Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2305 page)

“When the sweet creetur had compoged hersef (which a sip of brandy and water warm, and sugared pleasant, with a little nutmeg did it), I proceeds in these words. ‘Mrs. Harris, I am told as these hammertoors are litter’ry and artistickle.’ ‘Sairey,’ says that best of wimmin, with a shiver and a slight relasp, ‘go on, it might be worse.’ ‘I likewise hears,’ I says to her, ‘that they’re agoin play-acting, for the benefit of two litter’ry men; one as has had his wrongs a long time ago, and has got his rights at last, and one as has made a many people merry in his time, but is very dull and sick and lonely his own sef, indeed.’ ‘Sairey,’ says Mrs. Harris, ‘you’re an Inglish woman, and that’s no business of you’rn.’

“‘No, Mrs. Harris,’ I says, ‘that’s very true; I hope I knows my dooty and my country. But,’ I says, ‘I am informed as there is Ladies in this party, and that half a dozen of ‘em, if not more, is in various stages of a interesting state. Mrs. Harris, you and me well knows what Ingeins often does. If I accompanies this expedition, unbeknown and second cladge, may I not combine my calling with change of air, and prove a service to my feller creeturs?’ ‘Sairey,’ was Mrs. Harris’s reply, ‘you was born to be a blessing to your sex, and bring ‘em through it. Good go with you! But keep your distance till called in, Lord bless you Mrs. Gamp; for people is known by the company they keeps, and litterary and artistickle society might be the ruin of you before you was aware, with your best customers, both sick and monthly, if they took a pride in themselves.’

“II. MRS. GAMP IS DESCRIPTIVE.

“The number of the cab had a seven in it I think, and a ought I know — and if this should meet his eye (which it was a black ‘un, new done, that he saw with; the other was tied up), I give him warning that he’d better take that umbereller and patten to the Hackney-coach Office before he repents it. He was a young man in a weskit with sleeves to it and strings behind, and needn’t flatter himsef with a suppogition of escape, as I gave this description of him to the Police the moment I found he had drove off with my property; and if he thinks there an’t laws enough he’s much mistook — I tell him that:

“I do assure you, Mrs. Harris, when I stood in the railways office that morning with my bundle on my arm and one patten in my hand, you might have knocked me down with a feather, far less porkmangers which was a lumping against me, continual and sewere all round. I was drove about like a brute animal and almost worritted into fits, when a gentleman with a large shirt-collar and a hook nose, and a eye like one of Mr. Sweedlepipes’s hawks, and long locks of hair, and wiskers that I wouldn’t have no lady as I was engaged to meet suddenly a turning round a corner, for any sum of money you could offer me, says, laughing, ‘Halloa, Mrs. Gamp, what are
you
up to!’ I didn’t know him from a man (except by his clothes); but I says faintly, ‘If you’re a Christian man, show me where to get a second-cladge ticket for Manjester, and have me put in a carriage, or I shall drop!’ Which he kindly did, in a cheerful kind of a way, skipping about in the strangest manner as ever I see, making all kinds of actions, and looking and vinking at me from under the brim of his hat (which was a good deal turned up), to that extent, that I should have thought he meant something but for being so flurried as not to have no thoughts at all until I was put in a carriage along with a individgle — the politest as ever I see — in a shepherd’s plaid suit with a long gold watch-guard hanging round his neck, and his hand a trembling through nervousness worse than a aspian leaf.

“‘I’m wery appy, ma’am,’ he says — the politest vice as ever I heerd! — ’to go down with a lady belonging to our party.’

“‘Our party, sir!’ I says.

“‘Yes, m’am,’ he says, ‘I’m Mr. Wilson. I’m going down with the wigs.’

“Mrs. Harris, wen he said he was agoing down with the wigs, such was my state of confugion and worrit that I thought he must be connected with the Government in some ways or another, but directly moment he explains himsef, for he says:

“‘There’s not a theatre in London worth mentioning that I don’t attend punctually. There’s five-and-twenty wigs in these boxes, ma’am,’ he says, a pinting towards a heap of luggage, ‘as was worn at the Queen’s Fancy Ball. There’s a black wig, ma’am,’ he says, ‘as was worn by Garrick; there’s a red one, ma’am,’ he says, ‘as was worn by Kean; there’s a brown one, ma’am,’ he says, ‘as was worn by Kemble; there’s a yellow one, ma’am,’ he says, ‘as was made for Cooke; there’s a grey one, ma’am,’ he says, ‘as I measured Mr. Young for, mysef; and there’s a white one, ma’am, that Mr. Macready went mad in. There’s a flaxen one as was got up express for Jenny Lind the night she came out at the Italian Opera. It was very much applauded was that wig, ma’am, through the evening. It had a great reception. The audience broke out, the moment they see it.’

