A Glimpse of English Domestic Life in Which the American Reader May
Find Here and There Something That Sounds Quite Familiar.
Editor, humorist, playwright, humanitarian, Douglas William
Jerrold--to give him his seldom heard full name--was a
winning figure in his period. He was born in London in 1803,
the son of an actor and theater lessee. He had little
schooling, but he was fond of books, and educated himself
precociously by reading a wide range of literature in
English, French, Italian, and Latin. Occasionally his father
cast him for children's parts on the stage. For a time he
served as a midshipman in the British navy, and later became
a printer's apprentice. He was only fifteen when he wrote a
comedy, "More Frightened Than Hurt," which was well
received. His best-remembered play, "Black-Eyed Susan," was
produced in 1829. All in all, he wrote more than forty
plays, many of which enjoyed an ephemeral success.
Meantime he was constantly engaging in literary ventures.
When _Punch_ was founded, in 1841, he at once became a
contributor, and he continued the connection until his
death. "Mrs. Caudle's Curtain Lectures," "Punch's Letters to
His Son," and "Cakes and Ale" are well-known compilations of
his papers in _Punch_.
Jerrold was a lovable man, of an easy-going, generous
nature. Sociable, impulsive, simple, fiery--his faults were
those of carelessness or haste.
When _Mrs. Caudle_ was brought into public notice in the
forties, the type was quickly recognized, and England and
America chuckled aloud. _Mrs. Caudle_ still lives--and will
live as long as her sex; therefore, England and America
still chuckle.
You ought to be very rich, Mr. Caudle. I wonder who'd lend you five
pounds! But so it is: a wife may work and slave. Oh, dear! the many things
that might have been done with five pounds! As if people picked up money
in the streets! But you always _were_ a fool, Mr. Caudle! I've wanted a
black satin gown these three years, and that five pounds would have pretty
well bought it. But it's no matter how I go--not at all. Everybody says I
don't dress as becomes your wife--and I don't; but what's that to you, Mr.
Caudle? Nothing. Oh, no! You can have fine feelings for everybody but
those that belong to you. I wish people knew you as I do--that's all. You
like to be called liberal and your poor family pays for it.
And the girls want bonnets, and when they're to get 'em I can't tell. Half
five pounds would have bought 'em, but now they must go without. Of course
_they_ belong to you; and anybody but your own flesh and blood, Mr.
Caudle.
The man called for the water-rate to-day; but I should like to know how
people are to pay taxes who throw away five pounds to every fellow that
asks them.
Perhaps you don't know that Jack, this morning, knocked the shuttlecock
through his bedroom window. I was going to send for the glazier to mend
it; but, after you lent that five pounds, I was sure we couldn't afford
it. Oh, no; the window must go as it is; and pretty weather for a dear
child to sleep with a broken window. He's got a cold already on his lungs,
and I shouldn't at all wonder if that broken window settled him; if the
dear boy dies, his death will be upon his father's head, for I'm sure we
can't now pay to mend windows. We might, though, and do a good many more
things, if people didn't throw away their five pounds.
Next Tuesday the fire-insurance is due. I should like to know how it's to
be paid. Why, it can't be paid at all. That five pounds would have just
done it, and now insurance is out of the question. And there never were so
many fires as there are now. I shall never close my eyes all night; but
what's that to you, so people can call you liberal, Mr. Caudle? Your wife
and children may all be burnt alive in their beds, as all of us to a
certainty shall be, for the insurance must drop. After we've insured for
so many years! But how, I should like to know, are people to insure who
make ducks and drakes of their five pounds?
I did think we might go to Margate this summer. There's poor Caroline, I'm
sure she wants the sea. But no, dear creature, she must stop at home;
she'll go into a consumption, there's no doubt of that; yes, sweet little
angel. I've made up my mind to lose her now. The child might have been
saved; but people can't save their children and throw away five pounds,
too.
I wonder where little Cherub is? While you were lending that five pounds,
the dog ran out of the shop. You know I never let it go into the street,
for fear it should be bit by some mad dog and come home and bite the
children. It wouldn't at all astonish me if the animal was to come back
with hydrophobia and give it to all the family. However, what's your
family to you, so you can play the liberal creature with five pounds?
Do you hear that shutter, how it's banging to and fro? Yes, I know what it
wants as well as you: it wants a new fastening. I was going to send for
the blacksmith to-day. But now it's out of the question: now it must bang
of nights, since you have thrown away five pounds.
Well, things have come to a pretty pass! This is the first night I ever
made my supper of roast beef without pickles. But who is to afford pickles
when folk are always lending five pounds?
Do you hear the mice running about the room? I hear them. If they were
only to drag you out of bed, it would be no matter. _Set a trap for 'em?_
But how are people to afford the cheese, when every day they lose five
pounds?
Hark! I'm sure there's a noise down-stairs. It wouldn't surprise me if
there were thieves in the house. Well, it may be the cat; but thieves are
pretty sure to come some night. There's a wretched fastening to the back
door; but these are not times to afford bolts and bars, when fools won't
take care of their five pounds.
Mary Anne ought to have gone to the dentist's to-morrow. She wants three
teeth pulled out. Now it can't be done. Three teeth, that quite disfigures
the child's mouth. But there they must stop, and spoil the sweetest face
that was ever made. Otherwise she'd have been the wife for a lord. Now,
when she grows up, who'll have her? Nobody. We shall die, and leave her
alone and unprotected in the world. But what do you care for that?
Nothing; so you can squander away five pounds.
And now, Mr. Caudle, see what misery you've brought on your wretched
family! I can't have a satin gown--the girls can't have new bonnets--the
water-rate must stand over--Jack must get his death through a broken
window--our fire-insurance can't be paid, so we shall all be victims to
the devouring element--we can't go to Margate, and Caroline will go to an
early grave--the dog will come home and bite us all mad--that shutter will
go banging forever--the mice never let us have a wink of sleep--the
thieves be always breaking in the house--and our dear Mary Anne be forever
left an unprotected maid--and all, all, Mr. Caudle, _because you will go
on lending five pounds_!
How They Got On In The World.
Brief Biographies of Successful Men Who Have Passed Through
the Crucible of Small Beginnings and Won Out.
_Compiled and edited for_ THE SCRAP BOOK.