Читать книгу The Greatest Plague of Life: or, the Adventures of a Lady in Search of a Good Servant - Henry Mayhew - Страница 7

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“We met: ’twas in a crowd,

And I thought he would shun me!

He came: I could not breathe,

For his eyes were upon me.

He spoke: his words were cold;

And his smile was unalter’d.”

“We Met.”—Haynes Bayly.

The next morning, as soon as ever breakfast was over, and Edward had gone down to his office in L—nc—n’s I—n, I retired from the public sitting-room, to my private bed room; and as it was a fine morning, and would be the first time that I had ever spoken to Mr. B——e on business, I thought it would be better to put on my best bonnet (a black velvet one, with a black bird of Paradise in it,) which I had worn as yet only on Sundays, at church; and having done so, I made the best of my way towards Fleet-street.

When I reached the door of the shop, I really had scarcely courage to turn the handle; I had often heard of the nervousness of Genius, but never before had experienced the feeling myself. I’m sure, I felt as if my heart were in my mouth; and anybody that had wished, might have knocked me down with a feather. So, to bring myself round, I looked at some of the sweet, pretty engravings in the front of the shop; and having just passed my handkerchief over my face, and arranged my bonnet and hair as well as I could, in the plate-glass windows, I at last summoned up strength to enter.

Standing by the fire, in the shop, was a good-looking young man, of a dark complexion, and dressed in a tail-coat, who advanced towards me as I entered. “Mr. B——e, I presume,” I said, addressing him, with an amiable smile.

“In the next room, if you please, ma’m,” he replied, in a tone of becoming diffidence.

“Thank you,” I replied, with a lady-like curtsey, and immediately stepped into the room alluded to.

He was engaged in packing some elegantly bound books, and was a tall, thin, young man, in a surtout, with not much colour in his face, which was, nevertheless, full of meaning. As soon as I had caught his eye—(which was a black one,)—I said, in a graceful manner, “I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. B——e.”

“In the next room, if you please, ma’m,” he replied, with charming respect.

“You are extremely good,” I answered, curtseying, as before; and passing on into the adjoining apartment, which was a counting-house. There I observed a young man, with a Grecian nose, and grey Irish eyes, and a buff kerseymere waistcoat, seated at a desk, very busy.

“Mr. B——e, if I’m not mistaken?” I asked, in an attractive, bland voice.

He looked up, and answered, evidently moved by my manner, “That is Mr. B——e, ma’m;” and he pointed to a gentleman, of prepossessing exterior, who was seated on the opposite side of the desk, with his thoughts evidently wrapt up in a brown paper parcel (probably the manuscript of some popular author) he was undoing.

I advanced towards him, and found him to be a man, looking very young considering all he must have upon his shoulders. As he walked across the room to meet me, he appeared to run about upon five feet and three-quarters, being neither tall nor short. He has got my eldest girl’s hair, and my second boy’s eyes, (the one being gold-coloured, and the other blue). He was dressed in an invisible green surtout, with a black velvet collar, and seems to be naturally of a retiring disposition, like myself: and, as far as I can judge, from appearances, I should think he has a very fine constitution of his own. I do not know whether he is a family man, but I must say, that he certainly does appear to be a gentleman of very good breeding. And, though his diffidence makes his manner, at first, appear grave, still he seems to be naturally of a cheerful disposition; for, do what he could, it was impossible for him to prevent his inward man from peeping out of his expressive eyes.

“Mr. B——e, I presume,” I first began, in my quiet, lady-like way.

“Yes, ma’m,” he answered, with a bland smile; “will you take a chair, by the fire?”

“Thank you; you are very kind,” I answered, arranging my dress as I sat down. As he said nothing further, and evidently expected me to open the business, I at length, after a short pause, summoned courage to break the ice, and remarked—“It is a very fine day, Mr. B——e.”

Mr. B——e was of the same opinion, and replied—“It is, ma’m, very fine.”

There was another pause, which made me feel (to use an expressive figure of speech) far from at-home, and wholly drove out of my mind the charming little address that, on my road, I had arranged, as an elegant introduction to the business.

At length, however, having cleared my throat, I began.—“I have come to see you, Mr. B——e, about publishing a little book I am determined to write. The subject of it relates principally to the great plague occasioned by servants. And, when we reflect, Mr. B——e,” I continued, recollecting a portion of the speech I had prepared, “how much of our happiness depends upon those persons, and that there is no work of the kind designed to pilot the tender young wife when first launched into the sea of domestic life, through the rocks and precipices that beset her briary path——”

“Perhaps,” he delicately interrupted me, “you are not acquainted, ma’m, with Dean Swift’s celebrated work on the subject.”

