for the fact that Captain Cook, the Navigator, shot
his servant because he said he was under London Bridge when he was in the
South Pacific Ocean; secondly, that there was a famous Tower, where the
Queen's Crown was kept; thirdly, that there was a Monument built to show
where the Great Fire began, and intimately connected in its cause with
Guy Faux, whom Joe had helped to carry on the Fifth of November. Now
when the young man woke in the morning at "The Goose," in Millbank
Street, Westminster, his attention was immediately attracted by these
three historic objects; and it was not till after he had made inquiries
that he found that it was not London Bridge that crossed the water in a
line with the Horseferry Road, but a very inferior structure called
Lambeth Suspension Bridge. Nor was the Tower on the left the Tower of
London, but the Lollards' tower of Lambeth Palace; while the supposed
Monument was only the handsome column of Messrs. Doulton's Pottery.
But they were all interesting objects nevertheless; and so were the huge
cranes that were at work opposite the house lifting the most tremendous
loads of goods from the lighters to the wharves. The "Shipping," too,
with its black and copper-coloured sails, gave some idea of the extent of
England's mercantile marine. At all events, it excited the country lad's
wonder and astonishment. But there was another matter that gave quite an
agricultural and countrified look to the busy scene, and that was the
prodigious quantity of straw that was being unloaded from the barges
alongside. While Mr. Bumpkin went to see his solicitor at Westminster
Hall, Joe wandered about the wharves looking at the boats and barges, the
cranes and busy workmen who drove their barrows from barge to wharf, and
ran along with loads on their backs over narrow planks, in the most
lively manner. But looking on, even at sights like these, day by day,
becomes a wearisome task, and Joe, being by no means an idle lad,
occasionally "lent a hand" where he saw an opportunity. London, no
doubt, was a very interesting place, but when he had seen Page Street,
and Wood Street, and Church Street, and Abingdon Street, and Millbank
Prison, and the other interesting objects referred to, his curiosity was
gratified, and he began to grow tired of the sameness of the place.
Occasionally he saw a soldier or two and the military sight fired his
rustic imagination. Not that Joe had the remotest intention of entering
the army; it was the last thing he would ever dream of; but, in common
with all mankind he liked to look at the smart bearing and brilliant
uniform of the sergeant, who seemed to have little else to do than walk
about with his cane under his arm, or tap the stone parapet with it as he
looked carelessly at some interesting object on the river.
The evenings in the taproom at "The Goose" were among the most enjoyable
periods of the lad's London existence. A select party usually gathered
there, consisting chiefly of a young man who never apparently had had
anything to do in his life. His name was Harry Highlow, a clever sort of
wild young scapegrace who played well at "shove-ha'penny," and sang a
good comic song. Another of the party was a youth who earned a
precarious livelihood by carrying two boards on his shoulders advertising
a great pickle, or a great singer, as the case might be. Another of the
company was a young man who was either a discharged or a retired groom; I
should presume the former, as he complained bitterly that the authorities
at Scotland Yard would not grant him a licence to drive a cab. He
appeared to be a striking instance of how every kind of patronage in this
country is distributed by favouritism. There were several others, all
equally candidates for remunerative situations, but equally unfortunate
in obtaining them: proving conclusively that life is indeed a lottery in
which there may be a few prizes, usually going, by the caprice of
Fortune, to the undeserving, while the blanks went indiscriminately to
all the rest.
Bound together by the sympathy which a common misfortune engenders, these
young men were happy in the pursuit of their innocent amusements at "The
Goose." And while, at first, they were a little inclined to chaff the
rustic youth on account of his apparent simplicity, they soon learned to
respect him on account of his exceedingly good temper and his willingness
to fall in with the general views of the company on all occasions. They
learnt all about Joe's business in London, and it was a common greeting
when they met in the evening to ask "how the pig was?" And they would
enquire what the Lord Chancellor thought about the case, and whether it
wouldn't be as well to grease the pig's tail and have a pig-hunt. To all
which jocular observations Joe would reply with excellent temper and
sometimes with no inappropriate wit. And then they said they would like
to see Joe tackle Mr. Orkins, and believed he would shut him up. But
chaff never roused his temper, and he laughed at the case as much as any
man there. Fine tales he would have to tell when he got back to
Yokelton; and pleasant, no doubt, would be in after-life, his
recollections of the evenings at "The Goose."
As a great general surveys the field where the intended action is to be
fought, so Mr. Bumpkin was conducted by Horatio to Westminster Hall, and
shown the various Courts of Justice, and some of the judges.
"Be this Chancery?" he enquired.
"O my eye, no!" said Horatio; "the cause has been transferred from
Chancery to these 'ere Common Law Courts. It was only brought in
Chancery because the costs there are upon a higher scale; we didn't mean
to try her there."
"Where will she be tried then?"
"In one of these Courts."
"Who be the judge?" whispered Bumpkin.
At this moment there was a loud shout of "Silence!" and although Mr.
Bumpkin was making no noise whatever, a gentleman approached him, looking
very angry, and enquired if Mr. Bumpkin desired to be committed for
contempt of Court.