“‘Are you in Mr. Sweedlepipes’s line, sir?’ I says.

“‘Which is that, ma’am?’ he says — the softest and genteelest vice I ever heerd, I do declare, Mrs. Harris!

“‘Hair-dressing,’ I says.

“‘Yes, ma’am,’ he replies, ‘I have that honour. Do you see this, ma’am?’ he says, holding up his right hand.

“‘I never see such a trembling,’ I says to him. And I never did!

“‘All along of Her Majesty’s Costume Ball, ma’am,’ he says. ‘The excitement did it. Two hundred and fifty-seven ladies of the first rank and fashion had their heads got up on that occasion by this hand, and my t’other one. I was at it eight-and-forty hours on my feet, ma’am, without rest. It was a Powder ball, ma’am. We have a Powder piece at Liverpool. Have I not the pleasure,’ he says, looking at me curious, ‘of addressing Mrs. Gamp?’

“‘Gamp I am, sir,’ I replies. ‘Both by name and natur.’

“‘Would you like to see your beeograffer’s moustache and wiskers, ma’am?’ he says. ‘I’ve got ‘em in this box.’

“‘Drat my beeograffer, sir,’ I says, ‘he has given me no region to wish to know anythink about him.’

“‘Oh, Missus Gamp, I ask your parden’ — I never see such a polite man, Mrs. Harris! ‘P’raps,’ he says, ‘if you’re not of the party, you don’t know who it was that assisted you into this carriage!’

“‘No, Sir,’ I says, ‘I don’t, indeed.’

“‘Why, ma’am,’ he says, a wisperin’, ‘that was George, ma’am.’

“‘What George, sir? I don’t know no George,’ says I.

“‘The great George, ma’am,’ says he. ‘The Crookshanks.’

“If you’ll believe me, Mrs. Harris, I turns my head, and see the wery man a making picturs of me on his thumb nail, at the winder! while another of ‘em — a tall, slim, melancolly gent, with dark hair and a bage vice — looks over his shoulder, with his head o’ one side as if he understood the subject, and cooly says, ‘
I
’ve draw’d her several times — in Punch,’ he says too! The owdacious wretch!

“‘Which I never touches, Mr. Wilson,’ I remarks out loud — I couldn’t have helped it, Mrs. Harris, if you had took my life for it! — ’which I never touches, Mr. Wilson, on account of the lemon!’

“‘Hush!’ says Mr. Wilson. ‘There he is!’

“I only see a fat gentleman with curly black hair and a merry face, a standing on the platform rubbing his two hands over one another, as if he was washing of ‘em, and shaking his head and shoulders wery much; and I was a wondering wot Mr. Wilson meant, wen he says, ‘There’s Dougladge, Mrs. Gamp!’ he says. ‘There’s him as wrote the life of Mrs. Caudle!’

“Mrs. Harris, wen I see that little willain bodily before me, it give me such a turn that I was all in a tremble. If I hadn’t lost my umbereller in the cab, I must have done him a injury with it! Oh the bragian little traitor! right among the ladies, Mrs. Harris; looking his wickedest and deceitfullest of eyes while he was a talking to ‘em; laughing at his own jokes as loud as you please; holding his hat in one hand to cool his-sef, and tossing back his iron-grey mop of a head of hair with the other, as if it was so much shavings — there, Mrs. Harris, I see him, getting encouragement from the pretty delooded creeturs, which never know’d that sweet saint, Mrs. C, as I did, and being treated with as much confidence as if he’d never wiolated none of the domestic ties, and never showed up nothing! Oh the aggrawation of that Dougladge! Mrs. Harris, if I hadn’t apologiged to Mr. Wilson, and put a little bottle to my lips which was in my pocket for the journey, and which it is very rare indeed I have about me, I could not have abared the sight of him — there, Mrs. Harris! I could not! — I must have tore him, or have give way and fainted.