“No, Mr. B——e,” I answered, with a pleasing smile; “I am not acquainted with Mr. Dean Swift’s book; but, as he never could have had the experience of a wife, and a mother, of such long standing as myself, I am satisfied that it will not, in any way, clash with the one I purpose. Besides, no one, I am sure, Mr. B——e, can have suffered a millionth part of what I have, from servants; for, what with the worry, and vexation, and trouble that they have caused me, together with, I may say, the wear and tear of both mind and body, it’s really, Mr. B——e, a wonder that I’m here now. Indeed, as our medical adviser says, if I hadn’t had a very fine constitution of my own, I should never have been able to have gone through with it all. So that I think, Mr. B——e, my troubles would make a very interesting and instructive little book.”

“Yes, ma’m,” he answered, hesitatingly; “but I’m sorry to say, domestic troubles don’t go off at all in the trade; the public seem to have lost all taste for them. Now, if you could work up any horrible fact, or make a heroine out of some lady poisoner, ma’m, I think that might do. Sir Edward’s book has been quite a hit, and there is a great demand with us for lady poisoners just now.”

“Oh, indeed, Mr. B——e,” I answered; “but there will be some most dreadful facts in my little book. Now, there was our Footman, who stole the spoons; and an Irish Cook, who I really thought would have been the death of the whole family. I intend to give the disclosure of all the circumstances in my interesting little work. Do you think that would do, Mr. B——e?”

“Yes, ma’m,” he answered: “but I’m afraid the book, although I’ve no doubt (he was kind enough to add) it would be exceedingly interesting, wouldn’t exactly suit me. I really should not like to risk it.”

“Oh! I perceive, now, Mr. B——e,” I returned, as, with my customary sagacity, I at once saw the reason of his refusal. “My motives for publishing my interesting little work are dictated purely by benevolence, I can assure you. I hope you do not imagine I am one of the people who write for money. No, Mr. B——e; I am happy to say, I am not yet necessitated to fly to my pen as a means of support.”

The worthy gentleman seemed pleased with the nobility of my disposition; and after a long talk I had with him, in which I explained to him all I intended to do, he was so kind as to say that he thought a good deal might be made out of the subject. So that I had the proud satisfaction of finding that I had not used my abilities in vain, for he at last, in a most gentlemanly way, not only consented to publish my interesting little work for me, but was also good enough to suggest that it should be illustrated; and actually was so polite as to give me a letter to that highly-talented artist, Mr. George Cruikshank, though I told him that I was afraid he would be too funny for a work of so serious a character. But he quelled all my doubts, by telling me that Mr. Cruikshank was a man of such versatile genius, that he was sure that the drawings from his intellectual pencil would be quite in keeping with the book; so, taking the letter of introduction, I left Mr. B——e, (my publisher,) quite charmed with the conquest I had made.

Moral reflection after writing the above.—It has been very truly remarked, by the greatest philosophers of our time, and it is likewise my opinion, that London is the finest city in this transitory world. But I cannot help observing, that Fleet-street, as it stands at present, is a crying evil, and a perfect disgrace to it. Is it not wonderful, that in these enlightened times, so little attention should be paid to the feelings of fair woman, at the crossings of this great metropolis? Englishmen, ever since charming Raleigh took his cloak off his very back, to prevent sweet Elizabeth soiling her lovely feet, have been acknowledged to be a highly polite and intellectual nation; but the way in which I was jostled and hustled, and pushed about, by a set of low London barbarians, who once or twice knocked my beautiful best black velvet bonnet nearly off my head, makes me fear that we are all going backwards, (if I might be allowed the expression,) and that our boasted civilization is only a golden dream and a fib. What the Lord Mayor can be about, at the crossings in the City, I am at a loss to say. As they are at present regulated, it seems to me as if the civic authorities were all asleep at their posts. Three times did I attempt to get across the street, from Mr. B——’s, and three times was I driven back by the bears who are permitted to drive the omnibuses and cabs of the first city in Europe. Though the fellows saw my distress, they never once offered to stop and make way for a lone, unprotected female, but only seemed to take a savage delight in my alarms. And even when I did get across, I’m sure it was at the peril of my very life. It’s only a wonder to me that I didn’t go into hysterics in the middle of the road; and however people, who have weak constitutions of their own, can manage to get over it, is an inscrutable mystery to me.

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