Mr. Bumpkin thought the most prudent answer was silence; so he remained
speechless, looking the gentleman full in the face; while the gentleman
looked him full in the face for at least a minute and a half, as if he
were wondering whether he should take him off to prison there and then,
or give him another chance, as the judge sometimes does a prisoner when
he sentences him to two years imprisonment with hard labour.
Now the gentleman was a very amiable man of about forty, with large brown
mutton-chop whiskers, and a very well trained moustache; good-looking
and, I should think, with some humour, that is for a person connected
with the Courts. He was something about the Court, but in what capacity
he held up his official head, I am unable to say. He was evidently
regarded with great respect by the crowd of visitors. It was some time
before he took his gaze off Mr. Bumpkin; even when he had taken his eyes
off, he seemed looking at him as if he feared that the moment he went
away Bumpkin would do it again.
And then methought I heard someone whisper near me: "His lordship is
going to give judgment in the case of _Starling_ v. _Nightingale_," and
all at once there was a great peace. I lost sight of Bumpkin, I lost
sight of the gentleman, I lost sight of the crowd; an indefinable
sensation of delight overpowered my senses. Where was I? I had but a
moment before been in a Court of Justice, with crowds of gaping idlers;
with prosaic-looking gentlemen in horsehair wigs; with gentlemen in a pew
with papers before them ready to take down the proceedings. Now it
seemed as if I must be far away in the distant country, where all was
calm and heavenly peace.
Surely I must be among the water-lilies! What a lullaby sound as of
rippling waters and of distant music in the evening air; of the eddying
and swirl of the mingling currents; of the chime of bells on the evening
breeze; of the zephyrs through fir-tops; of woodland whispers; of the
cadence of the cathedral organ; of the soft sweet melody of the maiden's
laugh; of her gentlest accents in her sweetest mood; of--but similitudes
fail me. In this delicious retreat, which may be compared to the Garden
of Eden before the tempter entered, are the choicest flowers of rhetoric.
I hear a voice as from the far-off past, and I wonder will that be the
voice which will utter the "last syllable of recorded time?"
Then methought the scene changed, and I heard the question--
"Do you move, Mr. Jones?"
O the prosaic Jones!--"don't you move?"
Yes, he does; he partly rises, ducks his head, and elevates the hinder
portion of his person, and his movement ceases. And the question is
repeated to Mr. Quick. "Do you move, Mr. Quick?"
Then I saw Mr. Bumpkin again, just as Mr. Quick ducked his head and
elevated his back.
And then some gentleman actually moved in real earnest upon these
interesting facts:--A farmer's bull--just the very case for Mr.
Bumpkin--had strayed from the road and gone into another man's yard, and
upset a tub of meal; was then driven into a shed and locked up. The
owner of the bull came up and demanded that the animal should be
released. "Not without paying two pounds," said the meal-owner. The
bull owner paid it under protest, and summoned the meal-owner to the
County Court for one pound seventeen shillings and sixpence, the
difference between the damage done (which was really about twopence) and
the money paid to redeem the bull. Judgment for the plaintiff. Motion
for new trial, or to enter verdict for the defendant, on the ground that
the meal man could charge what he liked.
One of the learned Judges asked:
"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Smiles, that if a man has a bull, and that
bull goes into a yard and eats some meal out of a meal-tub, and the
damage amounts to twopence, and the owner of the bull says 'here's your
twopence,' that the owner of the meal can say, "No, I want a hundred
pounds, and shall take your bull damage feasant," and then takes him and
locks him up, and the owner of the bull pays the hundred pounds, he
cannot afterwards get the money back?"
"That is so," says the learned counsel, "such is the law." And then he
cited cases innumerable to prove that it was the law.
"Well," said the Judge, "unless you show me a case of a bull and a
meal-tub, I shall not pay attention to any case--must be a meal-tub."
Second Judge: "It is extortion, and done for the purpose of extortion;
and I should say he could be indicted for obtaining money by false
pretences."
"I am not sure he could not, my lord," said the counsel; "but he can't
recover the money back."
"Then," said the Judge, "if he obtains money by an indictable fraud
cannot he get it back?"
"Well," said Bumpkin, "that be rum law; if it had bin my bull, he'd a gin
'em summat afore they runned him in."
It was interesting to see how the judges struggled against this
ridiculous law; and it was manifest even to the unlettered Bumpkin, that
a good deal of old law is very much like old clothes, the worse for wear,
and totally inapplicable to the present day. A struggle against old
authorities is often a struggle of Judges to free themselves from the
fetters of antiquated dicta and decisions no longer appropriate to or
necessary for the modern requirements of civilisation.
In this case precedents running over _one hundred and eight years_ were
quoted, and so far from impressing the Court with respect, they simply
evoked a smile of contempt.
The learned Judges, after patiently listening to the arguments, decided
that extortion and fraud give no title, and thus were the mists and
vapours that arose from the accumulated mudbanks of centuries dispelled
by the clear shining of common sense. In spite of arguments by the hour,
and the pettifogging of one hundred and eight years, justice prevailed,
and the amazed appellant was far more damaged by his legal proceedings
than he was by the bull. The moral surely is, that however wise ancient
judges were in their day, their wisdom ought not to be allowed to work
injustice. He may be a wise Judge who makes a precedent, but he is often
a much wiser who sweeps it away.