“While the bell was a ringing, and the luggage of the hammertoors in great confugion — all a litter’ry indeed — was handled up, Mr. Wilson demeens his-sef politer than ever. ‘That,’ he says, ‘Mrs. Gamp,’ a pinting to a officer-looking gentleman, that a lady with a little basket was a taking care on, ‘is another of our party. He’s a author too — continivally going up the walley of the Muses, Mrs. Gamp. There,’ he says, alluding to a fine looking, portly gentleman, with a face like a amiable full moon, and a short mild gent, with a pleasant smile, ‘is two more of our artists, Mrs G, well beknowed at the Royal Academy, as sure as stones is stones, and eggs is eggs. This resolute gent,’ he says, ‘a coming along here as is aperrently going to take the railways by storm — him with the tight legs, and his weskit very much buttoned, and his mouth very much shut, and his coat a flying open, and his heels a giving it to the platform, is a cricket and beeograffer, and our principal tragegian.’ ‘But who,’ says I, when the bell had left off, and the train had begun to move, ‘who, Mr. Wilson, is the wild gent in the prespiration, that’s been a tearing up and down all this time with a great box of papers under his arm, a talking to everybody wery indistinct, and exciting of himself dreadful?’ ‘Why?’ says Mr. Wilson, with a smile. ‘Because, sir,’ I says, ‘he’s being left behind.’ ‘Good God!’ cries Mr. Wilson, turning pale and putting out his head, ‘it’s
your
beeograffer — the Manager — and he has got the money, Mrs. Gamp!’ Hous’ever, some one chucked him into the train and we went off. At the first shreek of the whistle, Mrs. Harris, I turned white, for I had took notice of some of them dear creeturs as was the cause of my being in company, and I know’d the danger that — but Mr. Wilson, which is a married man, puts his hand on mine, and says, ‘Mrs. Gamp, calm yourself; it’s only the Ingein.’“

Of those of the party with whom these humorous liberties were taken there are only two now living to complain of their friendly caricaturist, and Mr. Cruikshank will perhaps join me in a frank forgiveness not the less heartily for the kind words about himself that reached me from Broadstairs not many days after Mrs. Gamp. “At Canterbury yesterday” (2nd of September) “I bought George Cruikshank’s
Bottle
. I think it very powerful indeed: the two last plates most admirable, except that the boy and girl in the very last are too young, and the girl more like a circus-phenomenon than that no-phenomenon she is intended to represent. I question, however, whether anybody else living could have done it so well. There is a woman in the last plate but one, garrulous about the murder, with a child in her arms, that is as good as Hogarth. Also, the man who is stooping down, looking at the body. The philosophy of the thing, as a great lesson, I think all wrong; because to be striking, and original too, the drinking should have begun in sorrow, or poverty, or ignorance — the three things in which, in its awful aspect, it
does
begin. The design would then have been a double-handed sword — but too ‘radical’ for good old George, I suppose.”

The same letter made mention of other matters of interest. His accounts for the first half-year of
Dombey
were so much in excess of what had been expected from the new publishing arrangements, that from this date all embarrassments connected with money were brought to a close. His future profits varied of course with his varying sales, but there was always enough, and savings were now to begin. “The profits of the half-year are brilliant. Deducting the hundred pounds a month paid six times, I have still to receive two thousand two hundred and twenty pounds, which I think is tidy. Don’t you? . . . Stone is still here, and I lamed his foot by walking him seventeen miles the day before yesterday; but otherwise he flourisheth. . . . Why don’t you bring down a carpet-bag-f of books, and take possession of the drawing-room all the morning? My opinion is that Goldsmith would die more easy by the seaside. Charley and Walley have been taken to school this morning in high spirits, and at London Bridge will be folded in the arms of Blimber. The Government is about to issue a Sanitary commission, and Lord John, I am right well pleased to say, has appointed Henry Austin secretary.” Mr. Austin, who afterwards held the same office under the Sanitary act, had married his youngest sister Letitia; and of his two youngest brothers I may add that Alfred, also a civil-engineer, became one of the sanitary inspectors, and that Augustus was now placed in a city employment by Mr. Thomas Chapman, which after a little time he surrendered, and then found his way to America.